The Interior

15

THE NEXT MORNING BEFORE DAWN, INVESTIGATOR LO drove Hulan out into the countryside and left her by the side of the road, where she found a rock on which to wait. Even before the pink streaks of dawn had faded into the dull white of day, the family that worked this tract of land emerged and began the long, slow process of watering the field. The mother, wearing a wide-brimmed, conical straw hat, carried a pole across her shoulders from which two buckets of water were suspended. The father and son each used a ladle to scoop out the water and carefully pour it on the roots of the individual plants.

The air stirred not at all this morning, and Hulan felt already that she was sitting in a steam room. Still, people went on with their lives, slowly but with increasing numbers appearing on the road's horizon. Some pushed wheelbarrows piled high with corn. Others pedaled past with baskets of produce strapped to the sides of their bicycles. But most carried their goods in large baskets lashed to their backs. One man was dwarfed by the load of hay he carried that rose a good five feet above his head and stretched out another couple of feet on either side of him. His back was bent double from the size if not the weight of his load, which bounced with each step.

At 6:30, as several unencumbered men walked past, Hulan stood and joined the parade. A few minutes later she reached the Knight compound. Each time she came here she marveled at how it rose up out of the landscape and stood starkly against the red soil and the hot white sky. Outside the gates over a hundred men milled about. As she had done yesterday evening, she drifted into the center of the crowd.

The gates opened and the men surged forward. Hulan felt herself pushed along. Once inside the compound, she stuck with the men as they walked to the warehouse. At the last moment she drifted apart to stand in the shadow of the Administration Building and take her bearings. Unlike the day before, this morning there was a lot of activity in the courtyard. Some of the men who'd entered the warehouse immediately reappeared with poles which they stuck into pre-set holes in the ground, while others began unrolling canvas for the canopy which would shade the hand-over celebration.

At quarter to seven the women began leaving the cafeteria. Seeing Peanut, Hulan swung into step with the young team leader. "I was scared you wouldn't come back," Peanut said. Then she took one of the two smocks that were draped over her arm, handed it to Hulan, and added, "Here, put this on quickly."

The two women slipped the pink material over their arms and buttoned up. Hulan tied her matching bandana over her hair.

As they wound through the Assembly Building 's maze of corridors, Hulan whispered, "Can I ask you something about Miaoshan?" When Peanut nodded, Hulan asked, "You said she was a troublemaker. What did you mean by that?"

Peanut slowed, turned her head, and looked up at Hulan. "Always you are asking questions! What are the men doing? How do you get out of here? Now you ask about someone you never met. Why? Did the foreigners send you inside here? Is that why you were able to leave last night and sneak back in so easily? Am I going to lose my job because I helped you?" "No, no, and no."

Someone behind them called out, "Hey! Hurry up! We don't want to be late because of your slow walking!"

Hulan and Peanut picked up their pace. Hulan leaned her head toward Peanut's and spoke softly. "Remember when I came into our room the first time and you said no one wanted that bunk because of the ghost spirit? Since I slept there, I can't stop thinking about this girl. Even now she troubles me."

"Because her ghost spirit is the same as her live spirit. Miaoshan only brings trouble to people."

"Did she report others for their transgressions or complain to Madame Leung about the other women?"

"You are going in the wrong direction," Peanut said. "It was the other way. All the time she is complaining to us about the machines, about the long day, about the food we eat. She says to us, 'We can go on strike. We can make the company improve things.' All the time she is pestering Madame Leung and reciting all of the things that are bad in here. You know what she says? That our toilets are not good. I can't understand that. In my village no one had a toilet inside the house. In fact, I had never even seen a toilet like this until I came here. When I first saw those things, I didn't know what to do. One of the women had to show me."

They turned a corner and Hulan saw the entrance to the factory floor.

"I'll tell you something else," Peanut said. "You don't know many people here yet, but everyone is nice. Even so, I can tell you that everyone-even the mothers and the older women-were happy when Miaoshan died, because we were all afraid of her words. What if we had gone on strike? What would have happened to us if we all lost our jobs?" Entering the factory, Hulan saw Tang Siang already in position before the conveyor belt. Her face was slightly swollen from lack of sleep and her hair had not had the benefit of a brush. She didn't look happy.

