The Interior

25

BECAUSE OF THE SOUNDPROOFING IN THE BUILDING, MOST of the fatalities were in the final assembly room. By the time the fire had spread far enough to alert the women there, the fumes from the burning plastic and fiber had made any chance of survival impossible. Fortunately, almost all of the women had made it out of the primary assembly area where Hulan had worked. But here too many women lost their lives due to smoke inhalation or being crushed in the stampede. The remoteness of the factory had done little to help matters. Many women died on the way to Taiyuan. More died in the hospital, inundated as it was by so many injuries. The final death toll reached 176.

David had done his best to fight back the fire, swatting the flames with the empty burlap bags that had once held the stuffing for Sam amp; His Friends. Madame Leung, who stayed at David's side until the very end, helped his efforts. Miraculously, she'd found a couple of fire extinguishers. If not for these, they wouldn't have made it out of the building alive. For her efforts Madame Leung was given a medal by the central government.

And then there was Hulan. When David emerged from the burning building, choking, his eyes running, his lungs scorched, he found Hulan stretched out on the ground, the two girls who'd brought her out still at her side. The only way he knew she was alive was that her skin radiated an intense feverish heat. He knew that when the medical teams arrived, the doctors would dismiss Hulan as less urgent, for she looked peaceful and physically uninjured compared to the others who were in such agony from their burns. He half staggered, half ran back to the Administration Building, made his way back through the deserted hallways to the conference room, thinking that he'd have to take the car keys off Lo's body. Instead he found Lo shot but conscious. David helped Lo out to the car, drove to where Hulan was, put her in the backseat along with Siang, the girl who spoke a little English, then, under Lo's directions, pulled out of the compound and made it to the hospital in Taiyuan before the hundreds of others arrived.

It was a good thing David thought to bring Siang, because by the time they reached the hospital Lo had gone into shock. With eyes wide, Siang presented Lo's and Hulan's Ministry of Public Security credentials to the nurse, who quickly summoned help. Hulan and Lo were wheeled away, and David waited.

Siang didn't have the language skills to translate the doctors' words, but eventually someone was found who'd studied at Johns Hopkins. Still, the words-tachycardia, oliguria, anoxia, tachypnea-were as foreign and had as little meaning for David as the Mandarin. Even the terms he understood he couldn't allow himself to comprehend. The doctor seemed to be telling him that the sepsis had gone so far that Hulan's heart, brain, or liver could be overwhelmed at any moment. If the poisoning turned out to be viral, the doctor added regretfully, there was nothing anyone could do. They had twenty-four hours, if Hulan lived that long, to wait for the results of the blood culture. In the meantime Hulan was intravenously dosed with broad-spectrum antibiotics.

Those twenty-four hours were the worst of David's life. Now that he knew what Hulan had, all of her ailments of the last few days fell into place-the flu-like symptoms, the lethargy, the fever followed by chills, her rapid breathing, her racing, then feeble pulse. The guilt he felt over this was superseded only by the terror at the prospect of losing her.

Eventually the right cocktail of antibiotics was found, and Hulan's doctors announced that she would probably live. The survival of the baby, however, was still an issue. The baby's heart continued to beat, but more tests needed to be run.

By that time much had happened. Henry Knight, who survived the ordeal at the factory, led an expedition up Tianlong Mountain to ferret out Governor Sun, while Siang was informed about Tsai Bing's death and her father's hand in it. David, who never left Hulan's side, spent hours on a cell phone, talking to the partners at Phillips, MacKenzie amp; Stout, to Anne Baxter Hooper, to Nixon Chen (who was enlisted to help Henry), and to Rob Butler at the U.S. Attorney's Office. Rob and David had much to discuss, but in the meantime Rob negotiated for and won the right to send a team of forensic accountants from Los Angeles to the Knight compound to try and pull up the financial records that Doug had tried to eliminate from the computer. Through it all, David had the help and support of Vice Minister Zai, whose concern for Hulan's well-being seemed sometimes to surpass even David's.

