Living Secrets: A Thriller: Mirror Estate

By S.F. Baumgartner

Can the secret love child of a U.S. Senator deliver the cure for a bioterror threat before time runs out?

 

Lily Tso is bored and unfulfilled. Orphaned at birth, the twenty-two-year-old Hotel Guest Service Officer is overwhelmed to discover her parents are alive. But the young woman fears she's woefully unprepared for a treacherous operation to save America and to meet her parents.

 

Teaming up with an FBI Special Agent and a young tycoon, Lily sets out on a dangerous mission to prevent a heinous biological attack. But as unknown forces bent on thwarting her attempt, she fears time is running out for both her and the country she calls her new home.

 

Will Lily be able to survive the attacks and save America from certain doom?

• Language: English
• Publisher: FB Publishing
• Release date: Sep 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987949443

Book preview

PROLOGUE

DYLAN

Two weeks after the event of the Prequel

Mirror Estate

Dylan sat at his cluttered desk; his eyes fixed on the neatly handwritten notes in front of him. The faded ink told a story of secrets and mysteries buried deep within his family's history. The events of the past two weeks had shaken him to the core, and now he sought answers, resolution, and perhaps even a sense of closure.

His fingertips traced the outline of the notes—the originals were now held as evidence by the FBI. These notes had once belonged to his grandfather, a decorated police officer in the organized crime unit.

Dylan had taken the precaution of making copies before handing them over to FBI Special Agent Ron Peters. He knew that he had to protect himself, to have something to hold on to as he ventured further down this treacherous path.

But now, standing at this crossroad of his own investigation, he realized that he needed more help. He needed a connection to his roots, to the fragments of his family that had been shattered and scattered across time.

Fr. Phil, Dylan muttered to himself. He had a hunch the priest knew a lot more about his family than he revealed. After all, his mother had entrusted the priest to deliver her email to him after her death.

Decision made, he put the notes and papers away and was ready to head to the chapel, a short walk from the estate.

His phone chose this moment to ring. He glanced at the screen. Agent Peters. Dylan answered. It was a short conversation. Fr. Phil would have to wait.

1

Three Months Ago

USA/China

Status? the Ghost demanded.

He needs more convincing.

Use leverage. Anything. Make him cooperate. We have lots of friends in that part of China. The triads and others are in our pocket. They’ll give you a hand, if necessary.

Good help’s hard to come by these days.

What’s your plan? You can’t possibly be thinking of using his notes. We don’t have the capability to make any kind of biological weapon. Besides, the Chinese government wouldn't take kindly to you appropriating their research.

That’s not your concern. Get it done. The Ghost hung up. She had plans for the notes. For one, they would be her leverage—in case she failed in her attempt to escape justice again.

The Ghost couldn’t shake the memory of the video she’d seen only a few days prior. The footage, secretly recorded in a hidden laboratory in China, showed the horrifying effects of the experimental bioweapon on test subjects. As the scientist in the video promised, the effects were a combination of smallpox, cholera, and Ebola. The mortality rate was one hundred percent if the antidote wasn’t administered within the first forty-eight hours. The scientist claimed anyone exposed to it would die within forty-eight to ninety-six hours, depending on the individual, if not given the antidote soon enough. The video had been a gruesome testament to the power of the bioweapon, and the Ghost knew that the weapon was something she needed to have in her arsenal.

She sat at her desk shuddering at the thought of the suffering she had witnessed, but she couldn’t let her emotions cloud her judgment. She needed that threat to be her bargaining chip, if necessary.

2

LILY

Present Day, Monday

Cemetery, Hong Kong

Life sucks!

…you’ll be so proud of her. She recently got promoted. Now, she’s a supervisor… Lily’s godmother, Marie, droned on. Lily wondered if her auntie, being a nun, seriously believed her dead uncle could hear her.

The two of them had come from a picnic on a park table at the bottom of the columbarium, which had multiple levels. The lingering scent of their leftovers seeped out of their to-go containers.

