The First Excellence: Fa-Ling's Map (23 page)

Fa-ling had trouble following the MC’s rapid Cantonese. She caught a few words, but his humour was composed largely of social satire that was meaningless to her. She watched the audience giggle and cheer, until the MC announced in a serious baritone that the dancers were ready to begin.

The dancing girls were young and pretty, their faces filled with anxiety over the quality of their performances. Their costumes were delicate but modest, the colourful fabrics flowing around them in graceful billows as they moved around the stage.

Fa-ling wondered what hardships, what hopes and dreams, had led these girls to this restaurant to dance with springtime innocence for a crowd of often leering fools. Joseph rose from the table, camera in hand, to get a better view of the dancers for his shots. Pulling her own digital camera from her bag, Fa-ling followed him past tables to the centre of the room. She took more than a dozen photos, knowing Daphne would enjoy them.

After each number, the girls ran backstage to change their clothes. Between the dance numbers, the audience was treated to a variety show including a comic, a couple of solo singers, and strangely enough an art auction. The entire evening was a throwback to the vaudeville days in early twentieth-century America.

At last the theatre was over. The table-staff came one more time to clear away the glasses and bottles. Cynthia stood.

“
Steve is waiting for us in the parking lot,” she said. “We need to settle the bill.”

Cynthia used her calculator to determine the amount owed by each couple. They paid the maitre-d’ and stepped out into the warm night air.

Adrian Harlan and Caroline Kitchener had both gone in search of washrooms, so the others waited for them outside the main entrance, making small talk and watching the other patrons stream into the street. Eloise was holding Yvanna and Chris’s son, Daniel, thrilled at the sensation of his little hand pulling at her colourful beaded necklace. Yvanna turned to Ting-lo, who was struggling to lift Anna while trying to stuff three toys and a baby bottle into her bag.

“
Let me hold her,” Yvanna said, putting her arms out to take Ting-lo’s baby girl.

“
Thank you.” Ting-lo passed Anna into the other woman’s arms.

“
Anna is beautiful,” Yvanna said. “I don’t mean in the way all babies are beautiful, if you know what I mean. Look at her eyes and the curve of her jaw. She’s only a baby, and her face already has a quality that is different from the others.”

“
Thank you,” Ting-lo said, feeling a sudden rush of pride. “Adrian and I can’t believe how pretty she is. It’s amazing just to look at her.”

“
If you ever consider getting her into advertising,” Yvanna said, “please let me know. I have some contacts. I might be able to help.”

“
I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

Yvanna placed Anna in the stroller while Ting-lo struggled with her new baby paraphernalia. She turned away, knowing Ting-lo would fasten Anna’s safety strap once she finished organising her supplies.

Yvanna reached out to touch Chris on the shoulder.

Suddenly Ting-lo’s voice punctured the air.

“
Somebody stop them! They’ve got my baby!”

Fa-ling raced after the kidnappers. Ting-lo followed, kicking off her high heels and dropping her diaper bag onto the sidewalk.

In the darkness it was hard to make out their faces. The one holding Anna was probably a man. His accomplice was smaller, but still tall enough to make it difficult to determine gender.

Fa-ling pushed her way past a family. She had nearly caught up with the pair when she tripped over a stone on the sidewalk.

She managed to right herself, but lost precious seconds.

The kidnappers stopped suddenly near a bicycle rack. The tall one strapped Anna into a child seat and mounted his bicycle. He paused for a moment under the light of a neon sign while his partner mounted. They rode away, their bikes carrying them out of sight and beyond Fa-ling’s reach.

Fa-ling kept running until all hope was lost before sputtering to a halt more than three blocks away from the restaurant. Seconds later Ting-lo was beside her, followed by Joseph Golluck and Guy Kader.

“
What the hell just happened?” Joseph said.

“
They took my baby!” Ting-lo gasped.

Fa-ling put her arm around Ting-lo awkwardly, trying to comfort the frantic woman.