At seven the bell rang, the machines cranked to life, and work began. The three women worked silently side by side, shoulder to shoulder. In such close proximity and in such a hot room, Hulan couldn't help but notice the smell of sex that radiated from Siang. She didn't seem inclined to talk. Peanut sensed this and bent her head to her work, expertly threading the hair through the doll heads. Although Hulan had many questions she wanted to ask, she followed Peanut's lead. Fortunately, Hulan didn't have to wait long before Siang broke her silence.

"Well, Peanut, aren't you going to ask me about Manager Red Face?" Siang petulantly demanded at last.

Wordlessly Peanut scooped up another head and began jabbing. "This I know," Siang said. "He is a man like any other. He talks sweet words until he gets what he wants, then talks some more when he wants it another way. I tell him I'm not a gutter girl, but he wants to do gutter things. He says, 'Miaoshan does this for me. You do it too.' Miaoshan, Miaoshan. Always I'm hearing that name. It makes me crazy!"

"But you knew he had sex with Miaoshan before," Peanut said. Her tone was so matter-of-fact that Hulan could almost forget that Peanut was only fourteen.

"You think I don't know that every penis that has been inside me has already been inside Miaoshan?" Siang asked bitterly. The question required no answer, so Siang went on. "You're still young, Peanut. It's good for you to be safe in here. You wait for your father to arrange a marriage for you."

"I am hoping for a true-love marriage," Peanut said wistfully, her voice barely audible over the machinery.

"True love?" Siang spat out. "Look around this room and tell me if there is a single woman here who has experienced true love."

"I have," Hulan said. "And I know you have too. I've seen you with Tsai Bing."

"Tsai Bing?" Siang sputtered. Then resolve crept into her voice. "Let me tell you something about Tsai Bing. Remember that day you found us in the cornfield?"

Hulan said she did.

"You asked him about the baby and he blushed. I hadn't known about that."

"You mean about the baby?" Hulan queried.

"No, that he was still having sex with Miaoshan even when he told me that he only loved me and that we would find a way to get married."

Hulan was in no way prepared for what Siang said next.

"He had sex with her," she continued sorrowfully, "even after I told him about seeing her with my father."

Next to Hulan, Peanut sucked air in through her teeth.

"So now you have sex with the manager to get back at the one you love." Hulan eased her voice over her words, erasing anything that might be taken for judgment.

"No, I let the manager put his organ in me so I can get promoted and make more money. The only way Tsai Bing and I will ever be together is if we leave Da Shui Village. The only way that will ever happen is if we have money." Siang brought her shoulder up so she could wipe away a tear. "A night or two with a foreigner is a small price for a lifetime."

But looking at Siang, whose toughness was as thin as a sheet of gold leaf, it seemed a very high price.

The morning wore on. The temperature in the room quickly rose over a stultifying forty degrees centigrade. Around them conversation dwindled to nothing as the heat and humidity drained the last bit of energy from the women who had already worked more than fifty-six hours this week. Hulan welcomed the relative silence from human voices. She had asked as many questions as she could today without drawing excessive attention to herself. Peanut's queries about what Hulan was doing here only reminded her of how transparent her mission was becoming. Similarly, she could not continue her conversation with Siang. The girl had shut herself off, working with her head bent and her shoulders slouched except for those times when Aaron Rodgers swung by on his rounds and she plastered a fake smile on her face.

Hulan-her hands bandaged, her stomach queasy, her shoulders aching, her head pounding from the heat and noise from the machines- made her mind focus on the enigma of Ling Miaoshan. Last night Guy Lin hadn't mentioned anything about a strike. Would Miaoshan have kept that information from him? Could Miaoshan have thought up the idea of a strike by herself? Could she have then moved forward, organizing, cajoling, frightening her fellow workers into following her without outside help? And if someone had helped her, who and why? Maybe this someone hadn't helped her at all. Maybe he-and knowing what she did about Miaoshan, Hulan had no doubts that it would be a he-had used her as a way to foment unrest for some reason that wasn't yet clear.

