by Graeme Hall
‘Perhaps. I don’t know.’
They stopped to watch the family of ducks that lived on a small island in the middle of the lake. A small duck house had been built, and while other birds went south for the winter, these rarely left the island and the surrounding waters. It was as if they were conscious of their privileged position in the ever-changing city. Fearful perhaps that if they left their island it may have been redeveloped by the time they returned.
‘I guess it might depend on what he was doing for them,’ Susan continued to probe gently. ‘Could be harmless I suppose.’ She decided the seed had been sown and there was no need to press the point further for now. There’d be other times, better not to rush things. Slow and careful was what she had been taught. ‘Enough about Professor Ye. How was your day?’
While they circled the lake they discussed lectures and research. Computer software and composite building materials. Tutorials and seminars. Kwok-wah tried to explain the advantages and disadvantages of two different algorithms, Susan countered with an explanation of pre-fabricated concrete panels and their role in manufacturing building components off-site. When they had exhausted talking about their studies Kwok-wah changed the subject.
‘What did your family think about you coming to China?’
‘I don’t know …’ Susan wondered where this question had suddenly come from. Was Kwok-wah having doubts about being in China? ‘I guess they were a tad unhappy at first. I can still remember how obsessed they were with watching the TV news at the time of Tiananmen Square. I was only young but we talked about it a lot. When I got the place here I had to promise my parents I’d keep a low profile, y’know, and stay out of politics. Which is what I’ve tried to do while I’ve been here. Sometimes the other students try and get me to talk about stuff, ask me about America, ask me what I think about China, but I just tell them I’m not interested.’
‘My cousin – Alice, I think I told you about her – did try to warn me about coming to China.’
‘She’s the one in a human rights group?’
‘That’s right. She tried to talk me out of coming here, and my parents were really unhappy about it. It caused quite a few arguments.’
‘Are you starting to think they might have been right?’ Susan wondered if Kwok-wah was becoming more realistic about China, if he was starting to lose his innocence.
‘Sometimes … I don’t know …’ Kwok-wah stopped and looked at Susan. ‘I keep thinking about Granny Sun.’
‘Who?’
‘She’s the woman who looks after my dorm. She lives in a small room by the main door.’
‘Oh, I know who you mean. She always gives me a funny look when she sees me.’
Kwok-wah laughed. ‘I can believe that. She’s very … well I was going to say protective, but I’m not sure who is being protected. Anyway, one way or another she keeps an eye on the dorm. Let’s sit down.’ They sat on the grass, looking over the lake.
‘So why have you been thinking about her?’
‘I got talking to her over the Lunar New Year. She told me her history, the things she’s been through. She’s had such a tough life.’ Kwok-wah gave Susan a summary of what Granny Sun had told him.
‘Jeez, that’s terrible,’ said Susan. ‘I mean, things being so bad that you have to sell your own child? I don’t think I can imagine what that must be like.’
‘It makes me think about my grandparents.’
‘The ones who escaped from Shanghai?’
‘What if they hadn’t? What would have happened to them? What would have happened to my parents? One thing’s for sure, I probably wouldn’t be here today.’ Kwok-wah took Susan’s hand in his and Susan let him. ‘But surely somebody must know?’
‘Sorry? Know what?’ Susan was a little worried about where Kwok-wah was going with this. She had to try and keep a balance between making Kwok-wah question what Professor Ye was doing and complete disillusionment. The last thing she wanted was for him to leave just now and go back to Hong Kong. After all, Kwok-wah wouldn’t be any use to her there.
‘Shu-ming,’ Kwok-wah continued. ‘Somebody somewhere must know what happened to Shu-ming. There must be records that say what happened to him. Mustn’t there?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps. But it was a pretty chaotic time back then wasn’t it? I guess a lot of stuff would have been lost. Some of it might even have been deliberately destroyed. I mean, after the Cultural Revolution I bet a lot of people probably wanted to hide what they did.’
‘Really?’
‘That’s what I’ve read anyway, but I don’t know much.’ Susan remembered the hours in the classroom studying all aspects of Chinese twentieth-century history. Her lecturers had been some of the best experts in the States.
‘I’d like to be able to find out what happened to Shu-ming for Granny Sun’s sake. She’s always thinking about him. But I haven’t a clue as to how to go about it.’
Susan reached over to Kwok-wah and before she could stop herself, before her training and better judgement kicked in, she kissed him.
***
It was a little after eleven that night when Susan left her dorm. Her room-mates were getting ready for bed.
‘Where are you off to at his hour?’ said one of them.
‘A boy?’ asked another. ‘Is it that Hongkonger you’ve been seeing?’
‘Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps I’m just going for a late-night run.’ Susan smiled. ‘I like to keep some secrets to myself.’
‘Just be careful,’ said the first.
‘And give us a blow-by-blow account later,’ said the second, causing the first to burst out laughing.
‘See you later, girls,’ said Susan.
