City of Ghosts

by J. H. Moncrieff

  “With all due respect, Harold, we weren’t about to let them take Jackson away without any of us knowing where he was.” Larry drew himself up to his full height, staring down his nose at our guide.

  “I knew where he was. I am taking care of this. I see you want to help, but by coming here, you have only made things worse for your friend. You should have stayed with the group.” Harold moved as if to say something to the cab driver, but Larry cut him off.

  “We’re not leaving, Harold. If this is aboveboard, there shouldn’t be any problem with us being here.”

  It was all I could do to keep from laughing. I was grinning wide enough to split my face. That asshole had underestimated our group for the last time. I’d bet he was regretting having me kidnapped in a public place.

  “They want to ask him some questions. He will be fine. I am here to make sure everything goes okay. There was no reason for you to miss the class.”

  “I think we’ll stick around anyway,” Larry said. I’m not sure what Kate had told him on the drive over, but from the expression on his face, I could make a fairly good guess. “And the guy from the embassy should be here right away too.”

  “The embassy!” Harold threw up his hands in frustration. “What did you call the embassy for?”

  “If the military wants to question an American citizen without any explanation, it’s only fair that he have some sort of representation.”

  “You have wasted everyone’s time. There is no need for embassy involvement. I am handling this fine. Jackson is my responsibility.”

  Fuck that noise. If Larry was flustered by Harold’s tantrum, he didn’t show it. He continued to stare down his nose at our guide, waiting for him to calm down before speaking. “I don’t think he should answer any questions without representation.”

  “I am his representation. Why do you think I’m here?” Harold shouted.

  “No offense, but I mean American representation. I think the questioning should wait until the consul general gets here.”

  Harold glanced at the soldiers, and I was thrilled to see how anxious he was. Maybe he’d thought he could control Larry and Kate, but the thought of a consul taking interest had thrown him.

  Something was rotten in China. If he were really concerned about my best interests, wouldn’t he have been glad to hear about the embassy? As Larry frowned at Harold, I got the feeling he was noticing the same thing. Our tour guide’s reaction was all wrong.

  “Stay here if you want, but you have to wait outside.” Harold turned on his heel and was about to join the soldiers when Larry called after him.

  “Don’t you think someone should at least tell us what this is about? I haven’t known Jackson long, but I’ve spent every day of the last month with him, and I can’t see how he did anything wrong. Certainly nothing the army would be interested in.”

  “What Jackson did is none of your concern.” Harold said a few words to the soldier nearest me, who took hold of my arm again.

  “In our country, it’s illegal to hold anyone against his will unless he’s charged with something. What is Jackson being charged with?”

  Harold’s lip curled in a sneer. “You are not in your country. You are in mine.”

  Without another word, he stormed into the clapboard building with the soldiers following close behind, dragging me between them.

  It took a minute to adjust to the dim light, but once I did, I found myself in what had to be the strangest interrogation room ever.

  A wooden table with a flowered cloth dominated the space. Several mismatched chairs were gathered around it. I was startled to see a flock of chickens strut across the dirt floor as if they owned the place. An elderly woman in a traditional outfit that reminded me of pajamas watched us with interest, but as soon as one of the soldiers barked at her, she scurried out of the room.

  The man let go of my arm and gestured to a chair. “Sit.”

  Harold and the two men sat down on either side of me, like we were there for dinner. My stomach growled in anticipation.

  “I’d like to wait for my representative.”

  “Be quiet, Jackson. Answer the questions and we can get this over with.”

  The soldiers watched Harold expectantly—as if he were the one in charge. My guide said a few words in Mandarin and the soldier in charge nodded, focusing on me.

  “Is it true you have been contacted by a woman who claims to be from Hensu?”

  Surprised, I forgot my resolve to wait for the consul general. I nodded. “Yes.”

  “What is the woman’s name?”

  I remembered Kate’s admonishment to learn the name, as I might need it someday. How had she known? “Yuèhai.”

