The Great Destroyers

by Caroline Tung Richmond

  “Was I?”

  “Everything okay? Should we get the nurse?”

  “Nope, I’m fine,” I say, but that isn’t totally true.

  I tell myself that I shouldn’t care about what happens to Rushi. What matters is that she got caught and now she’ll have to pay for it, but there’s a stubborn part of me that wants to know why she’d go to the trouble to set me up and then poison me. She cost me the title and I want an explanation, and I’m not settling for the excuse that teenage-girls-can-be-unhinged nonsense.

  We watch the rest of the broadcast in silence. Kennedy has called off the National Guard, and Khrushchev has done the same with his Vostoks. Lidiya is released from the hospital after a thorough examination. A crew of reporters swarm around her as soon as she steps out of the front entrance, but she replies with nothing but a glare. Figures. Some things will never change.

  I spend a restless night on my stiff hospital bed, but the silver lining is that I get discharged the following morning—and just in time because I barely have a chance to grab a shower and change into fresh clothes before Dad, Peter, and I are whisked off to the Capitol Building. Senator Appleby has decided to host a special brunch to honor Sam and me. Truth be told, the last thing I want to do is squeeze myself into another dress and heels again, but I’m not really given a choice.

  We arrive at the Senate Dining Room to find the entire place packed. I’d assumed that the brunch would be a small gathering, maybe a table for the senator and my family—a consolation meal since I got second place instead of first—but the room is stuffed full with important-looking folks. There are senators and congressmen along with Association members and a few fighters who haven’t headed home yet, like Albie and Fitzy. It seems like a farewell send-off to Team USA.

  “There’s the young lady I’ve been looking for,” Senator Appleby says by way of greeting me and shaking my hand. “I’m glad you could make it. After everything you have been through, I wanted to wrap up your stay in Washington with a celebration of what you and Sam achieved. That deserves a toast and much more.”

  I’m touched by her thoughtfulness. “Is Sam here yet?”

  “I’m afraid he said he’d be running late. He had a family commitment to attend to first. Malcolm is also finishing up some business,” she says before she gets distracted by the newest guest who has stepped into the dining room.

  “There’s Minister Tran,” she says, with a broad smile spreading over her face. “We’ll have to say hello to him and thank him.”

  “Thank him?” I ask curiously.

  Her smile brightens. “For lowering the cost of esterium batteries here in the US. The news won’t be public for a few days, but our governments have agreed upon an exclusive trade deal to access their mines. It’ll be the very first of its kind for South Vietnam.”

  “Congratulations,” I tell her. This is huge indeed, not only for the South Vietnamese but for Americans too. Cheaper esterium means cheaper bots and that could open up a new slice of business at the shop. All that time the senator spent wining and dining the minister has paid off. “I bet Minister Tran is excited too.”

  “I do believe so, although I hope he won’t be too sore that he’ll no longer be the center of attention. West Germany and China were both trying to buy up that esterium. The Soviets too. Khrushchev isn’t making out too poorly though since he’s signing a deal with the North Vietnamese. They have several gold mines that he has been eyeing as well as a couple of uranium veins.”

  I can see the appeal of gold but not the other stuff. “What’s uranium good for?”

  “Artillery, I believe. We’ll have to keep a close eye on our Soviet friends to see what they’ll be cooking up, but enough of this trade talk.” She takes two flutes of champagne from a nearby service bot and hands one to me before tapping her glass against mine. “I have some good news,” she says although she doesn’t sound very joyful about it. “As you may have heard, Zhu Rushi is being held in the city jail for now. Envoy Yu as well.”

  I draw in a breath. “She was arrested too?”

  “The FBI discovered a small jar of the toxin in her personal effects. It appears that she and Rushi were working together.”

  I’m not shocked, really, but it does take a couple seconds for this to sink in. “Did they say why?”

  “They aren’t saying much, but you can rest assured that they won’t lay a finger on you ever again.”

  That’s a relief, but my fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. “What will happen to them?”

