An Excerpt from HOPE RISES by David Baldacci
CHAPTER 1
Walter Nash was jolted awake. The jet he was on en route to Hong Kong had encountered some rough air. He turned to see his employer, Rhett Temple, sitting next to him.
Nash’s now alert gaze then moved to Lynn Ryder, who was asleep in a forward seat on the privately owned plane soaring westward toward Asia. Ryder was in her thirties with long white hair that was either colored or natural, he didn’t know which. She was also an emissary for Victoria Steers, one of the most ruthless criminals in the world. They were currently aboard Steers’s jet and were traveling to see the woman, at her behest.
He next glanced out the window, and reflected back was his image. That spurred Nash to reflect on his life over the last year and a half. He used to be a mild-mannered, law-abiding business execu- tive, tall and skinny, with no discernible muscle, a full head of hair, and nary a tattoo within a mile of him. Out of necessity Nash had shaved his head, grown facial hair, and transformed himself into a muscled, tatted, fighting machine, complete with a new identity: Dillon Hope, personal security expert. No one—not even his wife, Judith—now recognized him.
He had gone from reviewing business plans and acquiring com- panies and flying on corporate jets, with not a whiff of intrigue or danger in his life, to playing a deadly game of cat and mouse and having to fool everyone around him into believing he really was Dillon Hope. Because he knew that Lynn Ryder and Victoria Steers wanted nothing more than to kill Walter Nash.
I truly am living in the upside down world. And I seriously doubt I will ever get back to my world. But I have got to see this through.
He turned to Temple, the CEO of Sybaritic Investments, Nash’s former employer. The man had been across the aisle when Nash first shut his eyes, and Nash wondered why he had changed seats. It was a small detail, but Nash sensed that seemingly trivial acts clearly mattered right now.
As Dillon Hope, Nash had dexterously placed himself in a posi- tion to be employed as his old boss’s personal bodyguard. The ruse had worked, and Nash’s life had changed to an even greater extent, as he was now firmly residing in the enemy’s camp.
Speaking in the slow, deliberate tone he had adopted as Hope’s voice, Nash said, “Is there a problem?”
Temple replied quietly, “Look, Dillon, it’s delicate, but Victoria Steers is not, well, completely on the up-and-up.”
“Okay,” said Nash cautiously. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“She’s…well, dangerous. And I don’t want you to slip up and getyourself in trouble when you meet her.”
Nash thought it far more likely that Temple didn’t want Nash to slip up and get him in trouble with the villainous Steers.
Though he well knew the answer, Nash asked, “Exactly how is she not on the up-and-up and dangerous?”
“She’s into drug distribution on a global scale. And she has peo- ple killed.”
Nash stared back in feigned astonishment at his boss. Then, in keeping up the subterfuge that he had no idea who Steers was, he asked, “What the hell, Mr. Temple? Why is a rich guy like you involved with her?”
“It’s a long story, Dillon. My father…he was working with her to recoup his fortune and he got me involved. I wish I had an out, but I don’t. I really don’t. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
“So she wants to meet? Why?”
Temple leaned in closer and said in a near whisper, “The FBI has, well, tried to make some inroads at my company, finding a mole—a spy there, so to speak.”
Nash let his jaw go slack. “The FBI! Jesus, Mr. Temple, I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come,” said a voice.
Both men looked up to see Ryder awake and staring at them from her seat. She had obviously overheard at least part of their conversation.
She walked down the aisle until she was standing in front of them. “In fact, as I made very clear, I did not want you to come.”
Nash glanced at Temple before saying, “As his personal security guard, I insisted on coming because I was concerned with Mr. Temple’s safety. But, frankly, I might have declined if I had known all the facts.”
Ryder gave Temple a withering look as she said to Nash, “And now that you have been provided some facts, we will see what hap- pens when we arrive in Hong Kong.”
She walked back to her seat.
Temple glanced at Nash. “Dillon, I’m sorry you got caught up in all this. I really am.”
He returned to his seat, where he closed his eyes and started tak- ing deep, calming breaths.
Nash looked out the window, his thoughts as black as the darkness outside.
Well, Nash, this might be the end of you. But if I go down, I’m taking others with me. Starting with Victoria Steers.