Susan slipped out of her building without difficulty. Her own Granny Sun equivalent was nothing like as vigilant as the real thing and was already asleep. After the fine day the skies were still clear and a half-moon illuminated the campus in a way that was both a blessing and a curse. She knew the library and the main buildings would all have their own guards, but a previous reconnaissance had told her they were not especially watchful and could be easily avoided. More of a risk to her plans were the regular patrols of the campus that were the main form of security. She would just have to be careful.
Susan avoided the well-lit main paths and instead made her way through the grounds dotted with various large shrubs and trees that made conveniently dark resting points where she could pause and watch for the patrols, and listen for them as well. But in the darkness all sounds were amplified – traffic on the elevated expressway that ran past the university, the general background hum of the city. Shanghai quietened a little at night, but it never fell completely silent. A dog barked in the distance. The patrols didn’t have dogs, did they? She didn’t think so. Susan made her way around the back of the library, well out of sight of its guard, and waited – hidden in the moonlight shadow – while one of the regular patrols passed by, without a dog she was relieved to note. When the patrol had gone, and keeping again to the grounds, she worked her way across the campus to the computer science department where the ornate, almost baroque structure of the old building provided plenty of cover. Susan stopped in an archway from where she could see the main door and a small room just off the entrance, illuminated by a single bare light bulb. Two security guards sat at a table and shared a flask of something while they played cards. Susan watched them for thirty minutes until one of them left the room. Torchlight visible through a succession of windows told her that he had started a patrol of the department. Ten minutes later he was back and the guards began another hand.
With the clear skies, the mild temperature of the day had vanished and Susan wished she was wearing a warmer jacket. Holding her body close against a cold stone wall, she could feel the heat being sucked out of her. Her legs were stiffening. She wanted to jump up and down to get some feeling back into her limbs. Instead, she moved slowly, quietly, and staying in the shadow of the wall she crept away from the main entrance and t
owards the end of one wing of the department. When Susan was confident she was out of sight of the guards she made her way to the rear of the building. There was no path and she had to push her way through thick bushes; more than once her jacket snagged on branches and she cursed under her breath as thorns scratched her hands. To her relief the back of the building was clear of vegetation and more easily accessed, and importantly she was reassured that it wasn’t overlooked. She explored the length of the back wall and came across a large door that appeared to be for deliveries. Probably no use to her. Then, a little way further along, she found what she hoped she would find. A fire escape with a door on the first floor and a metal staircase leading to the ground. She noted the relative position of the door compared to the windows on the first floor before retracing her route back to her dorm.
She crawled into her lower bunk bed, trying not to wake anyone.
‘I hope you had a good workout,’ said a voice from the bunk above her.
Laughter came from the rest of the room.
Chapter 13
The paths that weaved their way through the Botanical Gardens were full of joggers that morning, and more than once Emma – preoccupied with her lunchtime appointment – had to take avoiding action when a collision seemed inevitable. The Sydney sunshine suggested that Friday was going to be another fine day, and even at this early hour Emma could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin as she ran. The good weather that week, the blue skies and clean air, had all made a welcome change from Hong Kong where everything had been disappointingly grey and damp of late. If nothing else the change of scene had lifted her spirits, and at times she had even come close to forgetting her worries. The idea of moving here for good seemed very attractive and she was more than a little sorry to be going back to Hong Kong the next day.
Emma had arrived early Monday morning, after an overnight flight where a screaming child in the row behind her had made sure she didn’t get any sleep, enabling her to spend the whole flight brooding over what had happened at the Fringe Club. Sam hadn’t deserved that, and she couldn’t stop herself thinking she had blown it with him. She had tried to call him before she went to the airport. She wanted to explain, but he was either not at home or not answering. Either way, she couldn’t blame him. Reluctantly, she knew she had to put Sam to one side for the moment. She had come to Sydney for a reason and that had to take priority. She’d try explaining to him when she got home.
Emma had wasted no time in ringing the offices of the Sydney Morning Herald first thing Monday morning, only to be told that Brian Lo was not in the office that day and, no, they certainly wouldn’t give a stranger his home number. He would be back at work on Tuesday if she wished to call again. This had been an unexpected setback and she was angry with herself for not having had the foresight to call in advance. She was lucky he was only away for the one day and not all week. In the meantime she tried her best to enjoy the city, but the reason why she was there was always at the back of her mind.
First thing Tuesday Emma had telephoned again, and after a short pause she was put through.
‘Hello?’ said a man’s voice.
‘Is that Brian Lo?’
‘Yes. Who is this?’
‘My name is Emma Janssen. You don’t know me, but I live in Hong Kong and I was given your name by a friend of mine who works for the Sing Pao Daily. You worked there a few years ago, I think?’
‘Yes. It was my first job in journalism.’ His voice was wary. ‘What can I do for you?’
Emma took a deep breath before getting to the point.
‘I’d like to talk to you about a story you covered in Hong Kong. Back in 1992 or ’93. It was a hit-and-run in Wan Chai. Do you remember it?’
There was silence on the line and Emma wondered if he was still there.
‘Hello? Mr Lo?’
‘Yes, I’m still here.’
‘Do you remember the story?’
‘Vaguely.’ He had become more distant; if he had sounded wary before, his tone was even less friendly now.
