Page 46 of The Betrayer
I wasn’t going to do it here on the street, but the first thing I would do was call the office and tell them how it had worked out.
“Thank you for all of your help.” I bowed to the fixer and the translator, not even attempting to use the phrase in Chinese they had both tried to teach me because I knew how badly I would bungle it.
We said our goodbyes, setting up the time they would come to my apartment the following day for the next steps. Then I slipped into the back seat of the car waiting for me, the driver beside the open door.
As we inched our way through traffic, I watched the scenery going by, still marveling at the city that was so new. It looked impressive all the way up in my penthouse, but the perspective from the ground was more mind-blowing. I couldn’t see the tops of some of the buildings from my place inside the car.
“Do you like Shanghai, sir?”
The driver’s voice drifted from the front, heavily accented.
“I do,” I answered, sitting up from where I’d been caught pressing myself against the window like an excited kid. But I wasn’t a kid—I was the COO of a multi-billion-dollar company.
The driver didn’t seem to mind or even notice, however.
“I remember a time before all of this was here,” he continued.
I hadn’t taken too close of a look at the man, who had been silent until now except to wish me a good morning or night. I could see deep-set lines at the corners of his eyes and gray streaked his neatly styled hair.
“Do you?” It seemed the obvious answer to the man’s statement.
“I do. It wasn’t long ago when you could stand at the edge of Pudong and still see many miles into the distance.”
I tried to imagine what Shanghai’s financial district would have been like without the forest of metal and glass that blocked out the sun on the sidewalks below and couldn’t.
“That must have been something to see it all going up,” I answered.
“It was. And so quickly, too. Now we are the financial center of China.” There was a genuine note of pride in the man’s voice.
I could respect the sentiment and understand the pride of watching your city become something so great. I supposed I felt the same way about New York, which I suddenly began to miss with an ache the size of the Empire State building.
This trip had been the most successful I’d ever had, but I was ready to go home. I missed my coffee shop, my favorite bar down the street, and the cozy little Greek place around the corner and down some steps where they knew my name.
I was looking forward to talking with my father, which was an unusual thought. I hadn’t once had that reaction, at least since I’d been a kid. With the positive reports I’d been receiving from the office of his success and my victory here, I was eager to talk with him.
It was a good feeling, one that made me think maybe our relationship was heading somewhere positive for the first time.
The driver let me out outside of the tower complex, and I thanked him, making a mental note to ask the translator the best ways to show my appreciation to everyone.
Waiting for the elevator, I took out my phone and scrolled through the emails that had come in that morning that I hadn’t had a chance to answer in the car. Nothing was pressing enough that I had to get immediately back to work. I could take a few hours off, maybe do some more walking on my own and celebrate today’s achievement before I got back to work. The driver had given me a few local restaurants to try close by, telling me to call him if I needed a ride and a guide. I entertained taking him up on his offer, knowing that tour would certainly be a look at the local restaurants where I wouldn’t find any tourist—something I had enjoyed when it had been just my backpack and me traveling the world.
I punched the number into the keypad that served as a lock to my apartment but was surprised when I got a flashing red light. When I tried the handle, the door swung in easily.
Tensing, I shifted, trying to look through the open doorway into the room. Was someone in there, or had I forgotten to lock the door when I’d left that morning? Didn’t it lock automatically?
At a sound, I froze, trying to decide what to do next—someone was definitely in the apartment. Were they trying to rob me? Steal business secrets from my computer? I’d left it out on the table instead of stowing it like I usually did. Should I go back down and alert security?
Then someone moved into my range of vision and stopped, looking at me, her hip and one eyebrow cocked.
“Are you coming in, or are you just going to stand there?”
I felt my worry leave me in a great rush, taking all my air with it so I had to draw in a deep, shaky breath.
“Angela?”
She smiled and beckoned me in, but I still didn’t move.
“How did you get in here?”
