Again silence.
“Very well. Black, Red and Gold. The colors were chosen from the uniforms of German soldiers during the Napoleonic wars—our topic after the break!—and were described with this phrase: ‘Out of the blackness of servitude through bloody—as in red—battles to the golden light of freedom’.”
He clicked the button.
“Union Jack!” yelled a voice.
“England!” yelled another.
Acton smiled. “Union Jack, yes. England, no.”
“Aw, come on, Professor, we all saw the Olympics.”
“Yes, which were held in the United Kingdom. A united kingdom implies more than one, doesn’t it?”
Murmurs.
“The United Kingdom was actually the union of two kingdoms, in eighteen-oh-one. Can anyone name them?”
“Great Britain and Ireland,” yelled a voice with a Cockney accent.
“Hey, that’s cheating!”
The class laughed.
“Yes, Chuck, you’re right. It’s since been renamed to the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and is actually made up of four countries: England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. It happened so long ago that they are effectively one country—although there are some Scots who’d like something to say about that—but when the flag was adopted, it represented the merging of two symbols. That of the red cross of Saint George, the Patron Saint of England, and the diagonal red cross of Saint Patrick, the Patron Saint of—”
“Beer lovers everywhere!”
“—Ireland.”
The students roared with laughter as Acton lost control momentarily. He clicked the button and took a glance over his shoulder, the shimmering gold background with the distinct blue dragon emblazoned across it brought a smile to his face as he thought of the vacation he and his fiancée were about to take.
He calmed the still snickering class with his hands.
“So, who can name this one?”
“Looks Chinese,” piped up a voice.
“And you’d be right. This was the flag of the Qing Dynasty, the last dynasty to rule China before political reforms effectively removed the idea of an emperor. Then the Japanese kind of moved in uninvited, and after they were defeated, another brief stint at political reform, then the communists took over under Mao Zedong, and have ruled ever since.”
“It’s beautiful,” whispered one of his students closest to him. He looked over his shoulder then back at her.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Aren’t these all just flags of sin?”
Acton looked at the student who had just made the comment. All eyes were on him and he shrank a little in his chair.
“I mean, not ours of course.”
“And not the UK!” piped up the Cockney accent.
“Yeah, I’m from Canada. No way you can call ours that!”
Acton held up his hand before the poor kid sunk to the floor.
“I assume you mean because killing has been done in the name of the flag of every country in the world?”
The boy nodded.
“Then, yes, these are flags of sin, as you call them. But only if you take things out of context and ignore the broader meaning of a flag. Are flags used at the head of armies, proudly displayed on our uniforms, draped over the coffins of our fallen? Absolutely. But flags are also held high at sports events to instill pride in a nation, as beacons in foreign lands to symbolize our embassies and a refuge for our diaspora, as symbols of who we are, and what we believe in. I think the vast majority of people think of their country’s flag as something that symbolizes them as a people—their beliefs and values, as opposed to the wars they have fought, or acts carried out by their governments that they might not agree with.
“Most countries, if not all, have committed atrocious acts against their own populations, or the populations of others, through history. Unfortunately that’s the way the world was, and still is in some cases. Are some of these acts sinful? Absolutely. Has the United States committed sinful acts in the name of the flag? In some people’s minds, absolutely. Some people think any war is unjustified, which is why we had a pacifist movement before and during World War Two. Should we not have fought? I doubt there are many people who know their history who would think we shouldn’t have fought that war. Were sinful deeds committed during that war by individuals—absolutely. Did our country do sinful things—absolutely. But one thing that needs to be asked is, were they considered sinful at the time?
“Carpet bombing civilian populations to try and destroy the will of the people, to destroy the factories they worked at, today we would consider horrifying. At the time, it was part of war. Today we have options, back then we didn’t. Today we have smart bombs, cruise missiles, and other advanced weaponry, where we can be very precise in our targeting, but back then? No. You needed to drop a hundred bombs in the hopes that one of them would hit your target.”
“But some are definitely flags of sin, aren’t they, Professor? I mean, the Soviet Union, for example. Or China?”
“You’d be hard pressed to get me to disagree on the Soviet Union, having grown up during the Cold War, that’s for sure. I wonder however if you were to ask a Russian how they felt about that flag, without fear of repercussions, what they would say? And as to China, if we look at the history of that country under the Communists, especially the early days, I’d have to agree as well. Mao killed millions, by his own admission, after he had won the civil war. Mao is blamed for as many as eighty-million deaths in his time, a number even Hitler and Stalin can’t measure up to.”
“What about China today?”
Acton shrugged his shoulders. “Do they do things there that we wouldn’t? Absolutely. Is it as bad as it used to be? Absolutely not. I think the question for China is where are they headed? Where will they be in ten, twenty, fifty years? Right now I think China is in a race with itself. Their burgeoning middleclass are demanding more freedoms, thus weakening the regime. But the economy fueling that middleclass, is also fueling the growth and modernization of their military to the point where we, the United States, can no longer be guaranteed to stop them. So, where’s it all heading?”
