Foresight

by Ian Hamilton

  “Wait for what?”

  “I’m not in a position to answer your questions. You need to be patient.”

  Uncle walked into the office to discover that he and the captain would be the only occupants. The captain closed the door behind them and took a seat behind a desk. Uncle sat across from him.

  “Can I use the phone to call Director Liu? I’m sure he can clear this up.”

  “Director Liu is in charge of customs. This is an immigration matter,” the officer said. “Besides, I was told that you weren’t to make any calls.”

  “Told by whom?”

  “I don’t think that matters.”

  “Can you at least give me some idea of what this is about?” Uncle asked.

  “No.”

  “I am a citizen of Hong Kong.”

  “I can’t comment on that or anything else.”

  Uncle took out his cigarettes and offered one to the captain. When he declined, Uncle lit his and took a deep drag. Two cigarettes later there was a heavy knock at the office door.

  “Enter,” the captain shouted.

  The door opened and Uncle found himself looking up at four soldiers from the People’s Liberation Army. Three of them held rifles against their chests. “What the hell is this?” he asked, his voice a mixture of anger and concern.

  “My name is Lieutenant Ban,” the soldier without a rifle said. “You are to come with us.”

  “Come where?”

  “You’ll find out when we get there.”

  “Then why would I come with you?”

  “You don’t have any choice,” Ban said. “You either come peacefully or you’ll be handcuffed, blindfolded, and led forcibly from this building.”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “You are being detained.”

  “Why?”

  “We have our orders, and that’s all I can say. I’m sure you’ll find out more when we get to your destination.”

  “Which is where?”

  “You aren’t leaving Shenzhen, if that’s what’s worrying you,” Ban said.

  “There’s a lot more than that worrying me,” Uncle said, starting to rise from his chair.

  Ban held out an arm and pushed Uncle back down. “Do we need to handcuff you or will you come quietly?” he asked.

  “Can I make a phone call before we leave?” asked Uncle, trying one more time.

  “No.”

  “I have a friend on the Hong Kong side of the border waiting for me. Can I at least let him know that I’m being detained?”

  “No.”

  Uncle weighed his options. “You don’t need to handcuff me,” he said finally.

  “Good. Then get up slowly from the chair and we’ll escort you to the vehicles.”

  Lieutenant Ban led them from the building. Uncle walked behind him, a soldier at each side and one covering his back. Two jeeps were parked outside. “Get into the back of the second jeep,” Ban said.

  Uncle climbed in and was joined by a soldier. Ban and another soldier sat in front. “Let’s go,” Ban said.

  They drove away from the border in the direction of the city centre. Uncle kept waiting for the jeeps to veer off the main road, half expecting he would end up at the compound of Quonset huts he’d been taken to before. But the vehicles kept moving in a straight line towards the city, which in some ways he found reassuring.

  The city centre had changed so much in recent years that it was almost unrecognizable. It was a labyrinth of malls, streets lined with shops and restaurants, office towers, and apartment buildings. Uncle recognized some of the buildings, but not the grey stone monolith that proved to be their destination. He searched the exterior for an identifying sign but found none.

  “We’re getting out here,” Ban said.

  The soldiers from the first jeep had already piled out and stood on the sidewalk next to Uncle’s. When he climbed out, they moved quickly to beside him.

  “Follow me,” Ban said, walking up a set of broad concrete stairs to the doors.

  When Uncle entered the building, any questions he’d had about it were immediately resolved. Directly ahead, a ten-metre-high wall separated two banks of elevators. On it was a massive red star with a gold border and the words serve the people emblazoned in gold in its centre — the symbol of the PLA. The lobby was bare of furnishings

  but not empty, as soldiers were criss-crossing the marble floor. Without breaking stride, Ban led Uncle towards the elevators to the right of the star. The fact that he was in what seemed to be an office building and about to ride an elevator began to allay Uncle’s concerns.