“
I got a good look at one of them,” she said. “Don’t worry. We’ll get Anna back.

It was midnight by the time the police arrived. A crowd had gathered outside of the restaurant, taking in the spectacle of the Westerners being questioned through their guide. Cynthia’s English was exceptional, making her the perfect interpreter under the circumstances.

Behind her smooth composure, though, she was struggling with anxieties of her own. This was her first assignment as an adoption guide. The situation was unthinkable — a child had been abducted from right under her nose! She was certain to be punished. After what had happened, she would be lucky to find herself back in the hospital laundry room stirring sheets in a scalding vat of bleach. More than likely she would be transferred to someplace far less pleasant.

Cynthia listened carefully to every word spoken by the policemen, translating questions and answers meticulously. If any harm came to the child, she would never forgive herself. She glanced at the Harlan woman. Ting-lo was weeping quietly on her husband’s shoulder.

Cynthia wondered whether Ting-lo had been deliberately targeted, as the only Chinese mother from among a group of Caucasian parents. If so it was a cruel act and one that made Cynthia feel deeply ashamed. She would do whatever she could to help Ting-lo and Adrian get their baby back and not just for the sake of salvaging what she could of her own career.

Fa-ling tried to reach Detective Wang Yong-qi at the station, but the night clerk informed her Wang and his burly partner Cheng had both unexpectedly booked two weeks of last-minute vacation. She also called Wang’s cell number, but he must have turned his phone off, because it rang only once before being directed to his voicemail.

Fa-ling bit her lip as the young officers grilled her, determined not to lose her patience at the irrelevance of their questions. She answered as clearly as she could, trying not to notice they were no older than she was. They had trouble with her Western accent and made her repeat her answers several times. They listened, made copious notes, and then followed up with questions that made it clear they hadn’t understood a word she’d said.

Cynthia came to her aid, repeating Fa-ling’s answers for the police.

“
Do you have a sketch artist?” Fa-ling asked.

“
If you will come to the station,” he replied, “we can have someone draw a picture of the criminal.”

“
Absolutely not,” Cynthia said in English. “Fa-ling, I am responsible for you. You are not to go with these men. If they want a sketch, they must bring an artist to the hotel. They can arrange it through me, and I’ll be there when they question you.”

“
I should be all right at the station,” Fa-ling said. “I have my papers with me.” She secretly wanted to see the station, to gain an insight into the environment where Detective Wang spent his time. The more she thought about him, the more certain she was he had been interested in her. She regretted not giving him an opening.

“
Don’t be naïve,” Cynthia said. “Your Canadian citizenship means nothing to these men. If you were white, they would treat you with respect. You are Chinese. They will take pleasure in letting you know you are at their mercy. The only way to keep an upper hand is to make them come to you. In the hotel it will be clear to them you are a foreigner. They will be afraid to mistreat you.”

Cynthia repeated her request in Cantonese to the police. “Li Fa-ling is in my care,” she said. “I am not allowed to let her leave this group. If you will bring an artist to the Golden Lion Hotel, we will be happy to wait for you in the lobby. Ask for the concierge, Heng-ri. He will join us.”

“
Very well,” the youngest officer said, closing his notebook. “My partner will accompany you back to the hotel. I will drive by the station and pick up the sketch artist.”

“
In that case,” Cynthia said, “I will get everyone onto the bus.” She turned to the group and switched back to English.

“
Everyone,” she said, “please come with me. There is nothing more we can do from here. Fa-ling has seen the man who took Anna. She will give a description to the police at the hotel. We need to clear the sidewalk now and get everyone safely to their rooms.”

The parents soberly clutched their youngsters and began to follow Cynthia. Guy stood on the restaurant steps holding baby Mei Mei.

“
Where is Paula?” Fa-ling asked.

“
She went to the washroom,” Guy said. “She should be back in a moment.”

