Chapter Three

Note from the Author:

I hope you enjoy this draft, pre-edited sneak peek at the upcoming novel Lost Fleet. Stay safe, wash your hands, and be kind to each other!

-Chris

Chapter Three

David Li pulled the cork with a satisfying pop. A complex fragrance bloomed above the antique cart, tickling his nose first with ripe pineapple and guava then deepening into the comforting, earthy scent of a damp cellar. He poured the clear baijiu into two thimble-sized crystal glasses.

The breeze this evening was soft. The servants had opened the wide wall of glass that separated the upper salon from the aft deck, and his living spaces transitioned seamlessly to the stern of his sixty-four meter yacht. He carried the lacquered tray to the open deck, looking up the intracoastal waterway, down across the smaller boats and skiffs docked in the marina beneath him, then west to the hazy glow of the cesspool that was south Miami.

Miami was a city of contradictions. Endless opportunity and a continual supply of labor, but Li was relieved to employ people like Diana Jordan to manage the details. He preferred not to soil his cuffs in the swamp of lowlife dealers and thugs.

The woman who called herself his senior business advisor leaned out over the southern railing, watching the sky shift from orange to pink to purple. He admired her shape. A form-fitting white sheath hugged her curves until the bend in her leg led him to her four-inch heels, one foot kicked up on the edge of a patio chair with the bright red sole showing.

A fire rose in his gut. He fumed at the woman’s refusal to remove her high heeled shoes when she boarded his treasure, and even more at her indiscretion in displaying such filth as their soles. He didn’t care that his servants had to get on their hands and knees to comb and straighten the fibers in his ancient rugs where the spikes mashed them down or even to buff out the scuffs from the deck and sanitize the flooring when his American visitor left. That’s what he paid them for. No, the it was the simple disrespect for his cultural traditions his honor could not abide. But he needed her. For now.

As he carried the tray toward her bent form, he wondered how long he could continue to overlook her flaws. He set the tray down and presented her with the traditional Chinese liquor.

“The team in New York—” she began.

“Ms. Jordan, please. Let us enjoy a toast and a relaxing meal before we discuss such things.” He stifled a smirk as she abruptly lowered the small glass from her lips, a tinge of her dark lipstick staining the perfect clear crystal. “… Ganbei.”

As he tipped the small shot down his throat, he watched Jordan drain her cup. Her body tightened as she fought the involuntary shiver the strong alcohol and unusual flavors brought on in novice baijiu drinkers. He set his cup down and waited for her to fill it. When she didn’t, he refilled both glasses and nodded for her to make the next toast.

“To your family’s continued prosperity.” She hesitated, and looked at him questioningly. He simply smiled and waited.

“Gahn…” Her head tilted to the side.

He sighed. “Ganbei.”

“Ganbei.” She poured the second shot through her lips and fought yet another shiver.

He turned toward the lights of the city and caught a slight movement from behind them. He glanced inside to see a sliver of bright white light disappearing in the wall of the sleek, dimly lit salon as the hidden door to the galley closed and his chef slipped away from the room, the first course of their meal spread out on the table.

“Dinner is served. Shall we?” He stretched his hand toward the table, set with two place settings facing across the flickering lights of the river and to South Beach beyond.

Jordan’s heels tapped on the tightly joined teak, and Li cringed as he held her chair. Another bottle of baijiu sat open on the table, and Li filled their tiny glasses for yet another toast.

“My ancestors have made this traditional liquor for over a thousand years, since before the dawn of their dynasty.” Without thinking, he glanced at a tall blue and white vase in an enclosed display case against the bulkhead and nodded an almost imperceptible acknowledgement to his Ming ancestors. “They’ve passed the process down from father to son, their history preserved throughout the generations. To the ancestors. Ganbai.”

He tossed the tiny shot back, and felt the warmth flow through his throat and down into his core. The woman followed. He chuckled. The one thing she knew about his culture was that once she began the ganbai, it was a point of honor to keep up.

But David Li needed her to keep her wits about her. As the evening progressed, he had important business on his agenda to discuss with her. He graciously lifted a goblet of ice water, his one concession to the Florida heat and his guest’s relative sobriety.

One by one, his chef, clad in a black jacket and skullcap, deftly delivered each new course and quietly swept away the remnants of the last, slipping in and out of the salon barely noticed by the diners. As he delivered the final course, Li nodded to him. “Thank you, Jing-He.” The man acknowledged the dismissal and disappeared into the galley. They would not see him again.

Their meal finished, David Li laid his napkin beside his plate and slid his chair back. He led Jordan to the aft balcony. Leaning casually against the railing, he listened to the sound of the unusually calm ocean lapping against a hundred hulls before speaking.

“Earlier, you wanted to discuss New York. But first, how is my nephew progressing?”

“The managing director says he’s doing well. Works hard. Learns quickly. He’s closing deals and everyone likes him.”

“But…” Li trusted Jordan with the most sensitive parts of his business, mainly because he could read her better than she realized. He could always see when she was holding something back.

“Under certain circumstances, they say he’s…”

“Say it, Ms. Jordan.”

She shook her head.

“Weak?” He pressed his lips together and sighed. “Like his mother. This is not a surprise to me. I expect more from them, though. It is their responsibility to teach him.”

He waited until she acknowledged the command with a barely perceptible nod. “And the other matter? Please.” He waved his hand, inviting her to continue as if he hadn’t cut her off two hours before.

“Of course. My men were set to pick him up in Brooklyn, but he broke pattern. He boarded a plane for Key West. One of them followed him onto the flight, but…” She glanced over the haze to the dark western horizon toward the Keys.

“My condolences.” It was the polite thing to say, but he didn’t bother to fake sincerity.

She shrugged. “I’ll find a replacement. What’s more concerning is the trip itself. He left abruptly. He booked his ticket on his way to the airport. But we don’t know why.”

“Hmmm…” Li’s mind turned. The crash had been a turn of fortune, and he was certain his ancestors were showing their favor on him. The reporter’s snooping was problematic, and Li was pleased to be relieved of the responsibility to dispatch the man himself. But he had very much needed to question the man first. “Any progress on collecting his research?”

“Yes, sir. That’s what I was starting to tell you earlier. Our men in New York will be going through his apartment. It will take time to gather everything undetected, but they’ll have it within the next few days.”

“A few days is a few too many.” The soft sole of Li’s house slipper whispered as his toe tapped it against the deck’s smooth teak. “His abrupt travel could only mean he’d discovered the location.”

“But he left without telling anyone anything useful.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Yes, sir. We’ve been watching him closely.”

“I need to know how much he knew.”

“Of course, sir. The men are on it. He didn’t trust online storage, and our cyber team has already confirmed nothing is stored on any cloud-based platforms. He has to keep a backup, though. They all do. And when the team gets into his apartment, they’ll find it. I promise.”

“I expect a full report when I arrive in New York the day after tomorrow.” He turned, then led her down the starboard steps and helped her across to the dock. As she gingerly dodged the gaps between the planks leading back to shore, he whispered to himself, “My family’s honor depends on your promise, Ms. Jordan. Please be certain you can deliver.”

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Thanks for checking out this draft preview of Lost Fleet. I’m posting a new chapter every weekday, but the further we get, the more likely we are to run into spoilers! If you haven’t read the first two books (Lost Key and Lost Relics), you can pick them up from Amazon in either eBook or paperback format, or read them for free with your Kindle Unlimited membership!