Roxanne as soon as her mother had left the room. “You need to google ‘foot doctor Paris.’ ”
“Already done,” Roxanne replied. “And Trenta can be fully staffed and ready in three hours.”
Colette turned to her friends. “Why don’t we all meet at Hongqiao Airport at midnight?”
“Everybody get out your Goyards! We’re going to Paris!” Perrineum cheered.
* * *
*1 St. Germain elderflower liqueur, gin, and white Lillet mixed with grapefruit juice create this classic effervescent aperitif. Chin-chin!
*2 A Mandarin term for the children of top government officials.
*3 Mandarin for “bullshit!”
*4 A Mandarin term that means “second generation of the rich.” Generally a derogatory term for the sons and daughters of the Chinese nouveaux riches who profited from the early years of China’s reform-era boom.
*5 Mandarin for “Grandmother.”
14
TRENTA
SHANGHAI TO PARIS ON THE BINGS’ PRIVATE JET*1
The security guard at the Hongqiao International Airport Private Aviation entrance handed Carlton, Rachel, and Nick their passports and waved them through. As Carlton’s SUV approached a Gulfstream VI surrounded by arriving cars, Rachel commented, “I have a bit of a phobia of private jets, but I gotta admit, Colette’s got a beautiful plane.”
“That’s a nice plane, but it’s not Colette’s. That one is,” Carlton said, steering the car to the right. Parked in the distance on the tarmac was an alpine white Boeing 747 jumbo jet with one undulating scarlet stripe painted along its fuselage like a giant calligraphy brushstroke. “This Boeing 747-81 VIP was a fortieth-birthday present for Colette’s mother.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Rachel said, staring at the humongous plane glistening under floodlights.
Nick chuckled. “Rachel, I don’t know how you can still be surprised. Bigger is always better for the Bings, isn’t it?”
“They spend so much time crisscrossing the globe, it makes sense for them. And especially for businessmen like Jack Bing, time is money. With the long delays at the airports in Shanghai and Beijing these days, it’s an advantage to have your own plane—you can just pay to jump the runway queue,” Carlton explained.
“Isn’t that precisely what’s causing the flight delays at Chinese airports? All the private jets getting to skip ahead of commercial airliners?” Nick asked.
“No comment,” Carlton said with a wink as he pulled up to the red carpet that extended from the airplane’s staircase onto the tarmac. The ground crew immediately bustled around the car, opening doors and removing the luggage while Carlton handed off his car to the valet. Along the length of the carpet, fifteen flight crew members stood at attention like troops ready for inspection, attired in the same crisp black James Perse uniforms seen at Colette’s house.
“I feel like Michelle Obama about to board Air Force One,” Rachel whispered to Nick as they walked along the plush red carpet.
Overhearing them, Carlton quipped, “Wait till you get on board. This plane makes Air Force One look like a sardine tin.”
At the top of the steps, they entered the cabin door and were immediately greeted by the chief purser. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Bao. Good to see you again.”
“Hi, Fernando.”
Next to Fernando stood a flight attendant who bowed deeply before asking Rachel and Nick, “Your shoe sizes, please?”
“Er…I’m a size six, and he’s a ten and a half,” Rachel said, wondering why she asked.
Moments later, the flight attendant returned with velvet drawstring bags for everyone. “A gift from Mrs. Bing,” she announced. Rachel looked inside and saw a pair of Bottega Veneta leather slippers.
“Colette’s mum prefers for everyone to wear these on board,” Carlton explained, slipping off his loafers. “Come, let me give you a quick tour before everyone else gets here.” He led them down a hallway paneled in a lacquered gray maple wood and tried to open a set of double doors. “Bugger, I guess it’s locked. This is a staircase that leads downstairs to the clinic. There’s an operating theater with a full life-support system, and there’s always a doctor on board.”
“Let me guess…Mrs. Bing’s idea?” Nick asked.
“Yes, she’s always worrying that she’ll fall ill on the plane on the way to visit her doctors. Let’s try going this way.”
They followed Carlton along another passage and down a wider set of steps. “Here’s the main cabin, or the Grand Lounge, as they call it.”
Rachel’s jaw dropped. She knew, on an intellectual level, that she was still on an airplane. But what she was seeing was something that couldn’t possibly exist on a plane. They were standing in a vast, semicircular room filled with sleek Balinese teak sofas, consoles that looked like antique silver chests, and silk-covered