He: “Ah shi.”
She: “Oh yes!”
Washington, D.C.
“Honey, you almost done?”
“Another minute.” He placed the light-tight cover on the developing bath and lifted it out of the temperature-controlled tub, gently tapping the bottom of the tank against the table to dislodge air bubbles that might otherwise transfer to the film.
“Can’t I come in? I’m lonely out here all by myself.”
He switched on the darkroom light and opened the door a crack. “Sure, but put out that cigarette first, uh —” he couldn’t remember her name — Judy or Sherry or Cathy or —
“Sandi — with an ‘i’.”
“Sure, sweetie.” He’d picked her up on the plane back from California a few hours ago. Another young girl coming to Washington with a good body and no skills, full of dreams about getting close to the center of power. When Halliday said he worked for a senator on the Hill, she practically leapt into his bed — just one of the perquisites of a divorced male in a town where eligible women outnumbered men five to one.
“Whacha doing?” she asked as he agitated the fixer-filled tank for the third time.
The timer signaled the end of the cycle. “Developing pictures I took in Newport Beach yesterday.” He adjusted the faucet, letting the water run slowly to protect the film emulsion.
“For the senator?”
Remembering his lie, “Yeah. He wants them on his desk first thing tomorrow.”
Dropping the name of the powerful man was apparently an aphrodisiac to Sandi with an “i.”
“Too bad you have to work so hard.” She rubbed her erect nipples against Halliday’s back until he was aroused.
“Yeah.” He set the timer for thirty minutes, then pulled her into his arms. “But I don’t think the senator would mind if I took a short break.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Monday
April 24
Shanghai, China
Dawn crept over the horizon.
At the window, Chi-Wen watched Lili sleep, half-hidden by the cotton bedcovers. Unable to sleep himself, he had eased out of bed hours ago and began reading The Old Man and the Sea. Hemingway’s simple, direct style was easy to follow.
He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish.
Almost three months without a catch. The men of Santiago’s village said the old man was definitely salao, which, as Hemingway explained, was “the worst form of unlucky.” Bad joss, Chi-Wen thought. Something he could understand.
Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.
Chi-Wen sighed. Cheerful and undefeated. With so much against him, how was that possible? Like Lili, this old man seemed to think you could transcend the impossible.
Lili. The first rays of daylight fell across the bed, illuminating the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. No matter how many times he replayed last night, nothing could change his feelings. Making love to Lili had been overwhelming. Not planned, not expected. Abandoning all fears, he succumbed to the sheer magic of the moment. Now, with daylight nigh, he had to confront reality.
Reality. He almost laughed at the irony. For so long he’d closed himself off to love in order to endure. Then he’d met Lili. Now, in the cold light of day, he knew love would be his destruction. And hers. This is how Shakespeare’s Juliet must have felt. Love and pain were inseparable.
Impulsively, he slipped on his pants and tiptoed past the bed and out the door. At the lobby he found the clerk with his head on his arms, snoring. It took several shakes to wake him.
“Comrade Zhou.”
“Dr. Quan and I will be leaving in thirty minutes. Would you arrange a taxi?”
The clerk rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Of course, comrade. My pleasure.”
On his way back to the room, Chi-Wen checked his watch. It was half past six. If he hurried, there would be time. Time enough to buy a ticket and catch the eight a.m. train back to Guangchou.
In the lobby, the desk clerk followed Chi-Wen with his eyes until he disappeared up the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the figure lurking deep in the shadows — the young cadre who had been following Lili since Changsha.
Chi-Wen tiptoed back into the room and as he did, his shadow fell across Lili’s face.
She stirred, opening her eyes. “Good morning.” She stretched lazily. “You should have woken me.”
“You were sleeping so peacefully.”
“How long have you been up?”
“A while.”
She studied him. “What have you been doing for ‘a while’?”
“Just thinking.”
Sensing his agitation, Lili wondered if its source might be regret. She hadn’t had time to analyze her own feelings. “Chi-Wen?”
“Yes?”
“Is something wrong?”
Averting his gaze: “No, it’s just that I confused our schedule. We have to leave in thirty minutes.” There was no point in revealing the danger she might be in. It would only complicate things. Just get her out of China — fast.
A loud knock at the door precluded further questions. Lili grabbed her robe. “Shouldn’t you get that?”
“You answer it.” Chi-Wen stood out of sight.
Two men waited in the half-light of the hallway. The younger one bowed and asked in broken English. “Where Comrade Zhou?”
“Why he’s right here,” Lili replied without hesitation.
Reluctantly, Chi-Wen stepped from his hiding place. “What do you want?” he demanded in Shanghainese.
“Foreign Minister Lin has asked me to accompany you and Dr. Quan to Xi’an. Dr. Seng has arranged for a plane.”
“I see.” The fact that the desk clerk stood behind the young cadre was not lost on Chi-Wen. No one could be trusted in this new China of hou-tai and guandao. His heart tightened with pain. To escape with Lili was hopeless — as hopeless as his love for her.
