Anthony Grey

by Peking- A Novel of China's Revolution- 1921-1978 (epub)

  “You’ve obviously done well for yourself, Hsiao Liang — in every way.” Jakob smiled and gestured toward the cadre’s tunic that he wore. “You’ve become a respected kan pa. What job do you do?”

  “I hope I’ve done well for the Party and for China,” replied Liang, speaking slowly to emphasize that he was making a correction to Jakob’s statement. “I’m a cadre with the Party Agriculture Commission. Like my sons I was lucky enough to study at the Revolutionary Academy in Yenan. I visit the countryside in many provinces. I help the peasants work out their own collectivization programs and explain how our Party and government agencies can help. We’re teaching them to share and help one another and they’ve learned to trust the government. The recent harvests have been the best for thirty years.”

  “You must have been working very hard.”

  “Yes.” Liang turned to look directly at Jakob, a gleam of intense pride showing in his tired eyes. “But it’s very worthwhile work. You know that my own father’s land was stolen from him by rich landlords when he couldn’t pay their cruel taxes. Now all that’s been changed. There’s a great mood of optimism in the countryside. The peasants of China are beginning to realize that they’re in charge of their own destiny at last.”

  As they walked Liang turned frequently to smile at Abigail and he listened attentively whenever Jakob paused to translate for her. Although the language barrier separated them, Abigail could see that the bond of friendship forged between Liang and her father so many years before had survived the passage of time. She soon began to feel something approaching a sense of kinship herself for the sturdy, likable Chinese peasant striding at her side; he answered all the questions put to him with animation, his expression alive with interest, and when at last the questions dried up, he turned an inquiring expression to Jakob.

  “You have an interesting job now, Pastor Ke — but may I ask what made you decide to give up your job as a missionary?”

  Jakob smiled uncomfortably. “It’s difficult to explain. Perhaps my time with the Red Army made me change my mind. Afterward it seemed foolish to think that a few Christian missionaries could help solve the terrible problems of China. And I don’t think there’s much evidence that all the work done by foreign missionaries produced any lasting effects.”

  “Perhaps the work had more effect than you suspect, Pastor Ke. On my travels I find a lot of people continue to worship in secret.”

  Jakob looked sharply at the Chinese cadre. He had spoken quietly but in a firm tone and Jakob saw that he was staring pensively toward the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests as they walked. Above the shimmering marble terraces, the blue-glazed roof merged harmoniously with the bright autumn sky and its glittering tiles were reflecting the sunlight like wavelets on the seashore.

  “I still have the signed Bible you gave me, Pastor Ke,” continued Liang quietly, “and on the Luring bridge when I thought I was going to die, I found myself repeating a prayer you’d once taught me. I had to charge into shoulder-high flames and was sure I would be killed. As I ran into the fire I remembered your prayer and repeated it over and over to myself: ‘0 Lord God, in my hour of need, please forgive and protect me!”

  Jakob stared at his former cook boy in surprise. “I had no idea, Hsiao Liang . .

  For a moment Liang continued gazing up at the temple. Then he turned to Jakob with a mystified smile in his eyes. “I don’t know why it came into my head at that instant, Pastor Ke. I can’t explain it.,,

  “I’m very glad you told me,” said Jakob softly. “It’s a great privilege.”

  “All the survivors of the Luting bridge assault were awarded the Gold Star, the highest decoration in the Red Army for bravery,” continued Liang in a low voice. “Perhaps it was more than we deserved — but my comrades always make sure that when I visit the countryside, the peasants know about the Gold Star in advance. Sometimes I’m even asked to wear it. I see many of them looking at me with awe in their eyes — and then I often remember your little prayer.”

  Liang turned his steps in the direction of the Gate of the Western Sky, and Jakob and Abigail followed, walking comfortably on either side of him in a companionable silence. For a minute or two each of them remained submerged in their own thoughts; then, halfway along the avenue of cypress trees, Jakob stopped and laid his hand gently on the Chinese cadre’s arm.

  “Tell me, Hsiao Liang, how did you know we were in Peking? And how did you come to find us here this morning? Nobody knew we were coming to this place.”