‘Would it be possible to meet up and have a chat about it?’ asked Emma.
‘I don’t know. It was a long time ago, I don’t remember much about it.’
‘I’d still like to talk to you if I can.’ Emma was becoming worried that her reason for coming to Sydney was falling at the first hurdle. ‘Please.’ An element of pleading entered her voice. Again there was a pause but Emma didn’t want to press him. Finally he spoke.
‘Why are you interested?’ he asked.
‘You didn’t recognise my name?’
‘Emma …’
‘… Janssen.’ She spelt out the name for him.
‘Janssen … Oh, I see … Okay.’
He agreed to meet her at a small café near his office at 1 pm the next day. By half past he still hadn’t arrived and Emma was struggling to make her long black and panini last long enough to pay rent on the table. She ordered a second coffee and decided to give him until two. Just before the hour, a Chinese man about her own age entered and looked around. Emma had given him a brief description of herself, but looks that were distinctive in Hong Kong were less so in Sydney and she waved him over.
‘Brian Lo?’ she asked.
‘Miss Janssen?’
‘Please, call me Emma.’
He sat down and ordered a coffee from a passing waitress. There was an uncomfortable silence between them as they each waited for the other to begin. It was Emma who spoke first.
‘Thank you for agreeing to meet me, though I was wondering if I’d got the wrong place.’
‘Yes … sorry about that, I was delayed.’ He had an accent that somehow managed to be both unmistakably Australian and yet at the same time not that of a native speaker. His coffee arrived and he paused until the waitress had gone. ‘I don’t have long, I’m afraid.’
‘I think you know the story I want to ask you about?’ Emma prompted.
‘I’m guessing he was your brother?’
‘That’s right.’
‘My condolences, Miss Janssen, but I’m not sure what I can do for you?’
Emma hesitated. Although she had spent days rehearsing this conversation, when it came to it she didn’t know quite where to start. She sensed a reticence in him, a reluctance to talk that was not promising. Not encouraging. Emma also didn’t want to risk getting Eric into any trouble by revealing how much he had helped.
‘I understand that you reported on the accident?’
‘Yes, I was the general duty reporter that night.’
‘You interviewed various bystanders and witnesses?’
‘Of course. What’s this all about?’
‘Do you remember one witness in particular?’ Emma probed gently. ‘I think his name was Cheung Wing-ho?’
‘No, I don’t think so, it was years ago now.’ He had answered so quickly that Emma doubted whether he had given her question any thought.
‘Are you sure? He was one of the few witnesses who had seen the accident itself. Not just the aftermath.’
‘Quite certain. I know I spoke to a number of people but I can’t remember them individually.’
Emma decided on a different approach.
‘Did you follow the story all the way through to the trial?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you remember that Chan Wah Man was convicted?’
‘He pleaded guilty, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, and now he’s been released early.’
‘Miss Janssen, sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but I need to get back to work soon. Where’s all this going?’
Emma decided to come to the point. ‘Did you ever have any suspicions that Chan Wah Man was not the driver that night?’
A frown crossed Brian Lo’s face. ‘Not at all. Why on earth would I?’
‘Because a man you interviewed, Cheung Wing-ho, gave a description of the driver that didn’t match Mr Chan.’
‘That’s nonsense.’ An agitated tone had entered his voice.
‘You’ve seen my notes?’ It was clear to Emma that he was surprised. ‘How?’
‘I’d rather not say,’ said Emma, not wanting to name Eric. ‘But I have seen them.’
‘I don’t remember anything like that. I’m sorry, Miss Janssen, but I really don’t see how I can help and I do need to get back.’ He started to rise from his seat and Emma feared her chance was slipping away.
‘Please.’ She leant over, placing her hand on his arm to stop him, and he paused for a moment. ‘Please, just hear me out and then if you want to leave, go ahead.’ He sat down again and Emma continued. She was angry with him for his disinterested attitude and she tried to use that anger constructively.
‘Peter wasn’t just my brother. He was my best friend, my confidante, protector. Not a day has gone by since his death that I haven’t thought about him. Not a day that I haven’t missed him desperately. I dream about him and then I have to wake up and I remember he’s gone. I get a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, and sometimes I throw up. Have you ever lost someone close to you, Mr Lo? Do you know what it’s like? Do you have any idea? I can’t get him back but I need to know what happened. I don’t think Chan Wah Man was driving that night. Someone else killed my brother and I think you can help.’ Emma stopped, out of breath.
‘Miss Janssen. I’m sorry, I really do have to go. Where are you staying? I’ll try and see if I can remember anything. If I do I’ll give you a call. How long are you here for?’ His tone had softened slightly, offering Emma some suggestion that her trip hadn’t been a complete waste of time. After finally getting to meet him she really didn’t want to let Brian Lo out of her sight, but she couldn’t force him to stay. She had to hope that she’d said enough to prey on his conscience.
‘Until Saturday,’ she said, giving him her hotel details.
‘I’ll see what I can do. I’m not promising anything though.’
‘I understand,’ said Emma, ‘but thank you anyway.’