The Season of the Stranger (28 page)

The man thought. They waited. The man's face showed nothing for a moment and then he was laughing.

He stopped laughing and shook his head at her. “You know he would not admit you.” He was still amused. “You yourself cannot return to his house. And as far as I know a student has never crossed its threshold.” He shook his head again. “I am afraid you have the wrong solution.”

“You could leave us at the student center,” she said.

“I do not know,” he said.

They stood in the pool of light, all of them silent. In the brightness the man's face looked young and smooth. She could see clearly the fine diagonal twill of his uniform. She saw what had been odd about his appearance: he was wearing no overcoat. He showed no sign of chill. His quiet and his immobility were at first impressive, as though here were the kind of man to whom nothing was sufficient cause for impropriety, for haste, for vulgarity. The pause wore on. The gravely thoughtful look remained on his face, and no movement disturbed the graceful balance of his body; and then the moment was outlived and the time for impressiveness was gone, and what had been dignity became posturing, the empty meaningless conduct of a man who was directed by other men and who thought that the fact of his subordination could be hidden and who tried to hide it by arrogating what he thought were the universally admirable qualities of his directors. He saw her eyes and the change in her face, and perhaps he knew what she was thinking. His body relaxed, and when he spoke his voice was tired, almost apologetic.

“There were some students, you see, in the plot. So we must be very careful. You, Miss Hsieh, will be escorted to the student center. You, Mr Cheng, will come with us.”

“Where?” Cheng asked.

“It does not matter,” the man said.

“What will you do to him?” she asked.

“To him?” Now the voice was mild, objecting. “Not ‘to him'. He will be questioned, and if his answers are satisfactory he will be released.”

She took Cheng's hand. “Then there is no need for further talk.”

“No,” the man said. “No need at all.” He turned. “Captain,” he called.

The door opened and the lieutenant trotted around the automobile to them. “Yes?”

“Will you take Miss Hsieh in the front seat with you?”

“Of course,” the lieutenant said.

“You can discuss ranks and promotions with her,” the man said. “If you will come with me, Mr Cheng.”

The lieutenant took her arm. The thin grip frightened her until she remembered about the missing fingers. He opened the door for her and closed it behind her and walked around the automobile to get in on the driver's side. The white-haired man and Cheng were in the back seat.

During the ride she watched Cheng. He sat huddled back in darkness. She could not see his face except when they passed a streetlamp; then he would lean forward slightly and stare up at the light until it was gone. There were tears in his eyes. Next to him the man appeared to be asleep.

At the student center she reached over and pressed Cheng's hand again. He did not react at all except to let her see the tears in his eyes. She nodded. The white-haired man got out as she did, saying, “I will see you safely inside.”

She rang the bell. The caretaker must have been sleeping; she had to ring three times. Finally he came, and they heard the bolt being drawn back. She looked up at the white-haired man. “I will wait until you have locked the gate,” he said. “There may be dangerous people in the streets tonight.” He smiled. “Your safety is very important.”

“You mean you were ordered to see that I was unharmed?”

He continued to smile.

“I was not to be allowed to return home, but I was not to be harmed.” The gate swung open. “Is that it?” The caretaker blinked stupidly at them.

“Good night, Miss Hsieh,” the man said.

She went in. She tried to look back at the automobile while the caretaker was closing the gate, but the white-haired man was standing where she had left him, smiling and blocking the view. The caretaker shot home the bolt and started walking off. She followed him and took his arm. A moment later they heard the automobile leave.

She swung the caretaker around and looked at him. “Where is there a telephone?”

He said, “What?”

“Do not be old and stupid,” she said. “A telephone.”

“A telephone,” he said. “Well.” He thought.

Cheng would very soon be wherever they were taking him, perhaps fifteen minutes. “Hurry,” she said. “Tell me where I can find a telephone.” She articulated clearly and slowly. “Has no one ever asked you before?”

The worried look left his face. “Of course,” he said. “A man asked me just last week. A student. He missed the last bus and he had an examination in the morning. So he wanted to call to tell them he might be late.” He beamed at her.

“Fine,” she said. “Now listen closely. Where did the student go to telephone?”

It will take half an hour to arrange everything, but they will not deal with Cheng immediately. Unless it is already too late and they have dealt with him in the automobile
.

“The pharmacy,” he said. “That was it. The pharmacy.”

“Where is the pharmacy?”

“The Western Gate Pharmacy,” he said.

“Where?”

He pointed. “To the left. One block, perhaps a block and a half.”

“Good,” she said. “Now open the gate.”

He looked at her. “Do you want to go out?”

“Yes. Open the gate.”

“But it is after midnight. And there is a curfew.”

She took him by the shoulders. “Keep quiet. Do not say another word. Go and open the gate.”

He opened the gate. “Do not go to sleep,” she said. “I may be back in a few minutes.” He shook his head. She left.

Walking to the pharmacy she stayed close to the walls. It was unnecessary. The streets were empty. Somewhere nearby there must have been a policeman, but he was not in sight.
The old man
she thought.
Something happens a month ago and he remembers it as last week. Last week. The stupid
and then the anger left her and she thought
Someday I will remember tonight as ten years ago
.

When she reached the pharmacy she pressed herself into the doorway and rang the bell. When nothing happened she went around to the side of the building to see if there was another gate. She never found out. A light went on inside the store and she ran back to the doorway.

When the door opened she rushed into the store, past the proprietor, and called back that he should close the door and come immediately. While he closed the door she was looking for the telephone. Nothing. The proprietor came in and switched on more lights.

“Turn them off,” she said.