Chapter 2
A man was waiting for them in the airport with Lynn Ryder’s name on an iPad. He led them to a large Mercedes passenger van in the parking garage. There were four men there in addition to the driver. Nash could see that all of them were armed. After their bags were loaded in they were driven off; one sturdy guard sat on either side of both Nash and Temple. They passed through a tun- nel under Victoria Harbour and emerged into daylight on the other side. After negotiating a series of surface roads they reached a high- rise building in the Hung Hom neighborhood, which was located in the southeast section of Kowloon Peninsula. Nash recognized the area because he had stayed nearby on a previous trip while working for Sybaritic.
The Mercedes parked in the building’s underground garage, and a minute later a glass elevator was carrying them skyward.
Temple looked nervous, Ryder confident, and Nash, despite his anxiety level riding pretty high, did his best to appear calm.
The doors opened directly into an entry vestibule, where two armed men appeared. They efficiently searched Nash and Temple, and promptly confiscated Nash’s two guns and both men’s phones.
“I want those back,” demanded Nash. However, nothing was returned.
They were escorted into a large room with floor-to-ceiling win- dows and sweeping views of the dazzling harbor. Ryder took a seat next to a large chair set in the center of the room, while Nash and Temple were directed to a pair of seats across from her.
Nash’s gaze took in every aspect of the room, especially the armed men. What Nash was observing was not good, since he had no weapons and the exits were guarded by men who did. And he was in a foreign land that was controlled by China.
Your margin of error is basically zero.
Then she came into the room.
Prior to this Nash had seen only a photo of Victoria Steers, briefly shown to him during a meeting with the FBI. Steers was the product of a Chinese mother and an English father. Tall and lean, with long black hair and porcelain skin, Steers glided across the floor dressed in sleek dark clothing that covered all of her body except her neck, face, and hands. She carried no weapon and did not look partic- ularly threatening, yet at her appearance every hair stood up on the back of Nash’s neck. There was an aura around the woman that was undeniable; it filled Nash with a sense of foreboding that something violently destructive could happen without warning.
When he eyed Temple, Nash noted that his boss was staring at Steers with palpable fear.
Steers smiled at Ryder. “Thank you, Lynn, for all your good work.”
“Of course, Ms. Steers.”
Then Steers looked at Temple. “Mr. Temple, introduce me to your colleague, whom you insisted accompany you on this trip despite my objections.”
Temple cleared his throat and said, “This is Dillon Hope, my personal bodyguard.”
“Your personal bodyguard? Do you have something to fear, Mr. Temple?”
“Everyone has something to fear, Ms. Steers.”
She glanced at Ryder before saying, “I also understand that Mr. Hope has been told some things?”
Temple’s lips curled in displeasure in the face of Ryder’s smug features. “He had to be told some things about our business, Ms. Steers. But he is a professional, and everything will be kept in the strictest confidence, I can assure you.”
Steers’s features turned even more stern. “You have revealed some of our business to a man I do not even know? You have, without question, performed an act that is truly unforgivable.”
“I was told you had approved it,” Temple added, with a sharp glance at Ryder. “And he can be a real asset to you,” he added. “He’s top-notch. I’ve seen that for myself.”
“I have many top-notch people in my employ already, Mr. Tem- ple. I require no others.”
She slowly withdrew her searing gaze from him and swung it around to Nash. “However, Mr. Hope, now that you are here, it will be interesting to see if you can become an asset. I trust you understand all that this entails?”
“I do, Ms. Steers,” Nash said in a casual tone, although every muscle in his body was tensed in the face of her threatening phrasing.
If I can just reach the man who took my guns . . .
As though she were reading Nash’s mind, Steers held out her hand. One of the guards produced a Glock nine-mill and placed it in her palm. She gripped it, checked the mag, and racked the slide, loading a bullet.
As she looked at them Temple went rigid in his chair, and Nash felt his butt cheeks involuntarily clench.
“A good choice in a personal sidearm, Mr. Hope,” she said. “However, I prefer a Norinco NP42 Mini. But then again, I like to buy local.”
“The Chinese also make good weapons,” Nash said.
“Indeed they do. They made me, after all. I also understand that three of my people are now in the custody of the FBI. That is a decided setback that I find unacceptable. Accountability must be served.”