  He didn’t see Ban push the button, but when an elevator arrived, Ban stepped inside and the soldiers guided Uncle in after him. Uncle looked at the row of floor buttons and then watched as Ban reached for the bottom one, which read sub-basement.

  The elevator started its descent from the ground floor, past the storage floor and the basement, and then stopped. When the door opened, the soldiers directed Uncle into a corridor that had a low ceiling, dim lighting, and walls that were painted a dull gray. The air was surprisingly warm and slightly damp. Still, Uncle shivered.

  “Lieutenant Ban, you’ve brought us another guest,” a voice said.

  Uncle turned to see a soldier with sergeant’s stripes on his sleeves walking towards him with two other soldiers.

  “This one is here at the request of General Ye,” Ban said. “Here are his documents.”

  “I know. One of the general’s staff called me a short while ago to say he’d be joining us,” the sergeant said as he looked at Uncle’s papers.

  “Can we leave him with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then we’ll be off.”

  When Ban and his men moved away, the two soldiers took up positions next to Uncle.

  “Who is General Ye?” Uncle asked.

  “In my world you don’t speak unless you’re asked a question. And even then, restrict yourself to answering only the question that’s been asked,” the sergeant said. Then he spoke to the soldiers. “Take him to number ten.”

  “Just a second. I’d like to make a phone call.”

  “No phone calls.”

  “I want to contact my lawyer.”

  “No lawyers.”

  “As you can tell from my permit, I’m a citizen of Hong Kong,” Uncle said. “Contacting my lawyer is a right.”

  “As I can also tell from your permit, you were born in China. As far as we’re concerned, that makes you Chinese,” the sergeant said. Then he turned to the soldiers and said, “Empty his pockets and take his belt before you put him in.”

  The soldiers each grabbed one of Uncle’s arms and started walking. They were large enough that they could easily have carried him if he’d put up any resistance. Instead he went with them, taking in what he could of his surroundings. Any comfort he’d felt earlier was gone. The corridor was narrow, and past the elevator it was lined with steel doors without visible handles. At the bottom of each door was a small flap that was secured from the outside.

  None of the doors were numbered, but halfway down the corridor the men came to a halt in front of one. While one soldier kept a tight grip on Uncle’s arm, the other reached for a key he had on a chain around his waist. He unlocked the door and then said, “Fold your hands behind your head.”

  When Uncle did, the soldier quickly went through all his pockets, taking out his wallet, Zippo lighter, and cigarettes. When that was done, he pushed open the door. “In you go,” he said.

  Uncle stepped inside a room empty of light, except for that coming from the corridor. Through the gloom he saw that it was maybe three metres square, with a concrete floor and walls. It had a cot along one wall with a mattress but no other bedding. In the corner was a toilet that had no lid. There was nothing else in the room. He th
ought about asking the soldier for his cigarettes and lighter, but before he could the door was slammed in his face and the room plunged into complete darkness. He slowly moved sideways to sit on the cot. It was so dark that he couldn’t see it, even though it was close enough to touch. He sat down and held his hand in front of his face. It wasn’t visible. It was so quiet he could hear himself breathe. The smell of urine filled his nostrils.

  He calculated the time and then wondered how long it would take for Fong to contact Liu and for Liu to engineer his release. This wasn’t a place he wanted to spend the night in. Aside from the smell and the darkness, the mattress was so thin that he could feel the cot’s coils digging into his thighs.

  He pulled himself fully onto the mattress and pressed his back against the wall. This China venture, he thought, is getting increasingly complicated for me. What’s at play here? He had no doubt that Peng had given the PLA the names of every company and individual who had given him a bribe, and it was possible they were targeting them as they crossed the border. But why pick him out when he was leaving, not entering? And why pick out him and not Fong? He had no answer to the first question, and the only one he could think of for the second was his Chinese origin.