He thought of the garden they’d visited yesterday with its beautiful, enclosed spaces. Enclosure. That’s what he hadn’t been able to explain to Lili. Whether of the world behind the garden walls, the courtyard of the household, the person in the family, enclosure was a fundamental organizational principle in Chinese society. So different from Western concepts of individuality, a Chinese would always be surrounded and defined by an enclosed world.
You can’t stop fate! It was foolish to think so. Not here. Not in China.
Defeated, he sighed. “We’ll need time to pack.”
“Of course. We don’t have to be at the airport until ten. I’ll wait outside.” Before leaving the young cadre looked pointedly from Chi-Wen to Lili, to the unmade bed. “By the way, the foreign minister asked me to tell you your indiscretion with our overseas Chinese guest will remain a private matter. He said you would understand.”
Yes, Chi-Wen thought with bitterness. It was a warning he understood only too well. As the old Chinese saying went, You listen to the man who feeds you. The foreign minister was reminding Chi-Wen that he owned his soul. If he didn’t cooperate, his aunt would lose her apartment, her only hold on life. Chi-Wen would jeopardize his chance for medical school, and there would likely be punishment for him at a labor camp for “rehabilitation.”
“What was that all about?” Lili asked when they were alone again.
“Dr. Seng has sent a plane to take us to Xi’an.”
“Dr. Seng?” That man was tracking her every move. “Certainly we can find our own way there.”
Chi-Wen stared blankly out the window. Maybe it was just as well. Lili would have to remain in China. That was what Seng and Foreign Minister Lin wanted. But wasn’t it what Chi-Wen wanted too? “There’s someone in Xi’an anxious to meet you,” he said softly.
“What are you talking about?”
He turned to face her. “Lili?”
“Yes?”
&nbs
p; Her eyes were large, dark pools. At the moment he saw only trust. He tried to imagine what feelings those eyes would project when she heard what he had to say — what he must say. He couldn’t hide the truth any longer.
“Your grandfather is alive.”
“What?” Lili didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. “That’s ridiculous. My mother got a letter from the government. I saw it.”
Chi-Wen shook his head. “Dr. Ni-Fu Cheng is very much alive. He’s working in Xi’an. At the Institute.”
Lili’s face registered shock. “You mean all this time my mother thought he was dead and —” She hurled an accusing look at him. “And you knew!”
“I didn’t know Dr. Cheng had any family until last week. I’m just a messenger, Lili. I was sent to bring you to Xi’an.”
So much to absorb. She thought about Seng’s visit to Los Angeles and the way he lured her to China. “I don’t understand. Why all the subterfuge? It doesn’t make any sense. All Dr. Seng had to do was tell me my grandfather was alive and I would have come willingly. Why go through all this convoluted, complicated rigmarole?”
“Because we are Chinese.”
“Damn it. What does that mean?”
“Since the dawn of time Chinese motives have always been a mystery.”
Mounting bewilderment, dismay, frustration, anger. “Chinese motives. If that’s some Taoist drivel, it’s not good enough, Chi-Wen. Not after this week! Not after last night!” Her eyes were on fire. “You say you didn’t know about me until last week. I’ll have to accept that. But tell me why did you let me continue to think he was dead — why did you take me to the cemetery, let me search for his ashes? And why are you telling me now? I want to know!”
“You want an easy answer,” he said, fighting his turbulent emotions. He’d struggled to figure a way to tell her about Ni-Fu Cheng. But every time he’d played out the scene, it came out wrong. Each time Lili ended up hating him.
“I just want the truth.”
“The truth?” He felt his heart tear. “The truth is I never expected what happened this week.”
“Exactly what did happen?” she demanded.
I never expected to fall in love! How could he tell her now?
“Chi-Wen?”
For a long time, he remained with his back to her, gazing out at the city just waking up. “What happened?” He turned to face her. “From the moment I met you, I was overcome. I knew if I told you earlier, I’d never have had a chance to spend time alone with you.” Struggling with feelings he’d kept in check for so long, “I . . . I didn’t want this week to end, Lili. Not ever.” His voice trembled. “I love you.” He’d said it. “That’s the truth.”
He moved to the door and waited until his hand was on the knob before adding, “I’m sorry.” Then he was gone.
Washington, D.C.
Under a white light, Halliday examined the processed contact sheet with a magnifying loupe to determine which negatives to enlarge.
Damn. The clarity of the pictures wasn’t the problem. It was the fact that the man who’d met with DeForest in Newport Beach wasn’t a local player. Too many years on the desk in Washington, Halliday had lost touch with the international set.
Frowning, he lifted the receiver from his nearby phone and dialed the area code for Virginia.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Shanghai to Xi’an
Less than two hours in the air and Lili understood why American tourists in China preferred trains. She only hoped the Russian turboprop Ilyushian engine worked better than the toilet or air conditioning. A stewardess passed out hard candy and paper fans just after takeoff, then disappeared before explaining emergency procedures. Probably a futile exercise, Lili reasoned, observing that seat belts, flotation devices, and oxygen masks were nonexistent.
Fortunately the weather was picture perfect. The plane flew low enough for passengers to appreciate the lushness of the landscape south of the Yangtze River where every inch of rich, black soil was neatly cultivated to the very edge of the narrow footpaths. The square sails of a junk moving over the tops of mulberry trees seemed to be sailing on land.
