Two Peasants and a President (21 page)

These minders kept an eye on everyone.  They knew when to expect the menstrual cycle of every young woman on their floor and were alert to make sure it was not skipped lest a prohibited child be born.  They knew when their charges were ill and did not make it to their jobs.  They were vigilant for the slightest vestige of an illicit romance.  In short, they were most ‘helpful
.
’

But there are always ways to skirt a bureaucracy, provided that one is careful and alert.  Getting caught was universally dreaded.  Scarcely a resident in any of these buildings did not know at least a relative of someone who had made a careless mistake.  The penalty could be quite severe, pa
r
ticularly in this city.

Ping smiled as she passed the open door of the one who watched, lest a frown or unhappy sigh elicit further attention.  People smiled whenever they neared a minder; it was an old joke that a smile didn’t necessarily convey t
he happiness in your breast, only
the heartbeat in your chest.  The petite lady continued on her way to visit an old friend, one whose family had also lived in one of the crude brick houses about to be demolished.  A elevator with peeling paint lowered her to a cheerless lobby where another minder sat watching who came and went. 

Three buildings down, the process was reversed.  When she reached the door of her friend, she knocked lightly.  The door was opened by a smiling woman in her sixties.  She motioned her visitor into the tiny apar
t
ment.  Her husband raised his hand in greeting.  He was seated on the couch watching a small television.  He turned up the volume before they all sat down together over tea, the better to keep the conversation private.  They spoke quietly for some time, reviewing what had transpired since they last met. 

Then they asked about her news.  She had already related to them a most unusual event.  She told them more about the amazi
ng development
as
they listened raptly.  Finally, she reached into a carefully concealed pocket that she had sewn into her coat.  Producing a neatly folded piece of tinfoil, she handed it to her friend’s husband.  There was a certain solemnity as she held her hand forth, conveying not only the importance of the object but, more subtly, the danger. 

The conspiracy the three shared was not to be taken lightly.  They and the others involved knew th
at discovery surely meant death
and in this city
,
death held a special dread.  Her friend’s husband said that he would be sure that it reached the person who knew what to do and how to do it.  They chatted for some time.  It was getting late by the time she left. 

On the way back to her apartment, she felt happier than she could r
e
member.  Perhaps now at last she could avenge the wrong that had broken her heart forever.  Again she passed the open door of her minder.  The one who watches didn’t bother to look up.  All she noticed were the familiar pink canvas shoes padding quietly by.

******

When she reached her apartment, Ping fixed tea and sat in her kitchen thinking over what had just happe
ned.  The young American woman wa
s now aware that there exists a group that is trying to help her.  That knowledge constitutes a danger to the group.  Her mental fabric has been stretched to the lim
it since her abduction.  She had
experienced the depths of despair.  Now Ping had given her hope.  The look on her face mirrored that.  But if in her exhilaration at the prospect of being rescued,
she were to let something slip,
if the change in her emotions were to become too obvious, if that change were to be noticed, she could jeopardize everyone. 

Ping sat contemplating her next move.  This was about far more than a single Amer
ican woman,
it was about the struggle to bring true freedom to China.  The plan was not only to rescue the American, it was to use her.  The group intended that her story ignite outrage, both in China and abroad, outrage that it was hoped would bring about change.  Ping decided that it was time to place another note in the sink.  She went to the closet and pulled a small, tattered suitcase off the
upper shelf.  In it was a well
worn school book of English studies.  It had belonged to her only child, a son she would never see again.  With its help, she carefully penned another note:

Dear Friend,

   
We want help you escape.  You must help us.  Do not show your feelings. 
You must look blank like you have no hope.  There are eyes everywhere. 

Be calm and still and we will come for you when we are ready.

She sat thinking for several minutes, debating whether or not to pen the next line.  Finally she decided that what it would reveal would give her hope, and hope would strengthen her for what was to come.

The one you love is alive too
,
and will join you. 

36

The commentator from one of the few news organizations not pa
n
dering shamelessly to the administration posed the first question of the i
n
terview:

“Senator, do you have any idea who may have been responsible for
the tragic murder of your house
keeper?”

“Bill, I can’t stand here today and give you a name, but two facts might lead one to investigate further:  One, I had just exposed the unprovoked sinking by China of a Philippine ship.  Two, I have openly and frequently opposed the unprecedented expansion of government that is bankrupting this county.”

“Senator, are you implying that either Beijing or the Democrats may be involved?”

“No I am not,” replied Baines. “I merely stated that certain events would provide obvious avenues for further exploration.  It would be pr
e
mature to draw any conclusions or make any allegations whatsoever this early in the investigation.”

“Beijing has loudly and vehemently denied the accusation that one of their submarines sank the Philippine vessel, even going so far as to demand your censure by the Senate.  Do you have any comment on that?”

“The guilty cry loudest.”

“How reliable is the information that you have regarding the sinking?” asked the commentator.

“Bill, I am not in the habit of spreading scurrilous allegations.  I would not have stood before the American people on the basis of mere rumor.”

