Eric van Lustbader - China Maroc 01, page 65
“But I, like many of my brethren, never knew the right time to disentangle myself from communism. It has served its purpose. I think all of us knew that some time ago. We continued to use it—for ourselves, I suspect, and nothing more.
“Now communism is what ties us to the past. It is what prevents our emergence into the future. That is how the yuhn-hyun was really born.”
Jake, waiting for his father to continue, watched the people on the beach as he had been trained to do. Even in this atmosphere, he could not forget who he was.
“The yuhn-hyun came about when I became convinced that Hong Kong was the savior of all China. If I could control Hong Kong absolutely—and now I am not speaking about the Chinese government, but rather about myself or someone like me—I could control the future of all of China. I could channel great sums of money into heavy industry, I could promote free enterprise as I strengthened the bonds between the tai pan houses here and sources of supply on the mainland. I could, within fifty years, effect the unification of all China.
“That was the yuhn-hyun’?, goal.”
Jake thought about this for a long time. He remembered Bliss’ words: It’s a Chinese operation. She had not lied.
“But to control all of the Colony,” he said now. “I don’t see how you could do such a thing.”
Zilin smiled, but there was no humor in that fragile face. The network of blue veins crisscrossed everywhere. “I am Jian. What I create, lives. Such a thing is possible, I assure you, my son. In fact, it was within my grasp.”
“Even now?”
“Not that much time has passed. Yes.” The sun caught his eyes, turning them from black to white. Jake could see a pulse beating in his temple. “But it won’t happen now. Too many people have died because of my callousness. I am tired. Even a Jian must have his time of rest.”
To their right, the sea came up, dissolving one wall of the child’s sand castle. The boy stared at the leveled place for a moment, before his eyes began to ooze tears. Then his sister came out of the water and stood looking at him.
She dropped to her knees, the sand coating her honey-colored skin. “Here,” she said. “Here.” And began to build the ruined wall back up again. After a time her brother stopped crying and began to help.
Jake, who had been observing this scene, smiled. “Father,” he said, “would you talk to me about the yuhn-hyun?”
Zilin nodded. “If you wish. But first I must tell you something. It was on my orders that Nichiren brought Mariana to Japan.”
Waves crashed along the shore as they always had, but to Jake the sounds seemed as loud as rifle shots.
Mariana, white-faced, the storm beating her back against the muddy rock. Slipping down and away.
Mariana! No!
“I wish to continue.”
Jake barely heard his father’s voice. “Why would you spirit Mariana away?” His voice was a hoarse croak.
“Chimera found out about the power of the fit. He sent a termination team to your apartment on the night you so rashly raided O-henro House.”
Jake barely registered the rebuke in his father’s voice. “I know that, but I still don’t understand. Mariana would never have gone anywhere with Nichiren.”
“Of course not,” Zilin said softly. “Not with what she knew or surmised about the long-standing enmity between the two of you. It was essential that she be convinced otherwise.”
Zilin stared out to sea, but his eyes saw nothing. “Nichiren phoned her. He warned her of the team’s approach. It was necessary to cut it quite close. Still, she did not believe him. Why should she? The Quarry was on your side.
“So he told her the name of the group leader. He was someone she knew well.”
“Evans.”
“Evans, yes. Chimera apparently was not aware that Mariana knew what Evans did for a living. She hid outside the building, and when she saw Evans lead his team in, she had no choice but to believe Nichiren.”
There was silence between them for a time. The high spirits along the beach seemed far away. At length Jake said, “But why Nichiren?”
“I didn’t see any other choice. I had to protect Mariana, and do it at once. I had very little advance warning. I knew that the termination team would find her if she stayed in Hong Kong. I had to get her out.
“I thought the safest place for her would be with Nichiren. I believed that no one inside the Quarry would think of looking for her with your enemy.”
“But they did,” Jake said bitterly. “They found out.”
Zilin nodded sadly. “And a power struggle within the Soviet hierarchy sent a KVR team to Tsurugi as well. I am sorry, my son.”
Jake felt the tremor running through the old man beside him. His heart broke. We’re all a little bit to blame, he thought. But mainly, it’s the life I chose to lead. My violent world destroyed her. A world I love.
In time, he gathered himself together. “Tell me about the yuhn-hyun, Father.”
Zilin accepted this ending because it was what his son wanted. “All right. You already know about Three Oaths Tsun and T. Y. Chung. You’re the only one. Even Bliss does not know that they are my brothers. I want it kept that way. The consequences of that particular bit of information are far too dangerous.
“You know that under the guise of their feud, they have been acquiring companies. They have been doing so under my direction, so that all these new firms are now part of the ring.
“As part of this ruse, T. Y. Chung has entered into a business partnership with Five Star Pacific. Within six months, thanks to the machinations of one of my enemies in Beijing, we will have a clear majority control of that house.
“The triads are ours as well. Three Oaths Tsun, as you know, has a friend in Formidable Sung. That gives us the 14K. Sir John Bluestone is affiliated with the Hak Sam.”
“That leaves the Green Pang,” Jake said. “You won’t get far without the Shanghainese triad.”
