by Naomi Paul
Crowbar: Glad U R back Komiko, I was abt 2 tell the others, got a look at the 2ndary postmortem on Jiao
Crowbar: Or on Unknown Asian Female, I should say, she still hasnt been IDed
Crowbar: This new report lists COD as drowning
Blossom: COD?
Torch: Cause of death. Cod don’t drown.
Lian smiled in spite of herself.
Blossom: Got it. But I thought the first report said no water in the lungs, so drowning wasnt an option?
Crowbar: Thats just it
Crowbar: The 1st report has been deleted. Its not anywhere in the system.
Lian felt a chill. This wasn’t some clerk accidentally clicking the wrong box. This was deliberate. A cover-up. There was no doubt in her mind.
Blossom: Look, maybe its time we talked to the police. If chemicals are making Harrison workers sick, the police have the resources to investigate.
Blossom: At this point, keeping this info from the cops is the same as standing by and letting it happen.
Torch: . . .
Torch: Well, I disagree. The local police have failed to come through in the past, in too many cases to name. They’re not a safe bet.
Torch: I suggest that we go to the Labor Department. They have the power to shut Harrison down if they have just cause.
Torch: And I doubt they’re as easily infiltrated as the police department. There’s less of a chance of Harrison getting a heads-up from an inside man.
Komiko: Wait, we’re losing sight of the human face of this. Jiao deserves justice, and someone is clearly working hard to prevent her from getting it.
Komiko: It isn’t enough that Harrison Corp suspends operations for a couple of weeks while they figure out who to bribe. We need to close them down permanently so no one becomes the next Jiao.
Crowbar: I C your point & I dont disagree, but the Labor Dept is a good call
Torch: If nothing else, it’s a start. It’s a way to shine a bigger light on Harrison than anything the four of us alone can manage right now.
Blossom: Agreed. Contacting the authorities is the next step in the bigger picture.
Blossom: Jiao is important, but a full-scale look into the chemicals has to be the priority.
Lian’s three compatriots seemed united in their course of decisive action, but Lian could not share their enthusiasm for the method. Only she had seen Jiao up close, and only she had heard the anguish in Zan’s voice upon learning that his sister was dead. The others would never understand why it meant so much to her that the dead girl be avenged.
But maybe that meant that their method was the right course of action. For now.
Komiko: Fine. Torch, you’ll handle alerting the Labor Department?
Torch: I’ll send them an anonymous tip-off to look into the chemicals. Happy to hear any suggestions you guys have about the wording.
Komiko: I’ll let you three hash that out, if you don’t mind.
Komiko: I think I’m all crusaded out for the day. Going back to bed.
8:49 AM HKT — Komiko has logged off
Just before she closed her laptop, Lian was surprised to see a Facebook friend request. She really only used the social networking site to keep in touch with friends back on the mainland. She clicked through and saw a picture of a boy heading down a water slide on his stomach.
Accept friend request from Taylor Brandon?
Lian smiled and clicked “accept,” along with the message: “Nice to meet you the other night, Taylor. The least scary American I’ve come across yet.”
NINETEEN
Sunday
“Were you asleep?”
Lian cleared her throat, but the words still came out gravelly. “It’s three in the morning. Do you want the truth, or the polite lie?”
“I’m sorry,” Zan said on the other end of the phone. His voice sounded agitated. “Normally I wouldn’t call at this hour, but something strange happened, and I thought you’d want to know.”
She sat up in bed, yawned, and switched on the lamp on her nightstand. “Okay,” she said. “You’ve got my ear. The other four senses might need a minute to catch up.”
“Right. So, the bus came to get the night shift, just like clockwork. We’re most of the way to work when suddenly the driver turns around and takes us right back to Chungking Mansions. No explanation at all. And no space for us, of course, because the day shift’s mostly asleep already.”
“Huh,” Lian said. “That is weird.”
“It gets weirder,” he said. “Within an hour or so, more workers show up. This time it’s all the women and the youngest kids. They’ve got nowhere to go but into the apartments. It’s standing room only, everybody’s whispering, trying to figure out what’s going on. But of course none of us knows any more than anyone else.”
Lian was fully awake now. “Okay. I think you were right to call me. This sounds major.”
“No, no, no,” he said in a rush. “You haven’t heard the major part yet. Because there’s a knock on the door, and half a dozen government types come walking in. Dark suits, ear radios, just like you see in the movies.”
“Government guys?”
“Hong Kong Department of Labor,” Zan said.
Lian punched the air, even though it wasn’t “like” her. Less than twenty-four hours from the tip-off to their arrival. Every once in a while, the wheels of bureaucracy spun in the right direction.
“They divided the room into small groups and interviewed a bunch of us,” Zan continued. “Seemed to be concerned about payroll documentation, on-the-job injuries, eligibility for work, all that sort of thing. I think this is it, Lian. I think this is the beginning of the end for Harrison Corp.”
