Safely Home, page 23
The armed man watched Quan and Ben, while Ming huddled in the corner with Shen. One of the police pulled drawers out and dumped them on the floor, rummaging through the contents. The other flipped each bed over and found nothing under Ben’s or Shen’s. But under Quan and Ming’s, he found some boards painted gray, level with the floor. He yanked off one of the boards, reached in, and pulled out a gunnysack. He turned it upside down. Three Bibles came out. He checked for the red seal of a legal Bible. There was none.
“Li Quan is under arrest,” the officer shouted.
“What are the charges?” Ben asked.
The man pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and read: “‘Possession of illegal literature. Distribution of illegal propaganda. Participation in illegal religious meetings. Leading illegal religious meetings. Illegal religious instruction to a child under eighteen. Undue association with foreign influences.’ Tai Hong says there may be other charges too.”
The cell phone rang. Ming reached for it, but the officer grabbed it out of her hand and flipped it open. “What do you want?”
The phone went dead. He threw it against the wall, and it shattered into a half-dozen pieces.
“Tai Hong says to tell Li Quan he is eager to see him at his place. He instructed me to give you this greeting from him.” He pulled a two-foot baton from his belt and whipped it into Quan’s knee. With the sound of the crack still in the air, Quan fell to the ground, groaning.
Ming screamed. Shen wailed. The men dragged Quan to the door.
“No! No!” Ming cried. “Yesu, help him!”
One of the soldiers turned and tumbled over the mahogany chair. He swore and kicked it, then cried out because he’d hurt his foot. The chair did not turn over.
Ming grabbed a prepacked duffel bag. She tried to hand it to Quan. The officer yanked it away, rummaged through it, then dumped it on the floor. Tan trousers, a blue long-sleeved shirt, underwear, an old coat, and a blanket. He motioned to the other men. One of them pushed Quan toward the door.
“I go peacefully,” Quan said. The man who’d injured his foot on the chair, now limping, pushed Quan out the door and onto the dirt.
“Get up!”
The other two officers dragged him to the police car while Ming stuffed the clothes back into the duffel bag and ran behind. Crying, now on her knees in the mud, she pleaded, “Please take this for Li Quan.”
The man kicked it out of her hand. Ben rushed toward him, saw him raise his stick over Ming, and suddenly froze.
“If big-shot American takes one more step, he will find out his passport will do no good.”
They shoved Quan into the car. He looked out at Ming and nodded to her, then spotted Shen standing inside the doorway by the lamp, watching helplessly. Quan thought he saw a discoloration of his son’s trousers. He remembered that once when his father had been dragged away, he’d wet his pants. He hoped Ming and Ben would say nothing to Shen. “Please, Yesu,” Quan whispered, “do not let him feel ashamed.”
* * *
The car drove off, spitting mud on Ben’s shirt and all over Ming. Ben went to her, still on her knees in the mud, next to the duffel bag. He drew her to her feet and put his arm around her. She pressed her face into his chest, trembling.
After a few minutes they slowly walked inside. Shen had changed his clothes and was straightening the room. He examined the empty high-backed chair to see if there was any damage where the man had kicked it. He couldn’t see any.
As his mother came in the door with Ben, Shen’s face shook, then pinched up. Ming dropped the duffel bag and put her arms around her son. Together they wept.
Ming said she should phone Zhou Jin. Ben looked at the pieces of the shattered phone on the floor and handed her his. While she spoke with him, Ben helped Shen pick up the dresser. He started putting the sparse selection of clothes back in the drawers, not knowing what went where. One old shirt felt like it had something inside. He reached in and took out a dozen photos.
Who was this? They were pictures of him! In one he held a Frisbee. The background buildings showed it was Harvard Yard. In another he stood beside Quan, both with big smiles. Where was it? Of course. Barstow Hall, where the campus Christian group had met. Two pictures on the tennis court, four in their dorm room. Everything on the dorm wall, their clothes, their hair length, all brought back a flood of memories. Especially the last one—a photo of him and Pam pushing wedding cake into each other’s smiling face. He must have sent it to Quan. He stared at the picture long and hard until Ming got off the phone.
“Why was he hiding these photos?” he asked her.
“Sometimes not good to have pictures of Americans.” She pointed to the picture of the Christian group. “Here you and Quan are holding Bibles. Picture is risky.” He looked at the Bible in his hand in the photo. He wasn’t even sure if he still had that one.
Ming took the photographs, then went over to a pillow on the floor and pulled the Bible box out of the middle of it. She placed the photo of Ben and Pam, along with the others, carefully inside it.
Ben sat down. “Is it worth all this?” he asked.
“Minghua does not understand question.”
“I mean the hurt it brings to your family. Is it worth it?”
“Family very important. Yesu more important. Quan must put Yesu before Ming and Shen. Ming must put Yesu before Quan. Must put him even before our only son.” As she pulled Li Shen to her side, her lips quivered.
26
LI MANCHU, Li Wen, and Li Tong held hands, watched, and prayed. Then they turned to Reader and listened:
“Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul. You have not handed me over to the enemy but have set my feet in a spacious place. Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall. The Lord hears the needy and does not despise his captive people.”