“Quite true,” Zilin assented. “That means Andrew Sawyer—and Venerable Chen, who controls virtually all gold trafficking in and out of Macao.” He turned now and stared into Jake’s eyes. For a moment the years sloughed off him and Jake glimpsed the young man his father had once been. “You have three peices of the fu, my son. Andrew Sawyer has the fourth.”
“Sawyer. Buddha!”
There was a small Buddhist shrine hidden away along the slopes above Shek-O. Late afternoon found the two men entering its cool, musky interior. The scent of cedar mingled with the curling smoke of the joss sticks.
Zilin spent a long time at prayer. Jake, by his side, thought of other things more worldly but no less important. He was still getting used to having a father, to being next to a human with whom he shared the same bloodline. Often he found himself trembling. He thought it might be with relief.
“The yuhn-hyun is useless now,” Zilin said as they sat in the shade of the shrine’s painted bamboo overhang. “Without someone to sit at its heart and run it, there is nothing.”
The westering sun spilled its golden light all across the South China Sea. Even the gathering clouds at the horizon were, for this moment, obscured.
“You are speaking now of the tai pan of all tai pan,” Jake said carefully.
“In effect. He would control all of Hong Kong … all of China, eventually. Because without international trade and the vast revenues it brings, China is nothing.”
“You have me, Father.”
Zilin was shaking his head. “Your life has already been intruded upon enough, my son.”
“I am qualified.”
Zilin hesitated, debating with himself. “In all the world, Jake, you are the most uniquely qualified to be the center of the yuhn-hyun. That had been my original intention. You and eventually Nichiren in Japan, extending the ring.”
“Then it’s settled.”
“No. Nothing’s settled. For many years, we on the mainland used the tenets of Marx and Engels to achieve a form of order and freedom from the faan-gwai-loh who, not content to rape our country, threatened to swallow us up whole.
“Communism was a means to an end. It has been clear to me for some years that we have reached that end. We have a sense of stability now. But we are still mired in feudal thinking. In Beijing there is a plethora of backward philosophy.
“What has also been clear to me is that China’s future lies now with capitalism. Hong Kong—and through it a united China, including Taiwan-will be able to feed itself by employing a market economy. That is what capitalism can provide us with now.
“But the way is fraught with danger, both in Beijing, where powerful Maoists still exist, and inside Russia, where the Kremlin lives in fear of our true independence. This, too, is part of the fearful legacy of the tai pan of all tai pan.”
“Father, when I went back to Washington, I learned something vital about myself. My life is what I have made of it.”
“Even though you know now that Fo Saan was part of the yuhn-hyun.”
“Yes. Even so. Fo Saan trained me, but it was my skill. He could not, and indeed did not, seek to influence my interests.
“In just the same way, my life today is what I choose to make of it. When I say it’s settled, I mean it.”
“This must be something that you want.”
“Of course.”
Zilin watched the sun coming down. He had been struck by how different the world was outside of his home. He had to continually remind himself that this, too, was China. Strange, he thought now, but even the sun looks different here. It would take some getting used to, the world. He knew that he would not have the time to assimilate it all. But after he was gone, there would be Jake. He was astonished at how important that thought was to him.
At last he nodded.
“So be it. I have already spoken to Andrew Sawyer. He owes me a debt he can never truly repay. He is tai pan because of me. That is why he was given the last of the fu shards. Remember that well.
“Sawyer gave me some interesting information, which I will pass on to you now. Sir John Bluestone is the KGB’s top operative in the Asian theater. Sawyer’s own comprador for years, Peter Ng, was Bluestone’s agent. He has already been dealt with.
“Bluestone, however, is another matter entirely. When you go to see Sawyer, I think it would be prudent to keep Bluestone in place. He is in direct contact with Daniel la Vorkuta, and I believe it would be in our best interests to keep things that way, at least for the time being.”
“I agree.”
“Good. The only question still remaining is how Chimera found out about the fu. That information was not leaked by any source I have been able to run down.”
“That means there’s someone out there, on the loose.”
“An agent we are ignorant of, yes.”
“I’ll find him.”
Jake was thinking about all the people lost to him. For how long had he believed that he had no family? Now he had his father back. And with him had come uncles, nephews, and nieces. He felt like a man who, after years of wandering in the desert, had stumbled upon King Solomon’s Mines. His new wealth astounded him.
Zilin closed his eyes. He felt the sun on his face, but it was his son sitting beside him who warmed his flesh. He felt a hand on his, and despite himself, he was electrified by emotion. So much so that he thought to himself, For this moment, it’s all right.
He was dreaming of Paris. The molten summer light spread itself like honey across the boulevards. He was in his second-story apartment in the brownstone building in the Sixteenth Arrondissement. The flock of high windows looked out onto a back courtyard that seemed gray even at this time of year.
The dream, which he had at regular intervals, always began with a quick flash, like an Impressionist painting, of that courtyard. Gray it might have been, but it was always filled with birds.
He heard their calling. Always their sounds were inextricably mixed with the rapping on the door. His pulse quickened as she came into the foyer. He was consumed by her cool gray eyes. They were flecked in precisely the same way as one particular spot in a Seurat painting he coveted. He could watch that spot for hours as the dots of color swirled, forming and reforming, creating new hues.
