The First Excellence: Fa-Ling's Map (30 page)

The boy spoke, holding out his hands in supplication. Of course, Randy did not understand the words, but he was moved by the childish voice. Suddenly he remembered Long’s warning, and caught himself before he could react. He turned away and followed Dong.

Sun’s firm stride forced Randy to follow more quickly. Although the youth had spoken in his own ethnic Zhuang language, Minister Sun understood the desperately uttered words:
Please tell my mother where I am.
One day, he thought, there will be an end to these ‘lost’ children.

At the back of the building they entered a large elevator designed to accommodate medical gurneys. It carried them slowly to the fourth floor. Sun smiled genially, patting Dong on the back and assuring him his errant nephew could take a lesson in ‘work ethic’ from the Administrator. He joked that perhaps, in the near future, he would convince his sister to stop spoiling the boy and let him work for a few months as Dong’s assistant.

“
No doubt he would benefit from being useful, don’t you think?” Sun laughed.

Dong wisely kept his mouth shut, and waited for the elevator doors to open. He kept his fingers crossed, hoping the habitually drunk Feng, the celebrated Chief Surgeon from Guangdong, would be absent as usual. It would not do for Sun to make his acquaintance. Far easier to excuse him for the day due to illness or family emergency.

As it happened Feng was present, but was about to leave for a smoke break. The elevator doors opened to find him on the other side.

Dong made no attempt at introduction, exiting the elevator as quickly as possible and making room for Feng to step aboard. The two men made eye contact for the briefest instant, Dong’s message reaching the shaky surgeon. Feng pressed the ‘door close’ button, watching Dong lead Sun and the young man into the scrub room for gowns.

That was close,
Dong thought, hoping Minister Sun would not notice the stench of alcohol that followed the doctor.

No doubt the celebrated Chief of Surgery,
Sun thought, wrinkling his nose.

Shopei dressed in the white cotton trousers and tunic known as the
gi
or
dobok
, complete with brown belt that had been handed down through many generations of Master Long’s students. In fact, Shopei, like her brother Dahui, had recently earned her black belt in
Shaolin
kung fu
, but the brown belt was the only one Long had on hand, so it would have to do.

She braided her hair in the old style, letting it fall down her back in a heavy pendulum.

Long dressed in his usual Master’s tunic. He washed and greased his few strands of grey hair, brushing his teeth meticulously. He was secretly proud he had lost none of his teeth, knowing at his age dental health was a blessing. He attributed his good fortune to the mix of herbs and pre-boiled water with which he rinsed his mouth after each brushing.

And so the two of them, the young girl and the old man, made a natural pair as they walked arm in arm away from the old quarter and toward the main street. Anyone seeing them would believe she was a good and dutiful granddaughter, respectfully guiding her addled, elderly relative toward his favourite restaurant.

Long was partial to dim sum, though food had never been a point of focus for him. At the restaurant, he politely asked the hostess to seat them in one of the private booths. He wanted to talk openly to Shopei. The decision she reached today would affect the balance of her life. She must not be influenced solely by her heart, although in Long’s experience the heart, when balanced with reason, could be a good guide.

They waited until the waitress brought tea.

“
Grandfather,” Shopei began, but stopped when he raised his hand.

“
Words, once spoken, cannot be easily retrieved,” he said. “Before you reach your decision, there are several factors we must discuss and consider carefully. If you take the documents from Sun, you will be guaranteed safe passage to New Mexico. You will have immediate US citizenship, a status that is priceless in today’s world. In six months, you can make arrangements to move to Boston, to be near Randy and his family. Family is the only true ‘gold’ to be had. Your relatives will take care of you. They know their duty.”

“
That is true. It would be exciting to live in America, and I have always had great respect for Aunt and Uncle. There is much to recommend my moving to America.”

“
There is great danger in remaining in China.”

“
And little motivation, other than revenge.”

“
Revenge is a futile fantasy,” Long said. “It will destroy the
chi
and waste the mind.”

“
I have little desire for revenge. Grandfather,” she said, turning earnest eyes toward the old man, “I respect you as my father did. May I not stay here and learn from you?”

“
I am old, Shopei. There will not be much time. If we rob you of this opportunity, only to discover that my own time is soon up, then what?”

“
There will be time. I can learn your medicine. I can help the travellers. I want to continue my father’s work. Please, Master Long, do not send me away.”

“
My dearest Peipei,” the old man said. “I will never send you away. This is your decision, and I will be your servant. I must insist you take your full meal to consider all options. There is so little to recommend staying, and so much weighing on the other side. Please, for my peace of mind, make sure your motivations are correct.”

“
I am sure,” she said. “I have thought of nothing else since we arrived at your home. The positive energy in your house heals me. Remaining in your service, and in the service of our travellers, is my highest desire.”

“
Then you will be my granddaughter. You will remain under my protection until I am no longer part of this earth.”

“
After which point I will carry on your work.”

The waitress brought their first basket of fried fish on lentils and rice. Long, who normally ate sparingly and with the best of manners, dug into the food with a refreshed appetite, his chopsticks taking flight over the delicious, tender flakes of fish.

There is nothing like the company of youth and the satisfaction of a decision reached to restore one’s natural energy and vigour.

**

Dong watched from behind the heavy curtain in the ‘great room’ as Sun and his speechless nephew got into their car. The boy did not even have the courtesy to open his uncle’s door first. Poor Sun had his hands full with that one!

He smiled, thinking of the auspicious photo his assistant had taken of Sun shaking his hand near the podium. The old bugger had beamed with approval, and did not even recoil this time from the Western style handshake, instead holding Dong’s hand firmly and maintaining the grip for the camera. Then Sun and his nephew had taken their leave, after much reassurance that the report, when finalised, would reflect well on the Administrator.