At this abrupt segue, Temple glanced anxiously at Ryder and blurted out, “I had nothing to do with that. That was not my call. I argued against it, in fact.”
Steers said menacingly, “You disavow all responsibility for this debacle? Is that really what you are telling me?”
Temple sputtered, “I didn’t mean . . . I just wanted to point out that . . .” He glanced at Ryder and saw her smug look deepen even as he squirmed.
Before he could say anything else, Steers raised the pistol, caus- ing Temple to put up his hands and flinch backward. Nash prepared to leap at the woman before she could fire.
Steers then pointed the gun to her left, pulled the trigger, and shot Ryder in the head. The woman fell to the floor, blood and other bits of her spraying all over her clothing and white hair. Some of the blowback also dotted Steers’s cheek, hand, and sleeve. One of the guards hustled forward and used a wet cloth to thoroughly clean her off. Two other men rushed in, wrapped Ryder in plastic, and carried her out. The chair in which she had been sitting was also removed and the marble floor underneath the chair thoroughly mopped. Temple and Nash sat there, stunned, while Steers had her eyes closed.
When all traces of the woman had been removed, Steers opened her eyes and studied the two men.
“Death can be awkward,” she said quietly. “And unpleasant.”
“Yes, it can,” said Nash evenly, though he felt sickened.
“And also necessary,” Steers added. She looked at Temple. “Decisions that led to my agents being in the custody of the FBI are . . . not . . . good.”
“No,” agreed Temple quickly. He still looked horrified by what had just happened.
Steers once more turned to Nash. “I trust that you understand the implications of what has just transpired, Mr. Hope?”
Nash said cautiously, “You mean Ryder’s death?”
She shook her head. “You disappoint me. I thought it rather obvious.” She held up the pistol. “You and your weapon have just committed a terrible crime in Hong Kong. And though Hong Kong does not have the death penalty, China does. It is done by lethal injection, or else they shoot you.” She handed the gun to one of her men. “That choice will be theirs. But you also have a choice to make.” She glanced at Temple. “And as an accessory, Mr. Temple, your fate will not be much better: life in prison. But again, you have a choice as well.”
“You mean we can choose to work with you?” Nash said grimly.
She shook her head once more. “To work for me.”
“And if we refuse?” said Nash, already knowing the answer.
“Then steps will be taken to demonstrate that my colleague’s murder occurred in China, and all necessary evidence to implicate both of you in her death will be provided. The rest is assuredly known to you. One of you will be executed, and the other will spend his life in a Chinese prison.” She added coolly, “I think I would prefer death, actually. The Chinese are often not kind to their own law-abiding citizens. And they are completely ruthless with respect to their criminals.” She glanced at Temple. “And Americans in particular are not at all popular in China at present.”
“To work for you doing what exactly, Ms. Steers?” asked Temple in a tremulous voice.
Nash thought he knew the answer. But it would turn out that he could not have been further from the truth.
She said, “My mother is being held in a prison in another country. And you both are going to help set her free.”
Chapter 3
Walter Nash stated up from his his bed at a ceiling that was a frothy shade of seafoam green. It was so calming and neutral that he almost forgot he was in Hong Kong and that his life was in serious peril.
Almost.
It was two in the morning local time. He had been asleep for only three hours and now was wide awake. And it had nothing to do with jet lag. The reason was two floors above him in the penthouse, where, he assumed, Victoria Steers was sleeping just fine in her bed. Nash had no idea what they’d done with Ryder’s body, but he was certain that if he didn’t do what Steers wanted him to do, he would be taken to China and charged with Ryder’s murder.
But rescue her mother from a prison in another country? How the hell are we supposed to do that?
Yet he had one thing going for him: His Army veteran father had had an unstoppable motor, powering through every obstacle to reach his goals under the most hellish of conditions. And though he and his father had been estranged for over half of Nash’s life, he had apparently inherited this attribute from him.
He listened for sounds from the adjacent bedroom where he knew Temple was sleeping. His boss had mentioned he was looking for an exit from this nightmare with Steers. However, Nash thought it far more likely that they would both leave Hong Kong in body bags.
But her mother being in a prison did answer the question of where Masuyo Steers had been all this time.
