Thursday, August 8, 2024 - 3:00 PM
In the British Ambassador’s residence of the British Consulate to Pellagore, Sabriya sat cross-legged on the floor of her closet and stared up at her collection of floor-length gowns, any one of which she might wear for tonight’s state dinner at the Laksana palace. Dressing up and attending formal events with David was a favorite pastime, although it was hardly a pastime but a duty. There was a sense that life with David was redeeming her childhood impoverishment. Now, if she could only find redemption for the darker parts of her past.
Tonight, King Arun would celebrate David’s ambassadorship as symbolic of Pellagore’s link to the West’s prosperity. Yet the exposure was sure to end their prolonged honeymoon. For the past five years that David served as a minister of the British Foreign Service in Burma, Japan, and Vietnam, Sabriya felt safe and celebrated. And while she was thrilled by David’s promotion to ambassador, his appointment to Pellagore brought a deadly fear.
“You’re nervous about tonight?” Hannah Clark inquired in a soft, yet self-conscious voice.
Hannah was Sabriya’s personal assistant and security attaché, which was ironic in one sense, since Hannah was ranked lower on the martial-arts black-belt scale than Sabriya and stood slightly shorter at 170 cm. Hannah had an oval face, alert brown eyes, a high forehead, and a persistent, gentle smile. The Southeast Asian sun had tanned her otherwise light British complexion. Still, the tan could not hide her naturally rosy complexion, which framed her high cheekbones and accentuated her long, graceful neck. She wore her dark auburn hair perpetually in a short ponytail.
Hannah Clark was the wife of David’s attaché, Jack Clark. Hannah and Jack met during training for the British Foreign Service and fell in love during the requisite survival weeks at a Cambodian jungle camp. The married couple from the Protection Division of Her Majesty’s Diplomatic Service had been assigned to Sabriya and David soon after their marriage when they were first stationed in Hanoi. Although Jack and Hannah were born and raised in England, they were fluent in several Southeast Asian languages and had expertise in Southeast Asian protocol. At times, Sabriya felt left out when her husband and the Clarks passed the time recounting wry stories about their homeland with a plethora of confusing, if not nonsensical, British idioms. Sabriya had never stepped onto British soil and didn’t even care to understand how a bit of dog’s dinner inferred the mess of China’s foreign policy, or why when pigs fly had anything to do with British royalty. Now that Sabriya was back in Pellagore, her home country, the conversational roles were reversed. No doubt her idiomatic knowledge of Pellagore, with its unique history and culture, had influenced the Diplomatic Service in stationing David here in his first ambassadorship. It was also the first time the two kingdoms had exchanged diplomatic relations. But the honor brought a reality Sabriya would rather avoid, and one she never considered when she and David had fallen in love. Pellagore offered her comfort, but also a secret danger.
As she prepared for tonight’s state dinner, it was clear to Sabriya that Hannah had sensed something was amiss, and Sabriya was uncertain how to reveal her concern.
“I can’t hide anything from you, Hannah. I cannot.” But then she thought, I can deflect and delay. “It seems so trifling to worry about what to wear tonight.” Sabriya faked a little laugh; she hoped Hannah would be fooled. Indeed, the dress was not the issue.
Hannah pivoted, and Sabriya caught hold of the prying in her voice. “This will be your first public appearance here in Pellagore, and the presentations will be broadcast. Are you worried who might see or hear you? Your family? When did you last see them?” It was an interrogation under the pretense of friendly chatter.
Sabriya hesitated and tried to sound confident. “As I said, I can hide nothing.” Although they had worked together for several years, Sabriya was unsure how much Hannah knew about her background or family. Not much, she suspected, because David clearly didn’t know and didn’t want to know. The British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS/MI6) was pretty good at uncovering and keeping secrets, and the SIS had vetted her before they were engaged. Maybe they only went back five years. Possibly, Hannah knew more about Sabriya’s haunting problem than Sabriya did. She remained quiet, fingering the sequins on the royal blue gown that hung directly in front of her.
“Crowds have never fazed you,” said Hannah in an encouraging tone. “I think the people, and the King, will see you as Sir David’s elegant and confident consort, although, perhaps, you’d feel more comfortable in bare feet and a gi.”
Sabriya laughed, “Imagine showing up for a state dinner ready to spar.” She’s deflecting, Sabriya thought. She knows more than she’s letting on.
Hannah’s game face gave way to a friendly smile. “Actually, my Wing Chun warrior, that’s exactly what you’ll be doing, sparring—not with hands and bo staffs but with words.”
