“Someone has to carry on the family business,” Wan snapped with a hint of resentment.

“The family business is distribution. And it will continue to be. I am going to need you by my side to handle all the sourcing and supply chain. We can be partners, Wan. But it won’t happen if you are stupid and risk everything with your petty crimes.”

Lee’s tone rankled. Wan’s arrogant older brother had believed he was better than Wan since the day Wan was born.

“Father always thought you would take over after him,” Wan replied. “But you were too infatuated with the West to come home, so that burden fell on my shoulders.” He cast a bitter look at Lee. “And now you come back and tell me how to run my business, because you took some classes and read some books?”

Lee could see that Wan was angry, and softened his tone. “Even Father knows it is time to change. He told me to speak with you. Please, work with me to find a new path.”

As Wan considered his older brother’s proposition, Lee’s eyes fixed on the race. “Or you can keep running around in circles, chasing a stuffed rabbit until you finally get put down.”

Lee stood, turning his back on Wan as he departed, leaving his younger brother to ponder the fate of dogs.

CHAPTER 31 PSYOPS

CHAPTER 31
PSYOPS

Cobus ate his vegetable curry in a hole-in-the-wall just off a small cobblestone alley. He was relieved to be away from the crucible of Macau’s vice district. During his past two months in China’s Vegas-by-the-sea, he had found himself drawn to the old colonial section of the city, and its handful of restaurants that still offered traditional Macanese cuisine on menus written in both Chinese and Portuguese. Part of the appeal was the escape from the materialistic pressure cooker of “new Macau,” and part of the appeal was that the hybrid colonial/indigenous culture reminded Cobus of Johannesburg, where he had always enjoyed chowing down on flavorful African dishes against the backdrop of the city’s refined Edwardian architecture.

As he rolled the food on his tongue, he withdrew a creased photo of Basani from his wallet. The memento felt like a keepsake from another life—a parallel universe where she hadn’t died but was back home in Kruger, waiting for him to finish his operation.

Cobus had been on edge twenty-four hours a day since arriving in Macau. He was playing a dangerous game and could feel his cortisol levels elevated to where they had been in Iraq. The electricity of his situational awareness buzzed down the back of his neck as a man entered the restaurant . . . Wan Koi.

Cobus wasn’t supposed to meet with Wan again until the new shipment—the last—arrived in three days. Moreover, Wan was a nocturnal beast, and his presence had the eerie feeling of a vampire stepping out into the midday sun.