One day Hulan's doctors crowded into her room and announced that the tests on the baby looked good. This news gave Hulan a surge of energy, and she began to regain her strength. Though Zai and the doctors preferred that Hulan be spared the details, she was adamant that she hear everything. She reviewed the media coverage, studied the photos of the burned-out building, read over the casualty list, and cried first at the number of names, then at the individual names of people she'd known. Once she was deemed well enough to return to Beijing, they flew to the capital on the Knight jet and settled back in the compound with round-the-clock nurses. Hulan's mother and her nurse came back from the seaside. Cooks and maids were brought in to help, and the compound bustled with activity. Finally there came a day when Hulan told David that he had unfinished business to attend to and that she'd be fine with all her extra caretakers. With deep misgivings, David did as he was told.

Many questions still needed to be answered, but those who might have answered them most truthfully-Miles, Doug, and Sandy-were dead. That left Aaron, Jimmy, and Amy. Aaron Rodgers, who had the great fortune to have been in Taiyuan on the day of the fire, admitted to a healthy libido befitting a twenty-five-year-old placed in the happy circumstance of being one of a handful of males amongst a thousand females. Ling Miaoshan had been the first of many conquests. His age, his isolation in the Assembly Building, and his stupidity (which became apparent to all concerned as the investigation unfolded) conspired to keep him blissfully in the dark to the financial shenanigans. As for conditions in the factory, Aaron used the predictable and well-worn excuse that he thought that's how things were supposed to be in China. As his mother and father, who flew out to Taiyuan, said, their son didn't know any better. No criminal charges were filed. He gave testimony against Jimmy and Amy in court; then his parents took him home. He would never again return to China.

David then turned his attention to Jimmy and Amy. David wasn't the only one who wanted answers, and so it was that Henry pulled himself away from the ruins of the Knight factory, where he'd worked practically without sleep since the fire, to accompany David to Taiyuan 's provincial jail. On their arrival they were handed a file pertaining to one James W. Smith, which had been faxed from the Australian authorities. As Hulan guessed when she'd first seen Jimmy, he had an extensive criminal background, which included armed robbery and a couple of cases of battery. He'd been in and out of prison since the age of eighteen. Two years ago yet another warrant had been issued for his arrest, but he'd managed to flee, ending up, the record showed, in Hong Kong. It was presumed that he had met Doug in that city, been hired, and had moved into the Knight compound even before the factory opened.

Also, as suspected, the Knight records showing that women who'd suffered injuries of one sort or another and had chosen to "go back home" proved false. Using the doctored files, Chinese investigators had contacted local Public Security Bureaus across China and ascertained that those women had never returned home. No wonder Xiao Yang had screamed so when Aaron had carried her off the factory floor. No wonder she'd been found dead not long after.

But had this murder been too hasty, a matter of convenience on a day that was busy? Or had it been part of the plot to keep pushing Henry in one direction so he wouldn't look in another? Had Jimmy thrown Xiao Yang off the roof? Had he run down Keith? The record showed that he'd been in Los Angeles on the date in question. Was he the one who'd killed Pearl and Guy? The answers to these queries would help address a major underlying question: How much of a monster had Douglas Knight been? But Jimmy Smith wasn't talking. David pleaded. Henry begged.

Obviously the local police had tried persuasion of another sort, all to no avail. Whatever Jimmy knew would die with him.

David and Henry were dealing with a bureaucracy, and for their next meeting they were asked to move to another room. The pitiful room that passed for a visiting area was filthy and stiflingly hot. Amy Gao, who ten days ago had looked so snappy in her suit at the banquet at the Beijing Hotel, now wore a dirty prison uniform. She had not been allowed to bathe, wash her hair, or brush her teeth since her confinement.

Like Jimmy, she kept quiet at first. But as David peppered her with questions, he could see her mind begin to work. David, a prosecutor, had seen that look a hundred times before. If Amy gave them information, what could she get in return?

"What do you want?" David asked when Amy finally revealed her thoughts.

"What do you think they'd be willing to give?"

"In China, as it is in the U.S., a lot depends on what you tell us…"

It was the thinnest shred of hope, but the desperation with which Amy grabbed hold of it made him realize just how young and inexperienced she was. He almost felt sorry for her, almost, that is, until she opened her mouth. With no promises written or otherwise, she plunged into her story.

Jimmy had not driven the SUV that killed Keith. Doug had been at the wheel; Amy had fired the warning shots. That David had been with Keith that evening was just an unlucky coincidence. The other women who'd disappeared from the factory had fallen under Jimmy Smith's job description. What he did with them, Amy didn't know. Pearl and Guy? She smiled when their names came up. "That was your son's genius at work, Mr. Knight," she said. They didn't ask for more details. Had Sandy Newheart been a part of the conspiracy? No. "We were always working around him," Amy explained. "He had his paperwork. We had ours." Why had he been killed? Amy sighed. "That last day things got a little out of hand," she admitted. Sandy Newheart simply had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Who pulled the trigger?" Henry Knight asked.

