China Hand, page 14
“You okay?” he asked. “You don’t seem yourself today.”
I gave him the first excuse that came to mind. “Maybe just thinking too much about Lily.”
“I’m telling you, man, a girl like that’s trouble in a place like this. I sure hope you don’t have to learn that the hard way.”
I already have. But I nodded at Will.
“I’ll take your mind off her once we get started over there.”
He pointed to the back of the building, where the weeds were as brown as the sky was gray. “Go get your gear. I’ve already got mine.” He tapped his bag. “I’ll meet you down here.”
I trudged toward the front entrance. As I turned the corner, I bumped into a middle-aged Chinese man. We both backed up, apologizing. Then he stepped closer and put his finger to his lips, whispering, “Metro Café, noon tomorrow.”
I was still registering his words as I watched him duck out the North Gate and leave campus. He never looked back.
The same could be said for me. I’d made my commitment to Ed and a silent vow to Lily.
I entered my apartment, which now felt as fraught with international intrigue as a certain café featured so prominently in Casablanca.
CHAPTER 24
Will had been upping the intensity of our martial arts training, and that afternoon’s session left me battered and exhausted. But despite my fatigue—and a cocktail of ibuprofen and Jack Daniel’s—I lay in bed brooding over the upcoming meeting at the Metro Café, hardly sleeping. The next day, I would have called in sick but didn’t want to arouse Dean Chen’s suspicions. When I finally hobbled into class, several students looked at me with concern.
Fortunately, that morning’s scripted lesson on “New York in the summer of 1977”—power outages, serial killer Son of Sam, widespread looting, violent police crackdowns—largely taught itself through photos and unflattering press clippings. I willed myself to hold it together just a few more hours until everything, hopefully, would become clear at the meeting with Ed.
Lonely Planet said the Metro Café was near the Workers’ Stadium, a large sport and concert venue. I trudged past it under the dull gray sky, the massive curvilinear exterior looming over me like a ghost, no doubt the imagination of my sleep-deprived mind. My black and blue, throbbing bruises reflected my mood. I did not exactly feel prepared for Mission Impossible.
The café’s faded red awning suddenly appeared by my side. Lifting my head, I straightened my shoulders and swung open the door. The savory smell of Italian food brightened my spirits, as did the serendipity of Simon & Garfunkel’s “Scarborough Fair” playing softly in the background.
Ed waved at me from across the room. I weaved between tables crowded with pasta, bottles of wine, and baskets of bread. As he ushered me into a private room, I asked in a hushed voice if it was safe meeting in a crowded restaurant like this.
He patted my shoulder. “We ran surveillance detection on the way here and then swept the place for bugs.”
The small room’s only table was occupied by a ruddy man with thinning blond hair, who remained seated even as Ed introduced us. “Andrew, this is Owen Edwards from London,” Ed said as I shook the Englishman’s hand. “Owen, this is the young man I told you about.”
“Delighted to meet you, Andrew.” His accent was fit for the royal court.
“Owen is from British Intelligence,” Ed said. “He’s providing us with some help—”
“Forgive me, Ed,” Owen interrupted as a waiter in white shirt and black vest opened the door, “but I could really go for a cheeky one. Gin and tonic with a slice of cucumber,” he ordered as the waiter set a breadbasket and menus on the table.
“I’ll have a San Pellegrino,” Ed said.
“I’ll have the sparkling water, too.” I needed to stay focused.
Ed eyed the door as it closed, but still spoke in a lower voice. “For the exfil, Owen’s team has a Canadian passport under the name Kevin O’Connor for you.”
“Canadian?”
“Border agents here inspect American papers more closely,” Owen explained. “Better to travel with documents from countries that face less Chinese hostility—Ireland, Canada, inoffensive places like that.”
“We’ll also give you a wallet with five thousand dollars cash and Canadian credit cards, a British Columbia driver’s license, and business cards,” Ed explained.
I nodded. Owen did, too—but at the waiter who was entering with our drinks.
“With gratitude, sir.” Owen wagged his pointer at me. “The tortellini with aged asiago is divine.”
“Sounds good to me.” The pasta was the least of my worries.
The waiter left with our orders.
“So will you give me the documents now?” I was not looking forward to arranging yet another clandestine rendezvous.
“We will get you the documents and train you in some of the craft closer to the go date,” Ed said. “The passports are a little tricky, since we don’t know precisely when you’ll be leaving. As a tourist in China, you can only stay for ninety days, so if we handed you a tourist visa right now, you would have a limited window to use the passport. And a longer-term business visa and Chinese Residence Permit come with their own complications.”
I didn’t need any more “complications.” But ninety days? “I thought everything was happening soon.”
“We hope so, but there are a lot of moving parts,” he answered.
Owen leaned forward. His blue eyes looked watery enough to spill. “It would be awkward if we gave you the documents today and then the woman who cleans your apartment stumbled upon them. We might be forced to tidy her up, too.”
“That’s a joke, Andrew.” Ed shot Owen a look.
“Yes, of course it is,” the Brit replied, without a hint of regret.
The waiter delivered our plates of pasta. The familiar scents filled me with longing for the US.
