I’ve met some pretty sketchy Westerners living here, it’s true. People who are running from something, who get lost in plain sight, almost. Creepy English teachers you wouldn’t want around your daughter. Scam artists living from rip-off to rip-off. Somehow they manage.
Seems to me the best thing that could happen to Jason is that he doesn’t get found.
Dog and Natalie insist that he didn’t do what he’s accused of doing. That he was part of the group but not into breaking the law. “He comes home, we fix it,” Dog says. I don’t know about that.
What I do know is that I pretty much don’t trust anything that’s a lot bigger and stronger than me.
Call me bitter. Whatever.
Given what’s going on with the DSD, given the shit that’s happened to me in the past, the last thing I need is to get involved with any kind of “terrorist,” whether he really is one or not.
A COUPLE OF HOURS later, me and my crutch are hobbling down Xi Jie, heading for the Gecko.
Okay, yeah, I’m stupid. But I figure I’ll just try to make sure Jason’s okay. And if I end up finding out where he is, if I talk to him, I’ll tell him what Dog wants, and he can decide for himself.
“Hey! Hey, lamei!”
It’s Kobe. He trots up to me, unbuttoned Qing-dynasty robe flapping, black fedora pulled down low on his forehead.
“What happened to you?”
“A little accident.”
“Ah.” He falls in alongside me, now and again jogging in place to keep from getting too far ahead. “So did you travel, see some sights?”
He’s trying to act casual, but I know what he really wants to talk about.
I stop. “Yes, I saw her.”
Kobe stands there in front of me. The expression on his face, a mix of hope and fear and God knows what-love, I guess-it just makes me feel like shit.
“She… how is she?”
“Miss! Miss! Look, come buy!”
We’re standing in front of an open-front store with tables outside covered with carved wooden frogs, cloth hangings, souvenir T-shirts, embroidered tote bags.
“She’s… she’s okay.”
“Look, see?” The shopgirl is holding up a wooden frog, and she takes the stick piercing its belly and starts rubbing the carved ridges on its back, and it sounds like it’s chirping.
Kobe turns to her and snaps off something in the local dialect that I don’t exactly understand but the gist of which is “Bother someone else right now!”
The shopgirl snickers. Strokes the frog in his direction.
He ignores her. “So what’s she doing? She’s working, she’s still in Shantou?”
Is she still with “David”?
That’s what he really wants to know.
“Yeah,” I say. “She’s working. She’s doing well.”
He stares at me, his eyes pleading. “Did you… did you tell her…?”
“Miss, look,” the shopgirl says to me. “You need this, right? Better than what you have.”
I turn to her, and she’s holding up a walking stick. Carved dark wood, with a metal badge tacked right below that, stamped with the characters for Yangshuo and one of those crazy mountains.
“You stupid bitch, you didn’t hear me?” Kobe snaps.
“Hundan,” she says, grinning at him. Slacker.
“Daisy told me to tell you she’s fine,” I say. “And she hopes you’re doing well.”
Which is a lie. Daisy didn’t say anything about Kobe at all. When I mentioned him, she just rolled her eyes.
“She’s not with David,” I tell him. “But she’s happy where she is. She’s not coming back. Not for a while anyway.”
Kobe stares down at his Nikes. “Okay,” he says. He shrugs. “Okay.”
He composes himself. Looks up at me. “Stop by later and have a drink.” He adjusts his fedora. “If you want.”
I watch him go slouching down the street toward the Last Emperor.
“Come on, miss,” the shopgirl says, holding up the walking stick. “Come on! I give you good price.”
I sigh. “How much?”
Mission to Gecko, take two: I go back to Maggie’s Guesthouse and drop off the crutch. The walking stick isn’t exactly as good a substitute, but it works okay and it’s better camouflage-I’m hoping I can walk into Gecko and it’s not so obvious that I’m hurt. Not that I’m too scary when I’m healthy, but I think about those nature movies with the wounded antelope and the lions, and I don’t want to be that antelope, you know? It never ends well.
I hesitate for a moment outside the door, staring at the bright yellow lizard on the signboard. Then think, Whatever. I’m going to a tourist joint in Yangshuo, and it’s barely even dark out. I mean, what can they do to me, right?
I push open the door and walk inside.
I swear, it’s like one of those cheesy westerns where the saloon musician stops playing the piano and everyone turns and stares.
Well, not everyone. There are more customers here than there were the two times I came before, and a lot of them are indifferent. They’re drinking their beers or coffees, eating pizza and nachos, talking about their next rock-climbing or river-rafting or cool authentic-Chinese-village excursion, and I’m just another laowai coming in for a stale microbrew or mediocre espresso.
But there are a few people who mark my entrance, who look up and stare when I walk in. The waitress who served me before. Sparrow. And Erik.
Erik stands behind the bar counter, in midconsultation with the waitress, looking at a list on a clipboard.
I limp up to the bar. “Hi, Erik,” I say.
“Do I know you?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure we’ve met.”
“You were interested in a river cruise, right?”
I pull out the New Century Hero Rice sack from my canvas messenger bag and drop it on the bar. “No. This.”
He looks at the bag, smooths out its wrinkles, seems to consider the heroic figure in his overalls and Mao cap and thrusting hoe. “Is there some reason I should care?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. I’m pretty sure that David does.”
Some movement at the corner of my field of vision makes me glance left.
Sparrow, staring at me, taking a step forward. Then she ducks her head and retreats, back to the station by the rock-climbing equipment and the river-rafting posters.
Erik stares at the rice bag a moment longer, and then he looks up at me. “It’s interesting that people you talk to end up getting hurt.”
“It’s interesting that people I talk to pull dick moves like trying to mug me and sticking a knife in my face. Or is that just how you guys like to say hello?”
“People attack when they’re threatened,” he says.
“You think I’m a threat? Seriously?” I laugh. “Wow. I guess I should hang out around you and your buddies more often. You’re making me feel all empowered and shit.”
I pick up the rice sack. Fold it and stuff it back into my messenger bag. “I know I’m kind of repeating myself here, but all I’m trying to do is find out if David is okay so I can let his family know how he’s doing. The rest of this I don’t give a fuck about.”
Now I see something, a real emotion, flash across his face, but I’m not sure what. Anger?
“Maybe you should,” he says.
“But you’re not going to tell me why.” I shrug. “Whatever.”
I take one of my name cards out of the pocket of my bag and lay it on the counter. “If you wanna enlighten me, here’s my phone number and my email address.”
Then I turn my back and walk away.
So maybe that was dumb, giving Erik my information. But here’s what I figure: He’s a foreigner. The odds of him having some kind of juice here in China aren’t that great. Maybe he’s the guy who pushed Russell to attack me or maybe not, but there’s a big difference between him trying to jack me up and being able to bring the DSD or the Public Security Bureau down on my ass. If he’s involved in something sketchy, he’s not going to go out of his way to call attention to it.