“What do you think, Professor?”
Acton smiled.
“Luckily for me, I’m an archeologist, so don’t need to answer questions about the future.” He held up a finger. “But, I’ll be there in a few days for a two week vacation, and I’ll give you my opinion when I get back.”
“Hey, China’s about to get Actoned!”
Acton’s eyebrows shot up.
“Huh?”
There were snickers and a few bouts of laughter cut off abruptly.
“Actoned?”
Chuck raised his hand. “It means when you go on vacation, and like everything gets bolloxed up, you know, mate?”
Acton chuckled and shook his head.
“Please tell me you guys made that up, and didn’t find it somewhere on the Internet.”
Shrugged shoulders.
“Oh well, hopefully my fifteen minutes of fame will soon be forgotten.” He pointed at the Qing Dynasty flag. “Now, for when I return in two weeks, I want a paper on who the true power was in China during the end of the reign of the Qing Dynasty, and whether or not it may have continued had it been someone else.”
He turned off the screen and slapped his hands together.
“That’s it. I’ll see you all in a couple of weeks.”
The class jumped from their chairs as if their seats were suddenly hot, and filed out.
And Acton sat on the edge of his desk wondering about his upcoming trip.
And whether or not China was about to get ‘Actoned’.
Yu’s Brother’s Residence, Beijing, China
January 13, 1875
Li Mei stirred, the world slowly coming back into focus. She found herself lying on a bed, a blanket covering her, Yu sitting nearby.
“Good, you’re awake.”
Mei sat up and
pushed herself toward the wall the bed sat against, and leaned on the cool plaster. She looked about. It was a simple home. A humble home. A poor home. It was nothing like what she had become accustomed to.
But it reminded her painfully of where she had grown up.
Her parents had been poor, extremely poor. But they had given birth to a daughter, which in itself was a great disappointment to her father she was sure, as she could only help so much on the farm, but thankfully she had had many brothers to take care of that. As she grew up, it quickly became clear she would be remarkably beautiful. Her teeth were perfect, her eyes clear, her hair healthy and straight, and with brothers to do the hard work, her skin remained unblemished with scars.
And she had a mother who wasn’t at all disappointed with having finally had a daughter. Someone she could dote on and have help her with the household chores.
It was while performing one of those chores, fetching something in the local market, what, she could no longer remember, when she was spotted by one of the Emperor’s consorts. It took less than an hour, and she had been selected as a palace servant. Her parents were paid, her father overjoyed to receive the money, her mother, ever the dutiful wife, not objecting, but as Mei, barely ten at the time, looked out the rear of the carriage, she saw her mother crying, and her father with a long, sad face.
And she had never seen them again.
Perhaps that is where I need to go.
She looked at Yu.
“What news?”
Yu smiled. “Jun has gone to see if he can find Su Ming, and any others. So far nothing.”
“How long has he been gone?”
“He left immediately after you passed out, and the sun has now set.”
Mei’s eyebrows shot up.
“That long?”
Yu nodded.
“And the Little Emperor?”
“He is fine. My brother’s mother-in-law is taking care of him in the next room.”
Mei sighed and closed her eyes, still exhausted. A commotion at the door sent her heart into her throat and Yu jumping for the entranceway. Mei grabbed the blanket, sinking slowly under it as her heart slammed into her ribcage. She felt herself blacking out again as her eyes slowly rolled up into her head.
The little one!
The thought of her precious charge in danger forced her back to reality. She threw off the covers and jumped out of the bed, steadying herself with a hand on the closest wall, then quietly approached the door, peering through the crack Yu had left. She heard harsh whispers, and she could see Yu’s back, but none of the others. Yu glanced over her shoulder, causing Mei to duck away from the door.
Mei held her ear to the crack.
“—suspects nothing—gave the neighborhood—location—any minute—”
Her eyes burned with tears, her heart broke, and a pit formed in her stomach as she finally found the answer to the question that had been gnawing at her all day.
Yu was the traitor. Yu, her friend, her confidante for most of her life at the palace, was their betrayer. The revelation left her numb, and the question that gnawed at her even more so.
Did she act alone?
What about Jun? The two of them had gone in the opposite direction, chased by the Empress’ guards, yet had managed to escape. And appeared to be the only ones who had managed such a feat. And she found it hard to believe that they would let both Yu and Jun go, if Jun were not in on it from the beginning.
Regardless, if he wasn’t in on it from the beginning, he must be now.
She peeked through the crack and saw Yu move toward the entrance, and out of sight.
This was her chance.
She opened the door, thankful its old hinges didn’t creak, and tiptoed deeper into the house, peering into the next room where she had been told the little one was being cared for.
She sighed.
Inside.
