The Tree of Knowledge, Daniel Miller [unputdownable books txt] 📗

ones who nearly shot my head off the other day. Detective, you’re the only person we can trust. You’ve got to figure out a way to get out here.”

The detective paused and stared up at the cracked plaster ceiling, shaking his head. This is none of my business. But he knew that there was something behind what Puddles was saying. He picked up the phone’s base and walked over to the wall so as not to be heard.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter 9

While Albert spoke with Detective Weatherspoon, Ying Koh steadied herself to make the most important phone call of her life. She picked up the faded yellow receiver of the motel phone, twirled the ancient cord around her finger, and dialed. As the ringtones purred in her ear, Ying looked into the desk mirror and thought of how far she’d come from the scared little girl she’d once been.

“Wei,” answered her mother’s voice at the other end of the line. Ying’s family often spoke Chinese at home.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Ah, Mao Mao! Let me get your father.”

Ying’s chest ached at the sound of her family’s nickname for her. Since she was a child, Ying had been called Mao Mao, which literally meant “fuzz fuzz,” because of the way her hair stuck up on her head. With that simple phrase, she was transported back to her family’s kitchen, where she and her mother would prepare dumplings while her father and the boys talked politics around the dining table. She heard her father pick up the receiver.

“Hey, Mao Mao,” exclaimed her father. His voice sounded weaker than she remembered it.

“Hey, Baba,” said Ying, holding back tears. “Are you OK? You sound sick.”

“Ah, just a little cold. Nothing to worry about. How are you, my little girl? How are things at Princeton? Do you need me to send you some money?”

Ying laughed. Her dad would always try to send her money for books. It made him somehow feel useful now that his daughter was gone and the boys were grown up.

“No, Dad. I’m fine. School is good. I’m on a special project right now with two of the best professors in the Math Department, Professor Puddles and Professor Turner.”

“Oh wow,” said her mother. “That’s great, Mao Mao.”

“Pay attention to those men, Mao Mao. They can teach you a lot,” said her father.

“Are you studying hard?” asked her mother.

Hearing her parents’ familiar nagging crushed Ying’s resolve. Suddenly, everything she’d been caught up in—the Tree, running from the FBI, her affection for Puddles—seemed so foreign and cold, as though she’d lived it in a dream. She was tired and weak, and wanted to run home to her mother’s embrace and her dad’s protection. But that time had passed. She was a part of it now. A part of the Tree. A part of the Book Club. A part of the resistance—to Eva, to Cristina Culebra, to the serpent.

Silently, she began to sob. She covered her mouth to keep the sound from her parents.

“Mao Mao? Is everything alright?” said her mother.

Ying breathed deeply to choke down the tears. “Yeah, Mom. I just—I just wanted you both to know that I love you very much and that I hope you’re proud of me.”

“Of course we’re proud of you. Why would you say such silly things?” questioned her dad. His voice soothed her like the roll of ocean waves.

But her mother sensed something more. “Mao Mao, if there is anything you need to tell us, you know you can.”

“I know, Mom. I know. Like I said, I just wanted to tell you that I love you both and that I might be on this project for a while, so you might not hear from me too often.” Her voice quaked with every word.

“OK,” her mom said. “Well, we love you very much, Mao Mao, and your father and your brothers and I are here whenever you need us, OK?”

“OK, Mom. Good night. Good night, Dad.”

“Good night, my girl.”

Ying placed the receiver back on the hook. She wiped the tears from her face, put on her coat, and left the musty, old motel room, closing the door on everything she had ever loved.

Chapter 10

The four a.m. wind whipped across the dark, empty parking lot of Fix Industries, carrying a faint smell of ocean life and asphalt. Angus Turner and Ying Koh stood outside the R&D wing steeling themselves for the fraught entry. Brick and Gabe kept watch in the car from a distance. The building violently protruded from the Long Beach coastline, all steel and glass, making no attempt to welcome guests or visitors. Turner shivered as he slid the key card Gabe had given him through the secure door’s card swipe. Relief overtook him as he heard a soft click and saw the card reader light turn green. He pulled the door open and gestured for Ying to enter, following closely behind. The security entrance anteroom hallway was dark save the faint red glow of an exit light. The sterile smell of floor cleaner wafted through the cold corridor. A guard desk and metal detector stood empty. At the end of the room stood another doorway with a sign that read:

R&D

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL

ONLY

Turner turned to his partner in crime and sagged. Standing before him was a mere girl. Ying was twenty-three years old, but she looked no more than sixteen. She wrinkled her nose, pushed her glasses up, and looked at him with large oval eyes. Silence hovered over them.

What have I done? This young lady has nothing to do with this. And now I’m asking her to help me break into a building to cover for my mistakes.

Noticing the look on Turner’s face, Ying whispered, “What?”

“I can’t ask you to do this,” whispered Turner, patting Ying’s arm like a grandfather.

Ying sighed and shook her head. She had seen that look before. “Professor, it’s alright. You’re not asking me to do anything. All my life, people