The Clock Flower

by Barbara Casey

  “What small town?” asked Jennifer, curious.

  “Route 2,” Liz answered with a laugh. “Near the cross roads of Turkey Leg, at the end of a dirt road on top of a mountain.”

  The daily rehearsals of The Wish Rider were going well. And knowing she was almost finished writing down the musical composition—that it was almost complete, Jennifer felt less anxious. As a result, it released her spirit and opened up her mind to other things as well as the people around her. She was more aware. The only thing that she was unsure of was that the plaintive melody of the banhu still had not fully revealed itself. There were only the three original measures—the simple leitmotif she had heard at the beginning—the mournful, delicate, single-note melody played with its two strings of twisted silk that would mysteriously appear throughout the symphony only to suddenly disappear. That was troubling. Not only because the composition was incomplete without it, but also because she was starting to get a sense of foreboding about it.

  The painting created from the black and white images now displayed beautiful yellow and red flowers which were richly textured, defined, and layered; the single blue lotus remained mostly hidden, however, occasionally appearing to be more purple or gray than blue. But still, it was probably just a matter of time before she would be able to hear the banhu complete and the single lotus would be as detailed and textured as the other flowers.

  The rock wasn’t so painful, and the beautiful multi-petaled flowers that at first she had thought looked like small chrysanthemums she now knew were dandelions in vivid yellows and reds. Together with the single blue lotus blossom, the flowers represented an inward emptying and outward splendor—the true nature of reality according to the Buddhist philosophy. The flowers were connected to the culture of China and somehow related to Carolina and the FIGs. She just didn’t know how.

  Yet.

  She would wait. And when she heard the completed melody of the banhu, she would understand. That was what made her a genius.

  * * *

  Dara knew that once she started researching the ancient writing systems and language of Shandong Province, there was no way she was going to waste her time attending her required undergraduate classes when she could be working on her research. Therefore, with Dr. Chu’s permission and using the syllabi she received on the first day of classes, she simply completed all of the course work in advance and turned it in. Most of the professors only wanted a report anyway. “Now with that out of the way, I can turn my full attention to the Longshan period dating 2500-1900 BC and researching the early writing, language, and human sacrifice at the Shang Dynasty capital of Anyang,” she told Mackenzie, Jennifer, and Carolina during another one of their nightly visits by phone.

  “I am so impressed, Dara,” said Carolina. “Not surprised that you could do it, but still impressed.”

  Jennifer and Mackenzie agreed.

  Dara had something else to tell them. “I was going to wait to talk to you about this once I had all of the details worked out, but since Mackenzie might be going to China over our winter break to visit the Yellow Sea Laboratories, I’d better go ahead and let you know what I am thinking.” Then she told them about Dr. Wu inviting her to the small village of Dawenkou in the Shandong Province over the winter break in order to meet the rest of the archeology team and see the dig site and their research facilities. “I was hoping the four of us could go together—check it out. Dr. Wu said you are more than welcome.” She hesitated, and when no one said anything, “Mackenzie, Dr. Wu said that the Yellow Sea Laboratories is also in the Shandong Province and near Dawenkou where the dig site is.”

  “That’s right—Ling told me it is in the town of Puli.”

  Carolina interrupted, “Did you say Puli?”

  “Yeah, have you heard of it?” Mackenzie asked. “I don’t think it is a very big town—Ling calls it a village. It is located on the Yellow Sea, and it is near Qufu where Confucius lived. That is where her family and ancestors are from although she was born in Hawaii. And other than what I am doing at MIT, that is also where the research on the Clock Flower Project is being conducted.”

  “Talk about coincidence,” Jennifer mumbled. “Well, I’m in,” but she couldn’t say anything else. The pounding in her chest, the painful heaviness of the rock, and the brilliance of the bright yellow and red took her breath. As the pain eased, she once again heard the delicate tones of the banhu—a little more distinct this time—a few more notes—another measure to be added to the symphony.

  Carolina’s heart started to race, and it felt like all of the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Taking little breaths, she managed to say, “That goes for me, too.” Putting her hand on her chest and taking a deep breath, willing her heart to stop pounding, “I’ve never been to China, and this is too good of an opportunity to miss. Maybe they will let us tour the research lab, Mackenzie. And it will be great fun to see an actual working archeology site, Dara.”

  But those weren’t the reasons she wanted to go; she knew when it concerned the FIGs, there was no such thing as coincidence. Larry had told her that he believed Mackenzie’s mother was from Puli and that is where she returned after giving birth. Something was happening which she didn’t understand. She had heard her mother’s warning, and she knew she needed to go to China. She needed to be with her girls. And she needed to protect Mackenzie.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sui De Long, or Old Dragon as she was unflatteringly called, as usual was dressed in all white except for a green jade amulet of a pig dragon that she wore on a gold chain around her neck—the color green signifying healing and hope. She walked briskly down the long white corridors, poked her head through the doorways of various uncluttered offices and sterile labs, grunted or complained to the scientists bent over their Bunsen burners, microscopes and petri dishes, and then moved on. Things were not progressing as rapidly as she wanted, something which she criticized others for on a daily basis.