As Hulan circled around these ideas, she kept coming back to Miaoshan's promiscuity. To use the coarse words of the local Public Security captain, it seemed true that Miaoshan had spread her legs for any man with a beating heart. From the beginning of time there had been women who had used sex as a method of survival, as a way of getting what they wanted, as a means to an end. But also from the beginning of time there had been women who had been victimized, used, and tossed aside when their novelty wore off or they became diseased or old. Was Miaoshan the manipulator or the manipulated?

David's first obligation was to speak to Randall Craig. At seven, he called the hotel operator for Randall's room number, but was told that Mr. Craig hadn't checked in until late last night and had asked that no calls be put through. At eight, he tried again. Randall Craig picked up on the first ring. David asked if they might have breakfast together. Ten minutes later, David was in Randall's spacious suite with a view overlooking South Xinjian Road. David had a duty to tell Randall about the problems that could be of concern to Tartan Incorporated. At the same time, David needed to protect his other client, Sun Gan. If David believed Sun was innocent-and the simplicity of the code more than anything made that a strong possibility-then he had to try to flesh out the truth to help the governor.

By the time the continental breakfast arrived, David had run through his concerns about the sale, outlining the alleged dangers on the factory floor, the use of child labor, and-without using names-the possibility that bribery had occurred.

Randall Craig listened patiently, occasionally taking sips of coffee or breaking off a piece of croissant. When David finished, Randall said, "Why hasn't this shown up in the reports?"

"I don't know," David answered.

"Well, look, the due diligence was already done by your predecessor. I'm willing to stand by Keith's reports."

"But they're wrong. If this information-any of it-comes out, then Tartan will be exposed to various lawsuits, not to mention criminal proceedings."

"Let's deal with the bribery issue first," Randall said. "I assume old man Knight is the one you think is paying out. Who's he paying?"

"I can't say," David answered. It wasn't a lie exactly, but it was vague enough to keep his other client protected.

"Is there any danger of it coming out before the sale?"

"There's an American reporter who's on to the story."

Randall sighed. "Pearl Jenner, I suppose. Have you talked to her?"

"Last night."

Randall nodded sympathetically. "When I checked in, I had about a dozen messages from her. But she's been sniffing around for a long time and hasn't been able to find anything of substance. What'd she say? Did she have names to go with the bribery?"

David was fully aware that Randall had let slip an important piece of information: Even before David walked in the room, Randall Craig had known there were problems and that a reporter was here in Taiyuan ostensibly to cover the sale. David's senses, which were already working at full tilt, jumped another notch.

"She doesn't know any names," David said. "She may not even know of the bribery, but she's aware of some of the other problems…"

"The way your predecessor explained it, if there's been wrongdoing in the past, we're not responsible. If it happens in the future, we are."

David leaned forward in his chair. "I think the Knights lied on their disclosure forms."

"About the bribery?"

"About the child labor, about the working conditions…"

"My position is, I don't know about all that."

"But you do."

"And how's the government going to know?"

"I have to disclose it to the SEC."

"You could do that," Randall acknowledged, "but what's the point? It's better just to let the sale go through as is. Tartan's shareholders will be happy. The Knight shareholders ought to be thrilled too. What's done is done. I say let the old guy retire gracefully."

"I still think we have to disclose."

"You know what would happen to a guy like Henry Knight? Maybe he'd pay a fine. On the other hand, maybe the Feds would send him to a country-club jail. He'd be in good company for a few months, and then he'd go back to his retirement. But in the meantime you will have hurt his son, and we're counting on Doug for continuity."

"And what about me?"

"What about you?"

"I have a legal obligation to file the papers properly. If I don't, I'm leaving my law firm open to prosecution."

"You do what you gotta do. But remember this, you'll have a clear conscience, but you will have wrecked havoc on a lot of people's lives and for what? Once Knight Senior's out of the game, we clean up the company's internal problems."