  “There’ll be a hearing first, followed by a trial. There’s a strong possibility that they’ll spend time in prison for their crimes. For the most part, the Chinese government has been cooperative. They’ve denounced Rushi and Envoy Yu, but they’ve also requested that the two of them are extradited to Beijing to serve their sentences. We’ve turned down that request, of course.” Her eyes search over mine. “I imagine this is welcome news.”

  It is good news that both of them will be punished. “When and where will that hearing take place?”

  “I’d have to ask my staff about that,” she says distractedly. A waiter arrives to tell us that the food is ready, but I can’t let her go yet.

  “Has there been any news from the IC about the Games? Will the final result stand?” I ask.

  She heaves a sigh. “The Association has filed numerous complaints, but the IC is a bureaucratic behemoth. If they decide to reschedule your match against Lidiya, then they’ll have to reschedule all the games since Rushi and Envoy Yu affected the outcomes from the start of Round One. That would be a logistical nightmare for them, not to mention humiliating. So my guess is that the IC will stand with Lidiya as the victor.”

  “There’s solid proof that the Games were rigged and they still won’t do a thing about it?” I say a little too loudly.

  “I’ll keep doing whatever I can,” she says, sounding sincere. “At the very least, I want them to nullify the results.”

  That’s only a start though. Let’s say they strip Lidiya of the title, but where does that leave the rest of us fighters? Many of us will be too old to qualify for the ’67 Games.

  We’re called to be seated a minute later, and everyone at my table gets ready to gorge themselves on slices of cheese quiche, fruit salad, and crispy strips of bacon that we pick up with tongs from the service bots wheeling around the tables. Despite the delicious-looking spread, I’ve got no appetite. My conversation with Senator Appleby has completely stamped it out. I’m tempted to make an early exit because I’m in no mood to celebrate, but Dad and Peter are having such a grand time that I tell myself to clench my jaw through this. Dad proceeds to eat so many sausage links that he might have to loosen his belt. While he waits for the food to settle, Peter drags me toward the bartender bot set up in one corner of the room. The bot itself is an enormous metal box with a drink dispenser at its center. You have to press a button to order what you want, which is a little disappointing because it only has four selections. I tell Peter to get the Shirley Temple since it’s the only nonalcoholic choice.

  Peter watches curiously as the bot fixes his drink, and I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to find Minister Tran standing there, wearing a black suit and a polite smile.

  “May I have an autograph?” he asks, holding out a ballpoint pen and a program from the opening match. I see that he has already collected signatures from over a dozen fighters already. “It’s for my granddaughter.”

  “Oh, that’s right. She’s the mecha fighter.” I start searching through the program for my photo to sign when I reach Team China’s. It looks like Rushi has already autographed her name under her own picture, writing it out in three neat Chinese characters.

  Minister Tran, who usually seems so mild-mannered, looks a bit flustered. “My apologies. Zhu Rushi signed this a week ago. I didn’t know—”

  “You had no idea. None of us did,” I say.

  He nods, relieved. “I was very surprised at the news. I
never thought she was capable of such a thing.”

  There’s something in his tone that makes me pause. “Did you know her?”

  “Before my current assignment, I was a diplomat in China,” he admits. “Our countries have had a long history as neighbors, especially in trade—their coal and iron for our oil. A couple years ago the Chinese wished to strengthen our ties, so they invited some South Vietnamese fighters to Beijing to train with their national team. Rushi gave my granddaughter a few lessons.”

  It’s easy to put two and two together from there. “That’s how you met her.”

  “And her younger sister. They were both very talented—and very sweet girls. That’s why when I learned about what she had done …” He shakes his head slowly. “I was shocked.”

  “Do you have any idea why she did it?” I ask, leaning forward.

  But he looks as perplexed as I do. “I wish I had an answer. It’s all very sad, and I can only hope her sister can remain at her training school. She’s a promising young fighter.”

  I frown. “Why wouldn’t she stay at her school?”