Lili glanced over at the young, uniformed cadre curled up in his seat beside her, dozing. Chi-Wen sat by the window, gazing silently out, his face pale and strained. Since their confrontation in the hotel room, they’d barely spoken. She wondered what Chi-Wen was thinking as conflicting ideas and emotions jostled together in her own head.
Your grandfather is alive.
How her heart leapt at the words. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the man pictured with her mother. Alive! She realized that she hadn’t asked Chi-Wen a single question about him.
He’s been working in Xi’an. At the Institute.
And you knew.
I’m just a messenger.
You knew.
Your most cunning enemy will first seek to be your ally.
I didn’t want this week to end.
She hadn’t either.
I love you.
The plane’s bumpy landing jolted Lili back to reality. She looked over at Chi-Wen, still staring vacantly out the window.
The voice of the stewardess crackled over the loudspeaker in Chinese and then English, “Ladies and gentlemen —”
Remembering how she felt in his arms last night — so excited, and warm and —
“— we have reached Xi’an.”
— and right.
I love you.
She knew Chi-Wen well enough now to appreciate that his declaration had not come easily.
“Please watch your step as you exit from the plane.”
It seemed so long ago.
Chi-Wen’s words in the garden at Suzhou: We are all on the path, but at different points along the way.
For a moment, their paths had crossed. How long, she wondered, would they remain at the same point along the way?
The plane came to a stop at the terminal gate.
What they had started had been interrupted, Lili thought as she grabbed for her knapsack. Only time would tell if it would remain unfinished.
Xi’an, China
Ni-Fu carefully rolled the tip of his calligraphy brush in the pool of black ink, then with a dancer’s grace, moved it rhythmically across his shuan paper, keeping his body almost still. The characters flowing in one stroke emerged on the page in perfect, aesthetic balance. Ai, love: a heart under a roof, symbolizing the joining together as one. For Ni-Fu it meant Lili, his only family. How he yearned to see her.
He held up the paper for only a moment before crumpling it.
“Why do you always destroy your work, Dr. Cheng?”
“Ah, Dr. Seng, I didn’t hear you come in.” Ni-Fu returned the brush to the inlaid box on his desk. “The joy of calligraphy is in the creating, not the saving.”
“So I’ve heard you say. But so few remain who are as skilled in this ancient art. It seems a pity not to keep your work.”
Ni-Fu turned to look at the medical director still standing in the doorway of his room. “I must be dreaming. An avowed Communist speaking reverently of the past.”
Seng laughed good-naturedly. “You’re not dreaming, comrade. Even Communists have learned that destroying the past is not necessarily the way to move ahead.”
Ni-Fu nodded, thinking how much art and literature destroyed during the Cultural Revolution could never be replaced. “A good lesson to learn. However late.”
Feeling the sting of criticism, Seng abruptly changed the subject. “Well, I have good news. Your granddaughter will arrive late this afternoon. I’ve arranged for you to meet her tomorrow.”
Ni-Fu couldn’t hide his happiness.
“I know you’ll help us make her stay enjoyable.”
“What is it you want from me?”
“Nothing more than I’ve wanted all along, doctor. Your secret.”
“And I’ve already told you, my work isn’t complete. I can’t give you the formula for longevity unti
l it is perfected.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Ni-Fu volunteered nothing.
“Come now. Thirty people on ward number one all living well over one hundred ten years? Even a nonresearcher understands the odds are astronomical that’s anything but a measure of your genius.”
Ni-Fu remained silent.
“Dr. Cheng, we’re both men of science.” Seng’s voice assumed a tone of reason. “I think I understand your point of view and I commend your regard for ethics. What troubles me is your reluctance to trust in the good sense of our leaders to use your discovery in whatever way best serves China.”
Will they? Or will they simply use it to keep power for themselves? While Ni-Fu ached to challenge this opportunistic toady, he recognized that any philosophical debate must wait for another time, another place. Now he had to control his emotions for Lili’s sake. He remained quiet.
Seng’s patient veneer vanished. “Very well,” he said abruptly. “Let me put it to you a different way. My instructions are to offer you the alternatives. Give us your secret and you and your granddaughter can have a nice visit together and then she’ll return to America. You can continue the life you’ve been leading, working in your laboratory, seeing patients. Not a bad life.”
“And if I don’t?”
Seng’s smile became menacing. “Do I really have to spell it out?”
“No.” Ni-Fu knew Seng to be an ambitious bureaucrat, capable of anything that might advance his position in the Party. Nothing — including killing — was beyond him. “Let me think about it.”
“Just don’t take too long. My superiors won’t wait more than ten days. In the meantime, the less your granddaughter knows, the better off she’ll be.”
“You mean I’m to hide the fact that I’m a prisoner here?”
“Prisoner seems such a harsh word. Haven’t you been comfortable?”
If he hadn’t been so anxious to see Lili, Ni-Fu might have asked what comfort was without freedom. Instead, he replied, “She won’t learn anything.”
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