His thoughts next turned to his wife, Judith. She was in FBI protective custody after Nash had saved her life from Steers’s killers. Judith had initially believed he had sexually abused and then killed their daughter, Maggie, until the FBI had released proof that he had been framed. This was a plan that Steers had come up with to destroy Nash’s relationship with the FBI, who had recruited him to help bring down Steers’s criminal empire.
Well, I might have a new goal now that is not aligned with the FBI’s.
Killing Victoria Steers. And if I get the chance I need to take it.
So my being here so close to the woman might be a good thing.
He slept fitfully for a few hours, rose from his bed, showered, changed into a clean set of clothes, and joined Temple in the small kitchen, where a breakfast had been laid out by a woman who never made eye contact or spoke a word. Both men ate their meals in silence, lost in their own dismal thoughts.
After Temple finished his coffee he said, “Jesus, I can’t believe she just shot Ryder like that. And she seemed to like her. So God help us.”
“You ever see her kill someone before?” Nash asked.
“I heard her order someone to be killed. And I’ve seen some of her handiwork.”
“Don’t know how you kept all that to yourself, Mr. Temple. Although I guess you had no choice.”
“Look, Dillon, like I said before, I’m sorry you got sucked into this.”
“I sort of insisted, Mr. Temple. Although I have to say I didn’t foresee this.”
“I . . . I never should have come, either. I should have run for it. But Steers would have found me. And she would have killed my stepmother, Mindy, and her kid, and my siblings, too. My father took the easy way out by jumping off his balcony.”
Nash strongly suspected that Temple had killed his father, Barton Temple, but that didn’t matter right now. Maybe one day the son would be held accountable for his father’s death if he had indeed murdered him. But right now Nash needed to worry about himself.
One small misstep and his cover might be blown. He had done well up to this point in keeping the truth from Temple. But with Steers on the scene, tomorrow was simply another day to make a critical mistake. And then he would be dead.
“Any idea who the hell her mother is?” he asked.
Nash actually knew some things about the woman, only because the FBI had filled him in. But the extent of his intel was limited, and he wanted to know whatever else the other man did.
Temple said, “Steers has never mentioned her parents to me, but I found out some details from other sources. Her mother’s name is Masuyo. Her husband was a Navy guy from England who stayed in Japan after he got out of the service. He wasn’t any sort of criminal, at least I don’t think so. But Masuyo had the connections, brains, and cunning that pushed the empire she created to a truly global level.” Temple paused and then said, in a resigned voice, “You should know that Steers killed all her siblings in order to take over the business in some sort of survivor’s contest. I mean, how sick is that?”
“She mentioned turning us in to the Chinese. Is she tight with them?”
“I don’t know for sure,” said Temple. “But I do know she’s dan- gerous and all the guys who work for her could kill us with their pinkies.”
Nash suddenly thought of something he should have before. He rose, grabbed a piece of paper and pen from a drawer, wrote something on the paper, and slid it across to Temple. When the man read it, he looked up, utterly terrified.
Nash had just suggested that the apartment was bugged. He said, “I guess we just wait until she tells us the plan.”
“Right,” said Temple as he tore the paper into strips and threw them into the trash. Then he put his face in his hands and moaned.
A knock on the apartment door a minute later caused both of them to jump.
“I guess it’s time,” said Nash.
Walter Nash, working under the alias of Dillon Hope, is on the road to revenge after becoming an informant for the FBI against a global criminal operation headed up by Victoria Steers. Steers has ripped everything Nash held dear away from him. He has nothing left to lose and with long, rigorous training under his belt the gentle and sensitive Nash has transformed into something he never thought he’d be: a physically imposing man with lethal skills. And now he has only goal left in life: taking down Victoria Steers.
In order to succeed, he’s going to need to cross enemy lines and work the job from the inside. But Steers is shrewd and only brings those with her complete trust into her inner circle. Nash must rely on every ounce of his hard-earned skills in order to prove himself an ally to Steers if he’s ever going to get close enough to decimate her criminal empire.
Yet, despite hating the woman for destroying his life, Nash finds himself oddly drawn to Steers in ways that he never could’ve imagined. And what he ultimately discovers will turn all he believed upside down, forcing Nash to do something truly unfathomable.
So, will the truth set Nash free?
Or end him?