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Authors: J.H. Fletcher

BOOK: A Woman of Courage
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Oh yes. Life was the biggest birthday cake you ever saw and soon he'd be enjoying the cherry on top.

Hilary, take a bow.

He picked up the phone.

A BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY

1

On Tuesday 10 February 2004, twelve days later than the day initially proposed by Wong Chee-Weng, the three musketeers arrived in a bitterly cold Beijing. Andrea Chan, who Hilary told Sara had impressed her enormously, came with them.

They were met by an anonymous official, very young and smartly dressed, and a chauffeur-driven limousine half a mile long – thankfully heated – that drove them to their hotel. Hilary stared out of the window. It was her second visit to China's capital; she had been here seven years earlier as member of a trade delegation and was interested to see what changes had taken place since.

They were many and impressive. There were crowds of pedestrians muffled against the cold; bicycles still wove this way and that down the streets but there were many more vehicles; tower blocks were rising behind the one- and two-storey shopfronts that lined the street, each with Chinese characters in glossy red or gold above the entrance. A seething city, its pulsing energy evident even through the glass of the limousine's tinted windows.

‘I feel like stout Cortez,' Hilary said.

‘What's Cortez got to do with it?' Sara said.

‘Keats's poem,' Hilary said. ‘
Staring with a wild surmise
…'

‘
Silent upon a peak in Darien
?' Sara said. ‘Wherever that was.'

‘Maybe Panama?'

‘Yellow fever and the canal.'

‘No canal in Cortez's day,' Hilary said.

The two Chinese women might have been watching monkeys at play.

‘Don't mind us,' Sara said. ‘We're just crazy.'

And closer than we have been in our lives, Hilary thought and was glad it was so.

The driver was using his klaxon to clear a way through the weaving bicycles.

‘Not as silent as all that,' Sara said.

‘But the surmise is certainly there,' Hilary said.

‘Exciting but scary?'

‘Exactly.'

Hilary was excited by what she suspected might be one of the major opportunities of her business life. Even with Martha and Andrea to back her up China remained an unknown quantity but she had always relished the challenge of the unknown.

She sat back in her seat while the car continued along the highway into the city, where sunlight was gilding the upper windows of the skyscrapers that had already been completed.

The hotel was impressive. It stood in manicured grounds at the end of a tree-lined drive and Martha said it was undoubtedly the finest in Beijing. ‘Maybe in all of China,' she said. The vast foyer was several storeys high, with bowls of orchids everywhere and walls lined with gilt statues of legendary figures, western as well as Chinese, at least double life-size. Staff ran to collect their bags.

The official came with them to the reception desk. After they were booked in he told them they would be collected from the hotel at four o'clock that afternoon and taken to meet Mr Wong and someone called Mr Li, the man they suspected was Mr Wong's boss.

Hilary remembered what Martha had told her. ‘I deeply regret but that will not be possible,' she said.

The official frowned. He had a naturally stern face, which might have frightened many but Hilary was not one of them.

‘The flight,' she said. ‘So foolish but the long journey has exhausted me. Please give Mr Wong – and of course Mr Li – my profound apologies and suggest that ten o'clock tomorrow morning might be a more convenient time.' How sweetly she smiled! ‘If that is possible?'

‘I shall inform Mr Wong and let you know,' the frowning official said.

An hour later Hilary had a phone call in her hotel suite. A woman's voice. ‘Tomorrow afternoon at four,' the voice said. ‘Is convenient?'

‘Thank you. That will be very good.'

‘A driver will collect you,' the woman said.

Hilary was glad. Business games or not, she
was
feeling tired, though nothing that a good night's sleep wouldn't cure.

You're sixty-three, she told herself crossly, not ninety-three. But it made no difference to how she felt. The girls – no doubt politically incorrect but that was how she thought of them – suggested they should brave the freezing conditions and go for a walk around the extensive grounds but Hilary looked at the snow lying in patches beneath the bare winter branches of the trees and cried off.