  “Marshal Lu Chiao informed me of your visit,” said Liang unhesitatingly. “He called me back urgently from the countryside.”

  At the mention of Chiao’s name, Jakob’s eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know Marshal Lu?”

  “He was the commander of the special assault force at Luting.”

  “Was he?” Jakob reflected on the information in silence for a moment. “But why, do you think, would Marshal Lu wish you to see me?”

  “Perhaps it was simply an act of friendship, Pastor Ke. He knew that if you ever came back to China I would wish to see you. He told me of your intended visit some time ago and when he heard that you’d decided to stand down from the peace delegation program today, he contacted me. He suggested I wait outside your hotel to seek a chance of talking to you alone.” Liang smiled uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I followed you here in a pedicab without your noticing

  Jakob stared at the Chinese in astonishment. As he absorbed the implications of what Liang had said, his mind began to seethe with questions. Why had Chiao gone to so much trouble to ensure that he met Liang again? And why should Chiao interest himself in the details of their movements? Was Chiao in some way behind the unexpected invitation to China — and if so, what was its purpose? He searched Liang’s face, trying to decide if he was in possession of further information that might throw light on the mystery. But the decent, gently smiling face of the Chinese did not suggest he was party to an intrigue.

  “Couldn’t we have met openly, Hsiao Liang?” asked Jakob at last, watching carefully for his reaction. “Couldn’t we arrange for you to have dinner with us?”

  Liang looked suddenly uneasy. “It’s not advisable for Party cadres of my rank to have personal friends in Western countries — especially those with Christian backgrounds.”

  Jakob nodded. “I think I understand. I’ve heard rumors that Chinese Christians as well as intellectuals are being sent to the Hundred Flowers labor camps.”

  Liang glanced anxiously around the enclosure, then began walking again, increasing his pace. “Perhaps it’s better not to talk of these things, Pastor Ke. This is a bad time — few people are safe Liang hesitated and looked directly at Jakob. “Even Marshal Lu’s sister has gone to work in a coal yard.”

  Jakob felt his stomach contract instantly. Liang seemed to have been at pains to give the casual remark some significance and although he knew Abigail’s grasp of Chinese was only rudimentary, he looked quickly at her to see if she had registered anything of what they were saying. He had not translated any of the exchanges about Chiao and to his relief he saw that Abigail was not paying undue attention to the conversation.

  “Do you mean Lu Mei-ling?” asked Jakob in an undertone, turning away from his daughter.

  Liang nodded. “Yes, Pastor Ke.”

  “But what has she done?”

  “I don’t know — and nobody asks. Perhaps they’ve found something in her writing — or perhaps she volunteered to go.” Liang stopped and pushed back the cuff of his tunic sleeve to glance at a cheap metal wristwatch. He smiled but there was a hint of tension in his manner, and at that moment Jakob caught sight of a shiny black official limousine parked outside the Gate of the Western Sky. “It’s time for me to leave now, Pastor Ke. I’m very glad we’ve had the chance to meet.” Liang inclined his head toward Abigail. “And it’s been a great honor for me to meet your lovely daughter.”

  “Will we be able to see one another again?” asked Abigail.

&nb
sp; “Another meeting might be difficult to arrange,” said Liang, smiling uneasily again.

  “Then please know I shall never forget what you did for me.” Abigail seized one of Liang’s hands in both her own and held it for a long moment in a spontaneous gesture of affection. Then she stood back and watched with tears in her eyes as her father and Liang took their leave of one another, shaking hands with great warmth.

  “It’s been very good to see you again, Hsiao Liang,” said Jakob in an emotional voice. “Please pay my respects to your wife and all your family.”

  “I will, I wiIl.’’

  Jakob and Abigail stood and watched Liang hurry toward the Gate of the Western Sky. His stride was quick and nervous, and something in his bearing increased the feeling of agitation Jakob felt upon hearing the information about Mei-ling and Chiao. A stream of brightly dressed children from a kindergarten were entering the enclosure with their teachers but they took no notice of the hurrying figure of Liang, and he disappeared through the gateway, without looking back, ignoring the official limousine parked outside.

