Proportionate Response

by Dave Buschi

  Of course that was some time ago now, in fact it felt like another lifetime ago that the wielder of the mask had erased that person, that nonentity, from the face of the earth. The mask was his, and would be his till the day he died—though death was only a transitory way-stop in this journey. He’d been reborn before.

  Death for him had no permanence. It was an illusion. A sleight-of-hand like some cheap carny trick. The flash that occupies the mooch’s attention. The plush toy that lures the eyes from the real score.

  Thou they have eyes they see nothing.

  They see only the white mask.

  AND fear was in their eyes.

  “This is what you came to tell me?” The man in the white mask said the words in Shanghainese. It was not his native language, oh no, but his delivery was flawless with no trace of any accent other than that of perhaps a Beijing native; an affectation on his part, always dissembling, always misdirecting. His tone, practiced to perfection, contained the appropriate amount of petulance and disdain.

  The man before him bowed again; his eyes were cast down. “We will find them.”

  “Of course you will, but I want them now.”

  “Very soon. We have good information. We know who is leading them, her name and where she is from. There has been contact. Will not be long till we have them in our custody, and then we will find out what we need to know.”

  “But you told me you had them already?”

  The man bowed again. “So sorry. I was premature in making that statement.”

  “You do realize, do you not, the importance of this? Have I entrusted you with too difficult of an assignment?”

  “No, I understand. We will have them for you soon.”

  “Good. Leave me. Do not return till you have brought them to me or I suspect I will never see you again. And that would be a pity as I so enjoy our banal useless conversations.”

  The man trembled beneath the surface. He masked it well, but the fear was there—the import of the words finding their mark. The man bowed again and stepped backwards. He left the room the way he came in. The man in the white mask wiped off an imaginary piece of dust from his tunic. Being petulant was so much fun.

  His eyes languidly went back to the computer screen on his desk. He looked at the names with indifference. It was a long tally of names provided by the last person that had been interrogated.

  They give up the names so easily, lately. But the names never seemed to end. They were like ants coming out of their hole. Millions of them.

  So you want a voice, do you? You want to be heard?

  How perfectly droll. What makes you think any of you have anything anybody wants to hear? Shout. Yell. It will not matter.

  You are nothing. You are invisible. No one cares. Particularly not me or those lackeys in the Politburo.

  120

  NAME of the game. Trust no one.

  Sometimes you learn the hard way. The three of them were escorted into the garage as the two cars went different directions. Mei wasn’t taking any chances. She directed the kiddie patrol to keep their distance. Most of them had pea shooters, ancient-looking handguns that probably didn’t even work, and if they did, probably wouldn’t be accurate past a couple yards, but there were a few of them that had better weaponry. Marks saw two submachine gun BXPs, and one older male had a Jatimatic. Exotic weapons—kind you usually didn’t see here. Definitely not pea shooters.

  “So this is how it’s going to be?” Marks said.

  “Quiet!” Mei said. She spoke rapidly to two of the youths and they proceeded to pull shut the garage doors, sealing their exit. The garage was weakly lit with bare light bulbs. Space wise, it was bigger than one might expect viewing from the outside. Had it not had all the junk on the floor, it could have fit two cars with a little room to spare. Not that it looked like storing cars was ever in the equation. It actually looked like people were living here.

  Johnny Two-cakes was having a blinking fit. “What is the meaning of this, Mei?”

  She ignored him and proceeded to rattle off more instructions to the youths. Lip, no doubt, was picking it all up, but Marks was in the dark on what was being said. He inventoried the space, taking in the grubby contents. There were soiled lumpy mattresses and bedrolls on the concrete floor. Piles of clothes, blankets and garbage were strewn everywhere. The entire place had the fetid stench of sour milk and rotting food.

  The youths were giving them a wide berth. Not much chance of getting hold of one of them, if he tried. Not that Marks wanted to go that route. Better to see how this played out.