“Zan,” she said, smiling. “It is always okay to wake me up at 3 a.m. with news like that.”
“I’ve gotta go,” he said. “I’m in the next group to talk to them. I’ll tell you more when I know more. Try to get some sleep in the meantime.”
“I’ll try,” she said. “But this might be too exciting to sleep through.” She hung up, switched off the lamp, and laid her head back on the pillow, prepared for her thoughts and speculations to keep her up until dawn.
But within moments she was out, and she slept more soundly than she had any night since seeing the dead girl’s face.
When she woke in the morning, Lian was full of energy and in good spirits. It was tempting to phone Zan to see what he’d learned from his interview, but she didn’t want to interrupt anything or risk waking him after his long, strange night.
So she channeled her restlessness into a spirited session with Zheng, nestling the violin at her collarbone and drawing the familiar notes of Mendelssohn’s Concerto in E Minor from its strings. Just as she was about to transition into the second movement, the Andante, the doorbell rang. Her concentration broke for a fraction of a second, and she held a quarter note too long. Always shy of perfection, she thought, laying the instrument and bow on her bed and going to the door. She opened it without checking through the spyhole.
“Good morning, Lian.”
She felt her blood turn to ice. Rand Harrison stood before her, his voice as sharp as his suit, his face wearing a tight smile completely without joy. On either side of him stood a dark-suited associate, their hands behind their backs and their stares unblinking.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Harrison?” she asked, hoping her voice wasn’t betraying her terror.
“You?” he said, still smiling. “You can’t do anything. I’ve come to see your old man.” His eyes narrowed. “In a purely informal capacity, of course. Just two friends, chatting on a Sunday morning.”
“Of course,” she said. Two friends and two corporate goons, she thought to herself. It didn’t sound very friendly at all.
But she saw no choice other than to invite them in and lead them down the hall. “Father,” she said, knocking at the open door to her father’s study. “Your good friend Mr. Harrison is here.”
She left them in the hallwa
y and returned to her room, closing the door and quickly bringing up iTunes on her laptop. Typing “Mendelssohn” into the search bar got her more than a hundred tracks, including several versions of the concerto she’d been rehearsing. She scrolled until she found the one she wanted—Janine Jansen, solo violin, no accompaniment—tweaked the volume, and hit Play.
Then she crept out of the room, closing her door behind her with a quiet click. She snuck back down the hall and stationed herself outside her father’s study. The decoy music was just loud enough to sound like she’d returned to her practice (and become a much better violinist). She had nearly half an hour’s worth of eavesdropping before she’d need to sneak back and restart the mp3.
“What’s clear to me now,” she heard Harrison saying, “is that the Hong Kong government doesn’t look favorably upon my enterprise. Which, frankly, I find quite insulting.”
“No, Mr. Harrison, sir,” her father replied. Lian felt herself tense at the deference in his voice. “I assure you, your company’s contributions to our economy are a great boon. The government would not dream of interfering.”
“But that’s just it, Hung. They did dream, and late last night their dream came true. And I found it very hard to sleep after that dream.”
Well, thought Lian, that’s the difference between you and me.
“A raid by the Labor Department?” Harrison continued. “It’s embarrassing, Hung. It’s offensive. When you and I both know that I’ve gone well out of my way to act on the recommendations made by Dr. Lan and her ridiculously named MedInstigators.”
Lian’s father cleared his throat. “The, ah, their name is—”
“Immaterial,” Harrison interrupted. “You’re right, of course. But nevertheless we bowed to their findings, and in so doing I was under the impression that you and I had an understanding.”
He spat out the end of the word like it left an awful taste in his mouth. Lian’s hand began to hurt, and it took her a moment to realize that she’d made a fist so tight that her fingernails were digging into her palm.
“We do, of course,” her father said quickly. “I don’t know where any of these problems are coming from. But I’ll get to the bottom of it all. That’s my job.”
“For now,” Harrison uttered. “Though, I couldn’t help thinking this morning that it wouldn’t be hard to find someone else better suited for it.”
“Mr. Harrison, no, I hope you’ll give me a chance to make this right.”
That was it. Her father’s fawning words curdled in Lian’s ears. The idea of such an honorable man being forced to suck up to a slimeball like Harrison was too much to bear.
Lian spun on her heel to stand in the study’s doorway. The violin cadenza that had been building in the background swelled with expertly bowed semiquavers.
Her father was seated facing the door, and Lian saw his eyes go wide at the sight of her. Before he had a chance to wave her away, she spoke.
“You know, Harrison,” she said, and the man and both his goons turned to drill their icy looks into her. “If the Department of Labor cracked down on you, they must have had a pretty good reason. They don’t generally raid businesses that are on the level.”
“Lian!” her father barked, his face reddening. “This is a business meeting!”