  “What were you discussing at the end, Daddy?” asked Abigail quietly at Jakob’s side. “Your expression was quite worried.”

  “We were talking about the Hundred Flowers campaign,” replied Jakob shortly, still staring toward the gateway. “Sad things are happening. Many people who don’t deserve it are being sent to reform- through-labor camps.”

  Abigail was about to ask a further question but another Chinese cadre in a dark, high-necked tunic had climbed out of the official limousine and was hurrying in their direction. When he reached them, he was smiling politely but there was something faintly ominous in the way he gestured toward the limousine with an open- palmed hand.

  “Please come with me,” he said, addressing Jakob. “I have a car waiting for your convenience.”

  “But we have no appointments to keep,” replied Jakob, without moving. “We have a free day and we came here for recreation.”

  The cadre smiled fixedly again. “If you will take the car, Mr. Kellner, your daughter can be dropped off at the hotel. An extra appointment has been arranged for you.”

  “May I as what it is?”

  “I’m not authorized to tell you that,” replied the cadre, the smile fading from his face. “Please be kind enough to accompany me to the car now.”

  The official gestured ahead again, indicating they should precede him, and after glancing back over his shoulder for a last look at the spectacular temple, Jakob took Abigail reluctantly by the arm and guided her toward the limousine.

  7

  The rear windows of the Russian-made Zil limousine were closed off, as in all official Chinese cars, with elasticized nylon curtains of a greenish hue. They admitted some light but shielded the vehicle’s occupants successfully from the gaze of passersby, and in the fish- tank gloom of the backseat, Jakob and Abigail sat side by side without speaking as the uniformed driver maneuvered through crowds of identically dressed cyclists. Jakob could see they were heading back toward the center of Peking but the forbidding presence of the cadre in the front passenger seat inhibited conversation. Abigail’s expression betrayed a trace of inner anxiety and when the limousine stopped to allow her to alight outside their hotel, Jakob climbed out briefly to reassure her there was no need for alarm.

  From the hotel the limousine was driven rapidly to the Square of Heavenly Peace, and Jakob felt a mounting sense of excitement as it drew up at the foot of the broad terrace of steps leading up to the Great Hall of the People, the massive stone megalith which the Communists had built along the western side of the hundred-acre square. During the journey all his conjectures about who might be responsible for the mystery summons had led him to Marshal Lu Chiao. In previous weeks, when speculating about who might have been behind the unexpected invitation to China, he had sometimes considered the possibility that Chiao might in some way have been involved. But no tangible reason for such an involvement had suggested itself and eventually he had dismissed the thought. Liang’s revelation that Chiao had helped arrange their emotional reunion at the Temple of Heaven seemed to prove conclusively that he was a party to the invitation, and this knowledge raised many intriguing new questions in his mind. From the moment he stepped into the official limousine Jakob had begun to suspect that the “extra appointment” must be with the Chinese marshal and when the uniformed cadre motioned him from the car and ushered him toward the twelve giant columns of marble flanking the entrances to the Great Hall, he became convinced his guess was right.

  Soldiers with fixed bayonets on their rifles stood guard at the foot of the soaring pillars, and Jakob was led quickly into the building through a huge central portal where tall bronze doors stood open. Once inside, the cadre conducted him wordlessly through a succession of lofty marble vestibules and corridors to a sparely furnished reception room where armchairs had been arranged around a low table. There the cadre motioned him to be seated, then departed, leaving Jakob staring at life-size heroic murals of the Long March that decorated the walls.