“Perhaps now it begins,” Li Tong said.
“The threads are being woven together,” Li Manchu said. “The tapestry takes shape. Yet what the Weaver’s final product will be, we cannot yet know.”
“But at least now we can see the top side of the tapestry,” Li Wen said. “They can only see its underside.”
* * *
Ben looked at Ming. “I can’t believe this happened.”
She wiped her tears. “It has happened before.”
“He told the police chief he’d been in jail five times.”
“In Pushan. Two other times also. Or three. Zhou Jin in jail many more times. He calls it ‘seminary.’ Once there twelve years.”
“How long will they hold him?”
“Do not know. Few days, sometimes weeks. Longest time for Quan eight months.”
“Quan was in jail eight months? Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Not easy to talk about. Does not wish to . . . draw attention to self.”
“That may be the Chinese way, but I’m from America.” Ben looked at her. “I’m canceling my flight. I won’t leave until Quan’s out of jail.”
Ming looked surprised, started to object, then nodded slowly.
“Maybe I should move out of here, with Quan gone? I mean, if that would be more appropriate, you know.”
She looked at him, confused.
“Or I could stay and help. I mean, Shen’s here with us, of course. I can shovel coal, do some repairs. Maybe I can help with Shen. Most of all, I can stir up dust, talk to the right people, and get Quan out of there as soon as possible.”
Ming smiled faintly, then said, “Xiexie, Ben Fielding. Chan Minghua most grateful.”
* * *
“You sound groggy, Johnny.”
“Ben? It’s 4:07 a.m. What’s going on?”
“Sorry. Guess I miscalculated the time difference.”
“Where are you?”
“China.”
“Weren’t you flying in yesterday?”
“My friend Li Quan was arrested. The PSB barged in, pushed him around, and dragged him off. The new chief of police is harassing him.”
“What are the charges?”
“Several, but they all relate to illegal religious activities.”
“Is it true?”
“Well, yeah, some of it.”
“You break the law in China and you’d better be prepared to face the consequences. The jails there don’t have ESPN, either.”
“Look, Johnny, there hasn’t been a hearing. I’ve made calls all over. They won’t even tell his family where he is. I need some legal help here. I’ve got to get Quan out. I’ve already put a call in to Liao’s. You know them?”
“Of course,” Johnny said. “They’re the top law firm in Shanghai. Getz has used them a half-dozen times.”
“I dropped Getz’s name and went right to a senior partner. I told him we need help with someone accused of a crime and, as far as we could tell, being held without due process or bail or anything. I called yesterday, and I still haven’t heard back.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Why?”
“Look, Ben, we need to talk. You flying home tomorrow?”
“No way. I told Martin it was a crisis. These people have put me up six weeks. I can’t bail out on them until this situation’s under control.”
“Okay. Let me know what Liao’s has to say. Meanwhile, I’ll check around on this end, see what I can figure out. I know some Chinese business law, such as it is, but criminal law’s out of my league. I have to find out what their due process is, prisoner’s status and rights, all that.”
“Thanks, Johnny.”
“Sure. But next time, could you wait just a couple more hours to call?”
* * *
They sat quietly at Thursday dinner, with two empty chairs and two empty plates. After Ben played with Shen, it turned dark.
Ming said, “It is time.”
They went out to the car, drove three miles, parked behind thick trees, then walked the rest of the way.
Ben sat in a front seat at the home of Wu Xia, the woman with tuberculosis. To his surprise, Ming stood up. Shen, sitting in front of her, unwrapped his grandmother’s Bible, then stood and handed it to his mother. She opened and read.
“Don’t ever forget those early days when you first learned about Christ. Remember how you remained faithful even though it meant terrible suffering. Sometimes you were exposed to public ridicule and were beaten, and sometimes you helped others who were suffering the same things. You suffered along with those who were thrown into jail. When all you owned was taken from you, you accepted it with joy. You knew you had better things waiting for you in eternity.
Do not throw away this confident trust in the Lord, no matter what happens. Remember the great reward it brings you! Patient endurance is what you need now, so you will continue to do God’s will. Then you will receive all that he has promised.
For in just a little while, the Coming One will come and not delay. And a righteous person will live by faith.”
* * *
On Friday, November 15, Ben placed another call to Liao’s Law Service. The receptionist put him through to the partner he’d spoken with before.
“This is Ben Fielding, vice president of Getz International. I called you three days ago.”
“Yes. I remember.”
“Well, were you planning on calling me back? I was told Liao’s was the top law firm in Shanghai. I’ve told people that myself. My company’s done business with you before. We hope to do business again. But first I need help with this prisoner, Li Quan. I’ve gone to the jail in Pushan, Facility Six, and they won’t talk to me. They won’t even confirm Quan’s there. His family needs to locate him. We need to see him. We need legal counsel.”
“Yes, Mr. Fielding. I spoke with several of my associates after your call.”
“And?”
“We regret . . . we cannot help you.”
“Why not?”
“It is a difficult situation.”