Once we’d all taken a bite, Ed explained that Lily would carry a Taiwanese passport and a mix of other Taiwanese and Canadian documents, all under her assumed name, Yichi Chien.
“Once you have the documents, memorize the names, addresses, and other basic details,” Owen advised. “We’ll also provide you with a full backgrounder on your childhood.”
“For you and Lily, once you’re off campus, your high-level story is simple,” Ed said. “You’re recently married and have been backpacking through China on an adventurous honeymoon. You wanted to better understand Chinese culture, given that you married a ‘Chinese’ woman—any official here will love hearing you call your Taiwanese wife that. You’re then taking a ferry to Korea before flying home. Pretty simple, right?”
“Sure. But why Korea?”
“I’ll get to that in a minute. Once you have the documents, you only need to wait for the final signal that it’s time to go. We will be training you in primary, alternate, and emergency communications channels.”
Their thoroughness was scary but reassuring.
“Now, assuming the plan is a ‘go’—”
“What if it’s not?”
“If we abort, you and Lily need to burn all the documents, and you fly back with your real ones to the US right away—by yourself.”
“Why?”
“Because everything’s off.”
My stomach rolled as I saw myself boarding a flight without her.
“But assuming the mission’s on, you’ll be facilitating Lily’s exfiltration,” Owen picked up. “Someone else will take care of her mother. And remember, the general will be outside China, so his family will be monitored even more closely than usual.” I didn’t like the sound of that at all.
By the time I got the “go” signal, Owen said that General Jiang would have already called Dean Chen and asked him to grant Lily and me permission to meet Lily’s father at the Beidaihe government resort north of Beijing for an official event—a diversion from our true destination, and not suspicious given I’d already joined them for the Diaoyutai dinner, the night I first met him. “The general will ensure you have formal permission to leave campus.”
“So once the dean tells us that the general wants Lily and me to meet him in Beidaihe, we head for Korea together?”
“Exactly,” Owen confirmed. “Grab your bolt bags and go.”
“So when do I tell Lily the truth—that we’re headed to Korea and not Beidaihe?”
“As soon as you get her off campus,” Ed said.
“What if she balks?”
“Her father says she’s very eager to leave China…now more than ever, thanks to you,” Ed continued. “All you and Lily have to do at that point is take one of the frequent trains from Beijing to Yantai and then catch the regular ferry to Incheon.”
“If we have fake passports, wouldn’t it be faster and safer just to fly out?”
“Security and customs at airports are much tighter. We’ve mapped Yantai’s boarding procedures and believe we can get you through them undetected.”
You believe you can?
“American agents will have the Incheon port under surveillance and meet you as soon as you dock,” Ed assured me.
The only remaining question was when, such a daunting uncertainty that I didn’t even notice that my bruises had stopped throbbing—proof that adrenaline is the most powerful analgesic of all.
CHAPTER 25
My students would arrive for movie night in minutes—along with, potentially, Dean Chen, whom I had invited out of courtesy and to demonstrate that any discussions about Casablanca would conform to the IAU’s carefully prescribed guidelines.
My bolt bag! I darted into my bedroom and shoved the small internal frame pack under the bed. It was easy to imagine Chen inspecting the apartment.
I’d heard nothing from Ed since that lunch with Owen forty-eight hours earlier. Rationally, I knew that was to be expected but, like Lily’s absence from my life, it had me on edge.
I had the living room set up and was wiping down my table when the irrepressible wonder Will burst into the apartment with a six-pack of beer. “Yo!” He gave me a gentle slap on the back. “I thought it’d be a great idea for us to get sloppy drunk in front of Dean Chen.”
“Right,” I laughed. “I’ll drink if the dean does—but I don’t see that happening.”
Professor MacDonald walked in moments later. I had been enjoying my passing conversations with him—he had so much experience in Asia—and I worried about the blowback he and the other Americans at the IAU would suffer after I fled with Lily. The only teacher sure to escape unscathed would be the one who most deserved a comeuppance: Tom Blum, the modern-day Tokyo Rose, who would undoubtedly use my exit as an opportunity to take to the airwaves, denounce all his fellow compatriots, and gain even greater esteem in the eyes of his overlords.
As Will delivered his beer to the fridge, Paul MacDonald said he’d had coffee the day before with Ed Lee.
My ears perked up. He must have noticed.
“He’s an old friend. I’ve known Ed since he first arrived in Beijing with that company of yours.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Great. Says you should stop by W and M tomorrow at five. Something about a start date.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
“You’re a lucky man. I had an opportunity to work for that firm years ago. Probably should have taken it.”
Had Paul turned down W&M—or the CIA? Or both? I could hardly ask.
Will returned with a beer for each of us. I’d no sooner waved him off than there was a rat-a-tat at the door and a bustle in the hallway. My students were as punctual for movie night as they were for class—and far more ebullient than they appeared most mornings. Even Rose, the meek girl who’d suggested we watch Casablanca, all but shouted “Hello, Mr. Callahan,” as she handed me a bag of dried plums. “This is my gift for you.”
I thanked her and she blushed. Does she have a crush on me?
Tall Michael high-fived me as he entered, followed by Lily—a genuine surprise.