There was the baby, lying on a bed, completely unattended. She stepped into the room, tightened his swaddling blanket in the hopes it would keep him quiet, then lifted him gently. Returning to the door, she stuck her head out, and, seeing she was still alone, crept deeper into the house in search of another exit.
The house was small, poor, cramped, and at the moment, appeared empty, save those gathered at the entrance. She stepped into another room that appeared to be the kitchen, and nearly gasped. Staring at her from the far corner was an impossibly old man, sitting on a stool, pipe in hand, a cloud of smoke enveloping his head, circling into a fog of sweet tobacco that seemed to fill the upper half of the room.
She looked at him, her eyes, filled with fear, beseeching him for a way out, and to not betray her to the others. She dared not speak, lest she be heard, or worse, disturb the baby and guarantee she would be heard.
The old man stared at her, then pulled the long pipe from his mouth, twisting it around and jabbing at the far wall. Mei looked and saw a door. She smiled at him and bowed. He nodded, returning the pipe to his mouth, never saying a word.
Mei opened the door and stepped into an alley, gently closing the door behind her. She looked both ways, trying to decide which way to go, when she heard a yell from inside.
“She’s gone!”
Mei bolted in the direction she happened to be facing, her sandaled feet making little noise as she rushed forward, toward what, she did not know, she only knew she needed to get out of sight, to turn some corner that would lead her somewhere else, rather than to a dead end.
She heard a shout behind her, a voice she recognized as Yu’s, but still muffled. It didn’t sound as if she was outside yet.
Mei didn’t look back.
An alley opened to her right, and she ducked into it. Staring down the dark passage and seeing the street torches at the end, she nodded to herself, and continued to run, a little slower this time, this particular alley not benefiting from the light the moon was providing.
Someone coughed to her left and she yelped.
The baby woke.
Mei stuck her finger in the baby’s mouth, and felt him immediately begin to suck on it. She came to a stop at the mouth of the alley, looking onto the nearly deserted street. She knew she had to get out of the area, out of the city in fact. She had no one here she could trust. Her life had been at the palace; she knew no one beyond its gates.
Except her parents.
She barely remembered the name of the village where they lived, and certainly had no idea how to get there. But even if she knew, she had no money to travel with, and nothing to sell or trade in exchange.
Shouts behind her sent her into the street, turning to her left and continuing her zigzag pattern away from her betrayers, and deeper into the unknown labyrinth that was Beijing.
“Mei!”
She froze.
Her blood rushed, her ears pounded, and she turned toward the voice she recognized only too well.
It was Jun.
Hidden in an alleyway to her left, he was waving to her.
“Come here,” he whispered.
She shook her head, but her feet wouldn’t move. Either to obey his call, or to flee it.
He waved at her again, and when she didn’t move, he darted from the alley and was immediately at her side, taking her arm, and directing her into the darkness from where he had just came.
“We’ve been betrayed,” he whispered.
What?
She didn’t reply, confused.
“Thank God you escaped. When did you realize it?”
Mei shook her head, backing away. “No, you were with her. You’re working for her.”
Jun held up his hands, shaking his head. “No, Mei, I didn’t realize Yu had betrayed us all until I returned a few minutes ago and saw her cousin talking to the local magistrate. I went to the back of the house, to see if I could get you and the baby out, but saw you already leaving. I’m just grateful I was able to find you.”
Mei held the baby protectively, tight against her chest, unsure of whether or not to believe him.
She looked into his eyes. They flickered from the flame of a torch nearby, but to her, they appeared earnest. Honest. Concerned.
She nodded.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“We need to get out of the city. Clearly we can’t trust anyone here.”
“Where?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Let’s just get out of here as quickly as possible.”
“We could go to my parents’ farm.”
“Where is it?”
“Shaoshan, in Hunan Province.”
Jun frowned. “That will take weeks—months—if we can’t find transportation.” A yell erupted from the alley she had just come. Jun’s expression revealed what she already knew.
It was Yu.
“We must get out of here. Now.”
Mei nodded, and they began to hurry down the street, and away from their betrayers.
And despite the horror of that day, Mei found herself thinking of her mother and father.
Then something hit her causing her to stop in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?”
She looked at Jun.
“I don’t even know if my parents are alive.”
National Stadium, Beijing, China
One week ago
Inspector Li Meng scratched behind his ear then massaged the back of his neck. It had been a frustrating week, and he knew from the horror he was now facing, it would be an even more frustrating week to come. They had two new victims, killed in exactly the same way as the first two.
But that was the problem.
Were they the first two?
He had used every contact his thirty years on the force had provided him, and no one was willing to talk. But from the hasty hang-ups, and the abrupt denials, he knew something was going on. If he was a betting man, which of course he was, he would bet everything he had that there were other killings, and it was being covered up.
Ping slid another scorpion off her kabob with her teeth, the bamboo skewer she held sporting another three. He heard the crunch as she chewed. His stomach rumbled. She held the stick out.
“Want some?”
“You heard that?”
“The dead heard that, sir.”
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