  “Old Dragon seems more at odds with everything this morning,” Fu Wang, one of the senior scientists, told a younger colleague whose work station was next to his. The two of them had been working on the project since its beginning, and even though he was used to Old Dragon’s negative comments and harsh demands, lately he was finding them more than a little irritating. She had blamed him the day before calling him lazy, as though the failure of meeting her expectations at Yellow Sea Laboratories was entirely his fault.

  The younger scientist nodded, “My sister, Kim, says she is even worse at home with all of her demands.” His sister had been employed as Old Dragon’s cook, housekeeper and personal assistant ever since Old Dragon took charge of Yellow Sea Laboratories.

  Self-consciously, Fu Wang tugged the sleeve on his lab coat to cover the birthmark on his arm and watched Old Dragon continue down the hall at a faster pace. “Where does she get all of that energy?” he muttered to himself, then turned back to the lab notes he had been downloading from his computer. But the younger scientist heard. He had noticed it, too, as well as the fact that Old Dragon’s hair was a lot darker—almost black—than when she first started working at Yellow Sea Laboratories. And her face was more youthful. He kept these observations to himself, however.

  The first directive in scientific research protocol was to never use an experimental drug until it was approved. There were harmful side effects, and in this case, not the least of which was paranoia and aggressive behavior. Noticing the physical changes in Old Dragon over the past several months as well as her ill temper had made the young scientist more than a little concerned. If, in fact, Old Dragon was using the experimental drug, it could jeopardize the entire project. The Americans would withdraw their funding, and the project would fail.

  It angered him. Like all of the other scientists, he was feeling the strain that comes from working extra-long hours with little time off. But he was a scientist after all and not a detective. And he certainly didn’t want to jeopardize his work at Yellow Sea Laboratories. But he would continu
e to observe Old Dragon and if he had to, he would report his findings to Senator Yi.

  * * *

  Exiting the building, Old Dragon yanked a large handkerchief, ever present, from her lab coat pocket and hastily dabbed it across her face. She was naturally hot-natured and prone to perspiring heavily, especially when nervous or upset. The phone call from Jian had definitely upset her. She would get Kim to order some more of that facial blotting paper. Otherwise, she would break out, an oily skin condition she had battled in her early teens. Now, at 52 years of age, with thick black hair and youthful, taut skin, she was once again getting flare-ups.

  When Xing Qiang, the head of one of China’s leading ruling families, died and a younger brother took over, Old Dragon had been recommended by Senator Yi for the highly coveted position as head of research at the Yellow Sea Institute, a privately-owned but government-controlled company located in the Shandong Province that specialized in medical research pertaining to the development of a drug that would extend life. It had been Old Dragon’s commitment to quickly advance the research forward into the twenty-first century and beyond, leaving the ancient and outmoded ways behind. This she had accomplished in four short years through massive and expensive purchases of modern equipment and cutting-edge technology. However, she tried to do too much too soon, thinking they were closer to finding the answers they sought than they actually were. When funds ran short and the U.S. government offered financial assistance, she had no choice but to accept even though it came with the condition that the U.S. government would be involved in the research, and all information would be shared between the two countries. With Senator Xing-Ling Yi from Hawaii sponsoring it, the bill authorizing the U.S. government to invest large amounts of money into Yellow Sea Laboratories quickly passed both the House and the Senate thereby replenishing the coffers needed to continue with the research.

  Senator Yi had been born in Hawaii even though her family was from the Shandong Province in China. She claimed a dual citizenship between the two countries and was the only daughter of Xing Qiang. Because of her strong educational background in science and technology, as well as the fact that Yellow Sea Laboratories had been started by her grandfather, a brilliant scientist in his own right, she kept abreast of the research being conducted there. But only up to a point. Other than recommending Old Dragon to head up the project and supporting the bill for its special funding, she had never shown any interest toward hands-on involvement in the research, preferring to observe from a distance. She had chosen to live and work in the country where she was born rather than the country of her ancestors. She had chosen unwisely as far as Old Dragon was concerned, feeling it was a form of betrayal to her culture and to her heritage. Not one to hold back her thoughts, she had told the Senator as much. Nevertheless, Old Dragon had benefited from that decision and was now lead scientist of what was easily the most important medical research known to man—certainly in modern history.

  But now, after all of these years, why would she return? She thought all of this had been settled years ago. That they had agreed it would be unwise for Senator Yi to come back. The last thing Old Dragon needed was her interfering and meddling or wanting to make changes. Or even worse, questioning her decisions. Not now. They were so close to finally solving the mystery of the critical gene, and she didn’t want any needless interruptions. She had always made sure to send the Senator everything she asked for and always on time. Monthly progress reports on the research, financial statements, personnel documents and statuses—everything that she requested Old Dragon personally made sure she had. She had worked too hard to get to this point, where everything was under her complete control with nothing or no one to compromise the work. The Senator had always trusted her and confided in her. After all, they had known each other for so long—since childhood. She just couldn’t figure it out. Was there was a problem that the Senator hadn’t discussed with her? She had noticed that someone whose login name she didn’t recognize had been accessing all of the files for several weeks now. This after Senator Yi had requested a list of all the updated computer passcodes.