“Really?” she said, directing all her words at Harrison now. “I was told that it was just a ‘friendly chat.’”
Harrison smiled his horrible smile at her. “What a lovely ruse you and Mr. Mendelssohn have concocted.”
His face fell, and he turned back to her father. “I was under the impression, Hung, that you people took a stern hand to your children—kept them in line, kept them obedient. Or is that yet another myth I’ve been fed about the wonders of the Orient?”
Lian saw her father twitch. “To your room,” he said, pointing at her. “Immediately!”
She stood seething for a moment, watching her father’s eyes dart from her to Harrison and back. She saw the vein in his forehead throb, heard his clipped breathing.
At last, she hung her head and walked away, shutting the door behind her, retreating to the tempo of a coda being perfectly played, wondering if Janine Jensen ever got into this kind of trouble.
She doubted it.
TWENTY
Even with the pillow over her head, Lian heard a soft knock on her bedroom door.
“Come in,” she said, though it came out muffled.
She heard the door open and felt the mattress sink as someone sat down near her legs. Felt a warm hand on her arm.
“Thank you for knocking,” Lian said.
“I thought about not doing so,” her mother said. “A knock is a display of respect, and respect appears to be in short supply this morning.”
Lian groaned and rolled over, tossing the pillow to one side. “I hope you’re not asking me to respect Rand Harrison,” she said. “There’s not a yacht party in this world that’ll make that happen.”
“You don’t think your father felt disrespected when you spied on his meeting?” her mother said, her voice low in volume, but high in reproach. “When you shamed his guest? You don’t think I felt disrespected, watching you slink back to your room when I thought you’d been in there practicing your concerto all along?”
Lian had no response. She looked away, out the window, to the skyline of the Central District. It was the most sickening vista she could imagine at the moment.
“Have we been terrible parents?” her mother asked. “Have we not always treated you with respect?”
You never knock, Lian wanted to say. But she knew these questions were all rhetorical; they were the perfect parents, and she was their dutiful daughter. That’s the way things had always been.
How, then, to tell such parents that the life of privilege her father’s work afforded her felt like a curse and not a blessing? That guilt gnawed at Lian when she opened her closet, or fired up her scooter, or dined on octopus carpaccio, or gazed from their apartment in the clouds down to where the money never touched?
Of course, these were unanswerable questions as well. Her mother wouldn’t understand such sentiments, could never wrap her head around something like 06/04. Every day, Lian felt the gap between them widening. One day, she feared, she would no longer be able to see her parents from the other side.
“Despite your outburst,” her mother was saying, “your father has been able to placate Mr. Harrison for the time being. Once the deal goes through, perhaps his sleepless nights will end. And perhaps you will remember where you last left your manners.”
“Wait,” Lian said, sitting up. “What do you mean, ‘once the deal goes through?’ The raid didn’t kill the deal?”
“Why should it have?” her mother said. “The Labor men found nothing out of the ordinary at the complex. No toxic chemicals, no unsafe working conditions. All the paperwork was up to date, all the initials in the right place.” She smiled. “They couldn’t even find a dropped stitch on the new fall collection. If anything, the raid has made the deal more likely.”
Lian felt sick to her stomach.
“The lawyers will be finalizing the contracts over the next few days, the press conference should be held next week. And after that, I imagine your father will sleep for days, and then we’ll go celebrate his commission with the fanciest dinner any of us have ever eaten.”
She looked delighted at the prospect. This was all just paperwork to her, Lian realized. Stacks of photocopied A4 sheets being pushed back and forth across desks, signatures in triplicate, corporate seals. The contracts went out, the money came in, a nice dinner was had to celebrate.
The human cost was not factored in—not for a single moment.
“I think I’d like a little time alone, Mother,” Lian said. “I’m not feeling well.”
Her mother gave her a concerned look, patted her arm again, and stood to leave. “Let us hope it isn’t contagious.”
Lian looked away. Upper-class guilt is not in any danger of catching arou
nd here.
She grabbed up the pillow again as her mother left the room, flopping onto her stomach and closing her eyes against the chalk-white cotton. Despair settled on her like a threadbare blanket; she wrapped herself in it and felt colder still.
Torch had once posted a quote she’d really appreciated, a handful of words attributed, perhaps incorrectly, to one Edmund Burke. She felt they were a perfect summary of 06/04’s reason for existence: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
But what happened when good men, and women, like 06/04 did something, and it still wasn’t enough? What happened when evil was simply too well connected?
Clearly, Harrison had friends in high places. Someone had to have tipped him off that the raid was coming; there was no other explanation for Zan’s bus being turned around, or for the women and underage workers being pulled from the factory floors. When the Labor Department had arrived, everything had appeared on the up-and-up. Strong male workers, no code violations, paperwork showing the government men exactly what they wanted to see.