Two Peasants and a President

by Frederick Aldrich

  “You’ve been duped,” he said in his most intimidating captain’s voice. “You have not been brought here to receive an organ. You have been brought here to donate them – all of them. Wait ten minutes and then raise the alarm. We will be back for you.”

  He noticed there were western faces in some of the other rooms. Quickly, he repeated what he had said to each patient. Then he rejoined the group as they passed the nurses station. The duty nurse’s eyes followed them, her unease growing.

  They took the elevator all the way down to the basement this time. There was no one there and all the doors were locked. The group spread out pounding on doors, peering into the little windows and calling Raymond‘s name, some in heavily accented English. Finally a muffled voice on the other side of one could be heard. But where were the keys? They looked up and down the hall, no sign of a key closet. The captain stepped forward.

  “Raymond, can you understand me? This is Richard Davis, Holly’s grandfather.”

  Holly yelled: “Ray, baby it’s me! We’ve come to get you.”

  The captain moved her aside. “Step back from the door, Ray,” he yelled. Then he held out his hand for the 9mm sidearm taken from the other guard. Stepping back at an angle, he fired where the lock meets the door. The shot boomed like a cannon in the long concrete hall. The door would not budge. He fired once more, the shot resonating in the enclosed space. The lock was now loose but it took two more shots to fully disengage it.

  Holly rushed out of her wheelchair and into the arms of her husband.

  “Oh, Ray, baby, I thought you were dead,” she sobbed.

  “We’ve gotta move people. Now!” boomed the captain, pulling Holly out of Ray’s arms and putting her in the wheelchair. “Are your clothes in there?” he asked, seeing that Ray was dressed in what looked like prisoner pajamas.

  “No, they took them away,” he answered.

  “That’s OK, son,” said the captain. “Let’s go!”

  The group reentered the elevator and pressed (1). When the door opened, they noticed an orderly wheeling a patient down the hall. He didn’t seem alarmed at all, either because he had not heard the shots in the basement or because he assumed that executions were taking place outside. They turned and headed back toward the ER exit.

  The ambulance driver’s friend stood watching as they began to load Holly and Ray into the ambulance. Obviously puzzled, he had tentatively raised his hand to say something when the shock hit his neck and he collapsed. They moved his limp body behind the counter, pulled the phone cord out of the wall and tied his hands. By the time the large garage door reached the top of its travel, the ambulance was already in the parking lot, pausing only long enough for the others to climb into the taxi.

  They headed east toward the distant harbor.

  49

  The fearless nurse on the seventh floor had watched the unusual procession with growing suspicion, but she was confused. She had known the doctor for years; there was no reason not to trust what he said. And you had always to be careful when questioning a police officer, even when you are as self-assured as she. The police are part of the Ministry of State Security and one was ill-advised to cross their path. But there was just something out of place about this group, not the least of which was the unidentified American male. She also mulled over the fact that the police officer who had been guarding the room let the group in, apparently without challenge, as if he’d been expecting them. This gave her pause.

  The nurse was still vacillating between returning to her growing workload and calling someone for clarification when it occurred to her that she had not seen the guard emerge from the patient’s room. She had just set off down the hall to investigate when the Swedish patient suddenly flew out of her room fully clothed and carrying her suitcase.

  “You can’t leave!” barked the nurse, but the large blonde female, who was at least six inches taller and forty pounds heavier, round-housed the hapless nurse with her suitcase and without looking back continued charging down the hall. The nurse hit the wall and collapsed to the floor. Dazed, she had just begun to pick herself up to call security when the Spanish woman, also fully clothed and carrying her suitcase, emerged from her room and began swearing at her in vivid Spanish. This time the nurse wisely stepped aside.

  Remembering that the police officer/guard was only a few doors down, the now somewhat less fearless nurse first peered around each door frame before scooting past it to the next. When at last she reached the room where the American had been, it was empty. She had turned to head back to the nurses station when the Russian woman bolted from her room, her face a mask of rage, and turned to face the nurse. As with the Swedish woman, the nurse was hopelessly outweighed by the gargantuan Russian and started backpedaling furiously, assuming the behemoth was about to murder her. But the Russian abruptly turned and headed for the elevator like the others.

  By this time, other patients hearing the commotion and picking up snippets of conversation, began streaming into the hall. There they started talking to one another. Soon, the original rumor planted by the captain was spreading like the plague. Then, as if on cue, they all turned and headed back into their rooms to gather their belongings. Realizing she had a full-scale mutiny on her hands, and taking advantage of the temporary lull, the nurse fled to the nurses station. There she grabbed the phone and crouched behind the counter with it where she hoped to go unnoticed by the gathering mob while she called for reinforcements.

  ******

  For the first time since the unimaginable ordeal had begun, Holly made no attempt to hold back the tears. She clung to Ray desperately, sobbing uncontrollably, scarcely able to comprehend that she was being rescued.

  “What’s the game plan, Richard?” Ray asked, cradling his wife.

  “First, we’re gonna ditch the ambulance,” he said. This thing’s nothing but a large police magnet; everyone who sees it will remember. Our friends have something else stashed in a place where we can make the switch. Then we make a run for the port where hopefully there’ll be a boat waiting.”