  “The government in China—” He chooses his words with care. “It’s very different from what you have here in America. Oftentimes, even if only one member of a family commits a crime, everyone else faces the same punishment as well.”

  I shouldn’t be surprised by this given what I’ve heard about the Reds, but it’s still unsettling how they keep their people in line. And yet, this only confuses me more when it comes to Rushi. She must’ve known that her sister would face blowback at home if she even looked at someone the wrong way, and yet she still poisoned the fighters.

  Only someone incredibly cruel and calloused would’ve done that.

  Or someone very desperate.

  A voice comes over the loudspeaker to ask us to take our seats because Senator Appleby will soon give her remarks. I realize I haven’t signed the minister’s program yet, so I give it a quick squiggle of the pen and hand it back to him.

  Minister Tran thanks me, but before he heads off, he adds quietly, “Did you know that there’ll be a hearing tomorrow for Rushi and Envoy Yu?”

  “Tomorrow? That soon?” I’d figured it would be weeks away.

  “The IC decided on the schedule. If you want to attend—”

  “I’ll be there.” The words zip out of my mouth before I’ve had a chance to think it over, but I don’t need to give it a second thought. If I want some answers, this will be the best shot I’ll probably get.

  I look the minister in the eye and say, “Where do I need to go?”

  Bright and early the following day, I arrive at the International Tribunal Building on K Street and get whisked up to the fourth floor for the hearing. I expect to step inside a courtroom, like the ones I’ve seen on Perry Mason, where the judge sits behind the bench in a long black robe. Instead, I’m brought into an office space that resembles a big conference room, with rows of chairs on one side. Most of them have already been claimed by reporters and Association members.

  “Jo!” says Minister Tran, who’s seated near the front. He motions toward the three chairs beside him, which will perfectly accommodate Dad, Peter, and me.

  My brother and father insisted on coming when I told them about this hearing. I wouldn’t have minded attending it on my own, but they wouldn’t hear of it. I think Peter wanted to tag along to see justice served while Dad simply didn’t want me out of his sight again.

  I introduce Minister Tran to my family, and he shakes their hands before turning his attention back to me. “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” I reply.

  Before the hearing starts, I let myself survey the rest of the attendees and realize that I recognize a handful of them. They’re fighters. I spot Team France and Great Britain, my pal Giselle among them. There are representatives from Canada, Sweden, Australia, and others as well. A mini United Nations has packed into this one single room, but we’re still waiting on our guests of honor.

  The judge enters and takes a seat behind a table, followed soon by the bailiff who has two defendants in tow: Envoy Yu and Rushi. They’re both wearing matching gray jumpsuits along with their hair tied back, but that’s where the similarity ends. Envoy Yu insists on keeping her head up and her eyes defiant while Rushi tucks her chin down and doesn’t dare a glance at anybody. She looks so young and terrified that I’d feel sorry for her if I didn’t know what she was capable of.

  Peter pats my hand, and I realize how tightly I’ve been gripping the armrest. I give his fingers a squeeze, grateful that he’s here.

  As the hearing officially begins, I try to keep up with the legal jargon. The prosecutor speaks first, stating the charges that they’re leveling against Zhu Rushi and her accomplice Envoy Yu before introducing the physical evidence—namely the video caught on Sam’s camera—to persuade the judge that there’s enough of a case to proceed to a trial. The whole time a translator quietly translates for Rushi and Envoy Yu, and when the prosecutor is finished, it’s time for the defense to poke holes in the case, but, oddly enough, they don’t have an attorney on their side.

  “We have no need for a lawyer,” Envoy Yu explains in English after the judge questions her through the translator about the whereabouts of her representation. “We wish to plead guilty.”

  Whispers erupt throughout the room. Both the judge and prosecutor look taken back.

  “This is a hearing, Envoy Yu, not an arraignment where you may enter your plea,” says the judge.