“
She went in there ten minutes ago,” Eloise said. “I hope the food didn’t disagree with her.”

“
Please,” Cynthia said, “we have to hurry.”

“
I’ll go see if Paula’s all right,” Eloise said.

She rushed into the restaurant, returning a moment later with a confused look on her face.

“
She isn’t in the ladies’ room,” she said.

Just then Paula came through the restaurant door. Her face was the palest of whites under the lights of the awning.

“
Are you ok?” Guy asked.

“
Hm-m?” Paula looked as if she was surprised to see him.

“
I asked if you were all right. You’ve been gone a long time.”

“
Oh, yeah. I’m ok. Just had to use the washroom.”

“
I hope the food didn’t upset your stomach,” Eloise said.

“
She’s ok,” Guy said, balancing Mei Mei on his right hip and using his left hand to guide his wife down the stairs.

We’re all just bloody great,
he added mentally.

Detective Wang Yong-qi followed Shopei and Randy on foot through the hidden administrative quarters nestled behind the ambassadorial buildings. About five blocks from the US Consulate the tree lined International streets gave way to the more colourful businesses and residential units of Shanghai’s white-collar working class. It was on one of those streets that Shopei flagged down a taxi and climbed into the front seat, unaware that Senior Agent Jiu Kaiyu and his half-brother Ng-zhi were searching the sidewalks less than two blocks away.

Randy motioned for Wang to get into the back seat, then slid in beside him. Wang studied the young man from the corner of his eye. Neither the woman nor her friend had offered their names. The woman believed Wang really was Wu Tang, the husband of the injured woman, but her companion did not seem to be convinced.

The couple did not look like terrorists, despite what the Secret Service cop in the park had said, but Wang knew looks could be deceiving. He listened discretely, pretending not to understand the English conversation that passed between the couple.

“
Where are we going?” he asked in Cantonese.

Shopei looked over her shoulder at Wang. “There is a shop a few miles from here. My Master has asked me to pick up some special outfits.” She gave the name and address of the shop to the driver.

The car stopped at a small store. The inside of the store was dark and quiet. Once Shopei opened the front door, though, the room sprang to life. Three employees stood up and straightened their tunics behind a glass counter, while a fourth ran to turn on the lights. The room was surprisingly large and impressive, given its deceptively understated storefront.

Inside shiny glass cabinets were rows of brilliantly coloured novelty items, many covered with rich silk tapestry and many more fashioned in the traditional lustrous enamels used in making cloisonné. Along the left wall were heavy rolls of uncut silk fabric in every colour and pattern. The right side of the store was dedicated to on-the-rack finished garments, most ready to wear and some waiting to be custom fitted by the store’s seamstress before sale.

“
Come,” Shopei said to Randy, repeating herself in Cantonese to Wu Tang. She led both men directly to a display filled with white ceremonial outfits. Wasting no time, she held up several costumes to loosely measure length against the men. The pattern on the silk was not relevant. Time was of the essence. Master Long was not optimistic about Gui-Jing’s chances of surviving another night.

“
Do you want to try those on?” the store manager said.

“
No, thank you,” Shopei answered. “These two will do.”

“
These are fine pieces. You will want them to fit nicely. Our seamstress can work on them today, if you are in a hurry.”

“
That won’t be necessary. I can alter them myself.” In truth, Shopei had never held a sewing needle, but that didn’t matter. She paid the storekeeper.

The manager covered each outfit in plastic, not removing them from their hangers. Shopei handed one costume to each of the men. Then she quickly led them back out onto the street.

Confused, Wang followed the girl through the back alleys that led them ever deeper into the old city’s poorest streets. Were they taking him to a funeral, as indicated by the purchase of white outfits? He wondered what the relationship was between the pair. They did not seem to be lovers, yet they were obviously on some kind of intimate terms. They spoke to each other comfortably, like old friends, but the boy was a foreigner who spoke only English, while the girl was obviously native to Shanghai.