  The minutes dragged, or at least he thought they did, because in the dark he had no real concept of time. Then suddenly a slice of light came through a gap at the bottom of the door. He saw a tray and part of a hand, and heard a voice say, “Here’s dinner.”

  The tray held a bowl of white rice and a cup of water. He left the cot to take the tray, and as he did, the light disappeared and he was plunged back into darkness. He backed up until he felt the cot against his legs and sat down with the tray on his knees. The rice was lukewarm and sticky. He ate it anyway and washed it down with the water.

  Hours passed, and as they did his sense of unease began to grow. He started to wonder about Liu. How much influence did he actually have? It was the PLA who had put him in the cell. Did Liu have enough power to get him out of it? How much faith should he place in his silent partner? But he didn’t have faith. What was another option? As his mind moved back and forth between optimism and the fringes of despair, he found that in the darkness every thought was heightened. It was as if depriving him of sight had sharpened his mind.

  Another thing that was sharp was his need for a cigarette. Several times he reached absent-mindedly into his jacket pocket for his Marlboros, only to be brought back to the reality of their absence. On most days he smoked a full pack of twenty, and on days when he was under stress or studying the racing form, he could easily go through half of that again. He had been smoking since he was a teenager and had never been able to quit. Before coming to Hong Kong, lack of money had forced him to cut back for a few years, but he had never fully stopped. Now he began to feel what it would be like if he did try to stop. His mouth was dry, there was a knot in his stomach, and he was jumpy. He didn’t know how much his situation was contributing to his edginess, but the physical craving for a cigarette was certainly part of it.

  At one point Uncle had to pee, and he looked towards where he thought he’d seen the toilet. He knew that eyes could become accustomed to darkness, but his hadn’t. It was as if all the light had been sucked out of the room, leaving behind an impenetrable blackness. He got up from the cot and stumbled towards the corner until his shins bumped into the toilet. He tried to centre himself over it and was relieved when he heard a splash as he peed. He found his way back to the cot and lay down. Surely he wouldn’t have to spend the night in this place.

  He wondered what time it was, and then thought about Fanling. Surely Fong had made it home safely. The meeting about Tai Wai New Village had been scheduled for eight o’clock. Had it been held? Was it still going on? Why hadn’t he told Fong what he thought their response should be to the killing? There’s nothing I can do about any of that from here, and there’s no point in thinking about it, he thought, but he also knew it would be nearly impossible not to.

  He wasn’t sure if he actually slept, but it seemed he was awakened by a noise from outside. He sat up quickly, his ears straining to hear. Was it voices? Then he heard the sound of metal against metal and the door swung open. Even the dim corridor light forced him to blink as his eyes tried to adjust.

  “It’s time to have a talk,” someone said. “Come out of there.”

  For a few confused seconds Uncle expected to see Liu standing in the doorway, but it was a PLA officer with two soldier guards lurking behind him. “Who are you?” Uncle asked.

  “Captain Ma. I’ve been assigned to your case.”

  “What case?”

  “There’ll be no further discussion here. I need you to leave your cell.”

  Uncle slid from the cot and got to his feet. He felt a muscle tighten in his back, and stretched. One of the soldiers pointed a rifle at him. “You shouldn’t make any sudden moves,” Ma said.

  “I can see that.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Uncle stepped into the corridor, his eyes beginning to adjust to the light.

  “Follow me,” Ma said and started walking down the corridor.

  Uncle followed him, with one soldier by his side and the other behind. They went the length of the corridor to a set of double wooden doors. The captain pushed his way through them and then turned right. The soldiers guided Uncle through the doors and then led him into a room that was so brightly lit he had to shade his eyes.

  “Sit there,” Ma said, pointing to a plain wooden chair on one side of an equally plain table.

  Uncle did as he was asked. Then Ma sat down across from him while the soldiers closed the door and took up positions on either side of it.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” Ma asked, placing his forearms on the table and linking his fingers.