  The soldier glanced at Harold, who flinched like he’d been punched in the stomach. A heated conversation struck up between the three men, even the guy who didn’t talk.

  “Excuse me?”

  They started when I spoke as if they’d forgotten I was there.

  “If you’re going to ask me questions before I have representation, I think you should speak English. It’s only fair.”

  The dominant soldier grinned in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  “Is it true you have lied to gain entrance to China?”

  “No. I did not lie.”

  He grabbed a handful of papers from the table and made a big show of rifling through them. I guess I was supposed to think he had my visa application, but I had no way of knowing if he did or not. “You claimed to work with computers, but we have learned you are a journalist.” He glared at me. “To provide false information on a government document is a serious offence.”

  Thankfully, Harold had given me enough warning that I was ready with a response, which I provided without hesitation. “I don’t know where you’re getting that from, but I’ve never written a journalism article in my life. I work for an insurance company, fixing computers.”

  “This will go better for you if you tell the truth,” Harold said, narrowing his eyes. “They will find out if you are lying.”

  “I’m not lying. Ask anyone. I’m not a journalist.”

  “Why did you come to China?” The dominant soldier asked.

  “For a vacation. To see the Great Wall and the Terracotta Army, mostly.” I’d hoped to lighten the mood, but if anything, my interrogator grew more upset. He looked over at Harold before asking me his next question.

  “What is your interest in the village of Hensu?”

  “No particular interest, really. We were offered a tour, and it sounded a lot better than sitting around the boat all day.”

  How I wished I’d sat on the boat that day. I would have killed for a little boredom right about now.

  “We have reason to believe you conned your tour guide into letting you spend the night in the ghost city.” The soldier scowled. “This is not allowed.”

  “Are you serious? I didn’t con anybody.” I gestured to Harold. “He left me there. If it’s anyone’s fault I had to spend the night in that place, it’s his.”

  Another whispered conversation between the three of them. I couldn’t tell whether it was a good sign or not, but there was absolutely no chance they could prove I’d stayed behind deliberately. Harold hadn’t even been the guide for that tour.

  Someone knocked on the door. The old woman reappeared to answer it, but my interrogator just about bit her head off. She slunk into the shadows again.

  “If you are not a journalist, and you have no particular interest in Hensu, why are you asking questions about it?” The soldier asked, seemingly unconcerned about the person who was now pounding at the door.

  I shrugged, trying my best to appear nonchalant. “I wanted to know more about it, that’s all. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do as tourists—learn about the countries we visit? What I want to know is, why does my asking about it bother him so much?” I pointed at Harold.

  At that moment, the door opened and a thin man in dress pants and a white shirt h
urried into the room. He looked exhausted, stressed out, and—except for his weight—reassuringly American.

  “What’s this about?” he asked. “What’s he done?”

  Rather than play the heavy like I’d expected, the soldier shot Harold a silent plea that was impossible to miss. A brief three-way conversation in Mandarin ensued, and before I knew it, the consul general was telling me I could go.

  Apparently my interrogation was over.

  * * *

  Harold didn’t make it to dinner that night. We had to rely on Martin and his infallible Rough Guide. While he stumbled through the Mandarin words for chicken, beef, tofu, and noodles, a patient waitress flipped through the menu, showing us various pictures in response. Even more surprising was that she actually understood what Martin was saying. At the beginning of the trip, I’d dismissed Martin as the male version of Meghan, but I was developing a new appreciation for him.

  After we’d ordered, everyone started asking me questions. My attempted kidnapping was the most exciting thing that had happened to our group thus far.

  “That beer is on me,” I said to Larry, clinking my bottle against his. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “No thanks necessary, but I’ll take the beer. At least it’s cold for once.” He took a long swallow and sighed. “I never thought I’d miss ice so much. I mean—ice. Whoever thinks to be grateful for ice?”