He was young, perhaps eighteen. He must have been the proprietor's son. He was shorter than she was and his wrists were thin. “Who are you?” he asked her.

“Turn off the lights,” she said. “I will not hurt you. I need the telephone.”

“Why do you want the lights off?”

“I … there is a curfew.”

“It is not a blackout,” he said. “We may keep the lights on.”

“They will know that I have been out after curfew.”

He shrugged. “A light means nothing. No one will come looking.”

“The student center is nearby. They worry about the students.”

“Are you a student?”

“No,” she said. “Yes.”

He examined her without expression. He opened the door. “I think you had better go.”

She walked up to him and stood very close to him, so that she would have to look down when she talked to him.

“My name is Hsieh Li-ling,” she said. “My father's name is Hsieh Ming-p'u. Perhaps you know the name. If you do not, I will tell you. Hsieh Ming-p'u is very important in the government. He has killed and lied his way to great power. I am not proud of that. But he could have you killed and your store demolished and not a word would be said. Now I need money and I will telephone for it and when it comes you will have some. Where is the telephone?”

He backed away. “There,” he pointed, “behind the counter.”

She went to it. After she had dialed she said, “Turn off the lights and close the door.” The lights went off.

The ringing went on interminably. The boy was leaning on the counter. She could not see his face. The ringing stopped. A voice came over the wire.

“Dean Chou?”

“This is he,” the voice said.

“This is Hsieh Li-ling.”

There was silence. Then he said, “What must I do?”

She told him.

“All right,” he said.

“Good,” she said. “Do it quickly.”

“Money,” the boy said.

“Dean Chou.”

“Yes?”

“Tell him to bring extra money.”

She hung up. The boy and she looked at each other. “You will wait here?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. I am happy to have been of service. But I do not think that you will get your friend out of jail.”

“That is not your business,” she said. “Keep quiet about it.”

He shrugged.

“Where can I sit down?” she asked him.

He stepped behind the counter and came back with a small chair. He set it near the wall. She sat down and leaned her head back against the wall. She closed her eyes.

In the darkness he said, “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes,” she said. “A cup of tea would be fine.”

I wish Han-li could know
she thought. That Han-li was unaware and probably asleep was suddenly very funny.
All the world asleep, and I performing in a pharmacy
. It was so funny. She was tired.

He had laughed a long time and then he had said
You can never again go home
but now she was going home.
What would he think of that. Would that cloud his clear untroubled eyes. I am going home
.

It was all so funny. When the boy came with the tea the tears were slipping into the corners of her smile.

PART THREE

18

They brought him back at about five in the morning. Wen-li had been sitting in the kitchen smoking and drinking a little hot wine. It was a cold morning. Even in the kitchen it was cold. He was sleepy and hoping they would come soon. Then he heard the sound of the automobile coming up the road from the library and after a minute the light swept through the window and flickered across the opposite wall and then they were in the courtyard. He went out to open the front door. The boy was standing there with Mr Girard and the girl beside him and when the boy saw him coming he took a step toward him and put out his hand and said, “Glad to see you.” Wen-li took his hand and nodded. The boy looked as though he had been drinking yellow wine all evening, but when Wen-li took his hand he could feel the boy's happiness and he knew that it was not wine, so he smiled at him and nodded again. He opened the door and they all went in and he followed. When they had settled themselves he said, “Would you like some tea?” Mr Girard nodded so he went out and made tea.

The boy needed something to calm him, Wen-li could tell. Even that night Wen-li thought of him as “the boy”. He did not know what had happened to the boy and all he knew was that the government had had hold of him, that was bad enough, and still he was “the boy”. The boys and the girls, he always thought of them. And he was only thirtytwo himself. Anyway the boy needed something to calm him. So Wen-li put everything on a tray and put a small cup of hot wine next to the boy's teacup and carried it all inside.

They were all sitting there talking, with a brightness in their eyes. While Wen-li put the tea on the table the boy was moving his hands telling them how the soldiers had taken him to the North Central Barracks and put him in a room by himself. He said he had heard them walking around outside his door and talking and the only word he heard clearly was “treason”, and then there had been more arguing but he could not hear much of it. Wen-li took his time pouring tea and placing a cup next to each of them. He was glad that he had always served slowly and carefully and not been in people's way, because tonight no one noticed that he was slower and more careful than usual. Then the boy said they had taken him out of his room and to another room. It had been dark in the first room and in the second room there was only one kerosene lamp. There was a man sitting at a desk in the second room and a soldier standing inside the door with a rifle. They made the boy stand in front of the desk. Then they asked him questions about the plot. He said to Mr Girard and the girl that he had not known about the plot but that the more questions the man asked him the more he wished he had known about it because he kept feeling that he would have liked to be in it. But he kept telling the man that he did not know anything and the man began to get angry.

Wen-li finished placing the tea and then he went to the door. He stood near the door. No one noticed him so he stayed where he was. He was trying to look as though he would ask if they wanted anything more, as soon as he could interrupt politely. Meanwhile the boy was saying that they had threatened him. They had said that he was lying and that they knew he was lying and if he did not tell the truth by morning they would put him in jail for treason. Then the boy said something that surprised Wen-li. He said that the man had said there were several hundred students in jail in the City who had been in jail for four or five years, and there were even some who had been in jail before the Japanese came and had been kept in jail and were still there. The man had asked him how he would like that to happen to him. Wen-li was figuring. The Japanese came in the twentysixth year of the republic and it was now the second month of the thirty-eighth and if the students had been in jail for one year before the Japanese came that would make twelve or thirteen years in jail. Some of them would be older than he was by this time.