“Senator, you have often pointed to a connection between continued borrowing from China to fund the expansion and a quid pro quo on the part of this administration.  Do you have any facts to back that up?”

“The fact of this administration’s silence regarding China’s claim of sovereignty over 1.4 million miles of ocean, under which lie enormous r
e
serves of oil and gas speaks loudly.  Furthermore, the claim that waters more than twelve hundred miles from China’s coast somehow belong to the Pe
o
ple’s Republic is one of the most preposterous things I have ever heard.  Yet this administration cowers meekly, hoping to not be cut off from the inves
t
ments they so desperately need in their quest to turn our nation into the largest debtor nation of all time.”

“Those are powerful words,” Senator.

“Truth is always the most powerful weapon against deceit and lies,” replied Baines. 

“Senator, I have to ask you about the woman whom it has been said narrowly escaped death in your home on the day the housekeeper was mu
r
dered.  Can you tell who she is?”

“At this time, for her protection, I would prefer not to reveal any more about the circumstances of that day.”

“You realize, of course, that some are saying that the murder was the result of a love triangle involving you and the woman.  Other stories have alleged that she is a high-priced call girl.”

“I can tell you in complete truth, I have never had an intimate rel
a
tionship with the woman, and I assure you I am not playing on words like a certain recent president.  Bill, in my own preliminary investigation into the circumstances surrounding the murder, I have come into possession of some fascinating evidence.  I hope to soon have compelling proof to back it up, but until that time, I will not be revealing any further details,” said the senator. 

“That sounds like you’re tantalizing us, Senator,” said the comment
a
tor.

“Tantalizing implies something appealing, like a delicious meal, Bill. I can assure you that there was nothing tantalizing about the circumstances of the death of my housekeeper.  If my suspicions are confirmed by the facts, one of the most despicable acts in this nation’s history will be revealed to the American people.”

As the big Lincoln crawled through traffic on the way back from the interview, Baines knew that he had just thrown fuel onto the fire.  But he had not acted randomly; he had chosen his words very carefully, hoping to hold the administration’s feet to the fire and smoke out whoever had murdered his housekeeper. 

He was also well aware that pointing out what China was trying to get away with would further inflame many Americans who rightly view China as no friend of America.  Exposing the administration’s secret deals was the most powerful weapon he had in his fight to return his country to the people to whom it rightfully belongs.
 
He also knew that he had just upped the stakes in the biggest gamble of his life.  He would have to remain alert for the a
d
ministration’s or China’s next move.  His arm rested comfortably on the console where his Sig-Sauer lay. 

He activated the car phone and dialed Clifford Storm’s number.  There was no answer.  He had expected to have heard from his old friend by now. 

37

Brewer had called
Rawles
three times already.  It wasn’t that he was looking forward to talking to him, he didn’t have much choice. 
Shumer
had been leaning on him to see if they could still make the video thing work. 
Rawles
said it was just a glitch and the broad had hit it off with the senator.  So it seemed reasonable to think that she might still be able to get the job done.

But after the third call and not even an answering machine, Brewer decided to drive over to
Rawles
house.  He
lived in
Argyle
, which was a thir
ty
-five
minute drive if it wasn’t rush hour, so he had plenty of time to think.  Several reporters had asked Baines about the broad, and it sounded like he was covering for her.  That was good; it made it more likely that she had gotten close to him and would have another opportunity. 

The thing that puzzled him, not to mention a few other people, was what had happened at the senator’s house.  Who the hell had blown
away
the cleaning lady away?  And why?  And where was the broad during all this?  To hear the senator talk, it was like aunt Mabel or somebody just happened to be visiting at the time.  Nothing made sense.  If
Shumer
hadn’t been leaning on him so hard, he would have just left things alone.  Something didn’t smell right. 

He pulled up in front of
Rawles
house, a three bedroom brick rancher.  It was a decent house.  Brewer knew that ‘cause he’d paid for most of it.  There was no car in the drive.  He rang the bell three times.  Then he walked over to the living room window and, shading his eyes with his hand, peered in.  Nothing.  He made his way around the entire house, looking in all the wi
n
dows he could.  Nobody.  Then he remembered what
Rawles
had said before he stormed out.  He was a hot head, but he’d never done anything like that before.  He tried
Rawles
home phone; he could hear it ringing inside.  Then the cell phone one more time, still no answer.

It was already pretty late when he got back downtown, so he’d decided to call it a day and head home.  He called his wife from the expressway and told her he’d be home
for dinner for a change.  She
prepared a nice meal and as they ate, she was telling him about a problem his son was having.

“
Lanny
, are you listening to me?” she asked. 

“Yeah, I’m listening,” he replied.

“It doesn’t look like it,” she said.

She continued, seamlessly moving from one part of her day to the next as he pretended to pay attention.  He knew he was going to have to come up with something to tell
Shumer
, who didn’t want to hear any more excuses.  The problem was that he didn’t even know who the broad was.  He always tried to keep these projects at arms length, the better to deny if things turned south. 
Rawles
knew the people who did the jobs, and he was MIA.