Cumulus (25 page)

Huian nodded tiredly. “Which is why I’m here.”

“Of course,” said Frederick. “You can’t do it alone.” He touched an index finger to his temple and cast a glance at his other team members. Finally, he looked back to Huian. “Alright,” he said. “Here’s how we’ll do it. First, we will both call off our forces around MacArthur, and dedicate those resources to immediate emergency response efforts. Then, Cumulus, my organization, and the City will establish a formal strategic partnership to implement the plan. The triumvirate will do extensive ongoing community engagement and issue popular referendums on all key decisions. We will also set up a separate independent council to advise on the implementation of this plan, chaired by you, me, and the mayor. All three of us will step down immediately and relinquish leadership—otherwise we can’t be truly independent. Without separating ourselves from our organizations, we won’t have a chance of earning the trust required to prosecute such a strategy.”

“I will do no such thing,” said the mayor, aghast. “Oakland needs a strong hand in this moment of crisis.”

Frederick stared at him for a long moment. “What Oakland needs isn’t for me to say,” he said. “But I can assure you of at least one thing. Oakland does
not
need corrupt politicians.”

The mayor’s face turned beet red. “How dare—”

“Mr. Mayor,” interrupted Frederick. “We have enjoyed a long and fruitful relationship. But one thing I learned playing basketball is that sometimes opportunity can be found in the darkest of moments. This is one such time. Even if this initiative fails, Oakland’s citizens will surely benefit from the experiment. Even you can see that much. You can either get on board or suffer the consequences of the details of our friendship reaching the public eye.”

“Well then,” said the mayor, sweat beading on his forehead.

“That’s the spirit,” said Frederick.

“Boss,” said a woman in coveralls chewing on a pencil. “You can’t leave. We need you here.”

“You most certainly do not need me,” said Frederick. “If I have accomplished anything over all these years, it’s that.” He turned to Lilly. “Ms. Miyamoto, did I not recently tell you I have been considering retirement?”

Lilly started in surprise. “Umm, yeah. You did. In the truck last night.”

“I have always had a weakness for dramatic exits,” said Frederick. “Ms. Li?”

“Yes?” asked Huian.

Frederick stepped forward and extended a hand.

“I hope you spend the rest of your life rotting in prison for what you’ve done,” he said. “But you have a deal.”

Huian shook.
You might discover that incredible things can happen when you relinquish control.

It was time to put Vera’s insight to the test.

40

LILLY LED HUIAN DOWN
the short flight of steps that led from the alley’s sidewalk to the unmarked wooden door. She opened it, and they stepped through into a cramped anteroom where they hung their coats. Then she parted the strings of hanging beads and slipped into the space beyond.

Lilly had been here so many times that this place felt like a second home. But now that she was bringing a first-time guest, she tried to see it through virgin eyes. Billowing steam and smoke rendered the air viscous with the smells of garlic, onion, and pork. The too-low ceiling gave the impression of some kind of underground speakeasy. The walls were covered in detailed illustrations of scenes that bled through the barrier of magical realism, and whispered of wild and dangerous transgression. The room was all dark wood and darker corners. Stools lined a bar on the left, and cast iron cauldrons bubbled in the open kitchen behind it. Tables hid in irregular nooks, and the entire place felt organic, as if it had grown in situ rather than being constructed by human hands. An old man in a ragged three-piece suit played a stand-up bass at the far end of the room, the rhythmic plucking providing a subconscious tempo to the low murmur of conversation.

They found a small booth in an isolated corner and squeezed in around it.

Huian was looking around in mild wonder. “I had no idea places like this existed,” she said.

“You’d be surprised at the secrets hidden in the Slums,” said Lilly. “Greenies think we’re all missing the boat. We think you’re all missing the point.” This was nearly the only restaurant she ever patronized.

A teenage boy in a stained apron approached their table. Lilly held up two fingers. He nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“So this is where you come when things fall apart.” Huian’s tone was thoughtful.

Lilly shrugged, remembering their conversation in Huian’s subterranean basketball court. “Or when I need to put things back together. Or to celebrate after a successful gig. I come here when I need to process. When home doesn’t have the sanctuary I need.”

“Is now one of those times?”

“I’m guessing now is one of those times for both of us.”

The boy returned with two massive ceramic bowls filled to the brim with ramen. The soup sloshed as he thumped them down on the table. Thick slices of pork belly and pork shoulder swam in the rich brown broth. Bright-green scallions and pickled shiitake mushrooms floated above the underlying bed of thick rice noodles. Lilly and Huian scooped up chopsticks in one hand and soup spoons in the other, and went to work. Heads bent close to the table, they slurped through the ramen with singular focus, not looking up until the bowls were empty and their bellies full.

They leaned back against the walls of the booth, and Lilly was again struck by the intensity smoldering behind Huian’s eyes.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” asked Lilly.

Huian raised her eyebrows. “I won’t ever be ready for tomorrow,” she said. “But that won’t stop it from arriving anyway.”

Sara’s gruesome corpse flashed in her mind’s eye. “I can’t say I sympathize.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. In fact, that’s why I asked you to take me here.”

“I was wondering why you wanted to spend your symbolic last meal with me.”

“I appreciate your acquiescing.”

“You saved my life today. The torturer was your employee, but still.”

Lines formed around the corner of Huian’s eyes but she didn’t look away.

