by James Ponti
“If you feel guilty about my lunch, I wouldn’t mind half of your sandwich.”
I handed it to her and she smiled.
“Thank you, Florian,” she said. “This means a lot to me.”
“Yeah, well, it’s just turkey and cheese.”
“I wasn’t talking about the sandwich.”
I looked up from my meal and smiled. “I know.”
After school we went into one of the practice rooms so she could play the song for me a few times. I wasn’t ready to belt it out in that environment quite yet, so I just got the tune down and started memorizing the words when I got home. I gave my first full-throated attempt the next morning while I took my shower.
It wasn’t pretty, but it could have been worse. I practiced it a few more times before she came over and we left for the zoo. We were standing by one of the lion statues at the entrance when I turned to her and asked, “So how are we going to do this? Alternate parts or sing harmony?”
It took her a second to get what I was saying. “Does that mean you’re going to do the talent show?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to make a total fool of myself because you’re my best friend.”
Her grin alone made it worthwhile.
“I think the best approach would be for one of us to sing the first verse, the other to sing the second verse, and then both of us sing the third one together,” she offered.
“And what do I do while you’re sitting at the piano playing? Do I get a chair or something?”
“I thought maybe you could perform some sort of interpretive dance.”
“Okay, I’m out!”
“I’m joking,” she replied. “You can either sit next to me on the bench or stand by the piano. Wherever you feel most comfortable.”
“Well, I’d feel most comfortable in the audience watching someone else sing,” I said. “But we can work with one of those.”
She gave me a hug and said, “This is going to be great, Florian. I mean it. You’re going to thank me afterward.”
A few minutes later Yin arrived with Mr. and Mrs. Chiang. She was much friendlier here than I’d ever seen her at school, and greeted us like old friends. It was hard to believe she was the same woman who’d given us the evil eye the day before. Her husband was a little stiff, although he seemed happy we were there too. Yin told us he worked in the embassy’s press office.
“So these are Yin’s friends who I hear so much about?” he said as he shook our hands.
“Nice to meet you,” Margaret said.
“I’m Florian,” I added.
“So what do you want to see?” Margaret asked Yin.
“Everything,” he said. “I love the zoo.”
First we walked along the Asia Trail. The Chiangs stayed back to give us some space but kept close enough to hear what we were talking about. I couldn’t tell if they were overly cautious or outright suspicious of Margaret and me. I wondered if Mrs. Chiang had told her husband she’d caught us snooping around Yin’s locker.
“How was the audition?” Yin asked as we watched a sloth bear pull apart an orange with his long curved claws.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think I did okay.”
“She was terrific,” I said.
“So you made it?” he asked, excited.
“I’ve got a callback next week,” she explained. “But I think there’s a good chance.” Then she leaned toward him and whispered, “Even better, Florian’s agreed to sing with me.”
Yin beamed. “I didn’t know you could sing.”
“That’s because I can’t,” I answered. “But apparently you don’t necessarily need talent to be in the talent show.”
We reached the clouded leopard exhibit and Yin said, “I don’t see them. Maybe they’re inside.”
It took a moment, but I spotted one of them lying in the corner and blending in against the rocks. “There’s one,” I said, pointing.
“And there’s the other,” said Margaret. “You can just see a leg and tail poking out from behind that tree.”
“You two are good at that,” said Yin. “If I get lost in a jungle, I hope you’re with me. I forget, what’s the English word again for hiding like that?”
“Camouflage,” I said.
“That’s it,” he said. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could all camouflage like that?”
I’ve lived in countries where I have to speak a second language, so I know that phrases don’t always match up like you intend. But what he said seemed odd to me. I wondered why he wanted to be able to camouflage. Was he tired of always being under the watchful eye of the Chiangs? Did he feel like people were always looking at him because of his musical talents? It reminded me of when Lucy Mays talked about the anonymity of auditioning for an orchestra behind a screen. They may not have been friends, but it seemed like they both had that in common.
“Let’s go see the pandas,” Yin said as he tugged a little on his Baltimore Orioles cap. “They’re the pride of the embassy.”
The giant pandas at the National Zoo actually belong to the Chinese government. They are on loan to the people of America as an offering of friendship and are by far the most popular attraction at the zoo. The panda house has indoor and outdoor viewing areas as well as an around-the-clock panda cam you can watch online. We stood on the outside deck watching one climb a tree for a while and then got in line to go inside.
“Let me take a picture of you two,” Margaret said while we waited.
I leaned next to Yin and we both flashed smiles while she snapped a shot with her phone.
“Mr. Chiang, will you take one of the three of us?” she asked. But when she turned, we realized that the Chiangs were still on the deck watching the panda in the tree.
“I guess they want to stay out here,” I said.
This surprised Yin and he called to them, “Is this okay? Can we go inside?”
“Yes, yes, have fun,” said Mr. Chiang. “We’ll wait here.”
“It’s good that you’re with me,” he said with a conspiratorial whisper. “Normally they don’t let me out of their sight.”