“Dean Chen asked me to represent him,” she said with authority.
“That’s great. I’m glad you could make it.”
Rick arrived next, scarcely looking at me.
“You have the VCD?” I asked.
“I will take care of it.” He was apparently determined to extend his audio-visual authority to my apartment.
“Everyone, help yourselves,” I said, gesturing to the snacks. “And there are cold drinks in the fridge. Don’t be shy.”
As the group scurried about, I made a point of sitting next to Will on the couch, far away from where Lily was getting some rice crackers.
“Decent turnout,” I said. “And I guess I can have that beer now after all.” I took the one still unopened beside Will.
He nodded but looked past me as he waved Lily over. She appeared startled but eased her way past her fellow students. Will nudged me aside. “Make room for the assistant dean, Teach.” He shifted so she could sit between us.
I wished he hadn’t done this, but how could he have known about the mission and my need to stay away from her? From the look on Lily’s face, she shared my discomfort.
She recovered enough to offer a smile as he chatted her up with his southern charm—tactfully avoiding any revealing references to me in the presence of others.
Qianyi, though, spoke up with her usual bluntness. “When will the movie start?”
Rick held up the VCD like it was an Olympic gold medal. “I have it right here.”
“The switch is on the—”
“I know how these things work. Remember?” His tone could have stripped graffiti from a bathroom stall.
“I’d like to say a few words before we start.” I rose from the couch while Rick rolled his eyes at the delay. “Casablanca was released in 1942, only a year after America entered the Second World War and before anyone knew how it would turn out. I always think about that when I watch this movie.”
“China was already fighting Japan for many years by 1942,” Rick said. “We didn’t have the luxury of waiting until we could enter on the winning side.”
“I think it is interesting that the writers didn’t know which side would win when they were making it,” Rose volunteered—bravely, I thought. Rick was glaring at her.
“Yes, that is very interesting,” Michael agreed.
The class monitor shifted his grimace to Michael.
What’s his problem?
When Rick’s gaze fell to Lily, I had my answer. There was no mistaking the longing in his eyes, or the jealousy that replaced it when he returned his attention to me.
I can’t believe I didn’t notice this earlier. He could really fuck things up.
I asked Rick to start the movie. When I sat back down, Lily had clasped her arms across her chest. As the action began to heat up in Rick’s Café, Will asked her quietly if she’d like a blanket. I felt guilty that it hadn’t occurred to me she could be cold.
“Thank you, yes,” she said.
“I’ll get it.” I started to rise, but Will said, “Stay there—I’ll grab something.”
Lily shifted an inch away from me as soon as he stood. It felt like a rebuke.
Will returned with a throw from my closet and spread it over Lily’s lap. A flap of it fell over my leg as Bogart reminded Sam, the piano man, that he was never supposed to play “As Time Goes By.”
Next came the moment when Bogie spots his old flame, Ingrid Bergman.
“I remember this,” Lily said softly. Not to me or Will, but to the former lovers on the screen.
As Bogart’s and Bergman’s eyes met, Lily rested her hand on my leg under the blanket and gently squeezed my thigh.
I glanced down. No one, including me, could see that she’d touched me, but then I looked at Rick sitting stiffly on a straight-backed chair and saw that he was staring at me. In the same instant, he lowered his eyes to the blanket, only for a blink.
Defiantly, I slipped Lily’s hand in mine and felt a wave of reassurance when she entwined our fingers together.
For the rest of the film, I delighted in simply touching her. I had Will to thank. Such a good friend—even as he was oblivious to the danger that his simple action may have exposed us to.
As the movie ended and the screen went black, I got up and flipped on the lights.
Rick retrieved the movie from the disc player as enthusiastic discussions broke out. Not all my students seemed pleased, though.
“Simple-minded American morality,” Qianyi said. “And now that Europe is saved, America can turn its attention to starting wars with China and Korea.”
I was sure I’d seen her wiping her eyes during the climactic airport scene, when Bogie gave up his ticket so his romantic rival could escape the Nazis with Bergman, leaving him behind to fight the good fight.
“No one even says that China won the war by defeating Japan,” Rick piled on.
I wanted to reply that maybe the studio could add that historical gem to its notes for the sixtieth anniversary edition of the film, but I clamped my mouth shut.
Rick wouldn’t let up. “When China is stronger, we will make movie studios teach the correct history.”
I remained silent. Better to give Rick the last word, which seemed to satisfy him.
Fortunately, even that uncomfortable conclusion didn’t smother the smiles of appreciation from the others, who made a point of thanking me for hosting them.
“We’ll always have movie night,” Rose said as she looked me in the eye, putting her empty Yanjing bottle on my end table. Had the beer emboldened her? Not enough to keep her from blushing again.
Right in front of me, Rick asked Lily if he could “escort” her to her dorm. To my knowledge, this was his first overture to her. Good luck, asshole.
“A dean’s assistant does not need to be escorted by a student,” she said, then thanked me and headed out on her own.
Rick turned to me and held up the disc. “I will keep this.”
“Of course. Thank you for bringing the movie.”
Will closed the door and laughed. “What a creep.”