  “I hope it’s the fastest boat on the planet,” said Ray.

  “I wouldn’t hold out too much hope of that,” Richard replied.

  The captain pulled out his cell phone for the first time on the mainland and dialed Commander Moore’s number at the consulate in Hong Kong. When he reached his voice mail, he said:

  “Commander, this is Richard. I assume you recognize my voice. I have my family and I’m leaving. You can deduce by what route, I’m sure. If you can send help in any way, shape or form, our lives may depend on it.” Then he removed the battery and sim card from his phone, depositing them and the now dead phone in his pocket so that it could not be tracked.

  The ambulance was now heading at high speed east on the Fukang Lu, lights flashing but with no siren. Jun’s taxi took another route, one that would take him directly to the port. They had decided that for the first segment of their escape, speed was paramount. The gamble was that they would be able to reach their first way point before the alarm was raised. Assuming that was correct, any police vehicle they might encounter would be unlikely to stop an ambulance speeding to an emergency.

  The first test of their theory was just ahead.

  A police car was sitting on the shoulder, its radar gun poking out the side. Everyone held his breath. The front compartment of the ambulance where the driver and doctor were sitting was well lit, and the police officer simply waved back when the clearly identifiable doctor waved to him. But they had been seen and once the alarm was raised, they would be remembered. Ten minutes later they turned off the expressway and the flashing lights. From now on they would travel as low profile as an ambulance can travel late at night.

  They followed a series of side streets for some time, seeing little other traffic. Finally they spotted a lit sign ahead that said hospital. They pulled into the parking lot and over to a small van. The parking lot of the children’s hospital was the perfect place to hide an ambulance
. They parked, piled into the van and resumed their journey to the port. Now free of the ambulance, they were beginning to feel more confident that in their new conveyance, they might be able to move unnoticed through the city.

  Meanwhile Jun’s taxi had made a brief stop. Ping sat quietly in the back, looking out the window. She looked so placid, sitting there like she was on her way to visit a friend. She had sacrificed much for the movement and now it was time to repay her. Jun dared not speed, but he would do everything in his power to make sure she got her reward. To fail would mean her death – and quite possibly his.

  ******

  When a lone police car responding to the nurse’s call pulled up to the entrance of Tianjin Central Hospital #77, the officers were shocked to see a group of patients milling about outside, some fully clothed and holding suitcases, a few shivering in their hospital gowns. The officers were accustomed to being obeyed, so they were surprised when their order to go back inside was met with nothing more than angry stares. Some patients had their cell phones out and were attempting to call a cab. Others were calling their consulates. One had succeeded in reaching the night desk of her consulate and was screaming hysterically that they were being kidnapped outside Tianjin Central Hospital #77.

  The two officers called for back up and then headed inside. When the elevator door opened on the 7th floor, they encountered two more fleeing patients hauling suitcases. When ordered to go back to their rooms, the patients simply refused. The officers grabbed the suitcase handles and a tug of war ensued. When the other elevator door opened suddenly, the patients abruptly turned loose of their suitcases, sending the hapless officers backward onto their butts. Before they could get up, the elevator door had closed and the two patients were on their way down to join the growing mob outside.

  At the same time, unbeknownst to anyone, one patient had learned that there were other foreigners on four and had snuck down there. He was going room to room, much as the captain had, raising the alarm. The result was as predictable as it had been on seven; soon virtually the entire hospital was either aware of the mutiny or actively engaged in it. Yelling about organ stealing in a hospital, it turned out, was every bit as effective as screaming fire in a movie theatre.

  Outside, two more police cars had arrived at the shocking scene. Since they were still far from possessing overwhelming force, two of the officers decided to go inside to investigate further, leaving the other two to await reinforcements. A lone cab pulled up to the entrance and the mob surged forward. Unlike the foreigners, the cab driver had a healthy respect for the policeman who ordered him not to pick anyone up. He tried to pull away from the curb, but people were already diving into the backseat. All he succeeded in doing was moving a few yards.

  The two police officers who reached the 7th floor found the head nurse peering over the top of the nurses station. Seeing them, she began to regain her composure and her courage. She started at the beginning, which was in this case the young American’s room. By this time the officer in the closet had regained consciousness and was kicking at the closet door, all the while attempting to expel Kleenex from his mouth, his hands still cuffed behind him. Once they had un-cuffed him, he rushed into the bathroom and with the help of moistened fingers, pried the remaining chunks of tissue out of his mouth.

  It did not take long for the officers to start to assemble a picture. They radioed headquarters, notifying them that a prisoner had escaped, an American prisoner, and that she was likely accompanied by a tall American male. They would only discover much later when they searched the basement that there were actually two American males.

  A discovery of another sort was proceeding along parallel lines but more slowly. As captain Davis had always suspected, the kidnapping of foreigners for their valuable organs was being perpetrated by a relatively small group of miscreant police officers along with a handful of bureaucrats and hospital personnel. Until now it had been easy to mask their activities because of the thousands of transplants going on in several Tianjin hospitals and because the use of Chinese convicts as donors was well known. Foreigners were assumed to be recipients, not donors.

