The Book of Lost Fragrances

Thirty-six

LONDON, ENGLAND

10:00 P.M.

In the past hour, Xie had recognized a Beatles ballad and a Green Day song but nothing else. He had no idea what the DJ was playing now. Western music made its way to China, but it took awhile for it to get there. Whatever was blasting must be new. Xie was grateful for the music’s deafening level. It meant he didn’t have to engage in small talk. He could just sit back, sip his beer, and work at appearing relaxed. The cold ale was superior to Yanjing beer. A second bottle would help calm him. But he forced himself to go slow. Be disciplined. He could allow himself only this one bottle.

He couldn’t take any chances.

Xie had managed to avoid sneaking out with any of the students for the past two nights, but this wasn’t a clandestine jaunt. This excursion had been arranged by the embassy. The son of the Chinese ambassador was hosting the artists for a night on the town. They’d had dinner in a typical pub and now were enjoying a private club.

Well, most of them were enjoying it. Xie was preoccupied. The five-ounce electronic device in his inside jacket pocket weighed on his mind. He might as well be carrying a loaded gun. The cell phone was contraband. No other student had one. If found, the phone would-to use one of the slang expressions Cali had learned from watching old American movies on the internet-be a dead giveaway.

But Xie was as afraid to get rid of it as he was to hold on to it.

He chugged his beer as a Rolling Stones song blared out of the speakers. Xie knew this one. “I can’t get no… satisfaction…”

Did airport security check cell phones? Did you have to put the phone on the tray with your keys and change? It was yet another question he should have thought to ask. But Xie had been so scared when the stranger in the bathroom had clamped his hand over Xie’s mouth, warned him to be quiet, and dragged him into a stall.

“I’m on your side,” the stranger said as he slapped a phone into Xie’s hand. “In case there is an emergency, the phone is preprogrammed so you can get help fast. Look in the contacts, depending on where you are, just hit London. Paris. Or Rome.”

“I’m not-”

“No time to talk. Hide the phone. Be careful. There are people like me all along the way. To help you. Now, wash your hands and try to get some of that red wine out of your shirt so it looks like you were here for a reason.”

And then the man walked out of the stall and left Xie there.

Even now, in a room packed wall to wall with people and smoke and music and liquor, Xie felt as if the phone sucked all the air out of the space. It could save his life. He knew that. But it could also be the thing that got him killed before he ever got to Paris. If his roommate was spying on him and found the phone… If airport security found it and someone from the school noticed…

“You look so serious,” Lan said as she sidled up to him. Usually so quiet, her flirtatiousness was out of character. But then so were her three beers.

“I’m just watching. Listening.”

Lan moved a few inches closer. He could smell her hair. It reminded him of a fruit, but he couldn’t place it.

Strains of another Beatles song, “Here Comes the Sun,” flowed out of the speakers. Xie knew this one too. And he liked it. Cali would want to know if the consulate asked the club to play some older tunes to make the students comfortable or if this was a typical mix. He was surprised by how her inquisitiveness had become second nature to him. He kept imagining how she’d react to what he was seeing, and all the questions she’d ask. This was the first time in the past two years they’d been separated for any length of time. He’d spent years without having a close friend-and only now, on the eve of losing her, did he understand how much he’d come to care about her.

Even though he knew, without doubt, that he was on the path he was meant to follow, he was going to miss his friend.

“I think I’d like to dance,” Lan said shyly.

He could smell the beer on her breath.

“With you,” she said even more softly. “I’ve never danced with anyone before.”

He didn’t mind dancing, but she was half drunk. What if she got too close to him and felt the phone? What if he slipped or bent over, and it fell out of his pocket? But what possible reason could he give for not dancing with her? What if he said no and she made a scene? Sober, she was a quiet sensitive girl, but half drunk?

No matter what he chose to do, it could be the wrong choice. So he would do what he had always done. Take the path of least resistance. Avoid attracting attention. Acquiesce.

Following Lan out onto the dance floor, Xie felt Ru Shan’s eyes on him. Was it his imagination, or was Shan always looking at him? The calligrapher was one of the best there were; a prodigy who had been singled out when he was only twelve for his work. Xie had admired his work long before this trip. And told him so when he’d been assigned to share a hotel room with him. Shan had nodded, took the compliment, didn’t react to it. Cali was always asking Xie to describe things to her in far more detail than he was naturally inclined to deliver. Xie could hear her asking him about Shan. Slim. Short. Lithe. His hands were full of grace, even when he opened a door or held a glass. Small eyes blazing with intelligence. And he liked to talk. Not about art-which would have pleased Xie-but instead about women in the most pornographic ways.

“They told me you’re quiet,” Shan complained when Xie didn’t contribute much to the scatological one-sided conversation about the British girl Shan had picked up in the hotel bar the first night.

“Who told you I was quiet?” Xie wanted to ask. Had Shan slipped? Or had he just meant the other students on the trip who knew him from school? But Xie couldn’t ask. Couldn’t do anything with his suspicions but be plagued by them.

Once Xie and Lan started dancing, he maneuvered so that she was facing Shan.

Lan leaned closer into him. He was vaguely aware of thighs and breasts pressing into him. But it was the phone he was most conscious of. Her head was right up against it, pressing it into his chest.

She looked up at him. Her eyes were half closed.

“You’re a nice dancer,” she said, smiling. “At least I think you are. Since I’ve never danced before.” And she giggled.

“Thank you,” he said and turned, hoping if he kept moving, he’d keep her distracted. Could she feel the plastic rectangle? And if she did, would she question him about it? What would he say?

Looking up, Xie saw Shan had danced his partner around too, so he was once again facing Xie. Just a coincidence. Or was his roommate watching him?

Xie didn’t know.