‘It'll do you good to get out after sitting so long but I'll stay. I have some work to do.'

So she had but she didn't do it. It was the first time she could remember when she had allowed her body to dictate terms to her mind but she lay on her bed and dozed and the hours passed. They had dinner in the luxurious dining room.

‘You are feeling all right?' Martha said anxiously. She was the only other person to know of Hilary's heart problem – that nonsense, as Hilary thought of it – but even she did not know of the caution Dr Chang had given on her latest visit.

‘Never better.'

And it was true she felt much improved for her lazy afternoon. A good thing, she thought. She suspected she'd need all her wits about her for their meeting the next day.

Martha and Andrea ordered the meal, discussing each dish in excited Cantonese before coming to a decision while Hilary watched. What a find this Andrea was. Brave, principled and smart. Good-looking too. They didn't come much better than that. We shall have to find a position for her, Hilary thought. I'll talk it over with Martha after I've seen how she handles herself over the next few days.

They went to bed early; despite her lazy afternoon Hilary slept the clock round and felt much better for it. In the morning the girls decided they would like to go shopping. Hilary did not join them but got the hotel to organise a car to take her to the Beijing museum and art gallery, where she made a beeline for the ceramics section on an upper floor. There she stood for a long time before an early Soong vase, wondering at its grace and simplicity, the purity of its glaze and line.

So beautiful, she thought. There was something almost holy about its silent perfection.

They met back at the hotel for lunch, when Hilary dutifully admired the loot the others had brought back from their shopping expedition: Andrea a pair of shoes in what might be but probably was not crocodile skin; Sara a jade brooch for her sister and a splendid silk scarf for Hilary; Martha odds and ends for friends back home.

‘Have a good time?' Sara asked her.

‘Very good.'

She remembered the Soong vase but for reasons she did not comprehend was unwilling to mention the feeling it had given her, that to be in the presence of such beauty was like a promise of eternity.

They ate sparingly and at four o'clock the car was waiting, with the same official in the front passenger seat.

Hilary smiled at them. ‘Here we go.'

They were driven into the city and to the underground car park of an office block overlooking the vastness of Tiananmen Square. Uniformed attendants sprang forward to open the car doors and they were escorted to a lift and up to a suite of offices high in the building.

The silence of the reception area seemed to insulate the suite of soberly decorated rooms from the frenetic bustle of the city outside the building. A young Chinese woman, smartly dressed, was working at a desk. She did not look up as the official who had brought them up from the car park ushered them into an inner office. He gestured for them to sit; they did so and he went out, closing the door behind him.

If the intention is to impress the overseas visitors to the Middle Kingdom, Hilary thought, the authorities are doing a good job.

While they waited she looked around at the room, which she assumed must reflect the status of the man whom they had flown to Beijing to meet. It was expensively furnished but there was nothing personal about it: the only photographs were studio portraits of President Hu Jin-Tao and Premier Wen Jia-Bao. Nevertheless she thought the silent room gave a hint of his personality: a man of power who watched and listened, revealing nothing of himself. She smiled. It would be interesting to see whether the real man matched her sense of whom and what he was.

An inner door opened and two dark-suited men entered the room.

2

Mr Li was not tall but had square shoulders and a strong neck. Hilary thought he looked tough.

He came across the room, smiling and hand outstretched.

‘Ms Brand, how good to see you. You have recovered your health, I hope?'

‘Thank you. I am well.'

‘I trust you enjoyed your visit to the museum?'

It came as a shock but was perhaps not surprising in light of everything she had heard about China. Mr Li's genial smile was still in place but he clearly wanted her to know they had been keeping an eye on her, as they no doubt did on all foreigners.

‘Thank you. It was a wonderful experience. Chinese ceramics are the envy of the world.'

‘Thank you, thank you.' He beamed, still holding her hand; she allowed herself to hope it might be a genuine smile but there was no way to be sure.

‘And this is your daughter?'