Lily stared at the little plaque with her uncle’s name, and dates of birth and death, engraved on it. He’d been all she had since his wife, Auntie Elsie, had died. Lily’s mother had died shortly after giving birth to her twenty-two years ago. She’d never known her father, although she suspected he wasn’t Chinese. Every time she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she could see the mixed features on her face. Her eyes were rounder than other Hong Kong Chinese; her hair was not jet black. It was clear to everyone who saw her that she wasn’t of pure descent. There had been several mixed kids in her school. They had all assumed she was one of them, and nobody cared. If she’d gone to the local Chinese school, people might have asked questions, but the American school had lots of foreign students. She used to think Auntie was her aunt by blood, since she had such mixed features herself. Then, she’d learned that her auntie’s father had been of Portuguese descent.

If she had known her parents, she wouldn't have been as adrift regarding her identity.

Lily! Lily, are you okay?

The words jolted her to the present moment. Yes, I’m fine. Thinking about how unfair life is. Why did Uncle have to die? God already took my mother. Now, he’s taken my uncle, my only relative.

Marie, a woman of Chinese and Portuguese descent, had almond-shaped chestnut eyes and olive skin—an enchanting blend of eastern elegance and Mediterranean charm. Oh, Lily. Life is a tapestry. From the reverse side, how we mortals see life, it appears ugly and unfair. But when we’re with the Lord, we’ll see how he wove each thread exquisitely into something beautiful and fair.

She had no idea how Auntie could have such strong faith. But then, she was a nun and daily Mass was part of her routine. What Lily found most interesting was that Auntie still wore a habit. I know, I know, I’ve heard it before. It sounds deep and all, but it doesn't hit the same when you're living it. I'm still totally alone.

Auntie stared at her. And what am I to you?

I’m sorry, Auntie. Of course, you’re important to me. But you know what I mean. I don’t have any family now.

Her godmother glanced away and took a deep breath.

Auntie put her hand on her heart and said, They’re always with you. They’re here. You’re never alone, my child.

Her phone vibrated a reminder. Lily glanced at the screen and noticed the time. I need to go soon.

All right, then. She turned back toward the plaque. Happy heavenly birthday, big brother. She’d always called Uncle ‘big brother,’ even though they hadn’t been blood-related. Lily wished her uncle a happy birthday too before they turned to leave.

As they walked out of the cemetery, Auntie said, Tell me about your new job.

It’s not a new job. A different title with a bit more money.

But it’s a promotion.

Yeah, there’s only one other person in the Business Center. I don’t have a team of people working for me. We do the same thing. In fact, a lot of the guests simply want to print something. A few old-school types want us to play the role of their secretaries.

I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you at the hotel in the future. She paused, looking around. Ah, I’m going to take the tram. Are you walking to the MTR station?

The subway was where she was headed, but she had to walk a couple of blocks still. Yeah, I’ll see you soon.

All right. Bye.

3

DYLAN

Wednesday morning

Marino Hotel, Hong Kong

Tell me again why the proper authorities aren’t involved! Tommy hollered from the living room.

Dylan knotted his tie and checked it in the bathroom mirror. Back home, he hardly wore a suit. Business casual was his work attire. Unfortunately, the more experienced employees in the upper echelon had advised him on the business attire in Hong Kong.

Tommy, on the other hand, had no problem getting dressed up. The guy carried himself as if he was a model, stepping out of a GQ magazine. Sometimes, Dylan wondered why his best friend had opted to be a CPA—such a boring profession.

Because Agent Peters said it’d be a hassle and time-consuming, Dylan answered.

Wouldn’t you be able to help move things along if you were the owner? Tommy replied.

Dylan could hear Tommy searching in the mini-fridge for something. All dressed, he walked out to the living room. The aroma of coffee filled the air. You do know we’re going downstairs for breakfast, right?

