"Nice room, huh?" Stratton said. "This is what I get for taking the American plan."
"You are to remain silent," Zhou warned, "until these accusations are read. Then you will be permitted to state your confession and sign it. Then sentence will be declared. Wang Kangmei?"
"Yes, Comrade Zhou."
"Do you see the man named Thomas Stratton in this room?"
"Yes, Comrade."
"Describe him," Zhou commanded.
Kangmei studied the half-naked Stratton for several moments, up and down, and this time it was he who looked away.
"He is an American. He is tall and light-haired. With a mustache."
"And what is he doing now?"
"Kneeling, Comrade Zhou."
"And what is he wearing, Wang Kangmei?"
"A shirt, a torn shirt."
"Filthy? Unclean?"
"Yes, Comrade."
"And what else? What else is he wearing?"
"A bandage. A filthy bandage." Kangmei glared scornfully down at Stratton. "And that is all, Comrade Zhou. He has no other clothes on."
"And do you find him… attractive?"
"No! He is disgusting. He is a pig. A pig and a liar."
"Liar!" shouted the jailer. He propped one of his shoes on Stratton's bruised shoulder. "Liar! Liar!" Stratton pushed the foot away.
"Kangmei, what crimes did Mr. Stratton commit against you?"
"He asked me to come to his hotel room in Xian. He said he wanted to give me something that belonged to my uncle, David Wang, who had died in Peking. He said it was something of great sentimental value."
Zhou said, "Did you believe the lying pig Thomas Stratton?"
"Yes, Comrade. I believed him."
"What happened when you went to his hotel room in Xian?"
"He held me against my will. He abducted me. He beat me. He said my father, the deputy minister, represented all that was evil about the Communist Party, and that he must be destroyed."
"So," Zhou said, "he threatened to kill a Chinese deputy minister. What else did he say?"
"Thom-as Stratton admitted that he is an agent of the imperialist United States government, and that he was sent to China to encourage terrorism and disrupt the efforts of the loyal workers."
To Stratton's surprise, Kangmei did not recite her indictment in monotone.
Rather, her tone was impassioned, the words seemingly spontaneous. Her eyes seemed to glisten, but whether in rage or sorrow Stratton could no longer be sure.
Zhou said, "What did you do when you heard Stratton denounce your father?"
"I argued with him, Comrade. I became angry. I told him he was not worthy to visit our country, and that I was going to report him to the Public Security Bureau. When I tried to run out of his room, he grabbed me by the arms and threw me down on the floor. Then he kicked me between the legs… "
"No!" Stratton bellowed. "Kangmei, please, I know what's happening, but-"
Zhou motioned to the jailer, who swiftly moved behind Stratton and dug a knee into the small of his back. Then he seized Stratton's hair and yanked back so that Stratton was forced to stare up at the roof, his neck stretched tight. Zhou scooped a handful of rancid manure from the floor and dropped it into Stratton's face. He retched.
"You will remain silent from now on," Zhou said mildly.
Stratton stared back with dead eyes. His face was chalky.
Kangmei continued her story: "Stratton gagged me so I could not scream. Then he tied me to the bed in the room."
"Then what?"
"He ripped my clothing off… and raped me."
"Several times?"
"Yes, Comrade Zhou. Several times… and once in a terrible way."
Stratton grimaced. A horsefly landed on one cheek, beneath his left eye. Even as it bit him, Stratton made no move to brush it away. His arms hung like butcher's meat.
"Finally I was rescued when two comrades came to the hotel room. They must have heard me righting back. Stratton escaped, but at least my ordeal was over."
Stratton gazed sadly at Kangmei, and shook his head back and forth with determination. Her eyes never softened.
Zhou said, "Kangmei, do you now see the folly of your actions? Do you understand why the government discourages contact with foreigners, especially decadent Americans? They are a menace to the state, a threat to everything we are working for. They are not to be trusted, and never to be believed. Stratton is a model of this-a murderer… "
"Murderer!" Kangmei agreed.
"A thief, a corrupter… "
"A thief!" she yelled in a suddenly shrill voice that startled Stratton.
"A rapist," Zhou concluded.
"Rapist!" Kangmei cried. "A murderer and rapist!"
"You were deceived," Zhou said.
"Yes, Comrade, and I am truly sorry. He seemed sincere and I believed him. I was blind, like a man who suddenly loses his sight and becomes confused."
Stratton wasn't looking when she said it, but he heard Kangmei's voice crack.
"Blind, Comrade Zhou," she repeated. "Nearsighted. Clumsy. Foolish."
Stratton stiffened. He tested the muscles in his arms and legs with invisible isometrics. He hurt everywhere, but he willed himself to be ready.
"Blind," Kangmei said softly. "Blind, blind, blind!" And with that, she plucked the bottle-bottom glasses from Zhou's eyes and tossed them across Stratton's cell. They landed in the worst corner. Insects scattered.
Zhou was utterly bewildered. The jailer shouted a question in Mandarin. Stratton did not wait for the answer. He rammed a fist into the side of Zhou's head, spilling the inquisitor off the chair into a writhing heap.
Stratton grunted to his feet and stood rubber-legged, facing the jailer. The man dove for Stratton's waist and brought him down. They rolled together in the fetid slop; the jailer, clawing for Stratton's throat and eyes; Stratton, weak and nauseous, using his long arms and his weight to entangle his wiry attacker.
Kangmei stood to the side, crying nervously.
"In the corner," Stratton yelled. "Dig! By the window."
The jailer hung on Stratton's back, arms clenched around his neck in a fierce choke-hold. Stratton held his breath and rolled over.
Kangmei dug feverishly. Her hands uncovered the crude three-foot spear Stratton had fashioned from the leg of the chair. In another corner, Comrade Zhou groped pathetically for his eyeglasses in the excrement.
In the middle of the small cell, only Thomas Stratton was breathing normally.
The jailer, pinned beneath him, was slowly suffocating in the muck. Stratton reeled to his feet and snatched the weapon from Kangmei.
Somehow Zhou had found his precious glasses and now he was at the door, pounding loudly. His black hair was matted, his clothes stained and sodden.
"Comrade. Tongzhil" he cried.
Stratton's handmade bayonet tore through the inquisitor's chest. He collapsed making noises like a leaky bicycle tire, a death wheeze.
"Thom-as, I am sorry. I am so sorry." She was sobbing. "He made me do it."
Stratton put a finger to his lips. For several moments, he listened at the door.
"We must hurry," he whispered. Kangmei dabbed at her eyes. Self-consciously she turned away as Stratton slipped into Zhou's trousers. When she turned back, Stratton held her by the shoulders and said, "Your uncle is alive."
"Oh, Thom-as!"
Stratton tested the door of the cell. It was unlocked. The corridor was empty.
Kangmei took his hand and together they ran.
CHAPTER 15
"Idiots! My orders are to be followed. When I say that a man must be guarded, I speak for the state and for the Party. I must be obeyed. You listen to stupid rumors like old women, and you behave as donkeys. I am still the deputy minister, and I still command here."
Wang Bin burst into the attic cell. In a pregnant moment, much was said between the two brothers, but no words were spoken. David Wang looked up at his brother quizzically.