While we waited in line we talked about Yin’s travels around Washington.
“So every Saturday you go someplace around town?” Margaret said.
“Yes,” he said. “Sometimes it’s a museum. Other times it’s a park. And once a month we go to Maryland, where they own a . . . what’s the word, like a house but smaller . . . ?”
“A cottage?” said Margaret.
“That’s it,” he replied. “They have a cottage on Chesapeake Bay.”
“What do you do there?” I asked.
“I like to go out in a kayak and think about music,” he said. “I also like the doughnuts.”
“Doughnuts?”
“There’s a bakery on the corner near the house that’s amazing.”
Five minutes later we were inside the panda house. It was dark and there were so many people by the glass, we couldn’t see the pandas at first. We waited our turn and when we got to the front we were just opposite a cub playing with a ball.
“He’s so cute,” said Margaret as she took a picture.
“Why don’t I take one of you and Yin?” I suggested.
“That’d be great,” she said.
“And you’ll send it to me?” asked Yin.
“Of course,” she replied.
She handed me the phone and Margaret threw a friendly arm around Yin. He took off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his hair before the two of them smiled and posed so that the cub was in the picture too.
I snapped two quick shots and a man next to me asked, “You want one of all three of you?”
“That’d be great,” I said.
He was young and Asian-American, his black hair short and spiky, and his clothes were fairly hipster. He looked like a college student. I handed him the phone and posed next to Yin and Margaret.
“Closer,” he signaled, motioning with his hands for us to scrunc
h together more. “Perfect.”
He took a couple of pictures, but when Margaret reached to get her phone, he pulled it back.
“You remind me of this panda, Yin,” he said.
It took a second for me to realize that he’d called Yin by name.
“How do you know who he is?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.
“Yin Yae is a gift to the people of America,” he said, reciting one of the quotes I had read about him. “He’s like the panda, on display for everyone to enjoy, but still very much owned by the Chinese government.”
“Give me back my phone,” demanded Margaret.
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said, speaking directly to Yin. “You don’t have to end up like Tai Shan. You can stay. You can become a symbol for freedom.”
Yin angrily responded in Chinese, motioning to us while he did.
“Are they really your friends, Yin?”
Reflexively, we both stepped between them. “Yes, we are,” I said. “Now give us back the phone or we’ll call the police.”
He studied us for a moment and then held the phone out. Margaret snatched it from him and when he started to walk away she called out, “Wait.”
He stopped and turned. “What?”
“Say cheese.” She snapped a picture of him.
He angrily stepped toward her but she just started dialing.
“I’m calling 911,” she said.
He walked away and melted into the crowd of tourists. When we turned back to Yin, he was trembling.
“Don’t worry, Yin,” said Margaret. “We never would have let him hurt you.”
23.
The Daily Dragon
IT HAPPENED SO QUICKLY I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. First we were posing for a picture. Then a stranger was getting in Yin’s face. And before we knew it the man was gone. Even what he said seemed confusing. It sounded kind of like advice but felt a lot more like a threat.
It certainly rattled Yin.
He was still shaken when we sat on a bench against the back wall of the panda exhibit. Margaret and I were on either side of him, keeping a lookout in case the man returned.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, just surprised,” he said. “And a little embarrassed.”
“He should be embarrassed, not you,” said Margaret. “What was that even about?”
“For some people I am a symbol of my government,” he said. “They don’t like the government, so they don’t like me.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she told him. “You’re a thirteen-year-old musical prodigy, not a politician.”
“Yes, but they see me as a Chinese prodigy, and that’s all that matters to them.”
“Who’s Tai Shan?” I asked. “That man mentioned something about you not having to be like him. Is he a musician too?”
“No. Tai Shan is a panda,” he said with a little laugh. “He was born here at the zoo and was very popular but the government demanded he be returned to China. People begged for him to stay, but they refused and he’s there now.”
“In what way could you be like that?” asked Margaret.
“I am here by permission of my government,” he explained. “I have to go wherever they want me to. I have no choice.”
I was again reminded that Yin’s life was more complex than I could have imagined.
“Come on,” I said, signaling toward the entrance, against the flow of people. “Let’s go out this way, in case he’s waiting by the exit.”
“Good idea,” said Margaret.
As we got up to leave Yin suddenly panicked. “Wait! Where’s my cap?”
At some point during the confusion he’d dropped his Baltimore Orioles hat.
“I need my cap,” he insisted.
“There it is,” Margaret said in a calm voice. She pointed back to where we’d posed for the picture and it was there on the floor pushed up against the window. She squeezed her way through the crowd and picked it up.
“Here you go,” she said as she brushed it off and handed it to him. “Good as new.”
“Thank you,” he replied, clutching the bill tightly. “This means a lot to me.”
When we got back outside we told the Chiangs about our encounter with the man.
“Florian and Margaret were very brave,” Yin told them. “They stepped between us and made him leave.”