  As she mopped her face with the large white handkerchief, she suddenly had a thought. Actually, it was more of a premonition. The person she was bringing with her—could it be? There had been rumors, or course, at the time; there always were. But that is all they were—simply rumors—a myth to add to the prestige and glorification of the name of Xing Qiang. A child genius born into the ruling family. No one really knew, and over time, the rumors had faded away. But what if those rumors were true and there really was a child genius? Was the Senator planning to take away her position now—after all she had sacrificed—and replace her with a blood member of the family? The child?

  Chapter Eighteen

  As it turned out, Mackenzie didn’t have to ask Ling about the possibility of Carolina, Dara, and Jennifer going with them to China.

  “Mackenzie, you mentioned at our first meeting that you and your friends were planning to go somewhere together over winter break.” Ling had been talking about the small village of Puli where she had been reared and its rich culture and its historical significance when she suddenly asked the question. “Do you think they would like to visit China? If so, they can accompany you as my guests. I would love to have them join us and there is plenty of room at the zhuang yuan—the family estate—where we can all stay. I am sure we will be comfortable.”

  That evening, during their regular eight o’clock phone visit, the question of what they would do over winter break was quickly settled. Jennifer was already in New York City, of course, and was in the midst of rehearsals for The Wish Rider, but Carolina, Mackenzie, and Dara would plan to join her after classes let out for winter break; and all of them would stay with Mrs. Killebrew again at her boarding house where they had stayed over the summer when they were searching for Dara’s mother. “I will call her first thing in the morning,” offered Carolina, “to make sure our rooms will be available for the days we will be there.”

  This time they would meet in New York instead of at Wood Rose; they would already be there to attend Jennifer’s performance of The Wish Rider at Carnegie Hall. Also in attendance would be Headmaster Harcourt, Mrs. Ball, and Miss Alcott who once again had arranged for them to attend as representatives of Wood Rose in support of one of their most brilliant students. Larry would plan to join them as well, at least for a couple of days, and he could bunk with Grai at Mrs. Killebrew’s. But then he would return to Chapel Hill after Jennifer’s performance to teach the mini course in ancient Chinese philosophy he was offering over the break and “to take care of a personal matter.” He didn’t go into any detail, but Carolina knew it had to do with Mackenzie and what he had been trying to find out about her mother.

  Ling told Mackenzie she would make the international flight arrangements for them to leave the day following Jennifer’s performance as well as the ground transportation once they arrived in China. “There is no train station in Puli,” she explained, “but I will have a driver and car there at the airport to meet you.” She, in the meantime, would need to go a few days earlier since something unexpected had come up at Yellow Sea Laboratories that required her attention. It would also give her a chance to make sure everything was ready for her guests’ arrival at the zhuang yuan.

  “This is perfect!” said Dara. Since Dr. Wu had already returned to China, Dara had decided she wouldn’t make the trip to see the archeological site and research center over winter break unless Carolina, Jennifer, and Mackenzie went with her. But now that everything was arranged, she would notify Dr. Wu of her plans. Carolina and the FIGs would be together, she would be able to visit the research facilities and dig site, Mackenzie would be able to visit the Yellow Sea Laboratories, and they wouldn’t have to worry about finding a place to stay in Puli either. “It’s perfect!” she repeated. Jennifer and Mackenzie thought so as well. Only Carolina had reservations, but she would keep them to herself.

  With her required classwork
completed, and with the trip to China now in place, Dara was eager to begin her research on the Longshan culture, especially the early writing of that period. Before Dr. Wu returned to China, he had given Dara copies of his personal research notes on the ancient writings in the Shandong Province. Included in the notes were photographs he had taken of the rudimentary symbols that appeared on burnished earthenware pottery excavated from the dig site. Some still showed the remnants of color, she assumed was created from things found in nature, such as red berries.

  This earliest form of Chinese writing hadn’t been deciphered, but it was similar to many words of other obscure Chinese dialects Dara was already familiar with. By identifying and comparing the dominant drawings and symbols, establishing the root or similarities of each one, and assigning it a certain “weight” or number, she could figure out some of the words or meanings: “dragon,” “blood,” “worship,” and “death.” As Dara continued looking through the notes, she was struck by one odd thing: The writing or symbols looked to be the same as the markings she remembered seeing on the dark, damp walls below Grand Central Terminal when she was searching for her mother. Seeing them now more clearly in photographs, she recognized what they were. They were the precursors to the so-called “oracle bones” of the Shang Dynasty dating from the 16th to the 11th century BC.

  This realization was astounding, for it meant that while the earliest Chinese writing was starting to take form in the Neolithic times during the Longshan culture, there was something similar taking place in the area of New York City, something that more than likely never would have been discovered had it not been for Dara noticing them when she went searching for her mother beneath Grand Central Terminal and the underground rails.