The Interior - Страница 53

"Then where did she learn them?"

"I don't know."

"The factory? At school? From your neighbors? From Tang Dan?"

"Maybe from one, maybe from all. I don't know. But I can say this, those words frightened me, not just because of their content but because she was willing to change the meaning to suit her own purposes."

"How do you mean?"

"'A tree may wish to stand still, but the world will not subside,'" Suchee quoted.

"I remember that one. Mao meant that class struggle was unavoidable. She must have been thinking of the American owners."

"Exactly, but what scared me was that she saw herself as the wind, a wind that was so strong she would be able to blow the others along with her." Suchee repacked the thermos, stood, and picked up her hoe. "My torment is that I always viewed Miaoshan with mother eyes. Since I saw her hanging before me, I have cursed myself for refusing to see her as she truly was. My blindness prevented me from guiding her away from danger. In the end I failed as a mother, because I couldn't protect my child." With that, Suchee disappeared into the wall of green, leaving behind her a wake of rustling stalks.

Hulan didn't move. Her mind wrestled with this contradictory girl. By all accounts and on the evidence of her own belongings, Miaoshan had become increasingly Westernized. But what Suchee had just told her made Miaoshan sound like a fervent Communist of the old school. Had one of these personifications been an act? If so, which one was the real Miaoshan? In a way it didn't matter, because even with these contradictions the character of Miaoshan was emerging. In fact, Hulan understood the dead girl intimately, because at one time in her life she had been like Miaoshan. Years ago Hulan had been consumed with political fervor, with grievous consequences. Miaoshan too had been filled with a Communist zeal that could also be dangerous in the new China. She had gone to the factory and immediately understood that she could profit from it. Today Hulan could see from the wisdom and pain of time that those windows of opportunity were rare and dangerous. Like Hulan, Miaoshan had been smart and beautiful. But Miaoshan had an extra attribute: the ability to make herself beautiful for a wide variety of men with whom she could be quite persuasive. Now the question was, which of Miao-shan's amorous or political manipulations had gotten her killed?

The persistent honking of a car horn snapped Hulan back to the present. She looked at her watch, realized how late it was, then ran through the fields until she reached Suchee's little compound, where David and Investigator Lo were waiting for her.

"Where've you been?" David asked. "We've got to get to the airport."

"I'm ready," she said.

David and Lo exchanged looks that said otherwise. "You're, ah, dirty?" David said, giving up any pretext of diplomacy.

Hurriedly Hulan drew water from the well, dipped her arms in the bucket, rubbed them as clean as she could, and splashed water on her face. She threw the filthy water out on the ground and drew up another bucket of water. "Investigator Lo," she called out as she tipped her head over, "get my bag out of the trunk and put it in the car." She poured the rest of the water over her hair, shook it out, then smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "Okay," she said. "Let's go."

She called out a hasty good-bye to Suchee across the fields, then got into the car next to David. Lo stepped on the gas and they squealed down the dirt road in a cloud of dust. While Hulan rummaged through her suitcase, David recounted his pointless day. He hadn't been able to speak with Sun. The tour of the Knight compound for the Tartan entourage had gone well, meaning no cafeteria, no dormitory, and the factory itself was completely deserted. As for his conversation with Randall Craig, his other client, all he would say was that it had gone badly.

By the time he was done, Hulan had spread out on the upholstery between them a brush, a hair clip, a pair of sling-back sandals, and the silk dress she'd worn last night. "Investigator Lo, keep your eyes forward," she ordered, then slipped out of her dirty clothes and into her dress. With her hair slicked back and held in place with the clip, she looked quite chic.

17

THEY PULLED INTO THE AIRPORT AND WERE WAVED through to where two small private jets waited. Randall Craig and his minions had already boarded Tartan's company plane-a Gulf-stream 4-and were waiting for permission to leave from ground control. Two men-both Caucasian-were doing the final walk around the other plane, a Gulf stream 3. One of them stepped forward and said, "Welcome, Mr. Stark. We've been waiting for you. Why don't the two of you go on board? Mr. Knight says you can fly with him. Just leave your bags here. We'll take care of them."