  Uncle looked directly across the table at him. He guessed Ma was in his early to mid-forties. He was clean-shaven and his hair was cut close to the scalp, accentuating a widow’s peak. He was lean, of medium height, and his crisply ironed uniform was tight against his body. He was staring at Uncle but his attitude was one of disinterest, maybe even boredom. How many times has he done this? Uncle thought, and then said, “I have no idea why I’m here. I’m a citizen of Hong Kong. I would like to have my rights as a foreign citizen recognized and respected.”

  “You’re in China, not Hong Kong,” Ma said with a grim smile.

  Before Uncle could respond, Ma pushed back from the table, stood up, and walked over to a table set against one wall. He picked up a jug of water and two glasses and placed them in front of Uncle. Then he went back and returned with a file folder, Uncle’s cigarettes and lighter, and an ashtray.

  “You can smoke if you wish,” Ma said.

  Uncle hesitated. “I’ll wait,” he said, not wanting to appear weak.

  “And you can have as much water as you want,” Ma said, reaching for the jug and pouring two glasses. Uncle picked up a glass and sipped.

  Ma opened the folder, read silently for about a minute, and then leaned forward. “How well did you know Peng Da, the Director of Economic Development in this SEZ?”

  “When I was deciding about making my first investment in Shenzhen, I met him in his office with Ming Gen, whose partner I became in his textile factory. The meeting was for the purpose of learning about the regulations that govern investments in the zone,” Uncle said. “I met him again when we officially reopened the factory after re-equipping it. I don’t remember any meetings after that, although we did talk on the phone when my company decided to make further investments in the warehousing sector. Again I wanted to make sure I was in compliance with various regulations.”

  “Did Peng Da ever ask you for money or anything else of value?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever offer him money or anything else of value?”

  “No.”

  Ma raised an eyebrow and gla
nced down at the file. “What name should I call you?”

  “As you can see on my permit, my name is Chow Tung.”

  “Yes, but it says here that many of your friends refer to you as Uncle. Is that true?”

  “Some of my friends do.”

  “Hmmm. Well, Uncle, if you stick to the story you’ve just told me, this is not going to go very well for you,” Ma said. “I know you paid Peng, and before we go any further, I need you to admit that.”

  “He asked for nothing and I gave him nothing,” Uncle said briskly.

  Ma looked past Uncle. “I’m finished here for now. Take him back to his cell,” he said to the soldiers.

  Uncle stood up.

  “You can light a cigarette and take it with you if you want,” Ma said.

  “No, but thank you all the same.”

  “Then I’ll see you later,” Ma said.

  Uncle left the room with the two soldiers. The one by his side gripped his arm with more force than Uncle thought was warranted, and the one behind prodded him with the barrel of his rifle. When they reached the cell, the soldier let go of Uncle’s arm to put a key into the lock. As he did, the one behind put his mouth close to Uncle’s ear. “Don’t be stupid. Everyone talks eventually. Tell the captain what he wants to know now and you’ll save yourself a lot of trouble.”

  “Thanks for the advice, but I’ve already told him everything I know,” Uncle said.

  The cell door opened, Uncle felt a hand on his back, and he was propelled through it back into the darkness.

  ( 25 )

  Uncle sat on the cot, pondering his situation. Peng had talked, and there was no doubt that he had told them absolutely everything he could in order to save his life. The bigger question in Uncle’s mind was whether Peng had told them only things he actually knew. Had he also elaborated on things he thought he knew? Perhaps he had even fabricated things he thought they wanted to hear. The answer to those questions wouldn’t have any bearing on how Uncle responded to Ma, but it might give him a clue as to how determined and persistent Ma might be. If all he was doing was hunting down some of the people who’d bribed Peng, he might not pursue the issue as avidly if he was trying to connect Peng to Uncle as a way of linking Uncle to others. Ma’s questions had been solely about Peng, and that was a positive sign — if anything positive was possible to find in those circumstances.