The Interior

"Come on," she said, her fatigue deteriorating to impatience. "With China and the U.S. it's always the same. One minute they're friends; the next minute they're enemies. These things have little to do with us or even how things really are."

David thought back to his country's yearly hullabaloo over whether or not to give China most favored nation status and the ongoing conflicts over human rights while at the same time investing billions of dollars. These thoughts brought back the conversation they'd had with Pearl Je

"We're so close-minded," Hulan said, as if reading David's mind, except that she was speaking of her own people. "The Chinese were the first explorers. It is said that we were the first ones to the Americas. We had fleets going across the Pacific, exploring, trading, but we looked, we saw, then we came home, shut the door, and built our walls even higher. I listen to these people on the news…" She shook her head in disgust. "They speak with smiling faces and tell one story as though it were true, but tomorrow they may have a completely different agenda to sell. One day we're forbidden to use the Internet; the next we're encouraged to use it. The day after that? Who knows? We might be forbidden again. Yesterday, every time a new deal was signed with an American company, these same reporters were covering it as though it was a great gift to China. Today those same deals are stained. Tomorrow, you may still see the deal with Tartan and Knight go through. If it does, these people will be doing stories about how the factory is bringing prosperity to the countryside. Three months ago you were our new friend, our hero; today you are once again a suspicious foreigner."

"How do you stand it?"

"How do you?" she asked back. "It's not so different in the U.S. Here our 'truth' is usually political propaganda. In the U.S. propaganda is disguised as 'truth.'"

Pearl Je

Hulan shook herself. What were they doing sitting here, watching television, and having a chat about Sino-American relations? It was only a matter of time before Hulan was arrested. David could probably get her to the U.S. embassy. Rob Butler might be able to finagle political asylum, but this all seemed a pipe dream. Because if they came after Hulan, then they'd come after David too. In the meantime Sun would be tried and executed. Miss Quo, i

As all this ran through Hulan's mind, Miss Quo had continued her sniffling. Hulan crossed to her and patted her hand. David too had been lost in thought, and suddenly he said as he pushed himself off the edge of the table, "I've got to try and reach Miles. This whole thing has gotten out of hand." Without moving, Hulan watched as he picked up the phone, dialed, and asked for Miles Stout's room.

"I called my father in California this morning," Miss Quo said to Hulan. "I told him not to come home. He has money there. He'll be okay. But Mama and me?" Two new rivers of tears sprang from her eyes. "I've brought disgrace upon our family. My father will be abandoned in a foreign land. I'll go to jail. Mama will die all alone." An idea suddenly came to her, and she quickly stood. "I have to run away. Maybe I can leave the country. Dissidents do it. Maybe I could too. I have money. Pay a little here. Pay a little there. I could be in Vancouver by tomorrow." The young woman quivered in terror. "I don't want to die."

Hulan felt sorry for the girl. She'd been raised in a house of privilege. She'd never known hunger or suffering. She was too young to have experienced the Cultural Revolution. Instead she'd partied, swilled champagne, gone to karaoke bars and nightclubs, dressed in designer clothes, traveled the world. In an hour her whole life had fallen apart in a way she could never in her worst nightmare have imagined.

"Did you do anything wrong?" Hulan asked gently.

"They say I did."

"Do you think you did anything wrong?"

Miss Quo shook her head.

"Then you have nothing to be afraid of."

In the background Hulan heard David raise his voice. "Listen, Miles, you can't do that. You need a vote from the full partnership."

Hulan felt a tap on her arm. It was Miss Quo. "I was asking you, how can you say that? Don't you know what they'll do to you?"

"Yes, but I also didn't do anything wrong."

Miss Quo's eyes widened. "You're not going to stay here, are you?"

Hulan glanced back at David. He gripped the receiver so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. "Special circumstances?" David shouted into the phone. "What are you talking about? When I explain to the partners what's been going on over here…"

David was talking like he was going to get out of China, but they'd never go anywhere but jail unless they got moving. The more Hulan eavesdropped on David's conversation and the more she talked to Miss Quo, the more she wanted to go home and wait it out. She was too tired to run. Her arm throbbed, her body burned, and all she wanted was to lie down under a cool, wet cloth and sleep. She registered David's anxious look and thought he understood what she was thinking, but the words that came out of his mouth were all wrong.

David slammed down the phone. Without explanation he began issuing orders: "Everybody up! Let's get out of here. We're going to the American embassy!" When Hulan and Miss Quo didn't move, he barked, "Now!"

Miss Quo jumped up. Hulan slowly drew herself to her feet as David threw a couple of things in his briefcase and Miss Quo scurried about looking for her purse and… What was she jabbering on about? Her umbrella? Then someone pounded on the door, and the others froze in place. Hulan thought it was one of the fu