“Lingyi’s added a safety enhance to the suit upon my recommendation,” Victor said. “Mainly for when you’re riding on your airped. If you fall, the suit will slow your descent as well as inflate with protective padding. It isn’t fail-safe, but it’s been known to save lives.”

“I’ve got an airped?” I asked, removing my helmet. It unlatched with a hiss. The sound reminded me of the girl I had kidnapped, when she had removed hers for the first time. Suddenly, it felt too warm in the headquarters.

Victor grinned. “Custom. The budget didn’t allow for an aircar, but you’ll look more badass on this.”

“Yeah, the airped was a necessity,” Lingyi said. “But not some of the other enhances Victor suggested.”

“What?” Vic replied. “Like the Superman?”

“Superman?” Arun and I said at the same time.

“Ask him later. We have more important things to discuss.” Lingyi gave Victor a warning look. “Arun, your mom had only hit upon the tip of the corruption. We know now that Jin’s padded the pockets of everyone who’s supposed to call out violations to turn their backs on the people, on top of stopping legislation from being presented. In fact, a handful of influential politicians who couldn’t possibly afford you suits have them.” She tucked a sweep of purple bangs behind one ear.

“More reason to shut Jin Corp down,” I said. “Blow it to smithereens.”

“Let’s go over everything together in detail. You start, Arun.” Lingyi glanced at me and nodded toward a red velvet armchair.

I sank down, facing the wall screen. The main part of the spacious loft where we were sitting felt cozy, lived-in, with thick cushions thrown on the seats and old books spread on the long teakwood table before us. Metal pendants in geometrical shapes strung at varying heights dangled from the tall ceiling, making our headquarters bright, despite the steel-shuttered windows.

Arun clicked on his Palm and the chamber dimmed. “Lingyi’s been working on establishing your new identity online these past months, Zhou. You’ve been studying like we’ve asked you to?”

“I’ve been reading more novels in English—”

“Who’s your favorite American author?” Victor interjected.

“Poe,” I replied.

“Poe! He’s strange,” Victor said.

“I like strange.”

“Chinese?”

“Cao Xueqin,” I said.

“You’re a romantic.” Victor draped himself onto the sofa beside me and smirked.

I ignored him.

Arun tilted his chin at me. “Zhou, in your new identity, you went to university at fifteen and are a prodigy.” He spoke the last word in English.

“So act prodigious,” Victor added, also in English.

“Are you joking? I haven’t been at the American School since thirteen,” I replied in Mandarin. “I’m a dropout.”