Page 1 of Wired Strong

Chapter One

Pim Wat

Same time frame as the end of Wired Ghost

Pim Wat staredat her reflection in the mirror.

She was supposed to be meditating. The Master wanted her to learn to manage her emotions, her mind, her body.

And technically, shewasmeditating—on the ruin of her once beautiful face.

One eye was higher than the other, because a broken cheekbone hadn’t been set. The other eye wouldn’t open all the way—the lid had been torn and had healed crookedly, giving her the look of a drunkard. Scar tissue twisted across her face like a snake, and her jaw had been broken and reset poorly, causing a droop to her mouth.

The dandelion fluff covering her skull, gone white from suffering, she could grow out and dye.

But her face?

Pim Wat was a gargoyle now, a travesty. She had no intention of reining in her emotions about that. She picked up the heavy, expensive bottle of perfume resting on her vanity, and hurled it at the mirror.

The flask broke with a satisfying crash that flung shards of crystal and glass all over the luxurious chamber, filling her hair and peppering her skin with “shrapnel” that reeked of jasmine and roses. She smiled through the pain, letting the shards impale her where they would.

Pim Wat welcomed the searing of a thousand tiny cuts.

Pain was a friend. That sensation woke her up; it was a spur in her side, driving her to greatness. She was done being a malleable doll that the Master could mold into someone loving, forgiving, passive. She’d never been those things. This outward ugliness didn’t suit her, either.

The Master called her “my beautiful one,” and “my deadly viper.”

Pim Wat wasn’t those things now, but she would be again.

She’d rise from these ashes like a phoenix to strike terror into her enemies; she’d rain death on those who’d stolen years of her life—beginning with that disloyal whore who’d handed her over to the torturers.

She’d enjoyed the masquerade of asking Sophie’s forgiveness. Now her daughter wouldn’t see vengeance coming.

A knock at the door. “Mistress? Are you all right?” The quavering voice of Pim Wat’s attendant was muffled by the heavy wooden portal. The woman was a peasant, the wife of Number One’s houseman, Nam. The couple had recently been brought to the Yam Khûmk?n compound as refugees, hiding from the raid that the U.S. Department of Justice had made on their home. Kupa should be grateful to be allowed to serve Pim Wat, but the woman continually needed discipline.

“Bring a feather duster, broom, and pan, Kupa,” Pim Wat said. “There’s been an accident.”

“Right away, Mistress.” The maid’s footsteps hurried away.

Pim Wat finally shut her eyes.

She could meditate now, sitting in outward stillness, and plan what came next.

Chapter Two

Marcella

Day 1, four weeks after Wired Ghost

Special Agent Marcella Scottshut the door of the office at the Fight Club gym in downtown Honolulu, and turned to face her friend. “Did you wand the room for surveillance?”

Sophie Smithson rose from the chair behind the battered metal desk. “I did.” The chair was a relic from a time when the prosperous gym had been small and struggling; they’d both been working out here since then. Sophie held a device in her hand and approached Marcella. “I need to check you, too.”

Marcella rolled her eyes. “Really? There’s no room in this outfit for anything but my tits.” But she extended her arms and allowed Sophie to sweep the palm-sized device over the exercise bra and tight workout shorts she wore. “I can’t believe we’ve come to this.”

“I don’t think you’d intentionally try to entrap me.” Sophie switched off the handheld detector and set it on the desk. She, too, wore workout clothing: yoga pants, and a spandex racerback top that displayed well-defined lats, deltoids, and abs. “But there are agents in your office who’d do anything to be able to take me down.”

“Special Agent Pillman of Internal Affairs, you mean.” Marcella made a rude Italian hand gesture. “The man’s a menace, and that’s on a good day.”

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