“My father wants you to be comfortable. If you need anything, you have my number. Also, meals will be provided to both of you at the office. Any questions?”

“A hotel would’ve been fine with us.”

“Isn’t this better?”

“Much better, thank you.” And easier for you to keep an eye on us, Jack thought.

“Then we’ll leave you to get settled in. I imagine we’ll see you tomorrow?”

“First thing.”

“Good. We’ll talk about our security arrangements then.”

She didn’t offer her hand, only a curt nod. She and Park marched across the lawn toward a side gate and straight for their vehicle. Jack and Paul headed back into the house.

Paul made a beeline for the kitchen. He found an electric kettle with water and plugged it in. “I need another cup of tea to settle me down before bed.”

“My biological clock is all messed up, too. It’s morning back home right now. We need to get on local time quickly if we want to get any work done.”

“I’m boiling extra water.”

“Sounds good.”

Paul grabbed two cups out of the cupboard and set them on the counter, then limped into the foyer. A luggage zipper zipped open and closed before Paul returned to the kitchen with a box of tea bags. “Chamomile is good to help you sleep.”

“Thanks.”

Paul poured boiling water into the waiting cups.

Jack took a seat. “What did you think of Dr. Gordon Yeoh Fairchild?”

Paul opened up the cupboard doors, doing an inventory. “Nice man, smart. Seems like he really wants this deal to go through.”

“His son wasn’t as keen. I think he’d be just as happy if we got on the plane tomorrow and never came back.”

Paul smiled. “I know the type. He’s defensive because he’s good. In his mind, there’s no need for an external audit because his numbers are perfect and any reports he’s filed are flawless. It’s a good sign, actually. It’s when the accountants are overly cheerful and compliant that you know something’s wrong, because most of the time, there is. There are way too many i’s to dot and t’s to cross, especially on the ledgers of a complex international company like Dalfan.” Paul found a bottle of Glenfiddich single-malt scotch. He pulled it down.

“You’re probably right.”

“I know I’m right.” Paul unscrewed the cap and tipped an ounce into his tea. He pointed the bottle in Jack’s direction. Jack shook his head. No, thanks. “What did you think of Lian, his daughter?”

“Still forming an opinion.” Night had finally fallen. Jack checked his watch. “Let’s hit the ground running tomorrow. We’ll leave here at seven, if that’s okay with you.”

“I’ll be ready.”

—

Lian’s Range Rover was speeding along the tree-lined East Coast Parkway when her cell phone rang. It was Yong.