They were all sitting around a long table: Hilary and the girls on one side, Mr Li and Mr Wong on the other. Hilary remembered Sara telling her how impressed with Mr Wong she had been yet in this company he was clearly outgunned and so far had not opened his mouth.

Mr Li smiled at all four women but when he spoke it was to Hilary. Boss to boss. Hilary, remembering Dr Chang's words, thought that was something she would have to change now, while the relationship had not had time to cement itself.

‘I am delighted to welcome you back to China, Ms Brand.' His English was accented but fluent.

‘Thank you,' Hilary said. ‘I am delighted to be here and to have the opportunity to see for myself something of the remarkable progress your country has made since my previous visit.'

You smooth-talking creature, she thought. Of course it was all part of the game – the golden-voiced diplomat and the hard-bitten businesswoman – and she had been good at it and for almost half a century had played it to the full. She would miss it, she knew, but knew too that if she were to have a future now was the time she had to move on.

‘I should make it clear that I am here now more as an observer than a participant.' She gave Mr Li her merriest smile. ‘It was Ms Tan and my daughter, assisted most bravely by Ms Chan, who unmasked the criminal activities of the Lennox brothers. Ms Chan first disclosed their wrong-doing and assisted in bringing them to justice. Ms Chan and Ms Sara Brand obtained the evidence we needed to incriminate them and it was Ms Tan who urged that we should take steps to assist Mr Wong in keeping this most regrettable episode confidential between the Brand Corporation and the authorities here in China.'

How was she doing?
She dared a glance at the two Chinese men on the other side of the table who continued to watch her, their faces expressionless.

‘So you see,' she said, ‘I have been no more than an observer in this matter. Now is the time for me to step aside and make way for the next generation. I shall of course assist in every way I can but I thought it right to clarify the position at the start of our discussions.'

‘China had a very great emperor during the eighteenth century,' Mr Li said. ‘He too talked of retirement. He even had a palace built for the purpose but never lived there. When the time came he found he could not let go of his power.'

‘But I am not Emperor Qianlong,' Hilary said.

For the first time since Hilary started speaking Mr Li smiled. ‘You are familiar with the Qianlong story?'

‘If we are to do business together, as I hope, it is important that we know something of each other, is that not so?'

‘That is a true saying,' Mr Li said. ‘With knowledge comes understanding. If we do not know each other how can we be friends?'

‘We on this side of the table have much to learn from China and welcome the opportunity to learn it, as comrades and equal partners in the future. But that is a task for the next generation. I have other plans for my retirement. I am very serious about this. Brand Corporation needs fresh blood, fresh ideas if it is to continue to grow.'

‘Renewal is important to every country and organisation,' Mr Li said.

‘As Chairman Mao wisely pointed out,' Hilary said. Although whether the Cultural Revolution was really such a good idea was another matter.

‘Many western businessmen think it is their role to instruct us,' Mr Li said. ‘Do this, do that… What is your opinion?'

‘I strongly disagree with that way of thinking. If we have an opportunity to become involved with China it is my hope that we shall learn from China at the same time as we provide any assistance in our power. I would regard any such arrangement as a partnership between equals, of mutual benefit to both.'

The young woman from the outer office came into the room. She crossed to Mr Li and spoke in his ear. Mr Li nodded. ‘Miss Fang has reminded me I have another meeting. You will have to excuse me.' He stood. ‘I believe this has been a most valuable discussion,' he said. ‘Your car will take you back to your hotel. I hope you are finding it satisfactory?'

‘Thank you,' Hilary said. ‘It is most satisfactory. And we appreciate the opportunity to have had this discussion with you and Mr Wong.'

3

Wrapped up to the eyes against the Beijing cold, they were walking in the hotel grounds, away from any bugs they all knew might have been concealed in their rooms.

‘What happens now?' Hilary said.

‘We wait.'

‘How long?'

‘It could be a long time or it could be tomorrow. There is no way to know.'

‘As long as it takes?'

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