Randall's tone sounded suspiciously practiced. David felt the need to remind Randall that Knight's crimes could come back to haunt Tartan.

"My job here is to perform the due diligence and-"

"No," Randall shot out sharply. "That was Keith Baxter's job, and he did exactly as we wanted. Your job is to make sure the acquisition contracts are signed on Sunday. I'm not hearing that."

"What if the women who've been hurt come forward?"

Randall Craig shrugged. "I'd say that sometimes there are little blips on the radar screen, but that they never amount to anything. Put another way, we've got five factories in and around Shenzhen, and we haven't had any problems."

" China 's laws are changing."

Randall grinned and spread his hands wide. "Not fast enough. And besides, who's a Chinese judge going to believe? A peasant woman or two or a big American conglomerate that employs thousands upon thousands of men and women, that has been responsible for increased prosperity in various provinces, and that has the backing of high-ranking officials in the government?"

"A court might think differently if it had documents to back up what the women said."

Randall's demeanor suddenly changed. "What documents are those?"

"A young woman smuggled them out. She planned on giving them to Pearl Jenner."

"But she didn't?"

"No. She's dead, murdered, I believe."

"Is there an investigation into her death? Is there anything that can tie her to us?" Randall asked.

"Those are two questions. The answer to the first is not officially. The answer to the second is I don't think so."

"Then we have nothing to worry about."

"What about Keith's death?"

"I understood you were the target there."

"I have reason to believe I wasn't."

Randall sighed. "Miles thought this might come up-some kind of post-traumatic stress thing. Look, I'd like to help you through this, but the fact is I'm not trained for it. Miles will be in Beijing tomorrow. Cry on his shoulder." Randall glanced at his watch. David was supposed to take the hint and leave. When he didn't, Randall asked, "What?"

"What you just said is so out of line, I hardly know what to say."

"David, you represent me and my company. Focus on that. If there's another matter I should know about…" He eyed David curiously, as if sizing him up. "Have you seen those papers you mentioned? Is there something in them that I should be concerned about? If Pearl Jenner doesn't have them, then where are they? Are we going to be blackmailed?"

David couldn't answer all of these questions without putting Suchee in possible jeopardy. Instead he said, "I don't think anyone has plans to blackmail you. As far as what's in the papers, they show that the factory building wouldn't be safe in a fire. There aren't enough exits and…"

Randall grinned again, clearly relieved. "That's nothing. We install another door or two. No problem."

David couldn't believe what he was hearing. "The child labor and the rest of it?"

"How can I say this except bluntly? Tartan is already aware of those issues. Women getting hurt? Chemicals? Why do you think we've been in China for the past twenty years? It's because we can get away with a lot." Randall rose to signal the end of the meeting. He opened the door, then, seeing David's appalled look, said, "Don't look so shocked. China 's helped build Tartan to what it is today-a billion-dollar company. Don't lose sight of that or your potential place in it."

He clapped David on the shoulder and fairly pushed him out the door. "Forgive me, but I've got to get out to Knight. We've got a full schedule today." And he shut the door in David's face.

Furious, stunned, outraged, David walked back to his room. Everything Randall had said was true. Even if David stepped forward-and he was cognizant of all the problems that would cause him personally-it would only be a fleabite on the corporate butt of Tartan. Still, he couldn't allow the sale to go through as it was laid out.

Back in his room, he once again called down to the hotel operator and asked to be put through to Henry's suite. When no one answered,

David called Knight International. A receptionist with a lilting voice informed him that Mr. Knight wasn't at the compound nor was he expected until eleven when the festivities would begin. "What about Douglas Knight?" David asked.

"No, sir, he isn't here either. Perhaps you should try the hotel."

David called back down to the hotel operator and was transferred to Doug's room. But he wasn't in either. David went to the hotel dining room, hoping that the Knights would be having breakfast. They weren't, so he went back upstairs.

