The Concubine's Secret Part 60

'How did you know,' he asked, 'that the delegation was leaving today?'

'Li Min told me.'

'Li Min? Our delegation leader? How do you know him?'

She drew in a deep breath, as if she were drowning. 'Listen to what I have to say, Chang An Lo, and then you can leave. Last year in China when I was about to set off for Russia to search for my father, a group of your people came to me.'

'My people?'

'Yes, your Chinese Communists. They'd heard I was travelling to Siberia. Maybe they had informers in the railway ticket office, I don't know. But they came anyway. They knew from Kuan, who found out from you, that Jens Friis was my father, and they told me he had designed a secret project to help the Soviet military. Obviously they must have their spies in the heart of the Soviet system, even in the Red Army, but they didn't know what it was he'd created or where he was being held - in a prison or one of those G.o.dforsaken labour camps. Not even whether he was dead or alive. Chang, you have to understand, he was my father and I-' She stopped herself, s.n.a.t.c.hed a breath and finished quietly, 'So they asked me to find out.'

Anger, heavy and unwieldy, was churning in his gut.

'And in return?' he demanded. 'What did they offer you?'

'I asked for you.'

'Me.'

'Yes. I asked for you to be kept out of the civil war in China, far away from the Kuomintang army.' She swallowed and he thought she would look round, but she didn't. 'I wanted you safe. I had no idea they would send you here to Moscow, I swear. That came as a surprise.' She twitched the b.u.t.tons of her blouse. 'A welcome surprise. It proved they were sticking to their side of the bargain.'

He moved silently across the room until he was standing right behind her and could hear the catch in her every breath. 'So that's why you went into the prison that day to get the letter? The one from Jens about the construction of the project. So that you could give it to Li Min.'

She jumped at the sound of his voice so close but remained with her back to him. She nodded.

'Lydia.'

'I know you're angry. That you feel I betrayed you and did a dirty deal behind your back. But the thought of losing your life to a Kuomintang bullet was . . . too much. I couldn't bear it. And now your Chinese friends have what they wanted, they are leaving and taking you with them.'

She leaned back till her head was touching his cheek and just that simple, intimate movement was enough to break his resolve to give her up. The immensity of what she'd done for him took his breath away. That she'd bargained her own life and that of her father . . . for his. His arms encircled her injured waist and drew her close against him, fighting to keep from crus.h.i.+ng her into his own bones where she would be safe.

'You're right, I am angry, Lydia, but not with you, my love. With them.' He smelled the blood on her and it made his heart weep. 'I should have realised it wasn't your past you were protecting. '

'No,' she whispered, 'it was our future. Yours and mine. But . . . Chang, we are both created by our past.'

Another knock shook the door and Biao shouted for them to hurry.

Chang spoke urgently. 'Lydia, you must decide now. If it's America you want, we can-'

She spun round, her eyes wide and intent on his. 'No, not America.'

'My heart cannot beat without yours beside it.'

'Is that what Alexei told you to do? To give me up?'

'He said that with me you would be an outsider.'

She laughed, making the air in the room come alive. In the middle of all the fear and the pain and the danger she laughed, tossing her shorn curls, and the sound of it mended something inside him that was broken. 'Oh Chang An Lo, I have been an outsider all my life. I used to fight against it, thinking I wanted to belong, but not now. It's being an outsider that has brought me you.'

He took her face in his hands. 'Your brother believes you must stay here in Russia, and when I see you here, I know this country is a part of your soul.'

'Forget what Alexei says. He is not my brother.'

'What?'

'Jens told me. He said that Alexei is not his son. That my mother got it all wrong and even Alexei's own mother lied about it.' The sorrow on her face flickered like the shadow of a night spirit in the candlelight.

'Oh my Lydia, in that fire you lost your brother as well as your father.'

She smiled at him, a fragile twist of her mouth. 'Your G.o.ds exacted a high price,' she said. 'And now they're stealing you from me again.'

'Come with me.'

Her eyes widened. 'To China?'

'Yes.'

'No,' she said. 'Have you forgotten? We decided long ago that while you are fighting for the Communists there is no place for a Western girl dragging at your heels. No world in which I could find a place.'

'There is one.'

'Where?'

'Hong Kong.'

57.

The car was crowded and its interior smelled of China instead of Russia. Lydia was pressed tight against the window with Chang An Lo beside her, a barrier between her and the others. His hand had clasped her own the moment they entered the car and though he was arguing fiercely with the one he called Biao, his fingers never left hers.

Her canvas bag lay on Chang's lap on top of the satchel, as if he would hide her from the Chinese intruders. Biao and another one in black were crowded on the far side of Chang on the rear seat, while three more were in the front. The one in the driver's seat had a silvery scar where one of his ears should be.