  Now questions were being raised, questions for which there were no good answers. American prisoners? A revolt involving foreigners at one of the largest and best known hospitals in China? China’s government had spent countless centuries perfecting the art of the cover-up, as evidenced by the ongoing slaughter in Tibet and elsewhere, but until the morning dawned, few in the bureaucracy realized they soon would be engaged in one of the most daunting cover-ups of all.

  Until then, those who knew very well why the escaped American prisoners had to be apprehended were forced to explain to those who didn’t, without implicating themselves. Inevitably, there were some who balked and a few who simply fled. Clearly, control of the operation and a chain of command had to be established. It was not until dawn before that began to happen.

  The mayor of Tianjin and the area commander for the Ministry of State Security were both awakened at 5:00 by upper-level police officials who were not entirely clear why they needed to rouse these powerful bureaucrats. What they did know was that there had been an incident at Tianjin Central Hospital #77 and a dragnet was being formed for the purpose of capturing some important escapees. Escapees? From a hospital? Something was already starting to stink, and the sooner they were able to drop it in someone else’s lap, the better.

  It was at this point that things started to get sticky. Chinese high officials, especially those in Tianjin are quite persuasive when it comes to cutting through fog. In this city, the desire to stay out of the clutches of the law is especially strong, for obvious reasons. Once the officials were fully awake and functioning, it did not take long for them to ascertain two things: First, there would soon be a fresh batch of available transplant donors; Second, the Americans had to be captured before they could leave the country or China would have a disaster on its hands the likes of which had not been seen since Tiananmen Square.

  The Americans had a good head start. Their adversaries did not yet know even their identities much less their avenue of escape, but the enormous military and police apparatus of one of the most powerful nations on Earth was about to be set to the task.

  50

  For the six fleeing souls in the van, the ride southeast toward the port had been a series of heart rates spikes, every set of approaching headlights a possible police car. When a Ministry of State Security car suddenly turned in behind them as they passed an intersection, Holly started to shake uncontrollably, her ordeal still fresh in her mind. The policeman had his automatic in his lap, the captain held the gun of the officer who had been guarding Holly’s room, ten rounds in its magazine. It had been decided that if a police car attempted to detain them, they would kill the officers inside and continue on, since arrest meant certain death anyway.

  The Ministry of State Security car remained behind them, the fugitives wondering if it was waiting for backup to arrive. They would not act as long as they were still moving toward their goal. When the car abruptly turned around and headed back west, the relief in the van was indescribable.

  Even at 2:00 am, the port was brightly lit and swarming with activity. The port of Tianjin is the largest in northern China, covering 66 square miles. Wharves of all types line 19 miles of the coast, and enormous gantries load and unload container ships around the clock. Skirting the security zones protecting critical areas of the port, the van slowly wound its way around boat repair yards, fish warehouses and storage buildings to an area where small and medium sized fishing boats are berthed. There are more than one million fishing boats of all sizes in China, and seeing row after row of them gave those sitting in the van a ray of hope that perhaps they could become lost among them.

  Twenty minutes later the van came to a stop in a crumbling asphalt parking area. Before them was a well-worn timber pier perched upon massive, weathered pilings. From one of the aging wooden boats docked there; a sailor beckoned. It was Zhou. Six f
rightened souls climbed out, three wishing to leave China in all haste and three whose fear was mixed with nostalgia for a country they would never see again.

  There seemed to be little activity on the nearby boats as the small band boarded the Dawn Flower, an 82 foot wooden boat with a two story superstructure resembling a small, rundown apartment building. Square windows lined uppermost perimeter of the wheelhouse and overlooked a large open hold in the bow. The boat had once been painted turquoise but sun and sea had scoured and peeled the paint, leaving the weathered old lady looking forlorn and neglected.

  Zhou quickly ushered them aboard and through a doorway, where they could not be seen. Inside, several openings revealed tiny rooms for the crew, tawdry and littered with piles of clothing and soiled blankets. The stink of fuel and fish hung heavy in the air. Zhou mounted the narrow staircase to the upper level of the wheelhouse, beckoning them to follow, staying low. There they met his mother, father, brother and a tiny wrinkled woman, Zhou’s grandmother, along with two youngsters. With a toothless smile, the old woman nodded her head in obvious welcome. There was only tension on the faces of the others, knowing that the moment the Americans came aboard, their fates became one.

  Zhou peered out of the wheelhouse windows nervously. His father said something to him in Chinese, sounds that scarcely needed translation, conveying a message of urgency. Zhou answered sharply, as if to silence, while the fugitives sat quietly against a wall, well away from the windows.

  They were waiting for Jun’s taxi. He should have been here by now. Then Zhou saw a small boxy vehicle pull slowly into the lot, its side emblazoned with ‘Harbor Police.’ The officer inside shone his light out of the rolled down window. Its beam moved slowly from side to side, illuminating the bows of several of the moored boats before the officer turned the motor off and got out. He lit a cigarette and started walking. Zhou signaled silence with his hand, the Americans sitting on the floor in the wheelhouse, having no way of knowing what was happening outside, stayed absolutely still, fear creeping ice-like through their veins.