"Let's just say that someone didn't think that through," Amy said. Her remark, so boastful really, placed blame squarely on Doug.

"Did you get what you wanted?" David asked. "Obviously not." She smiled wistfully. "But I think you're really asking me if the ends justified the means." "If that's how you want to put it."

"You in America and the West want us to be like you," she said. "You believe that we should have democracy in your form. You believe we should be able to make money and spend it on consumer goods-your consumer goods. For centuries the West has wanted a piece of us. Sometimes you've gotten it. To me it comes down to exploitation. In the last century the British intoxicated us with opium, forced us to open our ports, and very nearly destroyed us. Now you want to come in here- into the very heart of China -and force your will upon us. You're allowed to do your very worst, and your people look the other way."

"I think you have it backwards," David cut in. "What you were doing was criminal-"

"No, it was purely American."

David looked at her aghast. This woman was either deluded or crazy. "Can you show me one thing that we did that wasn't done somewhere along the line in America 's rise to prominence?" she asked. "Look back at your history. Your growth was accomplished on the backs of slaves. You were able to finish your westward migration because of the work my countrymen did building the railroad. And you didn't limit yourselves to people of-how do you so euphemistically call it?-people of color. No, you sent women and children into factories and into mines." "All that was a long time ago."

"But today, looking back from a position of world domination and tremendous prosperity, wouldn't you have to say that the ends justified the means?"

"And what were you going to get out of it?"

Amy sneered. "You still don't see it? With Henry and Sun out of the way, we could do anything. I helped Doug, he helped me. Doug wanted your company," she said, acknowledging Henry. "I wanted the governorship."

Amy's confession, for what it was worth, gained her little but some soap, toothpaste, the promise of bottled water, and a towel.

One day when Hulan's mother and her nurse had gone to see Dr. Du and David was on a trip to Los Angeles, Hulan heard a ring at the front gate. She padded out through the courtyards and opened the door. Though it was the middle of the day, the alley had been cleared of all people except for a man who announced that her presence was required elsewhere and she should get in the car please. She obeyed, knowing that if she didn't come back, no one would ever know what had happened to her.

The driver took her through the narrow alleys of the hutong, then popped out on the opposite shore of Shisha Lake from Hulan's home. Here the driver's progress stopped while he waited for a flock of Secrets of the Hutongs Special Tourist Agency pedicabs, each loaded with one or two Westerners, to pass. This tour was a new fad in Hulan's neighborhood, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about it. On the one hand, she didn't like to see so many foreigners in this little enclave; on the other, the success of the state-owned agency might help to keep the neighborhood from being razed. As the sweating pedicab drivers slowly pedaled out of the way, Hulan stared out across the lake. Old men with fishing poles dotted the shore. Just outside her window, three skinny boys took turns jumping into the water. Their hollers, hoots, and squeals came to her on a soft breeze.

The sedan began to move again, and a few minutes later the driver pulled up to a gated compound. Like any traditional compound, the exterior walls were unpainted and gave no indication of hidden wealth. A guard ticked their names off a list, and the driver pulled inside.

Hulan had come here many times as a child and expected the compound to look smaller and less impressive. In fact, she had just the opposite sensation. The grounds were more beautiful than she remembered from those long-ago days. Gingko, camphor, and willow trees created a shadowed oasis. A stream-and Hulan remembered this vividly from playing out there with the other children of high-ranking cadres-meandered along the inside perimeter of the compound. Sponge rocks jutted from the sides of the stream. Stands of bamboo sheltered pavilions and summer houses. Birds chirped and twittered and cooed in the walls of greenery, reminding Hulan that there'd once been a dovecote behind the main house. She wondered if it was still there.

She followed the driver up the steps and into the foyer, which smelled of mothballs and mildew. They passed several formal parlors where the furniture was draped in dingy sheets, then traveled up a back staircase and down a hall with high ceilings. The driver tapped on a heavy door, slowly opened it, and motioned for Hulan to enter. As soon as she did, the door closed behind her. Five men, not one younger than seventy, sat in overstuffed chairs in a semicircle facing her. Each face was as familiar to her as if it had been her father's. Behind these five men sat two others, Hulan realized as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. One was Vice Minister Zai; the other was Governor Sun.