He waited a half hour, called again at the compound and the hotel for both father and son, but they were still unreachable. David began to pace, checked his watch, then sat down and punched in what felt like dozens of numbers. If it was 9:00 A.M. here, it would be 5:00 P.M. yesterday in Los Angeles. Miles Stout's secretary answered the phone and verified that Miles had left the city. "He'll be arriving in Beijing tonight your time. He'll be at the Kempinski if you need to talk to him." David thanked her and asked to be transferred to the voice-mail message center. He tapped in his pass code and waited. He had six new messages.

The first was from Miles, who repeated almost word for word what his secretary had just told David, adding, "I'll be half dead by the time I get to the hotel, but maybe we can have breakfast together. I'd like us all to be on the same page when we meet with Randall and his people." Next, David heard Rob Butler's voice asking how things were going in private practice, informing him that there'd still been no progress on the Rising Phoenix investigation, and reminding him that if David needed anything to be sure and call. "You know, Carla's always wanted to see the Great Wall," Rob said. "Maybe we'll come out for a vacation and you can show us the sights. Anyway, it'd be a great way to get in a game or two of tennis. Do they have tennis courts out there? Send an e-mail if you can." Eddie Wiley left a message saying that the downstairs toilet had backed up and was there a plumber that David used.

Interspersed among these calls were three from Anne Baxter Hooper. At the sound of her voice, David conjured up Anne's grief-stricken face. "The operator at the U.S. Attorney's Office told me I could reach you here," she said. "I must say, I'm surprised to hear that you made that move. Well, give me a call." She spoke her number carefully, then added,

"I really want to talk to you. You can call collect if you want."

The second message said simply, "This is Anne, Keith's sister. Please call." In the third, which had come in just that morning, she sounded impatient. "Since my brother died, I've left you several messages. I'd appreciate a call back."

David erased the messages and hung up the receiver. He thought about the day of the funeral and the accusation in Anne's eyes. At the time he had thought himself to blame for Keith's death, but the picture had changed. How much should he tell her about her brother? Was it better for her to know the truth or continue to believe that her brother had been an innocent victim? And what was the truth anyway?

David dialed Anne's number in Russell. The phone rang four times, then was picked up by the answering machine. Anne's two children spoke in unison. "You've reached the Hoopers. We're not in right now, but leave a message and we'll call you back, back, back!"

After the beep, David said, "Anne, it's David Stark. I only got your messages today. I'm in China and it's a little after nine in the morning. I'm in a hotel and I'm going to be leaving soon, but I'll be back in Beijing tonight. I'll call you as soon as I can."

David hung up and resumed the pacing he'd started last night, which only exacerbated his feeling of being ensnared. He stopped, searched through his papers, found the number for Governor Sun's office, and dialed. The woman who answered didn't speak English. But after repeating Sun's name several times, he was transferred to Assistant Secretary Amy Gao. When David said he urgently needed to see Sun, Amy asked him to come straightaway. "Governor Sun has several appointments this morning," she said, "then he's going out to the factory. After that we're flying back to Beijing. Still, I know he'll make room for you."

David packed Sun's papers in his briefcase, went downstairs, and found Investigator Lo ready with the car. They rode a few blocks down Yingze Avenue and stopped at the guardhouse of an official-looking compound. On the gate was a plaque with red and gold Chinese characters announcing that this was the headquarters of the provincial government. A Chinese flag flew from the building's roof. The guard, armed with a machine gun, wore the drab green uniform of the People's Liberation Army. He eyed David in the backseat as he phoned the main building. Once he got the okay, he had Lo sign a check-in sheet, then waved them through.

Inside, the walls were a dirty beige and the floor was composed of gray stone. Lo went to the desk and explained that David was here for Governor Sun. The woman made a call, rattled off a few high-pitched phrases to the investigator, and pointed at the straight-back chairs that lined an adjacent wall.

"She says you are to wait here and I am to wait outside," Lo explained. "Someone will be with you shortly." Before David could say anything, Lo exited the building. David did as he'd been told. Five minutes turned into fifteen. Despite the open windows and the fan whirling overhead, the room was desperately hot. Every few minutes someone opened a door, peeked out, stared at David, then closed the door again.

