24
LEO
The Golden Hand Spa in Sunnyvale advertised ninety-minute massages for sixty-nine dollars: not a bargain, but in the Bay Area, believably cheap. The intent was for the business to look operational, but not enticing. Hygienic, yet not pristine. The front window featured a press-on decal of a green bamboo and was otherwise bare with shades drawn.
It wasn’t until Leo saw Julia here inside, examining with open disgust a slab of imitation quartz, that he understood he’d summoned her to the Golden Hand deliberately. That he’d wanted her here, uneasy and uncertain among the remains of sweat and honeysuckle-scented lotion. That she’d leaked the information on Aaron was disaster enough, but that the photos had been of an SPB operation, previously unknown to the Americans, brought it near