  Mei was done with instructions. She leveled her eyes at them. “You have not been upfront with information. I need to know everything.”

  “Everything?” Lip said.

  Partner’s tone was relaxed. He was taking this like Marks. Man seemed more bemused than worried.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you,” Lip said. “Marks used to wet his bed as a kid, and I once—”

  “Quiet!” Mei said. “Everything is joke with you.”

  Marks kept from cracking a smile. “What are you looking for, Mei?”

  “Take your clothes off,” Mei said.

  “Really?” Marks said.

  “Here?” Lip said. “With the kids?”

  “They are not kids,” Mei said. “And they will not be impressed.”

  “That’s low,” Lip said.

  “Strip. Now!” Mei said. She pulled a pistol from her coat.

  Marks eyed the weapon. Playing along, he began to strip. Lip and Johnny Two-cakes did the same.

  “You can keep those on,” Mei said, meaning their underwear.

  “Yeah, we don’t want to shock anyone,” Lip said, starting to shiver.

  “Step away from your clothes,” Mei said. “Two steps back.”

  They did as she said, making sure to avoid the mattresses. The floor was freezing on their bare feet. Three of the kids retrieved their bags, shoes and clothes.

  “Now come with me,” Mei said.

  THEY were led through a door into another room. It was smaller and windowless. There was a wooden table and two plain benches. Like the garage, the place was freezing. They could see their breath.

  “Now we will sit and have nice conversation,” Mei said. She was flanked by two of the youths.

  “Naked?” Lip said.

  “You are not naked,” Mei said. “Stop being drama queen.”

  Lip looked hurt. He glanced at Marks. “Am I a drama queen?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “That hurts.” Lip took a seat.

  Marks and Johnny Two-cakes took a seat, as well.

  “Can I have a seat cushion? This is a little hard,” Lip said.

  Mei stared at him.

  “What?” Lip said.

  “So what do you want to know?” Marks said.

  “Black Widow,” Mei said.

  “Oh that,” Lip said. He looked at Johnny Two-cakes. “You want to do the honors, or do you want me?”

  “Why don’t you explain what it is,” Johnny Two-cakes said. He had folded his arms and was shivering.

  “Sure,” Lip said. “The Black Widow. It’s a member of the arachnid family. Poisonous, gets a bum rap sometimes, but overall it’s a nice bug.”

  “You are not funny,” Mei said.

  “Really? I think I saw a smile.”

  Marks saw it too. Lip was killing it. “You got us,” Marks said. “We’ll share, but how about you lose the guns and give us our clothes?”

  “We’ll see,” Mei said. “Start talking.”

  “Lip, tell her,” Marks said.

  Lip shrugged and gave the greatest hits. Man knew it, just like Marks did. One search on Google and she could pull everything Lip was sharing.

  “And that’s the Black Widow,” Lip said, finishing up.

  Mei nodded.

  “Okay.” She cocked her pistol and pointed it at Lip. “I have no use for you now.”

  121

  “WELL, what are you waiting fo
r?” Marks said.

  “Wait a second,” Lip said, his face suddenly growing alarmed.

  It was all fun and games till someone got hurt. Marks looked at Johnny Two-cakes. “Are you done?”

  “How… how did you know?” Johnny Two-cakes said.

  “Nice try,” Marks said.

  “Wait a second,” Lip said. “This is a joke?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Marks said.

  Partner was a little slow on the uptake.

  Mei smiled, and lowered the gun. “You did buy it for a second, though?”

  “No,” Marks said.

  “Yes, I think.” Mei’s eyes were shining.

  “Nope,” Marks said. “For one: you’re holding a starter pistol.”

  “You know I don’t like guns,” Mei said.

  “So this is a joke,” Lip said, letting out a sigh. “What the fuck?” His face flushed. He looked at Johnny Two-cakes and Mei. “Both of you are so done.”

  “Can I have my clothes?” Marks said.

  “I kind of like you this way,” Mei said, looking him over.

  “Woman.”