Finally Assistant Secretary Gao emerged, her high heels clicking efficiently on the stone floor. She wore a light suit and somehow managed to look cool. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Stark. I was not told of your arrival until just now."

David found this unlikely.

"Please come with me."

Again David obeyed.

But instead of going to Governor Sun's office, he was led into Assistant Secretary Gao's. "Please be seated," she said. She sat down behind her desk, pushed an intercom button, and spoke a few words. A minute later a pretty young woman arrived with a thermos and cups. After the tea was poured and the girl left, Amy asked, "How can I help you?"

"I need to meet with Governor Sun."

"What is this in regard to?" she asked earnestly.

"He has asked me to represent him on some matters. I'm here to go over them with him."

"I'm familiar with all of the governor's affairs. Please feel free to discuss them with me."

Hulan had often talked about Chinese bureaucracy and how it was designed to move sluggishly, create the most paperwork, and aggravate, thereby controlling the petitioner. No wonder guanxi-connections- were so important. People did anything they could to circumvent bureaucratic layers and go straight to the top, whether in a hospital emergency room or in a business situation such as this.

"With all due respect, Assistant Secretary, I think it prudent to wait for Governor Sun."

"I believe Governor Sun himself told you that if you had any problems you should speak to me. That is my job and I'm here to help."

How tempting it was to just open his briefcase, toss Sun's documents on Amy's desk, and ask her what they meant. She was bright. Like most women in similar positions, she probably did more work and knew more about Sun's affairs than he did. Still, if Sun had committed a crime, then David would be violating China 's judicial code in discussing these affairs with the assistant secretary.

"I'll just have to wait for the governor."

"Then you'll have to wait a long while. He has already left for Knight International."

"But you said that I should come right down and I'd be able to see him."

"Unfortunately, he was unable to delay his departure. Mr. Knight wanted to meet with him before the ceremony started. If you'd gotten here earlier, then perhaps he would have been able to see you." She glanced at her watch, then offered helpfully, "You're going to be late if you don't hurry. I'm sure you don't want to miss anything."

"I've been sitting out in your lobby for the last hour," David said coldly.

"This is unlucky, but as I said before, I didn't know you were here." In light of the two phone calls that had announced his arrival, as well as the numerous people who had taken a gander at him, this seemed disingenuous at the very least.

"And, I might add, as I was sitting there, I didn't see Governor Sun leave the building."

Amy smiled at David in a pitying way. "Attorney Stark, surely you don't believe that a building such as this would only have one exit." She paused, then added, "Perhaps if you come back on Monday or Tuesday, the governor will be able to accommodate you." She opened the top drawer of her desk, pulled out an appointment book, opened it, and looked at David expectantly.

Again, this kind of runaround was common in China, but it wasn't common to David. Not only was he used to appointments being met- certainly as an assistant U.S. attorney he was accustomed to being treated with respect-but he was feeling very much at the mercy of circumstances. So, he did the one thing he shouldn't have. He lost his temper.

He stood, leaned over the assistant secretary's desk, and said gruffly, "Tell your boss I'll see him later. Tell him it won't be so easy for him to avoid me. Tell him…" David looked down at Assistant Secretary Gao. She looked frightened, and he wondered just how far he could or should go. He wanted the urgency of his message relayed, and he wanted to guarantee a prompt response. The only way to do that was to shade the truth. "Tell him I understand what he was doing. Tell him I have other documents that will be of great concern to him."

David didn't wait for a response, sensing that the impact of his words would be greater if he walked out. Once he had left, however, he felt anxiety bubbling up in him again. Miss Gao was young and, for all he knew, inexperienced. What if she didn't understand the seriousness of his words? What if she dismissed him as just another rude American? As David stepped back into the sweltering heat, he knew he'd done the best he could given the circumstances. But after the revelations of last night, he'd hoped to grab the loose ends, examine them, make sense of them. Instead it was quarter to eleven, he was sweating like a pig in a government courtyard, and all that he'd accomplished was a conversation that by Chinese standards could only be considered ill-mannered and lacking finesse.