  Jakob was still studying the murals when a minute or two later an inner door opened and a bustling, quick-striding figure appeared, followed by a female aide. Stocky, dapper, and precise in his movements, the approaching Chinese wore a polite, formal smile as he crossed the room, but because Jakob had been so sure he was to meet Chiao, for the space of a second or two he did not recognize his host. Then with a start he realized that he was looking into a face he had last seen twenty-two years before as he rode out of the walled town of Tungwei, on the eve of his release from captivity. Then, pale and emaciated from his severe Long March illness, the man before him had worn a soiled Red Army uniform with tattered cloth sandals, and a curly beard had covered his cheeks. Now, dressed in a well-tailored cadre’s tunic and carefully pressed slacks of dove gray worsted, Chou En-lai was urbanely clean-shaven, as befitted the grandson of a Manchu dynasty mandarin and the prime minister of a nation of six hundred million people. His neatly clipped hair was steel gray and from beneath dark, bushy brows his keen eyes regarded Jakob unwaveringly.

  “Welcome back to Peking, Mr. Kellner,” said Chou courteously in Chinese, motioning for Jakob to be seated. “The circumstances of the meeting are fortunately quite different from those existing the last time we met.”

  For a second the premier’s gaze strayed to the Long March murals around them and he smiled ironically.

  “I’m very glad they are,” replied Jakob with equal politeness. “But I’m still a little puzzled as to why I’ve been invited to return here.”

  “You may interpret your invitation to Peking, if you wish, as an act of personal goodwill,” said Chou, watching a second aide, who had just entered, place a tray of lidded porcelain teacups on a low table beside Jakob’s chair. “It’s been noted that you long ago gave up missionary work and that in a recent book you laid emphasis on the positive achievements that have been made in the eight years since the founding of the People’s Republic of China. In Western countries this is still unfortunately rare.”

  Chou made an elegant gesture with one hand in the direction of the tray and Jakob reached out to remove the lid from his cup. He recognized the subtle fragrance of jasmine tea at once and the dry, aromatic taste was pleasantly refreshing. Chou sipped from his own cup only very briefly, then set it aside.

  “I should say at this stage, Mr. Kellner, that it’s not customary for ministers of the State Council, whatever their standing, to grant interviews to writers from capitalist countries. Therefore you should treat this conversation as private and entirely confidential.” Chou paused, and as though to lend emphasis to his remark, he glanced around pointedly at the silent female aide, who had seated herself behind him and was making notes of the conversation. “We took considerable pains to ensure that the factories, schools, and agricultural cooperatives included in your program of visits would provide important new information about our economic development. It’s a pity, therefore, that you chose not to
participate in today’s tour.”

  “I wanted to see something of the old Peking I once knew — without a guide,” said Jakob, setting down his teacup. “I have many personal memories of my time here as a student. I feared I wouldn’t have the opportunity to visit places that once meant a lot to me.”

  Chou nodded, “That’s perfectly understandable. But it might have been preferable if you had informed us of your wishes in advance.”

  “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” explained Jakob quietly. “I wanted to see the Temple of I-leaven again. I visited it often with my wife more than twenty-five years ago.”

  Chou’s expression became less severe arid he took a reflective sip from his teacup. “Then I trust you enjoyed your meeting there with your former house servant.”

  “It was a great pleasure for us both,” said Jakob slowly. “And it was a moving occasion for my daughter to meet the man who had cared for her in China when she was very small. But I had no idea I would meet Comrade Liang — there or anywhere else.”

  The premier smiled fleetingly. “Then it seems to have been a fortunate coincidence for all concerned.”

  “It could hardly have been just a coincidence, Mr. Premier,” said Jakob, watching his host’s face closely for any reaction. “Somebody must surely have given Comrade Liang a helping hand.”

  “It’s important for personal understanding to exist between individuals from different countries.” Chou smiled dryly again, his face showing no sign of surprise. “It can sometimes help promote understanding on broader political questions. . . .“

  Jakob looked uncertainly at the Chinese premier, trying to decide what lay behind his oblique response. It seemed obvious that he either had prior knowledge of the meeting at the Temple of Heaven or was aware that Liang had been under surveillance. But he had given no indication of whether he had himself initiated the meeting or whether he knew of Chiao’s part in it, anti because he made no attempt to explain further, Jakob realized that he was unlikely to learn anything more. As he struggled to extract some meaning from what Chou had said, he suddenly remembered Liang’s reference to Mei-ling and he decided he would be foolish to pass up the opportunity to find out something more about her plight.