  Mei smirked and spoke to the youths. Both left the room and Mei took a seat.

  “Man you guys did a good job,” Lip said. “So the part with the bugs in our bags? The PLA at the building… all that was staged?”

  “No, that was real,” Johnny Two-cakes said.

  “Then how?” Lip said. “I didn’t see you guys talking.”

  “We preplanned it,” Mei said. “It got you good too.”

  “I don’t know about good,” Lip said. “It was okay.”

  “No. We got you,” Mei said.

  “A little bit,” Lip said. “But don’t get cocky.”

  Mei smirked. “You know, I like you three this way.”

  “I look good with my clothes off, don’t I?” Lip said.

  Mei shrugged. “Better than I would think.”

  “It’s all muscle,” Lip said, puffing out his chest.

  Johnny Two-cakes sighed. “I’ve sunken to a new low. Mei, will you have them hurry up with our clothes. It is rather cold in here.”

  “IT’S the thought that counts,” Marks said.

  “Definitely,” Lip said. “It means a lot.”

  Johnny Two-cakes seemed discouraged. Man’s big debut and he felt he goofed.

  Mei still wasn’t convinced.

  “I got you,” Mei said.

  “In your dreams, woman,” Marks said.

  After they put on their clothes and tied their shoes, Lip made a sweep of their bodies with his Blackberry.

  “Still not trusting me?” Mei said.

  “I trust you like Wile E. Coyote,” Lip said. “But don’t flatter yourself. This is just old habit.”

  “Which you forgot at airport,” Mei said. She frowned. “That almost was very bad for us. Luckily, I knew you two would do something wrong and preplanned it the way I did.”

  “No you didn’t,” Lip said.

  “Yes, I did,” Mei said. “I know who I’m dealing with—I’m a Dummy and Stupid.”

  “I know you are, but what am I?” Lip said.

  “What?” Mei said.

  “People,” Johnny Two-cakes said, shaking his head. “I know I started all this, but it’s time we got serious. We need to talk.”

  “Yes,” Mei said. “But let us move to more comfortable quarters.”

  Marks was thinking a place with actual heat would have worked for starters, but Mei had other things in mind. They left the windowless room, sans kids, and walked out a back entrance into another alley.

  Scenery around them kept getting better and better. This area of the city was like a winding maze of slumdom. There was no sidewalk. Just dirt and gravel and the ever-present garbage. The stench was beyond nauseating. Mix that with the cold. Had to be below freezing. The mud on the road had crystallized and they stepped gingerly.

  “This way,” Mei said, going past several ramshackle buildings that all looked the same. She walked in her heels through the filth and frozen mud. Four buildings down she stopped at a door that was partly open. It led up some rickety steps.

  They walked up them and came to a small landing. There was another door. Mei knocked once, waited, and rapped three more times. The door cracked opened. The next bit was confusing, at least from Marks’s perspective. Some words were exchanged. For a brief moment it looked as if the residents weren’t in the guest receiving mood. Mei spoke rapidly in Shanghainese. The door fully opened and inside were three youths, probably in their late teens, or at the oldest, early twenties.

  Mei nodded to Marks, Lip and Johnny Two-cakes, and the four of them went inside. The youths, a boy and two girls, disappeared into another room.

  “What’s with all these teenagers?” Marks whispered.

  “I will explain,” Mei said.

  One of the girls soon came back with tea. Must have already been prepared anticipating their visit, or they had made a decision and now custom was coming into play. Once accepted in the house, they were guests, and afforded the courtesy of a guest. A little change from being told to strip while looking down the barrel of a weapon, even if that had been a prank.

  They thanked her for the tea. She bowed her head slightly and left the room. Lip had already scanned the room for bugs with his Blackberry. He discretely checked the tray. He nodded at Marks. They were good. Or at least as good as they were going to be. The size of the apartment was not exactly conducive to private talks. Interior walls were probably as thin as cardboard.

