The Trail to Buddha's Mirror - Don Winslow [25]
He kept talking, laying out the whole thing: It was no big deal, everything was forgiven, Pendleton wasn’t the first guy to fall in love and lose his head for a while, no sense in destroying a distinguished career. Why, Neal himself would even help Pendleton negotiate some sort of visiting arrangement. Swept away with his own eloquence, he pushed on: North Carolina is beautiful; a change of scene would help Lan grow as an artist; there is, in fact, a large Oriental community in the Research Triangle. He was so convincing he convinced himself: their life would be great, his life would be great, they would visit each other for magic evenings.
Lan turned around and started to pour three cups of tea. The movement of her shoulder blades sent another pang shooting through Neal. When she turned back and leaned over to hand Neal a cup he could see the tops of her breasts, but it was still her eyes that drew him. She seemed to be looking into his mind, maybe into his soul. She handed Pendleton a cup and then leaned back to sip her own tea.
“Maybe Neal Carey’s thought is correct,” she said.
“I’m not leaving you,” Pendleton said quickly. He sounded like a twelve-year-old.
“Will Robert have much trouble if he does not return?”
“His research is very important.”
“Yes, it is.” She smiled at Pendleton warmly, and Neal would have donated his live body to science to see that smile sent his way.
“You’re more important,” said Pendleton thickly, and Neal had the sudden impression that Pendleton was going to start crying.
“It’s not an either/or situation,” Neal said.
“‘Either/or’?” Lan asked.
“One thing or the other.”
She took another sip of tea, set the cup down, and took Pendleton’s face gently in her hands. She leaned toward him until her face was an inch from his.
“Wo ai ni,” she said softly. I love you.
It was such an intimate moment that Neal wanted to turn away. His Chinese was pretty much confined to Column A or Column B, but he knew that she had told Pendleton that she loved him.
“Wo ai ni,” Pendleton answered.
Li Lan reached out under the water and took Neal’s hand, gently folding his fingers into hers.
His heart started to race.
She let his hand go.
“We will go with you tomorrow,” she said. “Both of us.”
Pendleton’s head whipped around like he’d been jerked on a choke chain and he started to protest, but Li Lan’s hand on his stopped him.
“Your work is important,” she said.
She closed her eyes and settled into the water—the image of perfect repose.
Pendleton couldn’t let it go as easily. “Tomorrow—”
She cut him off without opening her eyes, “—is a dream. Tom and Olivia wish to speak with you now.”
It was one of those don’t-I-hear-your-mother-calling-you bits, and Neal watched as Pendleton dutifully got out of the water, wrapped a towel around his waist, and stomped into the house. So much for the submissive Oriental woman, Neal thought. Then he realized he was alone with Li Lan, and he stopped thinking altogether. They sat there for at least five excruciating minutes before she spoke.
“You will not let them hurt him?” she asked.
Hurt him?! What the fuck?
“Nobody wants to hurt him, Lan. They just want him to come back to work.” I mean, we’re talking about a research lab here, right? not the Gambino family.
“Please do not let them hurt him,” she implored.
“Okay.” Look at me like that, Li Lan, and I won’t even let them hurt his feelings.
“Promise.”
“I promise.” Should be an easy enough request to fill. They want him back so bad they’ll probably give him a raise and a bonus. Monogrammed test tubes. Fur-lined eyepiece on the microscope.
Li Lan stood up. She stood in front of Neal as if inviting him to look her over, as if she were in a lineup at a cathouse. He tried to look away, tried as hard as the booze, the steam of the tub, and his own feelings for her would let him. He felt himself swallowing hard and staring, first at her body and then at her eyes.
“I will go to speak with