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“Absolutely, Inspector.”
“And you still haven’t shown her the best part,” Sandy interrupted.
Aaron blushed, grinned again, and said, “Sam talks too.”
He pressed something on the yellow figure, and it said in a surprisingly tough voice, “Give me a hand here, Cactus.” This was followed by: “All’s quiet now.” Then: “This is Sam. Until next time.”
“Sam & His Friends come factory-equipped with standard phrases such as these,” Aaron explained. “But this is just the beginning. Our deluxe model comes with a microchip that allows kids to program different conversations. We’re talking about a fully interactive toy. The technology is still in the early stages and rather expensive—about ninety dollars U.S. for the full package. But in a year or so we’ll be able to bring the del
uxe models way down in price.”
At last Aaron handed the figure back to the Chinese worker. Again he leaned down and softly spoke into her ear.
“Your Mandarin is very good,” Hulan observed.
“Thank you. I studied it in college. It was my major, actually. That’s how I got the job.”
The trio continued down the aisle. On either side of them women applied different features to the faces of the colorful figures. When they came to the end of the row, they turned the corner and came up another aisle, where women packed the figures in boxes. This involved taking clear plastic straps and winding them around the neck, arms, and legs of the figures and tightening them into place on a cardboard backing. On the next aisle women attached various gizmos to the cardboard. Some got combs, brushes, mirrors, and knives. Others got pistols, machine guns, grenades, and miniature backpacks.
At last Hulan and her guides came to the door leading back to the hallway. “May I see where the other women work?”
“I beg your pardon?” Sandy asked.
“You said you have a thousand women working here. I’m guessing they’re on the other side of the corridor.”
“That’s an empty room,” Sandy answered, irritation spilling from his mouth like oil running from a bottle.
“Then you won’t mind if I see it.”
“Actually, our time is up.”
“What about the other women who work here?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t help you anymore. Aaron and I have a meeting, right, Aaron?”
“Yes, that’s so.” But the young man couldn’t help blushing again.
“Our office will be sorry to hear that you haven’t cooperated,” Hulan said.
With any Chinese citizen this comment would have been understood for the threat that it was, but Sandy Newheart seemed unimpressed.
“Perhaps on another day you can come again and we’ll be properly prepared to receive you.” Sandy opened the door and led the way back through the labyrinth of corridors and doors. As they entered the foyer, Jimmy stood, moved his bulky frame around the desk, planted his feet apart, and crossed his arms.
“I’ll come back,” Hulan said. “But I doubt I’ll be calling first. You are guests in my country and you must abide by our rules.”
Sandy grimaced as he opened the outside door. “Until our next meeting, then.”
Hulan held his gaze, nodded, then passed through the door to the courtyard. Aware that three sets of eyes were on her, she looked toward the Administration building and held up her arm to get her driver’s attention. Waiting for him to pick her up, she once again took in the vast emptiness of the courtyard complex. Where were the signs of life? She expected to see people walking from building to building either on break or moving merchandise, people sitting together for a late lunch, even people sprawled out asleep for xiuxi. How did this company, administered as it was by what appeared to be just three foreign men and a handful of Chinese women, manage to control such a large population of workers? How had Knight ended up out here at all? Most important, what was going on in those other buildings and on the other side of the Assembly wall?
Once the car had turned back onto the expressway, Hulan pulled out her cell phone, punched in David’s number, and waited several seconds for the line to connect. If it was 3:00 P.M. here, then it was midnight in Los Angeles. David would be up. She was sure of it.
7
WHEN THE PHONE RANG, DAVID KNEW IT HAD TO BE HULAN. It had been four days since they’d spoken, longer than any time since he’d left Beijing. “Where are you?” he asked. “I’ve been worried.”
“I’m fine.”
“I have so much to tell you,” he said. She did too, but what he said next made her stories seem unimportant. “I’m coming, Hulan. I’ll be in Beijing…” He paused to calculate the time and the dateline, and said, “Day after tomorrow.”