“Thank you so much,” Mrs. Chiang said, putting a friendly hand on my shoulder.
“Of course,” I replied.
“Here’s his picture,” said Margaret, showing them the photo she’d taken on her phone.
Mr. Chiang’s lips tightened and turned white. “I recognize him. I don’t know his name, but he’s a reporter with the Daily Dragon.”
Mrs. Chiang scoffed and gave a sour look.
“What’s the Daily Dragon?” asked Margaret.
“An online newspaper,” he replied. “They’re very critical of our government and embassy. They’re always looking for ways to embarrass us. That’s one of the reasons we’re so protective of Yin.”
“We shouldn’t have let you go in without us there,” added his wife.
“No, it was okay,” said Yin.
“Can you send me that picture?” Mr. Chiang asked Margaret.
“Here,” she said, handing him the phone. “Just put in your number.”
For about a minute the three of them spoke only Chinese. When they were done, Yin turned to us. “Thank you two so much for meeting me here today. Despite what happened at the end, I had a very good time. But I think we need to go back home.”
“That’s a good idea,” I answered. “We can do this again. Next Saturday maybe.”
Yin smiled weakly. “That would be nice.”
“You two are good friends to Yin,” said Mrs. Chiang. “He is lucky to know you.”
“Yes,” agreed her husband.
“Thanks,” we replied.
After they left, Margaret and I wandered around for about twenty minutes looking to see if there was any sign of the reporter. Then we sent a message to Marcus about it and he told us to wait for him in front of the zoo on Connecticut Avenue.
Although he normally drove his hybrid, this time he arrived in the passenger seat of a big SUV with two bicycles in a rack on the roof. Margaret and I both had the same reaction when we saw who was driving.
“Kayla!” we said, thrilled to see her.
Kayla was an FBI agent and had been my instructor at the Quantico training center. She was part kindergarten teacher, part ninja warrior, all awesome. She was always smiling and bubbly yet could disarm a bad guy with a lightning-quick mixture of martial arts and gymnastics. And while they’d never actually admitted it, Margaret and I were convinced that Marcus and Kayla had started dating. Their arrival together was another clue in that direction.
“Hey, guys,” she said with her perpetual cheerfulness.
“I hope we didn’t interrupt something,” said Margaret.
“Just a little bike ride along the Fletcher Loop,” she said.
“What counts as little?” I asked.
“Thirty-seven miles,” Marcus said, looking like he was about to pass out.
“Yeah, it’s probably good that you called,” she said. “I don’t know how much farther he could have gone.”
“I can ride as far as you,” he said to her, sounding like he was trying to convince himself this was true.
“It’s cute that you believe that,” she said as Margaret and I laughed.
“Just get in the backseat.”
We hopped in and Kayla drove us to the Hoover Building, which is FBI Headquarters. Since it was a Saturday, the fifth floor was mostly quiet as we walked over to Marcus’s office. Although he was the leader of our Special Projects Team, his primary job was still as a special agent in the Art Crime division.
He slumped down on the couch and started rubbing his calves. Margaret and I shot a quick look at Kayla and she just smiled.
In the car w
e’d given them a basic rundown of what happened, but now Marcus wanted us to go through it blow by blow.
“Start with your arrival at the zoo,” he said. “Did you see the reporter earlier?”
“No,” I replied. “He just walked up behind me and offered to take the picture.”
“How’d he know that Yin was going to be there?” wondered Kayla.
“That’s exactly what I’d like to know,” said Marcus.
“I don’t know how he could’ve,” I said.
“Maybe it’s just a coincidence,” suggested Margaret.
Marcus gave her a look. “You know what I think about coincidences,” he said. “They’re always a possibility, but almost never what really happens. You say you got a picture of him?”
“Yes,” said Margaret. She pulled it up on her phone and handed it to him. He stood up gingerly and sort of limp-walked over to the desk.
“No commentary,” he said as we all tried to suppress the urge to laugh.
“None needed,” replied Kayla. “Your brisk pace provides all the necessary commentary.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked as he logged in to his computer. “Run his picture through facial recognition software?” (I loved the high-tech equipment he got to use at the Hoover Building and was always excited to see it in action.)
“I could do that,” he said. “But, you know, it’s probably a lot easier if we just check the Daily Dragon website and look at the staff page. If he’s one of their reporters, I’m sure they’ve got a picture of him.”
“I guess that would work too,” I said unenthusiastically.
It took him only about thirty seconds before he found what he was looking for. “Henry Lu,” he said, reading the caption from a picture. “This look like the guy?”
He turned the monitor so we could see it.
“That’s him,” I said.
“Definitely,” said Margaret.
“Good to know,” he replied. “I’ll share the info with some of our guys and we’ll figure out a way to communicate it to the Chinese embassy without ruining your cover.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I said. “Mr. Chiang works at the embassy and I’m sure he’s giving them all the information.”
“Good,” he said. “I’ll still follow up.”