“Yes. That’s why I went to the top law firm in Shanghai. Are you saying it’s too difficult for you?”
“We are not suited for such cases.”
“Such cases as what?”
“Liao’s specializes in business law.”
“Yes, but you’re a full-service firm, aren’t you? Are you telling me you never deal with criminal law?”
“Mr. Fielding, because we have a working relationship with your company, I will say this much—Liao’s does not take cases involving PSB or Party.”
“Why not?”
“We have found this is not profitable. The government handles these matters.”
“Right. That’s the problem.”
“We regret we cannot help you.”
“I regret it too. Attorneys afraid to hold the police and government accountable? This would never fly where I come from.”
“This is not America, Mr. Fielding.”
“You can say that again.” Ben slammed down the phone.
He sat down at Quan’s desktop computer, opened the e-mail program, and typed in an address.
Hey, Johnny. Ben here. It’s the middle of the night for you. I almost called, but I’ll have mercy and send you a flaming e-mail you can read over morning coffee. My laptop’s having problems, virus or something, so I’m using Quan’s computer. You’re lucky he’s got a toggle switch so you can read this in English.
Here’s the scoop: Liao’s is afraid of the government. You knew that, didn’t you? They call themselves a law firm but won’t do anything to help us find an innocent man, let alone get him out of jail. Back home I’d call a newspaper, get an investigative reporter on it, and we’d be on top of this thing by tomorrow. But here the media’s under tighter control than this lousy law firm.
Well, I’m shooting off some e-mails to our associates in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Singapore to see what I can stir up. Any help would be appreciated. If you can’t reach me by phone, just reply to this address. I’ll be checking Li Quan’s e-mail.
* * *
Shen sat in the corner reading his father’s Shengjing, in the handwriting of the smiling grandmother he’d never known. The police chief had returned the Bible the day before he disappeared.
Quan had reminded his family it had nearly been lost, yet once again it had somehow returned to its family. Shen wondered whether his father also would be returned.
“Quan told me something on the plane from Beijing,” Ben said to Minghua as they sat thawing near the coal stove. “Schoolchildren near here were punished for attending Sunday school at an unregistered church. He said the students were slapped and threatened. They were warned never to go to church again.”
Ming nodded. “The way of the Cross comes early to our children. Even now Shen reads his father’s Bible and wonders what is being done to him.”
Ben nodded, seeing the pain in her eyes. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you. The first day I was here, I gave Quan the Bible he requested. But while he was looking it over, you kept looking at the box. Then you hid it. I see now you’re keeping it inside your pillow. Why?”
“Minghua’s mother had such a box. She never owned Shengjing. But once four boxed Shengjing were given to her pastor. He took them to his church of three hundred, and they cast lots. Bibles were passed out to winners. They took them home, knowing if discovered they would be imprisoned, yet nothing could rob them of joy. But when pastor gave away last Bible, Mother noticed someone had taken Bible but left box behind. She ask pastor for box. He say, ‘I am sorry; there are no Bibles left.’ She say, ‘I know—I am asking to have the box, for it is holy—it once contained the Words of God.’ We kept our most valuable possessions, including family photographs, in that box. Ming will do same.”
* * *
“Not only is my laptop fouled up, I can’t send and receive from Quan’s e-mail,” Ben told Johnny. “This morning I find a note from the service provider that says Li Quan’s e-mail privileges have been revoked. No explanation. What does that mean?”
“It means somebody didn’t like the e-mails he’s been sending,” Johnny said.
“He hasn’t been sending any—he’s in jail.”
“But you’ve been using his account, right? The e-mail you sent me was probably enough. But you said you were sending some unflattering notes off to Hong Kong or Singapore, right? This is their subtle way of saying, ‘Knock it off.’”
“They’ve been reading my e-mails? You’re kidding.”
“Wake up and smell the green tea, Ben. Even we do that, or at least we can. The FBI has equipment that can scan every incoming and outgoing e-mail message on a server, looking for telltale words or names. If the ISP lets them in on the grounds they’re tracking for criminal activity, it can automatically save those messages for retrieval by law enforcement. They can track instant messages, who’s visiting what website, you name it. So if the FBI can do it, do you think Beijing can’t?”
“But . . . they shouldn’t be able to do that!”
“No newspaper’s going to take them on—they own them. There won’t be a public outcry like you’d get in the US. And what’s the ISP going to say to the government—‘You can’t have access to our data’? Yeah, right. When hell freezes over. So they’ve got the equivalent of this gigantic wiretap on e-mail. They can screen anybody’s. If they don’t like it, they can arrest them or remove their e-mail privileges. They already arrested your friend. Now they take away his e-mail because they don’t like what you’re doing.”
“Big Brother is watching,” Ben said.
“And Beijing’s the ultimate big brother. About eight feet tall and five hundred pounds.”
27
“I PULLED SOME STRINGS with a supplier that doesn’t want to lose our business,” Johnny said. “Of course, we don’t want to lose theirs either, so I’m walking a tightrope. Tighter than Martin would like. Anyway, they managed to get some info from PSB.”