As the plane carrying the Tartan folks taxied out onto the runway, David and Hulan made plans for Lo to pick them up the next morning at Hulan's house. With that, they said good-bye and climbed the narrow stairs into the G-3. The air conditioning was on full blast, and Henry looked relaxed and comfortable in a roomy chair upholstered in soft-cream leather that he swiveled toward them.

"Henry, this is my fiancee, Liu Hulan."

Henry shook Hulan's hand. "A pleasure to meet you," he said. He gestured about him. "We don't have a lot of seats, but you can have your pick since Doug and Sun decided to go with your employers."

The jet had been customized to suit its owner. The use of polished brass, teak, and mahogany imposed an almost nautical feel. The subtle shades of cream and beige in varying textures and textiles gave an overall impression of luxury. It was a far cry from the stripped-down, utilitarian CAAC planes that Hulan was accustomed to. The casual elegance, roominess, and comfort that the small plane offered impressed even David.

Henry beamed at them. "I've had her for three years. You have to figure you only live once."

The two-man crew came on board. The pilot went straight to the cockpit while the copilot came back to check on the passengers. "You been on a small bird like this before?" When David and Hulan said that they hadn't, the copilot went through a few of the safety features, which weren't all that different from commercial jets. Then he opened a cupboard by the front door. "We've got a fridge in here stocked with drinks-Coke, mineral water, wine. We've got all kinds of snacks- M amp;Ms, chips, cheese and crackers. This is a short flight and I'll be busy up front, so just help yourselves to anything you want."

A few minutes later, they reached cruising altitude and David had Henry where he wanted him-alone. The rules of confidentiality required that anything that involved Governor Sun or David's other client- Tartan-was off limits. On the other hand, he was on this plane on behalf of Tartan. It was his duty as a lawyer to investigate anything that might be potentially harmful to the conglomerate.

"I'd like to go over a few things with you, Henry."

The older man looked up from his book, and David began outlining his concerns: He'd heard a report that not one but several women had received injuries in the factory. Additionally, it was a mistake to use the word women, when many of the employees were girls of twelve, thirteen, fourteen. He'd heard that the company might be using unhealthful chemicals. As David ran through all this, he kept his eyes steady on the older man to gauge his reaction. It appeared to be total bewilderment. At last Henry said, "What you say is wrong."

"Tell me how," David said. "Prove it."

"How can I prove something never happened or just plain isn't true?" Henry asked. "Just today we took the Tartan team on a tour through the compound. You were there, David. Did you see anything that looked bad?"

"We saw the Administration Building. You showed Randall and the others the final assembly area and where the products are shipped. We didn't go into the dormitory-"

"We have strict rules about that. No men allowed. I want the women who work for me to feel protected. You don't know where they've come from, what they've escaped-"

"And when we went in the room where the products are actually manufactured, the women were gone and the machines turned off…"

"I don't like your insinuations."

David repeated his accusations, this time in an even rougher tone.

"I've already told you," Henry said, his voice rising. "I run a clean shop. I've done that my whole life. So did my father."

"Mr. Knight," Hulan interrupted, "I've been in your factory, and what David says is true."

Henry looked from Hulan to David and back again, horrified by the implications. "Tartan sent you in?"

"Hulan," David said, "we had an agreement!"

She ignored him and answered Henry.

"No, I'm an investigator for the Ministry of Public Security. That's like your FBI. I went to your factory as a favor to a friend. The police said a girl committed suicide, but her mother-my friend-believes it was murder-"

"Your friend is the mother of that poor woman who jumped off the roof?"

"No, the death didn't happen at the factory."

"Then what does it have to do with me?" Henry demanded. "You can't blame everything on me. I haven't done anything."

David cut in. "Hulan, this is way out of line."

She turned her dark eyes on him and willed him to believe that she wouldn't violate his trust by bringing up the bribery accusations. "I believe our agreement meant no questions involving your clients. Mr. Knight is not your client."