  His comment set off a chorus of agreement. We’d had our fill of warm beer and tepid Coca-Cola. That was the thing about traveling. The stuff you missed usually wasn’t what you expected. It wasn’t family or friends, or even sleeping in your own bed. With tablets and smartphones, you could talk to your buddies at home every day if you wanted to. It was the little luxuries that made you homesick. Things like a certain level of customer service, the ability to communicate with the people around you…and cheese. The Chinese weren’t really into cheese. They weren’t that into dessert, either. That’s why travelers ended up in Mickey D’s despite their best intentions—they craved the familiar.

  The women missed so-called Western-style toilets the most. And reliable plumbing. If they weren’t kept clean, the squat toilets could get nasty. Larry segued the shitter conversation back to Harold, which was a nice touch.

  “What exactly was going on today? I may be out of line, but I’m starting to think Harold is dirty.”

  The chatter around our table came to an abrupt halt. Larry had been speaking quietly, but he had a way about him that made people listen. And now they were ready to listen to me. I felt every eye upon me as the group waited for me to speak. I glanced at Kate, and she tipped her head slightly. After the incident at the market, we’d agreed that it would be best to let the people we trusted know what was happening, while leaving out anything the slightest bit supernatural.

  I took a deep breath, but was reassured that I saw only friends around me. Matt, Erik, and Todd. Larry and his wife. The nurse and the vet—Jennifer and Susan. Kate. Martin.

  Meghan hadn’t been able to make it.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think he is too.”

  By the time I’d filled everyone in, beginning with my night in Hensu and meeting Yuèhai (I neglected to tell them Yuèhai was dead) and ending with Harold’s threats and my interrogation, the waitress had brought our food. To our relief, everything was delicious, even though the chicken still had its head attached. That made the vegetarians cringe a little.

  There was an unspoken agreement to set the discussion aside while we served ourselves. Since I’d missed the cooking class I was starving, but apparently I hadn’t missed much. Mild-mannered Peter had turned into a tyrant once he had everyone on his turf, yelling orders and publicly humiliating anyone who failed to live up to his standards.

  “He screamed at me for slicing my carrots too thin. Seriously screamed at me,” Susan said, scowling at the memory. “They were going in a stir-fry. By the time everything was finished cooking, you couldn’t even see them anymore. So who cared how thin they were?”

  “I’m sure it didn’t feel like it, but you actually had a narrow escape,” said Jennifer. “My throat is sore from coughing. That guy needs to get some ventilation happening if he insists on having people cook with death peppers.”

  Susan nodded, helping herself to some tofu, which was the best dish by far. I’d snagged the chicken head, since I was one of the few who wasn’t squeamish. It was deep-fried and crunchy, but didn’t taste like much, kind of like a wonton.

  “If I ever see another fucking dumpling, it’ll be too soon,” she added.

  “Oh, come on—it wasn’t that bad. I found it interesting,” Todd said.

  Susan snorted. “Big surprise. The teacher’s pet liked it.” She turned to me. “I think Todd’s been lying about what he does for a living. He’s actually a chef.”

  “You should have seen his carrots. The guy has some serious skills,” Jennifer agreed, but Todd only shrugged.

  “I watch the Food Network.”

  I suspected that neither my skills with the knife nor with cooking over a gas flame would have been up to Peter’s standards. Judging by the way Todd was wolfing down his dinner, the results of the class hadn’t been that impressive. Even he had to admit that it was dumplings, dumplings, and more dumplings. While almost anything was preferable to being kidnapped by the Chinese military, at least my afternoon had been interesting.

  Martin cleared his throat. “This has been fascinating, but has anyone thought about what we’re going to do about Harold?”

  “What can we do? He’s our guide. We’re dependent on him. It’s not like Valiant can get someone else to take over for him—can they?” Susan asked.

  “Probably not. I’m pretty sure they have a second guide in this part of the country, but he’s already leading a different group,” Larry said. We’d run into our doppelganger tour group twice. They were about two to three days behind us.