How he loved that painting; how he loved those eyes, and the thick honey-blonde hair that cascaded down around her face. When she spoke English, it was with no discernible trace of an accent. In his dream, her voice was a visual rather than a sonic presence. Like the gray, bird-filled courtyard, it held a magical quality. Like the painting. Like Seurat.
She came three times a week, never on the same days from week to week, never at the same hour. Always she called him during the day to set the time. Always she spoke English, though his Russian was flawless.
His dream ended with one particular image. She was naked, standing or sitting; he was never quite certain which, because of the light. It was an artist’s light. He was painting her. Instead of a brush he used his penis, swiping the tip of it against her white, white flesh. He did this until she was completely covered with the modern runes of computer language.
Always he awoke, as he did now, with an erection so tight it was painful. The dream was like an opiate. He rose from it dizzy with delight.
In a shower filled with steam and the scent of patchouli, he spoke her name as if that would re-create her out of the smoke.
“Daniella.”
Toweled off, he shaved, staring at his face in a mirror clouded around the edges. He dressed in midnight-blue linen slacks and a cream-colored Ralph Lauren polo shirt.
Slipping his feet into his worn Top-Siders, Chimera thought about how he, in his own way, was an artist. How, with the programs he created for the Quarry’s GPR-3700 mainframe, he could make people see what was not there.
Whistling, went out to make his report. He dreamed of Daniella only on the days when he was scheduled to speak with her. Then the whole day glowed. Just like the painting by Seurat.
GLOSSARY
The original language of each word is indicated by the insertion of a letter after the end of each entry to denote the original language—J for Japanese, C for Chinese, and R for Russian.
a mi tuo fo—literally, “take refuge in the merciful Buddha.” C
ama-gasa—an umbrella. J
amah—a housekeeper or nanny. Traditionally from the lower classes of Chinese society. C
asagao—literally, “the face of morning.” A Japanese morning glory, earlier blooming than its Western counterpart. J
atemi—any one of a number of percussive blows used in jujutsu. J
ba-mahk—literally, “feel the pulse.” A state of mental preparedness where aspects of one’s surroundings previously hidden become apparent. See qi. C
bah-ba—Cantonese for “daddy.” C
beiju—literally, “the age of rice.” The eighty-eighth birthday. J
Boxers—the colloquial name for Yi He Tuan, said to be the oldest of the Chinese secret societies from which the modern triads of Hong Kong are descended. Certainly the Boxers were the most violently reactionary. In 1900, during what is commonly known as the Boxer Rebellion, the Yi He Tuan defied their Empress Cixi’s orders and attacked the “Legation Quarter” of Beijing, trapping the foreigners inside for fifty days. The foreigners were eventually rescued by a combined mission force of Western and Japanese soldiers.
bushido—the way of the samurai; a stringent moral code of honor. J
chahm hai—literally, a “sinking in.” A meditational state in which one becomes one with one’s surroundings. C
chano-yu—the art of the tea ceremony. J
dantai—a group of individuals so closely knit that there develops a communal consciousness. C
dew neh loh moh—a Cantonese epithet meaning “fuck your mother.” C
dieh loong—earth dragons thought by many Chinese to be powerful protectors. C
dim sum—literally, “to touch the heart”; Chinese dumplings, steamed or fried, usually eaten for breakfast or tea lunch. C
dojo—the physical place of martial arts practice. J
domo arigato—thank you very much. J
engawa—a porch. In Japanese culture, the meeting place between the homeowner and those of the outside world. J
faan-gwai-loh—Mandarin for “foreign devil.” C
fan tan—Chinese game of chance using buttons. C
feng shui—the art of geomancy: the art of divining the portents from the elements earth, fire, air, water. No Chinese enters into any major business deal or personal change, i.e., moving, getting married, etc., without consulting a feng shui man. C
fu —in China’s past, an Imperial chop or seal—usually made of jade or ivory—which the emperor gave to his most trusted aides in his absence. Use of the fu was the same as wielding the emperor’s power. C
Fuji-yama—Mount Fuji. J
furin—Japanese wind chimes, used primarily in summer because their peculiar music is said to lift and cool the spirit in the face of high heat and humidity. J
furo—a hot bath. J
fusuma—a sliding door, usually opaque. J
futon—thick, foldable cotton batting used by the Japanese for sleeping. J
gaijin—a foreigner. J
geisha—one trained in the arts of entertainment. J
geta—wooden clogs. J
giri—the complex concept of moral duty or obligation. J
go—the Japanese name for a game of strategy using black and white stones on a gridded board. See wet qi. J
godown—a warehouse. C
gwai loh—Cantonese for “foreign devil.” C
haiku—a traditional Japanese poem of seventeen syllables containing the maximum of emotional resonance in the minimum of space. Often, a profound reflection of an aspect of the culture. J
hakama—the traditional divided skirt used in a number of the martial arts, including archery. See kyujutsu. J
hara—to be grounded within oneself, to possess force of spirit, inner strength; therefore, to garner respect. Most prized by Japanese. Hara resides in the lower belly. J