So? Checking things out to see if they stocked yours with better stuff. Tommy closed the fridge. Oh, did you notice how cute that girl who showed us to our suites is? If I see her again⁠—

Don’t even try! We’re here on business. Stick to the agenda, Dylan said. How is it that you’re a CPA? You’re ruining the image of your profession.

And what’s the image?

Come on! CPAs are bean counters. Glasses, boring, nerdy. You’re a chick magnet.

And who said accountants can’t be chick magnets? Just because you live like a monk doesn’t mean I should. Back to the question. Wouldn’t you, being the owner, help move things along?

No matter how many times Dylan told his buddy, Tommy still referred to Dylan as the owner of the hotel.

My grandmother is the owner. Yes, I could ask, and she’d probably smooth things out. But that’s not the main reason. Remember, the family business has been legit for years now. I don’t want to tarnish our newly established reputation by making such a big scandal.

Okay, gotcha. We’re searching for a bad apple.

You got it. Dylan patted his pockets to make sure he had all he needed—cell phone and wallet. Let’s go.

Whatever happened to your game thing? Didn’t you want to hold some reality show or game?

Nah, that was one of my stupid ideas. In reality, Agent Peters had talked him out of it.

Now, why did it take you this long to come to your senses? I told you that long ago. Tommy paused. You know, I have to say these suites don’t hold a candle to even the junior suites back in Orlando. These are smaller. The view is great, though.

Dylan was assigned one of the premier suites, and Tommy was in an adjacent suite. Dude, this is Hong Kong. Land is scarce and property values are sky high. I understand some Hong Kong folks think they can get real bargains in New York City or Honolulu.

Right—didn’t some VP or other say there are more Mercedes here per capita than anywhere else?

Dylan made sure he had the key card and closed the door behind them. They were to have breakfast with the hotel manager, Larry. Dylan’s discreet snooping back home had consisted of talking with lots of old-timers on the pretext of learning his family history and the business.

His life had turned upside down a few months ago, soon after his mother’s death. A grandmother he’d never known had managed to locate him. After a few eventful weeks—including almost getting shot by a deranged woman—he’d accepted his grandmother’s offer to stay and work for the family business.

What made you think this guy is on the take? Tommy asked.

I don’t, except I know someone from this hotel is. I’ve heard whispers of suspicions, and Agent Peters seems to agree. A beep alerted him to a text. He pulled out his phone and saw that Larry would be slightly delayed. He thumbed back a response to say, ‘no problem,’ and to Tommy, he said, He’s delayed. Apparently, protests are making transportation a nightmare.

What do you want me to do? asked Tommy.

You’ll be checking their books and reports.

They walked toward the café, where a breakfast buffet was being served. A server approached them with a smile. Two?

Three. We’re meeting Larry Tan, Dylan added.

The young woman turned toward a man in a black suit who hurried up front. Dylan couldn’t help wondering if they’d communicated by telepathy. Had she mouthed something to him?

Mr. Roche? the man, with a name tag reading Jack, asked with a smile.

Not until recently had he been called Mr. Roche. Yes, we’re meeting Larry Tan.

Yes, Mr. Tan called ahead. Please come with me. He led them to a table in a corner, in a section that was blocked off. He handed them menus. You’re welcome to have the buffet, or you can order from the menu. Coffee? Tea?

They both asked for coffee, and Jack departed. A few seconds later, a server came with a pot of coffee and cups. Tommy appeared eager to attack the buffet right away, but knew enough to wait for Larry. The restaurant was similar to any other semi-casual dining establishment.

All right, circling back to what we were talking about earlier, Tommy said. Before we bounced, I checked out the accounting and auditing files. Everything appears legit and on point. No red flags popped up during the audits.

Yeah, I figured as much. But this is gonna be local stuff. Agent Peters mentioned we should keep an eye out for any sneaky payments or withdrawals stashed away in inconspicuous accounts or files. Apparently, they tend to use some ghost-themed symbols or references—you know, like those gangs with their flashy colors, Dylan replied.