  There weren’t exactly places to sit. Furniture was sparse and consisted of an ancient TV on an egg crate, two more egg crates, which served as seats, and a delaminating coffee table that had bowls and empty cereal boxes on it.

  They sat on the floor.

  Johnny Two-cakes looked at the tea. A bunch of makeshift cups and a tin pan with tepid tea in it. “They won’t join us?”

  “No, I explained we needed to talk.” Mei’s face was serious. “They are very brave. And they are with us, like all the others. I trust them explicitly. They each have advanced computer engineering degrees, but they live here in this small space. There are more of them. Over twenty live in these two rooms. This is their communal and sleeping area. They are lending it to us.” She looked sad and went on. “Here they are called ants. They can’t find jobs in their fields. So they live like this… like ants… packed to a room. The others are looking for work now or working menial jobs, whatever they can find.”

  Johnny Two-cakes nodded. He looked at Marks and Lip with a solemn expression. “Eight million graduated last year from universities with tech degrees,” Johnny Two-cakes said. “Seven million the year before that. And the years before were millions more. We’re talking about an explosive paradigm shift. This is it, gentlemen. The Big One. It’s Tiananmen Square all over again. It’s only taken us twenty-one years to get to this point.”

  Marks and Lip both frowned.

  “The Big One?” Marks said.

  “I don’t think he’s talking about my johnson,” Lip said.

  122

  JOHNNY Two-cakes had a strange look in his eye. It was almost unnerving. “I’ll let Mei explain.”

  Mei nodded. Her face, which was easy on the eyes even without makeup, was pretty as a picture in the weak light. The red lipstick on her lips made them look full and beckoning. Her brown eyes were alive with a radiance that was both luminous and warm.

  She explained, speaking in a quiet voice, not much louder than a whisper. Her words had a clipped eloquence. No traces of humor now, but raw and refined in the same breath. She spoke English flawlessly when she put effort in it, and she was savvy when it came to colloquialisms.

  The Big One to use Johnny Two-cakes’s vernacular was a tidal wave that was just beginning to crest. The numbers Johnny Two-cakes had spoken of was just the tip of the iceberg. For years the explosive growth that was China—her homeland—had belied all analysts’ expectations. The double digit growth ea
ch year, year in, year out, was “manufactured” by The Party.

  But it was not true. It was a mirage.

  “And the building boom is just about over,” Mei said. “The buildings that have been going up everywhere. That is where the growth was. But many of those shiny skyscrapers and gleaming condos are sitting empty.”

  “It’s Dubai, but at a much larger scale, think a thousand times magnified,” Johnny Two-cakes said. “And it’s coming due. In fact it’s already started.”

  He was talking about a housing bubble. A massive one. Speculation on real estate that made the one that roiled the US look like chump change.

  Now mix that with the numbers. China had over one billion people. 1.4 billion to be exact. Millions of them had been educated in the last decade.

  “These are not peasants—or our parents—that marched in Tiananmen Square. These are the youth of today. Highly educated with no promise of employment,” Mei said.

  What she was describing was unsustainable. On two levels. From the economics side and then from the human side.

  “You can educate us, but there must be opportunity,” Mei said. “For millions of my countrymen that dream is not there.”

  She spoke of aspirations of an entire generation. The desire to have something better. How parents were spending their life savings to educate their only child. But instead of finding a better life, those graduating from the universities were finding nothing. Some were going back to the fields and factories, to their parents; penniless. But for many that would never be an option. To do so would be to lose face forever. To become invisible for life. To bring shame on their families. So they were in the cities. Beijing. Shanghai. Tianjin. Still looking for work… coping with hopelessness everyday… refusing to let their dreams die.

  “You’re talking about a movement?” Lip said.

  Mei nodded. “Yes, but more than that. Millions are with us. We are going to change our world. We are freedom fighters and we are ready to fight.”

  “She’s talking democracy,” Johnny Two-cakes said with that gleam in his eye. “And we can help.”