Free The Trail to Buddha's Mirror by Don Winslow Page A

know.”
    They sank into a sullen silence. It didn’t last long, because Li Lan came out wearing a black robe and carrying a tray with a teapot and three cups. She set the tray down by the edge of the tub and then straightened up and undid the belt of the robe.
    Just then Neal couldn’t quite figure out whether Li Lan dropping her robe would be the best thing in the world or the worst thing in the world, and when she opened the robe around her shoulders and then let it slide to the deck, it turned out to be both. His heart stopped, his throat tightened, and he tried not to stare as she slipped into the hot water beside Pendleton. She rested one hand on his shoulder.
    “Now we are all undressed,” she said to Neal.
    “He is from the company,” said Pendleton.
    Lan nodded.
    “They sent him to bring me back,” Pendleton continued.
    “To talk to you,” Neal said. “I can’t bring you back against your will. I can’t throw cuffs on you and haul you onto a plane.”
    “You’re damned right you can’t,” Pendleton said. He looked like an angry bird.
    “Robert …” said Lan quietly, stroking his shoulder, calming him down.
    “Just go back and talk to them,” Neal offered. “You owe them that, don’t you? At least go back and tell them you’re quitting, see if you can work things out.”
    He kept talking, laying out the whole thing: It was no big deal, everything was forgiven, Pendleton wasn’t the first guy to fall in love and lose his head for a while, no sense in destroying a distinguished career. Why, Neal himself would even help Pendleton negotiate some sort of visiting arrangement. Swept away with his own eloquence, he pushed on: North Carolina is beautiful; a change of scene would help Lan grow as an artist; there is, in fact, a large Oriental community in the Research Triangle. He was so convincing he convinced himself: their life would be great, his life would be great, they would visit each other for magic evenings.
    Lan turned around and started to pour three cups of tea. The movement of her shoulder blades sent another pang shooting through Neal. When she turned back and leaned over to hand Neal a cup he could see the tops of her breasts, but it was still her eyes that drew him. She seemed to be looking into his mind, maybe into his soul. She handed Pendleton a cup and then leaned back to sip her own tea.
    “Maybe Neal Carey’s thought is correct,” she said.
    “I’m not leaving you,” Pendleton said quickly. He sounded like a twelve-year-old.
    “Will Robert have much trouble if he does not return?”
    “His research is very important.”
    “Yes, it is.” She smiled at Pendleton warmly, and Neal would have donated his live body to science to see that smile sent his way.
    “You’re more important,” said Pendleton thickly, and Neal had the sudden impression that Pendleton was going to start crying.
    “It’s not an either/or situation,” Neal said.
    “‘Either/or’?” Lan asked.
    “One thing or the other.”
    She took another sip of tea, set the cup down, and took Pendleton’s face gently in her hands. She leaned toward him until her face was an inch from his.
    “Wo ai ni,” she said softly. I love you.
    It was such an intimate moment that Neal wanted to turn away. His Chinese was pretty much confined to Column A or Column B, but he knew that she had told Pendleton that she loved him.
    “Wo ai ni,” Pendleton answered.
    Li Lan reached out under the water and took Neal’s hand, gently folding his fingers into hers.
    His heart started to race.
    She let his hand go.
    “We will go with you tomorrow,” she said. “Both of us.”
    Pendleton’s head whipped around like he’d been jerked on a choke chain and he started to protest, but Li Lan’s hand on his stopped him.
    “Your work is important,” she said.
    She closed her eyes and settled into the water—the image of perfect repose.
    Pendleton couldn’t let it go as easily. “Tomorrow—”
    She cut him off without