Tommy furrowed his brow. Listen, man, I may be a few months older than you, but I’m still only twenty-five. Turning twenty-six in a month. Why the hell would they think I have the chops to pull this off? Wouldn’t they expect someone more senior and experienced?

Probably, but you’re the only one I trust, bro. Plus, you’re here representing my grandma. I highly doubt they’d question that. If anything, throw in some jargon about the twisted tax laws. Everyone knows those American tax codes are a maze.

But I’ve seen enough crime shows to know that whatever evidence I find won’t hold up in court.

We ain’t going to court, man. Whatever you dig up, we’ll pass it on to Agent Peters. It’ll give him more ammo to take action. All I want is to expose those involved and clean house.

All right, I’ll do my best. Oh, and by the way, remember to introduce me as Tom Rivers, not Tommy.

They ordered drinks. Suddenly, Tommy bumped his friend’s elbow and whispered, Is that him by the door?

Dylan glanced at the man. I think so.

He’s staring at you and acting rather suspicious, if you ask me. He stood up. Let me get the scoop.

Dylan wanted to pull him back, but it was too late. Tommy was already heading toward the door, ostensibly searching for the restroom.

Minutes later, Tommy sat back down and whispered, his voice barely audible, "I overheard him talking on the phone. It was weird, man, ‘cause he was speaking English. I couldn’t catch everything, but I heard him say something about being unsure if he could do it. Then he said, ‘okay’ and mentioned someone named Lily So."

Could be nothing, bro, his friend replied casually.

But wait, he also mentioned your name. He said you were here, and that he had to be cautious not to raise any suspicions.

Curiosity consumed him. Now he’s got my attention. I’m gonna find out who this Lily is and what the hell they have to do with anything.

4

LILY

Wednesday morning

Marino Hotel, Hong Kong

A man in a suit paced outside the Business Center as Lily walked up to unlock the double glass doors.

Can’t you read? Opens at 9 a.m.

Excuse me, ma’am. Are you opening? he asked.

American accent. Looked to be in his fifties. Her smile plastered on her face, she said, If you’ll give me a minute to get settled, I’ll be right with you.

Sure.

Yet, he followed her in. Breathe, she told herself. Gonna be a long day!

I apologize for barging in this early, but my partner, who normally takes care of this stuff, bailed on me. I need to get this typed and faxed over to this number here ASAP... He continued to ramble on about his jerk of a partner.

She tuned him out completely until she had her bag put away, and her desk and computer up and running. Then, she said to him with a smile, How may I help you? What is it you need typed and faxed?

He held his phone out and said, Could I send an audio file to you? That way you can type it?

She frowned. That wasn’t one of the listed services. There were a few computers available in the center for guests, and of course, the guest didn’t want to type it himself.

I know it’s not one of the services listed. Maybe you have special requests? he asked.

I’d have to check with the manager about the charges. Your room, sir?

He gave her a room number and produced a key card.

She swiped the card and got the information on her screen. Mr. Thomas, would you like to wait till I get a quote for you?

No, I have a meeting to go to. Please charge it to my room, thanks. He checked his phone. I have maybe five minutes. The conference room is on the second floor?

All the conference rooms are on the first floor, sir. Then, she remembered he was American. Yes, your second floor, but if you’re taking the lift, eh, elevator, you’ll need to press one.

He smiled and glanced at her name tag. Thank you, Lily. You don’t sound local. Are you American?

No.

You could have fooled me.

I went to an American school.

Ah. What’s the email I should send this to? Or text maybe?

She thanked him, gave him the information, and waited for the file to show up on her screen. Here it is. Would you like me to email the draft to you for approval?

Hmm. Make it a final copy. I’ll let you know if I need to change anything.

Yes, sir.

He thanked her and hurried away.

Before she did anything, she called her manager to ask for a price to charge. A glance at the screen told her this Roger Thomas had the fancy title of Marketing VP. She got the price and got down to business.