"Please sit, Inspector Liu Hulan," the man in the middle said, gesturing gracefully to a straight-back chair. When she hesitated, he added, "Don't rely on tradition. We know you are still weak. Sit."

Hulan sat, folded her hands in her lap, and waited. A matronly woman appeared out of the shadows along the wall, poured tea, then backed away again.

"How is your health, Liu Hulan?" "Very well, sir." "And your mother?" "She is happy to be home."

"Yes, we have heard this as well. It makes us all so…" The old politician groped for the appropriate word and failed.

Another man said, "So many traditions, eh, Xiao Hulan?" She started. She hadn't been called Little Hulan since before she'd gone to the Red Soil Farm. "They tell us how to be loyal, how to conduct conversations, how to negotiate, how to meet as husband and wife. They can be so tiresome, don't you think?"

Hulan didn't know how to respond.

"I say, we are old friends here," this second man went on. "We are not family, but I can remember when you called me uncle."

Hulan's eyes stung with tears at these words. This compound with its memories. These men-the most powerful in her country-old now, dredging up times that were perhaps better left forgotten.

As if reading her thoughts, the second man said, "We have never forgotten your family or you. There are some people in this room who wouldn't be here if not for the long-ago courage of your father and mother. And what we want to say is that your work for our nation has not gone unnoticed and we are grateful."

"We also know," the first man resumed, "that your job has come at a high price."

Her father's death. Being belittled in the press. Becoming an object of scorn in her own country. Almost losing her life and that of her child. Yes, she had paid a very high price.

"We are sorry," he said.

Up to a point, Hulan thought.

"The people of our country think one thing about you," the man continued, "but you may keep your mind easy. We know the truth."

"Yes, but I live among the people. I work among the masses."

The men looked at her in surprise. She wasn't supposed to speak at all, let alone make even the slightest criticism. Over their shoulders Hulan saw Vice Minister Zai put a weary hand over his eyes.

"We need you, Liu Hulan," the man in the middle said. "You have an understanding of the truth. You are fair. You have always been unflinching."

I've followed the wind. I've been swayed by government propaganda and thereby lost people I've loved, she thought.

"We need you more than ever, Liu Hulan," he continued. "You understand better than most about corruptibility. Sad to say, this is your family legacy, but you have used it to advantage. You also understand these foreigners who are coming into our country like ants looking for sugar." The man paused. All this time his face had been the mask of a beloved uncle. Now he added a look of concern. "We know you don't want to leave your homeland. We are proud of you for wanting to have your baby here when it would be so easy for you to travel to the homeland of its father."

"David will be back."

He nodded. "We know that, of course."

A silence settled. Dust motes drifted in a stream of light coming through the window. Finally Hulan broke with ceremony. "What do you want?"

The face of the man in the middle stretched into a thin, triumphant smile.

"On the exterior you are so Chinese, Liu Hulan," he said. "You know how to say the proper words of a filial daughter, you know all the etiquette of centuries-old tradition, but inside you are like a foreigner." On the surface these words conveyed a supreme insult, but his voice resonated with admiration. "We have an open door policy and we will not back away from it," he went on. "But with that open door we have to deal with these outsiders. We want you to help us with that." He held up a hand. "I am not asking you to leave the Ministry of Public Security. No, we want you to stay exactly where you are. You have your credentials. You have your own money. These two things give you power on the street."

"So I continue my life as it is."

The man nodded.

"With no other strings?"

"To the contrary. We are prepared to look the other way. David Stark will be allowed to return to China. You will be allowed to have your baby."

Hulan glanced over the man's shoulder to Zai. Her mentor's face was white with worry. She could almost hear him shouting at her, Take it, accept it.

Hulan cleared her throat. "One does not like to bargain with family."

Zai once again covered his eyes. Even Sun looked appalled.

"This is not a negotiation," the man on the right said sternly.

"Nevertheless," Hulan said.

"What can we do for you, Xiao Hulan?"

"Three things."

"Three?" The old men exchanged glances. This kind of request was unheard of. The man in the middle waved his hand, signaling an agreement. The man to his left said, "Tell us what they are, then we will see."

"Why were we able to leave Beijing after the murders of Pearl Jenner and Guy Lin?"

"This is your request? This is hardly worth asking!"

"But I still want to know," Hulan said.

"Vice Minister Zai advised us to give you free rein. He proved to be right about you, as always."

Yes, of course this was how it had been. She'd intuited it during her, encounter with Pathologist Fong.

"This second comes from my own curiosity," she went on. "I will never repeat it. I know what will happen if I do."

"Yes?"

"I had occasion to see Sun Gan's dangan." As she spoke these words she didn't look in Sun's direction. "There are some discrepancies to what I know to be the facts. This makes me think that he had men like you behind him. I wonder how this happened."

A heavy silence hung in the room. At last the man in the middle said, "No, not men. One man. The late but revered Premier Zhou Enlai."

As he continued speaking, the pieces clicked into place. Local cadres had sent the young Sun Gan to a mission school. His heroism at Tianlong Shan with Henry Knight had been noted and he'd been sent west, this time to spy on the Americans. However, the story in the dangan relating Sun's valor at the battle of Huai Hua was a complete falsehood. He'd been elsewhere. The place and the circumstances would remain a state secret, but he'd saved Zhou's life just as he'd saved Henry Knight's. Zhou, like Knight, had been grateful and had smoothed the way to position and promotion for his protege. These simple acts, combined with Henry Knight's "tea money," had assured Sun safety during various political campaigns, not the least of which was the Cultural Revolution.

"Sun Gan was in great trouble during what we may call the Chaos," the man in the middle said. "But instead of trying to save himself, he petitioned Premier Zhou to protect one of our country's treasures. This is why, if you were to visit the Jinci Temple famous in Shanxi Province for its Three Everlasting Springs, you would know that Premier Zhou sent- at Sun Gan's request-an armed guard to protect…"

Another piece fell into place, this one from Hulan's own past. She remembered leaving the Red Soil Farm on an excursion to Jinci. The monks had been ridiculed and struggled against. In the newer buildings Hulan and her compatriots had destroyed paintings and sculptures, but they'd not been allowed to touch the oldest and most beautiful building at Jinci, the renowned Mother Temple, defended as it was by Premier Zhou's personal guards. It was as Henry Knight said that day flying back to Taiyuan: Sun Gan, even in the most difficult circumstances, "stood firm." Unlike others in this room, herself included, he'd never wavered in his beliefs or his duties.

Hulan became aware of the others' eyes upon her, judging her, testing her loyalty and her memory.

"You have a final request, Liu Hulan," a voice said from the back row. It was Sun Can. "Perhaps this one will be more beneficial to you personally."

She answered, "There is a man. Bi Peng. He works for the People's Daily."

"Yes, we know him."

"I'm sure you do. He's written many things about me and my family at your direction."

Four of the men shifted uncomfortably in their chairs until the man in the middle laughed. "You want him sent to labor camp?"

"Perhaps he can simply be reassigned to something less malignant," Hulan said.

"It won't make you free," someone said.

"I just don't want lies being used to control me," Hulan said, her eyes searching the faces to see who'd spoken.

"What do you suggest, then?"

"I agree to your conditions. You agree to mine. I have far more to lose than you. I think you are ahead in the game. May we leave it at that?"

A few minutes later, Hulan was once again ensconced behind the tinted windows of the Mercedes. This time no attempt was made to clear the alley before her house. She left the car, ignored the worried looks of her neighbors, and ducked into the quiet of her compound. Her mother and the nurse were still out. David was still across the Pacific. She hoped they would never know of her visit to the other side of the lake.

In Los Angeles, David bunked at his house under the Hollywood sign with Special Agent Eddie Wiley. It had been a little over a month since David left Los Angeles, but already the city, his house, his own bed seemed foreign to him. He longed to be home with Hulan. Still, he went about his business. He stopped in every day at Phillips amp; MacKenzie, the " amp; Stout" having been dropped. The publicity had been bad, but as Phil Collingsworth and the other partners assured David, they'd known nothing of Miles's shenanigans. They were at pains to verify that their invitation to come back to the firm had not only been sincere but had been in the pipeline for many months before making the offer, (In retrospect, Phil recalled that Miles-while finally joining the unanimous vote-had been the only partner to voice last-minute opposition to David's return. Once he was in, Miles had manipulated the situation as only a fine- though ultimately corrupt-mind could.) Miles had been the firm rainmaker, but the firm was bigger than one man. In fact, billable hours were up thanks to Randall Craig and the various federal investigations nipping at Tartan's heels. The only real cost to the firm was in redesigning the logo on the door and reprinting the firm's stationery.

Phil and the others encouraged David to stay with the firm and keep the Beijing office open. David, whose belief in the law had been so tested during this past year, found himself drawn in by his partners' sentiments. If anything, his love of the law had been reaffirmed. Justice didn't always follow the rulebook. The outcome could often be unsatisfactory and unsatisfying, but this time around David felt that, despite the twists and turns, justice might be served.

His duty to seeing that happen was not yet done. All of the principals were either dead or awaiting execution in China. However, the story had indeed sparked the interest of the U.S. Attorney's Office, which had initiated a thorough investigation into Tartan's overseas operations. As a result David spent several days testifying before the grand jury, but most of his responses consisted of "I can't answer that due to attorney-client privilege." Since he no longer had an office in the criminal courts building, he holed up in Rob Butler's. There weren't many witnesses who were accorded such VIP treatment, but David and Rob were friends. That friendship made it all the harder for David to ask Rob why he hadn't told him about Keith.

"Told you?" Rob said. "What could I have told you? He came in here wanting to get political asylum for that girl, but he had no proof that she was in any political danger or that she was an important dissident. Then he asked me if the reason I wouldn't help was because we were investigating him. I told him we'd checked out what that reporter had written months before and had found nothing. But Keith didn't believe me."

David thought back to Keith's mood on that last night-his desperation, his anxiety, even his anger. So much misery could have been prevented if Keith had only told the truth. Rob and David too, for that matter.

"Before I went to China I asked you straight out-"

"If there was a Keith Baxter investigation and if there was any chance that Keith could have been the target and not you on that night," Rob finished for him. "First, I want you to know that I never would have let you go to China if I thought Keith had been the intended victim. But how could I have thought that anyway? Keith came to me about a girl-"

"What about the investigation?"

"That day Madeleine said there wasn't one, and there wasn't. But I also said that maybe his name had come up in another matter."

"And what was I supposed to take from that?"

"What I would have taken if the tables had been reversed. Nothing. Look, I couldn't tell you why he was here, just like you couldn't tell all of us what was happening in China. We have that pesky thing called confidentiality. And remember, Keith was my friend too. He was dead. Was it any of your business that he'd come in here with some crack-brained scheme-lying to me the whole while, by the way-to get his girlfriend over here? I decided the least I could do to protect his memory was keep my mouth shut. You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same."

This caused David to look even closer at his own actions. What if he'd confronted Miles at the funeral, pushing past the platitudes and facile excuses? But like Rob, David had made protecting his friend's memory a priority. Then, when the job offer came up, it had been so easy to bury his concerns as he became consumed with the idea of getting back to Hulan. He'd have to live with the knowledge of that moment of selfishness for the rest of his life.

Two days later, after completing his testimony, David found himself drawn to the Stout estate, having heard that Mary Elizabeth was going back to Michigan. The driveway was chockablock with trucks from moving companies, auction houses, and charitable organizations. David wandered inside and found Mary Elizabeth, in jeans and a T-shirt, orchestrating the packing and giving away of her family's worldly possessions. A sorrowful look came over her face when she saw him, and-wordlessly she motioned for him to follow her. They stood out on the terrace. It was a beautiful late summer day, and the scent of roses filled the air.

"I never wanted all this." Mary Elizabeth's gesture took in the gardens, the mansion, the view, the life she and Miles had built. "But he wanted it. He wanted it badly."

"How much did you know?"

"I only knew his dreams," she answered. "And even those were always… I knew he was unhappy. Remember back when Michael Ovitz left CAA and moved to Disney? He was arguably the most powerful man in Hollywood, but he still had to fetch Julia Roberts a glass of mineral water if she asked for it. Well, that's how Miles felt. He made tons of money, but he had to be available whenever a client wanted him."

David remembered what Doug had said about Miles. "Is it true that Tartan had offered him a job?"

"Yes, as general counsel. He would have been the client, don't you see?"

There seemed nothing more to say, and they turned back toward the house. Mary Elizabeth reached out and put a trembling hand on his arm. "Did he…" She began in a quavering voice, but she couldn't finish.

"No, he didn't suffer. He didn't even know what happened."

In early September, Hulan was resting on a chaise longue in the central courtyard of her family compound when Neighborhood Committee Director Zhang paid her customary call. The old woman, wearing a black jacket and black trousers, hung onto David's arm and wrinkled her face up at him in delight as he escorted her outside. She sat down opposite Hulan on a porcelain garden stool. As soon as David went inside to make tea, Madame Zhang said, "He is funny, that one. I see he is practicing his Mandarin, but aiya, to my ears it is frightful and hilarious at the same time." Hulan had been trying to teach David basic sentences: Welcome. How are you? Okay. How much? That's too expensive. How is your son? Can you tell me… But he was as competent as a toddler in split pants. Lately she'd begun to think it would be better for him to forget the project entirely because his tones were abysmal, and, as Madame Zhang noted, they resulted in some amusing mistakes.

"What did he say today?"

"Qing wen…" Madame Zhang said, purposely missing the fourth tone of wen and replacing it with a third, thereby changing the meaning from "Please, may I ask" to "Please kiss."

Hulan smiled as the Neighborhood Committee director cackled in pleasure.

"He could kiss me if he wants," the old woman added. "He is not so ugly as I once thought."

David returned with the tea, set it on the table, and retired to the other side of the courtyard, where Hulan's mother, her nurse, and Vice Minister Zai sat under the twisting branches of the jujube. Jinli didn't understand who David was, although she accepted his presence without question; nor did she understand that she would soon be a grandmother. But she seemed to find comfort in her childhood home and, while still not appreciating the raucous cymbals, gongs, and drums of the yang ge troupe, had grown more accustomed to the cacophonous morning ritual. David had found another way to deal with it. He'd joined the troupe.

"He is a foreigner," Madame Zhang continued. "This we can never forget. But he isn't so bad." This compliment was of the highest order, and the old woman moved quickly to ward off any evil that might result by cautiously explaining herself. "He minds his own business. He knows enough to sweep the snow in front of his own doorstep and not bother about the frost on top of his neighbor's roof. And yet he has shown high regard for our neighborhood and our neighbors. He is polite and respectful. And you should know"-she leaned forward and put a gnarled hand on Hulan's knee-"the neighbors are appreciative of the way he cares for you."

"I'm pleased that they're happy," Hulan said diplomatically.

A gauzy look came over Madame Zhang's wrinkled face as she gazed over in David's direction. Despite all of her attempts to remain critical, she was as smitten with David as if she were a schoolgirl.

"For so many years," the Committee director continued dreamily, "the government has talked about what is good for the masses. But these days I wonder. What if individual happiness can serve the people more than anything else?"

"I would never argue with our government," Hulan said.

The old woman frowned at her neighbor's stupidity; always this girl was mindful, so careful of every word. Madame Zhang had come here not completely in her official position-although she never forgot her duty-but as an old woman who had seen her neighbor happy and at peace for the first time since she was a small child. This house deserved to have joy and tranquility again, and she would do what she could to make that happen. So, instead of debating with her obtuse neighbor, she went on as though Hulan had not spoken at all.

"In this spirit," Madame Zhang said, "I've been thinking about a marriage certificate. Your David is a foreigner, yes, but I think I can make a recommendation that even the old-liners will accept."

Did the Committee director expect Hulan to believe that these were her own original thoughts? It had probably been the old men from the compound across the lake who had sent her here today. But what use was there in pointing this out? Instead Hulan folded her hands over her swelling stomach and looked across the courtyard at David. He chanced to look up and cocked his head as if waiting for her to ask him a question. With their eyes locked, Hulan said softly, "We'll see, auntie, we'll see."

Her duty done, the old woman paid her respects to Jinli and left. David came to sit at Hulan's side and, as they had repeatedly over these last few weeks, went back over the events leading to the conflagration at Knight. His orderly mind had boiled everything down to greed. The old men in the Silk Thread Cafe had been greedy, getting their kickbacks from Doug via Amy Gao. Tang Dan and Miles Stout had clearly been motivated by greed. And it had all started because Henry Knight was greedy in his own way.

Unwilling to share his company with his less talented son, Henry had unwittingly set the whole catastrophe in motion. And as much as David liked the man, he couldn't help but acknowledge that greed was what was keeping Henry going now. A makeshift assembly area-based on Doug's plans-had been set up in the Knight warehouse, and even now women were working overtime to get boxes of Sam amp; His Friends in the stores by Christmas. With all the additional publicity, the supply really couldn't meet the demand. More than that, the articles in the papers- and there'd been countless-had portrayed the Sam amp; His Friends technology as so revolutionary that it had caused… Well, the whole thing sounded positively Shakespearean.

In the meantime, Knight International's stock had gone through the roof, and Henry had, to considerable acclaim, unveiled a plan to link executive pay to fair labor practices, especially regarding child labor, since, as he kept repeating, "We're in the toy business. We create toys for children, not jobs!" Community groups, a reorganized board of directors, as well as a consortium of international watchdog organizations would carry out inspections. (This one action, if it was to be believed, wiped out half of Knight's workforce. Peanut and so many others had been sent "home," meaning that they'd simply moved on to other factories with less discriminating owners.) Henry's actions were not as noble as it seemed at first glance. When he wasn't giving interviews or testifying before Congress, he was talking to studios and conglomerates all over the world for what the international media was calling "the largest global out-licensing campaign of all time." It seemed that Doug's predictions had been frighteningly accurate.

Of course, all the attention had spurred the media to cover a different aspect of the story. Chinese woman migrant workers were changing the face of the countryside. Unlike their male counterparts, these women either sent their earnings home to their peasant families, increasing the household income by forty percent, or were saving their salaries so they might return to their villages to open little businesses. It was estimated that women who'd returned from foreign factories owned nearly half of all shops and cafes in rural villages. Suddenly Chinese peasant girls were seen by their families as leaders of social and economic change; as a result, in the last calendar year female infanticide had dropped for the first time in recorded history. As a Ford Foundation scholar noted, female migrant workers were the single most important element transforming Chinese society. "This is happening on a scope unprecedented worldwide, and it means radical, revolutionary changes for women." If anything, these stories soothed the consciences of parents around the world who needed to have Sam and Cactus and Notorious and the rest of the Friends in time for the holidays. Or, as Amy Gao might have put it, if there was one thing Americans admired, trusted, and believed in more than democracy, it was capitalism.

Hulan had heard all this before and once again repeated her view. "This wasn't caused by greed. It was love."

When she'd first said this back in the hospital, David hadn't believed her, for she was not a woman given over to mushy sentiments. But she had stuck to her theory now for weeks without much other explanation. In fact, since his return from Los Angeles, he'd noticed a certain bitterness in her thoughts, but perhaps after what she'd been through this was to be expected. That day in the factory she'd drawn on her last bit of strength to save not only David and Henry but all those other women. She'd been left so physically weak and emotionally frail that her usual defenses were in tatters.

"I've never experienced unconditional love like Suchee's for Miao-shan or even Keith's for Miaoshan," she said, finally expanding on her idea. "She had a lot of faults, but she must have been a remarkable woman to elicit that kind of devotion."

"Maybe they weren't so blind," David interrupted. "Yes, she was manipulative, but somewhere along the line she shifted. She had nothing personal to gain from trying to organize the women in the factory, and the way she divided up the materials tells me that she really wanted to make sure that information got out. She had energy, brains, and in other circumstances things might have turned out differently for her." He paused, then asked, "What about Doug? You can't believe he acted out of love."

"Him most of all. Think of what he did to prove himself to his father. Then think of how on that last day, Henry was willing to take the blame for everything-the corruption, the murders-to protect his son. He begged us to bring him back to Beijing to face the consequences. And in our own ways we deceived ourselves and each other despite love, for love…" She closed her eyes. When she opened them, he saw nothing but sorrow. "I look back at my parents and the way I was brought up, and I wonder at all of it. I think of my work and how I see the very worst in people. But for me it's easier than the alternative."

"The alternative?"

"To give myself over fully to love," she said, at last admitting her deepest fear. She looked away again and stared over at Zai, her mother, and her nurse. "Suchee says I've run away my entire life. Maybe I have, because staying opens up the possibility of losing love and being hurt." When she turned back to him, her eyes glittered with tears. "I don't think I could stand losing you or the baby."

"You're not going to lose us," he said. "I'm here and the baby's coming." He tried to be light. "You're always so good with your proverbs. Well, I have a few of my own. You can run, but you can't hide. It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. You don't know if you don't like spinach unless you've tried it."

"Those aren't proverbs! They're cliches."

"Well, hear this, then." He took her hand and kissed it. "I'll never leave you, Hulan. That's just the way it is."