“You’re calling your family.”

She did as I asked, securing her helmet, then took such a deep, full breath, her breasts swelled against her suit. I pretended not to notice.

“You have one minute.” I tapped the necessary commands into my laptop and nodded at her.

We waited in tense silence, but their was no response to the call request.

“My father’s not picking up,” she finally said.

How was that possible? His daughter had been kidnapped.

“Call your mom, then,” I ordered.

Her mother accepted the call immediately. Thank gods.

“Ma!” Her voice changed, sounding younger, helpless.

Although her helmet had darkened slightly, I still glimpsed the tears brightening her eyes, seeing her mother’s face in the glass.

I could follow the entire conversation from her one-sided replies.

“Mei you, Mei you. Wo mei shi.” No, he hasn’t tortured or raped me.

She clasped her hands in front of her face, fingers trembling as if she could keep her mother’s image there.

“Tell her I want three hundred million,” I said.

Her pupils dilated, then shrank, and she saw me again.

“Now!”

“Ta yao san yi,” she whispered.

“Put it in this account.” I gave her the cashcard number for the ghost account that had been set up, and she recited it. “You have two hours.”

“You liang ge xiao shi,” she repeated.

Her mom began asking frantic questions.

Who is he? “Wo bu zhi dao.”

Where are you? “Bu zhi dao!”

I typed a command and severed her connection.

She leaned forward, disoriented, almost falling off of the chair, then tugged her helmet off, throwing it to the ground. It bounced on the bamboo rug and spun twice before I snatched it up.

“Shit!”

She had pulled her legs into her chest on the chair, burying her face between her knees. Her shoulders heaved. When she lifted her head, her pale face was mottled.

“What if you had broken it?” I carefully placed her helmet on the dining table.

“Three hundred million? Are you serious?”

She had some nerve. I’d admire her for it, if her entitlement didn’t piss me off so much. “What? You probably have twice that waiting for you in your trust fund.” The yous didn’t lead the lives that they did without having a few billion to spare.

“What do you want with it?” she asked, crossing her arms, assessing me.

“What do you want with it?” I countered.

We stared at each another, both our breaths coming too quickly. Hers because she was unused to our foul air; mine because I was rattled. Damn this you girl.

“How does my family know to trust you?” she demanded. “That you won’t kill me anyway?”