**

Once they were out of Dong’s sight, Randy tore the cell-phone/camera from his ear.

“
Where to?” he asked, then seeing Sun’s confused grin, he repeated the question in atrocious Cantonese.

Sun still did not understand, but guessed Randy needed instructions for their next destination. Therefore he resumed his earlier task of waving his hands and giving orders to the younger man in badly spoken but charming English.

They eventually arrived at the hotel where Sun was staying with his cheerful wife. Wen was one of those happily indulged modern wives that were common to well-placed men in China. She was no great beauty, being slightly overweight and not tall, but it was easy to imagine she had once been captivating, with her sparkling eyes and easy laughter. She also spoke English much better than Sun did, so Randy was able to talk with her about the events of the afternoon.

“
You cannot travel under your own name,” she said. “The State is watching for you.” Then she said to Sun in Cantonese, “Husband, take this boy down to the shops and dress him in some new clothes. By the time you get back, his papers will be ready and we can all go for dinner.”

“
Excellent, my dear,” Sun said.

“
Go with my husband, Randy. You will need clothes for the next phase of your journey. From here, we are headed to Beijing. There is a workhouse there you must see.”

“
But my papers — I cannot fly to Beijing.”

“
Do not be concerned, my friend,” she said. “You happen to be in the presence of an artist.”

Indeed, she was true to her word. By the time Randy and Sun returned from the hotel shops with several bags full of jeans and t-shirts, Wen had completed a brand new Visa and passport for Randy, professing him to be their beloved American nephew who was in China for a two-week visit.

Hungry, Randy joined the couple for dinner in the hotel restaurant. They were joined by Sun’s childhood friend Mr. Lee, a minor local official who was travelling with the couple. Although their friend spoke no English at all, the four diners managed to have an exceptional time, thanks largely to the good-natured conversation of the Minister and his wife.

**

Fa-ling thanked Quan for taking her safely to Guilin and back. It was past midnight. Remembering Cynthia’s warning to take special care of the girl, the driver walked with her to the front desk of the Golden Lion Hotel, where he turned her over to Heng-ri before taking his leave.

She was dirty and tired. She did not want to think any more. She wanted a warm shower and a rich lather to wash away the confusion of the past day.

“
Miss Li,” the concierge said, holding a finger up to tell her to wait a moment. “There is a message for you. Please let me get it before I walk you to your room.”

“
You don’t need to walk me to my room, Henry.”

“
Yes, I do,” Heng-ri said, remembering his cousin Cynthia’s stern cautions. “Wait a moment, here it is.” He trotted out from behind the desk, carrying an ivory coloured envelope bearing the hotel’s logo on which her name had been written in shaky European script: Miss Li Fa-ling.

She tore open the envelope and removed a sheet, also on hotel letterhead, which read:
Dear Miss Li, I would like very much to see you. May we meet for breakfast tomorrow at 7:30? Your servant, Wang Yong-qi.

Fa-ling smiled despite herself. She folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope. In a few short days she would be leaving Nanning to travel with the group to Beijing, where the adoptions would be formalised. There was little to be gained by developing a friendship with the good-looking Detective.

Still, he was good-looking….

Junior Agent Ho Lon-Yi strutted past the news hounds, careful to maintain an authoritative manner for cameras of the State-run news agency. As the only nephew of the high-level bureaucrat, Ho Lon-shi, and the agent who had come up with this brilliant idea, Yi was granted the privilege of having his face splashed all over the Republic’s newspapers and televisions.

Yi was dressed in full uniform for the event, complete with a gold and red bar on his shoulder. Only his lapel pin was missing. He could have replaced it with one of a half-dozen brass pins he owned, but any of them would look cheap compared to the fine gold pin his uncle had bought for him when he’d joined the department. His woollen lapel was discoloured around the spot where the pin usually sat. He hadn’t noticed the mark until he’d stepped into the sunlight. It was too late now to change his jacket. He brushed at the mark with his hand.

Jiu Kaiyu smiled, lurking at the edge of the growing crowd. In his line of work it was best to keep a low profile. Unlike Yi, Jiu had no aspirations toward a career in management. In Jiu’s opinion, the best place for someone as self-serving and stupid as Yi was with others of his kind, at the highest levels of government. Once firmly ensconced in a position of power, they could be counted on to behave in a predictable manner. One could manage to keep one’s job at the lower levels, so long as one did nothing to disrupt the comfortable lives of Ho Lon-Yi, his uncle and their cronies.

Two ambulances were parked at the front of the building. The bodies of Tan Lim and his wife Sui were brought out one at a time, wheeled conveniently past the cameras that were fixed on Yi. Meanwhile, Yi gave his statement to a perky female reporter.

Naturally, every word of Yi’s statement had been scripted by Jiu.

“
The elder male,” Yi said, “was killed in his bed with a single shot to the head. Neighbours say he was bedridden due to a recent accident. We suspect he was killed to eliminate him as a witness to the drug deal.”

“
And the others?” Jan Jian, the News Agency’s golden girl, asked. “We have been told there were also a middle aged woman and a young man in the apartment.”

“
That’s correct,” Yi said. “Our forensics team have not yet completed their work, but we can confirm this triple homicide was drug-related. A substantial amount of an illegal substance was found on the scene. It’s unclear whether the senior members of the family were involved, or whether they were only trying to save their son. We have three deceased on the scene, one woman and two men, all believed to be members of the Tan family.”

Jan Jian smiled sweetly, the way reporters do when they are about to ask something that may not be politically correct. She was a sparky woman with great, round eyes and a smile that brightened her face. Her enthusiasm and good looks made her a popular feature on the six-o’clock news, and perhaps lent her a false sense of security when it came to pressing the wrong official ‘buttons’.