Jade War

Inside the lobby of the Crestwood, they waited in the cushioned seating area near the bar. One of Zapunyo’s guards was supposed to meet them, but Uwiwans were never punctual. After thirty minutes, Wen began to worry. She saw Anden looking at the clock on the wall, anxious with what she suspected were similar thoughts: Zapunyo had backed out of the interview after all and they would be ignored or eventually sent away. She couldn’t decide if her disappointment or her relief was greater. If the smuggler escaped back to the Uwiwa Islands, she would continue to spend every day fearing another attack on the family. On the other hand, she had done all she could. Her husband would never have to know how she’d gone against his wishes. Maybe they would eventually find another way to get to Zapunyo, just as Hilo had promised her.

A man came out of the elevators and walked toward them. Wen had never met a barukan in person before, but this man, dressed ostentatiously in a silk shirt and chunky nephrite rings set in gold, looked every bit the stereotype. Wen wondered, with wry contempt and curiosity, if perhaps it wasn’t the barukan who took their cues from cinema as opposed to the other way around. As he approached, Anden stood up. Wen was relieved that he showed no outward sign of nervousness at all, speaking in confidently articulate, if accented Espenian as he shook the barukan man’s hand, identifying himself as the journalist Ray Caido and introducing Rohn Toro and Wen under false names as his photographer and his assistant.

The man nodded and led the three of them to the bank of elevators. They ascended to the twelfth floor, where the premium suites were located. There was another barukan waiting in the elevator lobby, a younger man. They indicated by spreading their arms that the journalists would be searched before being allowed to proceed further. They patted Anden and Rohn down for weapons and examined Rohn’s camera equipment. The younger barukan man looked uncomfortable as he stood in front of Wen. Shotarians were a prudish people. Wen held her arms out and the man ran his hands down her sides, back, and legs and stepped away. Wen noticed that the green stones hanging around his neck were nephrite but the studs in his ears were jade. He paused for a moment, Perceiving that none of them possessed jade auras before leading them down the hall to the door of the suite at the end. He knocked and they were admitted inside.

Zapunyo was seated in a wide fabric armchair in the center of the suite’s sitting area. Wen was struck by how short he was; he looked almost childlike in the large chair and opulent hotel room. He wore a slightly creased tan linen suit with a folded white pocket square that suggested an attempt at formality. Wen could see the tops of his puffy veined feet bulging from brown loafers. Surprisingly, Wen’s first emotion upon finally seeing him in person was pity, almost sympathy. Zapunyo might be a rich man with an ambitious and dangerous mind, but he was trapped in a frail body. It was not right that such a man should control jade or challenge Green Bones.

Zapunyo’s eldest son stood near the window behind his father’s chair along with another bodyguard, bringing the total number of men to five, three of them barukan.

Anden said in Espenian, “Mr. Zapunyo, thank you for agreeing to this interview. This is a rare opportunity and I feel privileged that you would trust me to share your side of the story. Would you prefer that we have our conversation in Espenian or Kekonese? I can speak either.”

Zapunyo wetted his lips. “My Espenian is not so good. Let’s speak in Kekonese.”

“I promised to take no more than an hour of your time,” Anden said, switching instantly to Kekonese and sitting down in the chair across from the smuggler. “While we’re talking, my assistant will be sitting off to the side making notes for me, and the photographer will be taking some pictures. You can ignore them and pretend it’s a conversation between just the two of us.”

Wen smiled and nodded, pulling a chair to the side and sitting down in it. She opened her folio to an empty pad of paper and took the thick fountain pen out of her pocket. Near her, Rohn Toro began setting up the camera tripod. Zapunyo glanced at them before turning back.

“Where are your parents from, Mr. Caido?” the smuggler asked.

Anden said, “My mother was Kekonese. My father is Espenian.”

“But you have a Kekonese family name,” Zapunyo said.

“My parents didn’t stay together; I was raised by my mother.” Anden added, with a hint of forced amusement, “Are you planning to interview me, instead of the other way around, sir?”

“I’m curious about the background of any journalist who is so persistent in requesting a meeting with me,” Zapunyo said. One of his bodyguards placed a glass of sparkling water with a straw on the side table next to him. He took it and sipped before speaking again. “Were you born in Kekon or in Espenia, Mr. Caido? Why did your parents come to this country?”