Sabriya bounced to her feet and gave a quick hug to the diminutive but strong woman who had become not just her personal assistant but a friend, and occasional sparring partner. Sabriya couldn’t stop thinking that, in addition to being her personal assistant and security, Hannah was also a spy. She denied it, of course, like all good spies would and should.
“Your kingdom’s colors are sky blue and gold.”
“The rising of the sun over the Eastern blue sea.”
“Perhaps the silk auburn sheath with a blue belt—a sash would break protocol, of course,” Hannah was trying to move the afternoon along. Protocol demanded punctuality.
“No. I’ll wear the off-shoulder, satin, cocoa with my pearls. I don’t like the blue next to my almond skin.” Hannah removed the cocoa dress from its clear plastic garment bag, left the closet, and laid the dress across the bed.
“Will you need help with your hair?”
“David likes it down, but…”
“Right, not tonight. Need help?”
“Just check me, but I’ll put it up. Did my speech get a protocol review?”
“Yes, but these are your people. I didn’t change much. Are you worried about…” Hannah paused.
“Yes, the subject.”
“But you are Pellagorian, not British. You speak from the heart, not for British politicians, and Queen Devi asked for your endorsement and voice, not the ambassador's. I think it is an honor. You are a favored daughter.”
“Yes, yes. But dear Queen Devi doesn’t know the half of it.” Sabriya sat on a stool in front of her dresser and gestured for Hannah to sit as well, which Hannah did on the ottoman.
“There’s something I want to tell you, but in confidence,” Sabriya’s quiet voice cracked on the edges. Hannah’s face took the cue and morphed from girly enjoyment getting ready for a ball to serious girl-talk. Sabriya, still in her white linen bathrobe, lowered her head and brought her long black hair around her shoulder to the front. “I have a secret nine-year-old…” she paused. “…niece, her name is Jia Kun—the daughter of my younger sister, Busaba. In our home village in the north, Busaba fell in love with a man, the village constable. Although they never married, they became lovers and left the village and came to the city, here to Meijing. But the man was depraved; he lost his job, and then abused my sister. She escaped with Jia Kun in her arms. Today, I think they live in an obscure mountain village near the western frontier of China.”
“You’ve told me some of this,” said Hannah as she looked at Sabriya in an odd, patronizing manner. “You said you wanted to find them.”
Sabriya nodded but paused and looked up at Hannah as if to say, "Do you know where I’m going with this?”
Hannah thought for a moment. Then her eyebrows rose into the shallow wrinkles of her forehead. “The Queen doesn’t know this, does she? The abuse, I mean, is it what I think it was?”
Sabriya, reticent, didn’t answer directly. “The danger still exists. After my sister escaped to the west, this man, in retaliation for leaving him and taking something important to him, he and his friends raided our village and killed our father.”
Hannah’s face flushed with fear, and she glared at Sabriya.
“You fear for their lives if your voice is too loud and these men discover who you are.”
Sabriya nodded, “Except, the Queen is right, and I’m glad the British want to help the Queen. It’s just the first time that I wish I wasn’t madly in love and married to the British ambassador.”
Hannah smiled. “Got it.” There was a lull in their conversation before Hannah spoke again, this time with an air of scheming. “Now, I understand why you want to visit your sister and niece…in secrecy.”
“Yes, but that was before the Queen asked me to join her in announcing her program. Now I’m not so sure I should visit Busaba, it was so long ago I was there.”
“Perhaps Jack and I can help with that without exposing you. Are you comfortable with me telling him this?”
Sabriya’s face dropped. “I knew this would happen. If I told you, which now I have, you must tell Jack, and he must tell the ambassador.” Sabriya drew a heavy breath and stared out the window. “David, and clearly the King and Queen, do not realize how close the danger is to me — and I suppose to David — which I think also endangers David’s mission. Do you see?”
“I do now,” said Hannah. “We need to tell him. He definitely knows about the problems, that’s why he’s here. Remember?”
Sabriya’s eyes widened. Of course! Why am I so dense? “Yes, the briefing we received months before coming. I just never told David how close the problem was to me. I said nothing.”
“He’s going to know now.”
Sabriya nodded her head in resignation, then begged Hannah. “But not tonight.”
Hannah nodded. “Agreed. I’ll brief Jack in the morning, but you should be with me when I do.”
Sabriya nodded, gazed over at the cocoa gown spread out on the bed, and remembered…
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