  But she barrels on. “Rushi and I confess to poisoning Lukas Sauer, Zoya Federova, and Josephine Linden. We also confess to tampering with the Soviet’s float and causing the electrical fire.”

  My back goes straight at the mention of my name, and I swear the whole room is taking turns staring between Envoy Yu and me. What is her game plan? Why is she so eager to confess to everything?

  “This is very unconventional,” the judge says, looking a bit flustered and staring at Envoy Yu like she’s begging to be hauled off to prison, which she kind of is. “Let me ask you again. Do you want to consult an attorney? You’re entitled to representation.”

  Envoy Yu shakes her head vehemently. “No. I waive my rights.”

  The judge motions at Rushi. “Are you in agreement?”

  I can see a slice of Rushi’s face in profile, and it’s plain as day that she hesitates as the translator speaks softly to her. But then Envoy Yu gives her a sharp glance, and Rushi looks at the floor again.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Rushi says quietly.

  The judge seems to go speechless for a few seconds before gathering his wits. “You can repeat your pleas at the arraignment, which we will schedule shortly. Until then, might I remind you one more time that you have the option to speak to a court-appointed lawyer. Our rules here are different than back in China.”

  Envoy Yu presses her lips together at the slight and hits one right back at him. “We have no desire to work with your capitalist dogs.”

  Some of the attendees gasp while the reporters scramble to write down their notes, but they better keep up the pace because Envoy Yu isn’t finished talking.

  “The Pax Games are a sham. They uphold the dominance of countries that only know how to start wars and take resources that were never theirs. This might fill their own stomachs, but the rest of us go hungry. Only the Chairman understands the true path forward. He alone carries the legacy of Lenin,” she says, her voice pitching louder. Then she pivots to search through the audience, and her gaze lands on me.

  No, wait a second. She’s looking at Minister Tran.

  “We won’t forget those who sided with the imperialist aggressors, who gave in to their own greed,” Envoy Yu says before the judge starts banging his gavel and yelling, “Order!”

  The bailiff grabs her by the waist to remove her, but she plants her feet into the carpet and motions at Rushi, prompting her to do something. Or say something. I’m not sure what exactly is happening.


  Rushi looks shell-shocked, standing there by herself. She hesitates again before she looks up at the judge and says, “Envoy Yu and I acted alone. We take full responsibility for what we did.” She utters these two sentences without emotion, like she has been practicing lines for a play.

  Soon, the two of them are whisked out of the room. The judge looks relieved and sets a date for the arraignment before dismissing everyone in record time, probably so that he can get a drink for himself. The reporters lurch out of their seats to speak to the prosecutors, who seem both surprised and elated about the turn of events. They’ve just been handed a win, and all they had to do was sit back and let Envoy Yu dig her own grave.

  “This is great news,” Peter says, amazed at what has transpired. “Envoy Yu and Rushi will have to go to prison if they confessed, right?”

  “I guess so,” I say. But after witnessing this debacle, I’ve got more questions than before.

  Dad and Peter are ready to leave, but I tell them to go on ahead of me and I’ll catch up in a minute. I turn to Minister Tran, who appears a little shaken, and ask, “Are you all right?”

  He gives a little sigh. “I’m afraid Envoy Yu speaks for many Chinese officials who feel betrayed that my country has aligned with yours.”

  I’m not sure that I understand. “But South Vietnam will be a democracy. It’s the North that’s communist.”

  “And they are allied with the Soviets, not with Mao,” he points out. He sighs again, longer this time. “The Chinese are leaving empty-handed.”

  Something clicks in my head.

  I should’ve seen this sooner. It’s beginning to all make sense.

  “The Chinese wanted to trade for your esterium,” I say, more of a statement than a question. Come to think of it, Senator Appleby mentioned this to me yesterday, how China was gunning for a trade deal to get access to South Vietnam’s mines. They needed that esterium. And they were desperate enough to work with a democratic country to get it. I saw with my own eyes how Rushi had to pilfer extra batteries at the training center, squirreling them away like she had to save up for the winter.