What a boring life. She did the same things day in and day out. If not for this Thomas, it’d be another guest wanting something done. Don’t complain! she reminded herself. In contrast to what she observed on American shows, where most business centers consisted solely of computer stations, here in Hong Kong, she had a setup resembling an office, complete with two desks and chairs for guests.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Leslie, one of her coworkers—technically now a subordinate—walking in with a phone to her ear. She was saying, …Yeah, Ma, I will… Gotta go!

Oh, hi, Lily. My mother is meddling again. Leslie sat down at her station on the opposite side of the small office. Anything interesting?

Nah—same old, same old, Lily said, and silently wished she had parents. Even annoying ones.

5

DYLAN

Wednesday morning

Marino Hotel, Hong Kong

While Tommy labored away in the back office, Dylan had a tour of the hotel and met a few people. After that, he took the opportunity to touch base with Agent Ron Peters. Phone in hand, he was about to call when he remembered the time difference. He checked the time, though, and figured it would be about 9:16 p.m. back home. Remembering the agent’s words that he could call anytime, he made the call.

Peters answered right away. Dylan, I was going to call you.

Oh—

Listen, an officer from the US Consulate—ah, James Conway—will contact you with vital information. I’m sending his photo to you. Check his creds. A senator needs your help.

A senator? My help? That didn’t make any sense to him. Meanwhile, the text came through and an ordinary man showed up on his screen. Late thirties or early forties. Had the appearance of a businessman.

I don’t have the details. Do you think you can come up with an excuse to send an employee to the States?

I, er, I’m not following at all. You said a senator needed my help. Now, you’ve asked if I could come up with an excuse to send an employee to the States?

That’s the help. I understand we need a particular person who’s an employee at your hotel to come here ASAP.

But why? Can’t you whisk the person off?

Because it’s a covert operation. The officer will explain. A pause. By the way, how is it going?

His mind was trying to figure out a scenario or a plan for this subterfuge to work when Agent Peters’ voice brought him back. It’s going. Tommy’s checking the books. I had a tour. Met some people. Do you know who this employee is?

No.

Before he could say more, there was a knock on the door. He knew that if it had been a hotel employee, they would have announced, Housekeeping! or something similar—and they hadn’t. He hurried over to the door and peered through the peephole. The man from the Consulate was standing there with a younger guy.

6

KYLE

Wednesday morning

Marino Hotel, Hong Kong

Standing beside Officer Conway, Kyle’s thoughts drifted back to the events of the past few days. A meeting with Senator Roth had unexpectedly propelled him into this top secret journey to Hong Kong, where he was tasked with escorting Lily Tso back to the United States. He couldn't grasp why the senator chose him, a fresh FBI Agent, for such a crucial assignment over more seasoned colleagues. Following protocol, he’d contacted the consulate, and now Officer Conway was briefing him on the mission.

Let me do the talking, Officer Conway said.

Yes, sir.

The door opened, but the security chain remained latched on. A voice said, May I see your credentials, please?

Kyle fumbled for his FBI cred pack while Officer Conway already had his ID pack up. Whoever was on the other side examined them carefully before unlatching the door and opening it wide.

Even though Kyle knew who they were meeting, he was still surprised to see the newly discovered heir to the enterprise, Dylan Roche. He’d read Dylan’s file, including the briefing on recent traumatic events in his life. They were about the same age, but their circumstances were totally different.

The plaque outside the door said Presidential Suite. Now, Kyle could see why. It was spacious, practically an apartment. To the left, there was a living area with a couch, a coffee table, and a TV. On the side was a wide window overlooking the cityscape. In front of where they stood was a kitchenette with a mini-bar and a dining table to the right. He imagined the bedroom and the bath would be quite luxurious.

Mr. Roche? Officer Conway extended his hand.

Dylan, please.

This is Special Agent Kyle Peters.

Dylan’s eyes ran over Kyle’s features. They shook hands. Peters? By any chance, are you related to Agent Ron Peters?

That’s my dad. What with their resemblance, he could hardly deny it.

Dylan broke into a grin. I know your father. FBI your family business, eh?

Before he answered, Conway said, "Speaking of family