  “Maybe their guide would be willing to combine our groups,” Matt said, but the suggestion was quickly quashed. Thirty people would be too much for one guide to handle, and every hotel room, train ride, and excursion had been booked in advance.

  “I don’t get it. Why would Harold try to have you arrested? It sounds like he feels threatened, but I don’t get why.” Jennifer had asked the million-dollar question, the one that had tormented me for days. Why did the mere mention of Hensu or Yuèhai make Harold freak?

  “He’s obviously hiding something,” Larry said as he reached for the bowl of noodles. “He’s dirty, like I said.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense. He’s from Xi’an, not Hensu,” she persisted.

  “Maybe he got the girl pregnant. Who knows?”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” Kate said, speaking up for the first time. “She’s upset at him about something—something that happened to her during the flood that destroyed her village. We just don’t know what.”

  “I wouldn’t trust anything Harold has told us,” I said. “Maybe he’s from Xi’an, and maybe he isn’t. But he definitely knows this Yuèhee chick.”

  “You-eh-hi,” Kate corrected.

  “Sorry, Yuèhai. There’s some history between them, and whatever it is, it isn’t good.”

  “We’ve got the train ride to Hong Kong tonight. Once we’re there, you’ll be okay,” Matt said. “I’ve heard Hong Kong is more like a Western city. They wouldn’t dare arrest an American for no reason there.”

  Kate shook her head. “Harold still has the advantage. He’s told Jackson that no one here cares if American tourists disappear. The implications were obvious.”

  “So we won’t let you out of our sight until we’re on our way home,” said Matt.

  “That worked real well this afternoon,” Susan said, rolling her eyes at the memory. “Everyone was there, and that fucker kidnapped Jackson right in front of us. I don’t think he feels we’re a threat.”

  “Unfortunately, Susan’s right,” Larry said. “Plus, Harold assigns the compartment we’ll
be sleeping in on the train. I bet he’s separated Jackson from the rest of the group, like he did when he put Erik in Matt’s room.”

  I’d been looking forward to the overnight train, since it meant I wouldn’t have to share a room with Harold. It hadn’t occurred to me that he might isolate me, but as soon as Larry said it, I figured he was probably right. Everyone was supposed to turn in early on the trains—bedtime was at ten o’clock, which meant all the lights were shut off and talking was forbidden. Most of us took some kind of sleeping pill. The train would make several stops throughout the night, and with the group in a drugged sleep, they wouldn’t notice I was gone until morning. My meal grew heavy in my stomach and I belched sour bile, covering my mouth with my hand and praying I wouldn’t spew partially digested food all over the table. Somehow I held it in.

  “So we won’t let him.”

  Everyone gawked at Tanya. Larry’s wife hadn’t said more than two or three sentences during the entire trip. “Sorry if I’m getting too personal, Kate, but you’ve become pretty good friends with Jackson, right?”

  My cheeks grew warm as I held my breath for Kate’s response. She was blushing. “I’d like to think so.”

  “If you’re willing to lie a little, it’ll be fine. Harold always keeps the couples together. If he tries to put Jackson on his own, make a fuss and say you’re ‘with’ him. Then Harold won’t separate you, but even if he does, you’ll be able to switch compartments with a local. Marriage and family is everything here. I’ll let you borrow my wedding ring if you like.”

  “Meghan would love that,” I said.

  “Oh, who cares what that bitch thinks?” Tanya said, and it was so unexpected coming from her that I burst out laughing.

  “Tanya.”

  “Don’t defend her, Larry. She’s been obnoxious since day one. She’s a judgmental hag, and I really don’t give a rat’s ass what she thinks of any of us.”

  Larry grinned. “Well, there you have it. The wife has spoken.”

  “It’s a good idea, as long as you two are comfortable with it. The couples haven’t been separated once,” Jennifer said.