“Look,” she said. “If it weren’t for you, I never would have found out what Graham was really up to. He would have co-opted Cumulus and used it and me to his own ends. Whatever happens after tomorrow will be a blessing compared to that. It also highlighted the need to separate the future of the company from my own personal fate. I can’t pretend it’s something I’m happy about, but it is necessary.” She sucked in a deep breath through her nose. “Whatever happens, people like you and Henok will be absolutely critical. You give a voice to the voiceless. Your bravery and curiosity and disregard for what other people think are what allowed you to bring down Graham. Plus, by breaking the story wide open, you’ve earned the public’s trust. Your conclusions will be borne out with tomorrow’s announcements.”

Huian ran a hand through her graying hair. “I want you to keep telling this story. Do it however you want to, in whatever format you want to. I’ll give you complete access to everything I’ve got, and I will never turn down an interview with you. After our meeting with Frederick, I had my lawyers establish a
$1
billion endowment for investigative journalism. The interest should be substantial enough to support a staff of independent reporters and editors. The endowment’s evergreen, so it won’t just disappear over time. You’re the sole director. If you want to work with Henok, hire him. If you want to work with anyone else, do it. Do whatever you want with it. I’m hoping that plastering Graham’s face all over the Bay Area was just the beginning. I obviously don’t have much time to prepare for what’s about to happen, but this is a critical piece of it. Frederick bankrolled your expenses, but being dependent on his patronage will shape how your work is perceived. This fund has no oversight from me or anyone else. It’s just you. Make it count.”

Huian stood. “Thank you, Lilly,” she said. “I am truly sorry about Sara, and I owe you more than I can put into words. One day, I hope you’ll allow me to make you another cocktail.”

Lilly watched in stunned disbelief as Huian’s retreating back disappeared through the beaded curtain. The more time she spent with Huian, the less she understood her. She had gone from seeking advantage to seeking salvation in the space of a heartbeat.
If it’s going to happen, we have to start right now.
Maybe in order to build the future, you first had to forgive the present.

But what the hell was Lilly going to do with a billion dollars? She had already been dreaming of chasing down more conspiracies with Henok. Tomorrow’s revelations would be a gold mine of potential stories. Thousands of leads and angles would be buried in the data. Hell, the world needed to know so much more about the battle for MacArthur and what had actually happened here over the past few days. The world needed to know what the new initiatives in Oakland meant. Were they sustainable? Were they truly independent? Would they work?

A hundred different worlds, a thousand different lives.
For a moment, she was transported back to her high school photography classroom, dozens of pictures hanging at every possible angle. The acrid smell of the darkroom. Henok Addisu. She couldn’t help but smile when she thought of him. The sharp lines of his face softened by the nerdy glasses. The tight curls of his dark hair and his smooth ochre skin. The abject relief on his face when she had reappeared with Huian and Karl in tow. What had Henok said when they first met?
Your story defines your identity
. She wondered what that said about her.

Lilly’s first love had been photography. But maybe it wouldn’t prove to be her only one after all.

THE END

THANK YOU FOR READING

I moved back to Oakland in 2013. It was the city of my birth and where I grew up. Seeing how Oakland has evolved since the ’80s is at once inspiring and harrowing.
Cumulus
is a kind of twisted love letter to my favorite city in the Bay Area.

Over the course of the past few years, we’ve bonded with many of our incredible neighbors, sated our appetites at countless ethnic food joints, had a triple homicide on our block, installed a free little library for our community, hiked in beautiful Redwood Park, and watched a protest with thousands of people and hundreds trailing police vehicles terminate at the end of our street. We love the birdsong but hate the gunshots. Oakland feels like a special point of confluence for so many of the themes that are running hot right now: the social implications of the growing wealth gap in American society, the extraordinary promise of new technologies and diverse worldviews, our failure to solve persistent social problems like poverty, racism, and homelessness, and the power of fierce, pragmatic optimism.

Writing
Cumulus
allowed me to explore my enthusiasm for my hometown and my fascination with how new tools like the internet are reshaping our lives in so many ways, big and small. Through years of working with startups and venture capital investors, I’ve had the privilege of seeing how some new technologies come to be and getting to know a few of the people who build and popularize them. I’ve never been more excited about the promise of human ingenuity and there’s no other time in history when I’d rather live. That said, these new developments are changing our social fabric, the texture of our personal lives, and even our geopolitics. Such change is always painful. Times like these require open-mindedness, compassion, critical thinking, resourcefulness, and creativity. I don’t have any of the answers but I hope that in some way this story might have helped contribute a few questions.

I’m an indie author. That means I don’t have a big publisher with a fancy New York office. It’s just me. I hire my own editors and designers out-of-pocket. With their help, I work tirelessly to make the book the best it can possibly be. I drink a lot of coffee.

As an indie author, I’m not trying to impress an agent or please an editor. Instead,
you
are my most important partner in this creative endeavor. The success of my books depends entirely on the enthusiasm of fans and readers. Word-of-mouth is what helps people find good books. It’s amazing how much of an impact you can have just by doing something simple like leaving an Amazon review, recommending the book to a friend, or sharing it on social media. So, if you enjoyed the story, pay it forward. Write a review. Mention it to someone who might like it. Make someone’s day by surprising them with the gift of story. Your breath of fresh air will help fill
Cumulus
’s sails.

To get updates on my new books, reading recommendations, and behind-the-scenes details on creative process, join my author newsletter. This is the single best way to get or stay in touch with me. Emails are infrequent, personal, and substantive. I respond to every single note from folks on the mailing list. Sign up here: