The First Excellence: Fa-Ling's Map (35 page)

“
It’s on the list.” Fa-ling smiled. The sound of her mother’s voice was like a tonic to her. Whenever she came up against the old feelings of unworthiness, all she needed to dispel those negative emotions were a few words from the one woman who would love her forever, no matter what.

“
How was Nanning?”

“
It was beautiful. Still has a lot of the old China. Lots of colour and sound.” She paused, toying with the idea of telling her mother about Yong-qi, then deciding against it. “I visited Guilin,” she finally said.

“
How did that go?”

“
I saw Shujia. The place hasn’t changed much. Or maybe it has, but I am blind to the changes.”

“
The more things change…” her mother said.

“…
the more they stay the same,” Fa-ling finished for her.

“
I guess Shujia must be getting old now.”

“
She is still beautiful. A few more lines, but you know those Chinese women don’t show their ages.”

“
Not like us English girls.”

“
No,” Fa-ling chuckled, “not like us. Is Daphne awake yet?”

“
I heard her moving when the phone rang. I’ll check.”

“
Wait. Before you go, Mom, I just want to say…I love you.”

“
I love you too, honey. Get home safely. I’ll wake Daphne now. See if you can find out what’s going on with her. She heads straight to her room as soon as she gets home these days.”

“
I’ll try.”

There was a pause as Mom went upstairs and knocked on Daphne’s door. Daphne picked up, but didn’t say anything until she heard the click of their mother replacing the receiver on the kitchen phone.

“
Fa-ling, is that you?”

“
Nah, it’s the big bad wolf. Good morning, Sleepyhead. How are you?”

“
Not so good. Fa-ling, I really need you to come home.”

“
I’ll be there at the end of the week. What’s going on?”

“
I need you here before I talk to Mom and Dad. I’m pregnant.”

That piece of news hung for a full minute in the electronic space between the two ends of the globe. Finally Fa-ling regained her senses.

“
Does Nick know?” Nicholas Farrell was Daphne’s high school sweetheart, a good-looking boy from an Irish Canadian family. They were not wealthy, like Michael’s family was, but they were well off and they had big plans for their only son. It was not likely their plans included his settling down at eighteen to raise a baby with a Chinese girl. It wouldn’t matter that Daphne’s own parents were respected in the community. They saw Daphne as someone who was not quite good enough — an Asian orphan.

“
I haven’t told anyone,” Daphne said. “I wanted to talk to you first.”

Despite the dire situation, Fa-ling could not repress a tiny swell of pride. Daphne needed her. She turned to Fa-ling for the most important of advice. Fa-ling forced herself to bury her pride for a moment. Daphne needed to make an important decision, and she would need the best advice a mother could offer.

“
You need to speak with Mom,” she said.

“
I want you with me when I do.”

“
Can you wait that long? I’ll be home on Sunday.”

“
I’ll have to wait. It won’t be easy. I’m starting to get morning sickness.”

“
How far along are you?”

“
About six weeks. I found out just before you left. I was afraid to tell you, in case you decided not to go, but as soon as you left I realised that was a mistake. Every day with this secret is like a year. I just want to let it out and get it over with.”

“
Have you seen a doctor?”

“
Not yet. I’m sorry to shove this on you, but until I spoke with you I just couldn’t talk to anyone else.”

“
It’s going to be all right,” Fa-ling said. “Don’t worry. I’m going to call Mom. I’ll tell her you’ve been having some problems with Nick. That will explain your moodiness. Hopefully, she won’t press the point till I get back. But please, stop hiding out in your room. It’s driving Mom and Dad crazy.”

“
I’ll try.”

Reluctantly, Fa-ling broke the electronic connection that bound her to her sister. She rubbed her eyes, unsure of how to deal with this news. Daphne had never been rebellious. She was a nice girl, always the one to go the extra distance to show their parents respect. She was the one who tried, in every way, to imitate their mother.

When Fa-ling pictured Daphne, it was often with a pang of jealousy for the affection her sister showed to their mother. In her mind she saw them together, her sister’s youthful face offering a smile that was a replica of their mother’s radiant, toothy grin. Of course, Mom’s smile was less beautiful, being marred as it was by the scars of that fire…

Fa-ling recalled the first time Dad had told her the story. His grief was still raw after all of these years. He told her how Mom had run first to the room of their youngest son, but could see through the flames it was already too late to save him. His charred body lay near the door where he had tried to escape.

Dad ran after her down the hall. It was obvious the fire had already consumed the part of the house where the boys slept. She would not be stopped. She dragged their oldest son from his bed. The fire had not yet touched him, but the smoke had long since finished the job. Mom could not see he was dead. She half-carried, half dragged him to the staircase, demanding her husband take him the rest of the way to safety.

Mom’s hair was on fire, so she ran back to the master en-suite to wet a towel and wrap it around her head. Unfortunately, the flames had already destroyed a layer of skin on the left side of her face.

For years afterwards, well-meaning friends and acquaintances would take her aside, discretely suggesting that a good plastic surgeon might be able to rebuild the tissue and restore her former beauty. Fa-ling’s mother would nod graciously and promise to look into it.

She never did. Fa-ling suspected Mom saw her scars as reminders of her lost sons, and as proof she had tried to save them. She could never find it in herself to part with them.

Unlike her friends, Mom was able to see the true beauty that was represented by that facial deformation. That is why, no matter how lonely Fa-ling sometimes felt when she remembered the ‘night of the great abandonment’, she knew she would never really be alone. How could she be, with such a mother at her side?

She thought about Daphne’s situation.

It would be all right ― Fa-ling was sure of it. Once she was home, they would both sit down with Mom and Dad and let the truth come out.

“
Come on, young man!” Sun shouted at the hotel room door. “We have places to go, people to see.”

Randy did not understand what Sun was saying, but he knew the older man was ready to leave on their excursion. They’d arrived in Beijing the previous day. Randy could not believe how exhausted he was. The rigorous travel schedule had taken a toll.

Minister Sun and his cheerful wife Wen did not seem to be effected at all. Their good friend Lee was tired after the flight, opting to skip dinner and spend the evening in his room. Randy followed his example. Sun and his wife just laughed, saying the two old ladies they were travelling with would miss an excellent meal.

Randy dressed and joined Sun in the hallway. Once again, the younger man would play the part of the Minister’s sulky nephew, his cell phone earpiece fitted firmly in place and the control device for taking pictures hidden in the pocket of his jeans. Sun insisted they use a rental car rather than hiring a taxi.

They arrived at the brick kiln just after 8:30 am to find it already in full operation. Sun’s visit was expected, and of course the premises were in the best possible working order. All minors had been removed and an adult-only shift was on duty. While Sun kept the kiln manager busy with questions in his office, Randy wandered around the facility, hoping to stumble upon the children’s quarters.

Even cleaned up as they were in preparation for the inspection, it was obvious the crew of the second largest brick kiln in Beijing was not accustomed to being pampered. Randy wondered what wage each man earned, if indeed they were given a salary. There had been reports of slavery, of children and young adults being kidnapped and forced into this particularly hellish labour.

At the back of the facility, Randy found a door. A sign above it had characters that he guessed were the Chinese equivalent of ‘Emergency Exit’. When he was sure no one was looking, Randy pushed the door open and stepped outside, finding himself in the inner compound of the facility.

The compound held two separate, smaller buildings. With his ear-clip firmly in place, he wandered over to the first building. The door was locked, but he was able to see through a small, dusty window. The building appeared to be a bunkhouse of sorts, filled with cots that were all empty at this hour of the morning. This must be where the work crew slept.

Randy made his way to the second building, trying the door without any hope it would open. To his surprise, it did.

He entered a bunkhouse similar to the first one, but smaller and filled with cots. A hundred pairs of eyes stared back at him, frightened to be discovered on an unprecedented ‘day off’. There were no girls, at least none of the children were identifiable as being female. Randy stared at the boys, shocked, until at last he remembered why he was there. He turned, looking all around the room, snapping photos from every angle. Then he held a finger to his mouth, his message to the children one they could easily understand. They did not utter a word as Randy hurried out and made his way back to the main facility.

It was imperative the camera not be confiscated. Randy knew that, if he could make it home with these photos, he would have the story that would make his career. More than that, though, he had an obligation to ensure this set of shots especially was published.

He waited another fifteen minutes before his ‘uncle’ returned, followed by the obsequious plant manager.

“
Very good,” Sun said, looking at his watch once they were safely back in his rental car. “Still early.”

“
What about the children?” Randy asked.

“
It would be unwise to take action today,” Sun said. “At the end of this week, an anonymous letter will be posted on the Internet. My contacts in the media will ensure it is run in entirety. At the same time, a call will be placed to the Beijing police.”

“
Will they shut this place down?”

“
Oh, yes, indeed. This kiln will be shut down by Saturday, and these children will be returned to their families. With the media paying close attention, our police can sometimes surprise us with their heroism.”

And so ended Randy’s photo-journalistic tour of the Beijing Number 5 Brick Kiln.

Shopei hovered outside of the hospital, hiding amongst a group of nurses who were taking a break at a cluster of picnic tables near the parking lot. Her courage carried her this far, but she didn’t know what to do next. It was unlikely the government agents were still in the hospital ― unless, of course, they were waiting for her…

Courage, Shopei knew, is not the absence of fear, but rather the will to act in the face of fear. She had never allowed fear to dictate her actions, and she was not about to start. She made her way toward the side entrance of the building.

Before opening the door, she took one last look at the group of nurses where they sat laughing and gossiping, then let her eyes range over the parking lot…

…
and there it was! At first she thought she must have imagined it. It was inconspicuous, an ordinary brown sedan wedged in between a handful of clean, bright cars parked in the row closest to the hospital.

There dangling from the rear-view mirror was the familiar ring with its dream-net, the blue feather hanging proudly in its centre.

They were here in this hospital, the men who had murdered her family! She understood everything Master Long had told her about revenge. Just the same, knowing those men were so close made all of her noble intentions seem irrelevant. Her anger had been threatening to erupt for days. In fact, before she left Grandfather’s house, she had wracked her brain trying to think of a weapon she could carry with her to the hospital, but Master Long kept no guns in his home. His only knives were large meat and vegetable cleavers that would not make good hidden weapons. He ate with chopsticks, so he owned no other cutlery.

She had, however, found something useful in Grandfather’s bedroom dresser. It was the tracking device Detective Wang had given to him, seeing the old man’s fascination with gadgetry. She reached into her pocket, wrapping her hand around the locator.

She would attach it to the brown sedan. But how? She knew nothing about cars. Then she noticed one of the nurses in the group was chewing gum.

Shopei ran into the hospital, making her way to the gift shop. She bought a pack of the stickiest, sweetest gum she could find, chewing up a great pink wad as she ran back to the lot. There was no time to lose. The men might come out at any time and see her near their car.

She ran her hand around the rear fender. Unfortunately she could not find a lip to hold the tracking device securely. The back bumper, though, proved useful, possessing a moulded shape that scooped inward and upward at the bottom. She plucked the gum from her mouth, fixing it to the back of the device and stuck the works onto the inner ridge of the bumper.