Their voices sounded harsh to Lydia's ears, a flood of angry Chinese words filling the air between Chang and Biao, friends who were fighting like enemies. She longed to know what was being said but she knew Chang would tell her only as much as he wished her to know. She leaned her head against the window and watched the snow and the streets dissolve behind the mist of her breath. She was frightened of what else might dissolve.

'Lydia.'

The words had stopped.

'Tell me what is happening, Chang.'

His hand tightened on hers and he spoke in English, so that none of his compatriots would understand.

'Lydia.' The way he said her name, she knew what was coming wasn't good. 'I must leave you, Lydia. No, my love, don't look like that, it won't be for long. We agreed,' he said softly, 'that we shall meet in Hong Kong. I will be there, I swear. But I can't travel with you through Russia, they won't let me.'

She glanced at the heads in front. 'Not even if we run from these-?'

'No, no more risks, Lydia. If you and I escape together, these people will hunt us down as we travel the thousands of miles back to China. I won't put you in that danger. This time,' he touched her neck, 'I want you safe.'

'So what are we to do?' She glanced at Biao who was staring straight ahead, unwilling to look at her.

'It is settled.' He held both her hands in his and so she knew it was bad.

'Tell me.'

'I am to travel with the delegation back to China and report to Mao Tse Tung. I have given my word that I shall give them no trouble.'

She smiled at him. 'Chang An Lo masquerading as a demure lamb, that will be something to see.' But his eyes held no laughter. 'What do we get in exchange?' she asked in a low voice.

'A guardian for you.'

'I don't need a guardian.'

'Yes, you do. The Russian secret police are searching for you, so-'

'Who? Who is this guardian?'

Chang glanced at Biao's sullen profile.

'No,' Lydia said sharply, 'I refuse to have-'

'Don't, Lydia, please don't fight this.'

She swallowed the words on her tongue and saw his dark eyes follow the silent movement of her lips as she struggled to accept what he was saying.

'Biao will escort you all the way to Vladivostok. With him, you should have no trouble from the Russians. Then down south through China to Hong Kong.'

'He hates me,' she whispered. 'Why would he do such a thing?'

'Because I have ordered him to do so. I know he will protect you with his life.'

'Even though he hates me?'

'Trust him, Lydia. He will bring you safely to China.'

She hung her head and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to him. 'I would give my heart's blood to travel with you, my love, but it would just bring more danger down on your head.' He kissed the side of her chopped hair.

'You'll meet me?' she asked. 'You'll be there?'

'I promise.'

'You won't change your mind and go off with your Communists again?'

'No. Not this time.'

Their eyes held and she believed him. It was a risk but she couldn't live with herself if she didn't take it. He leaned forward, seeing the belief in her eyes, and kissed her mouth, ignoring the others in the car.

'Now,' he said softly, 'where is your Cossack bear waiting for you?'

The snow had stopped falling. As Lydia walked on to Moscow's Borodino Bridge in the southwest of the city, cars rumbled past with chains on their tyres and a pale watery sun sat low on the horizon as though it had no strength to struggle any higher. She felt a rush of relief when she saw the Cossack waiting for her and he bared his teeth at her approach. Had he feared she wouldn't come? That she wouldn't keep their agreed meeting, here among the cast-iron boards listing the heroes of the 1812 war?

'I'm not locked up in the Lubyanka yet,' she smiled.

Lubyanka prison was the nightmare of Moscow, a handsome yellow-brick mansion where dungeon interrogations took people apart piece by piece in ways they had never imagined possible.

'Don't mention that stinking place,' he growled and his single black eye studied her. 'You look a mess.'

She ignored him. 'h.e.l.lo, Elena.'

The woman standing beside him had her arms folded and she was staring at the strands of hair poking out under Lydia's hat, but she made no comment. 'You got here,' was all she said.

'So, Liev. Off to the Ukraine?'

'Da. It's still got real people in it. f.u.c.k Moscow. It's no more than a Soviet machine.'

Lydia put out a hand and touched his granite chest with her fingertips. 'Take good care of yourself, my friend.' She looked up at him. 'Are you feeling better?'

'Like a spring lamb.'

She laughed.

'And you?' he asked, drawing his beetle brows together.

'More like an old goat.'

He nodded, fingering his beard thoughtfully, and she noticed it was singed into a lopsided mat. Suddenly a narrow face popped out from behind his back.

'Whose car was that you came in?'

'Edik! What are you doing here? And Misty.' She ruffled the pup's feathery ears. 'The car belongs to some rather unpleasant companions of my Chinese friend.'

Popkov scowled. 'They've taken him?'

She nodded and stared down at Popkov's ancient leather boots, the howling wolf tooled on their sides. 'Liev,' she said softly, 'you knew about Alexei all along, didn't you?'

He grunted.

'That he wasn't my brother. You knew all along. That's why you were such a b.a.s.t.a.r.d to him.'

He grunted again.