Wednesday, August 14, 2024 - 2:00 PM
Back from Mass, Sabriya confronted the Ambassador alone in his office. “I think I know where Jia Kun might be,” she braved.
He stopped pacing and glared at her. “What do you mean?”
Sabriya did her best to portray an objective, even business-like posture. But her British Knight, minus his horse and lance, eyed her with suspicion.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Jia Kun was my daughter?” she asked.
The tables were turned. Sabriya could see that he wanted to interrogate her, but now she was grilling him. She smiled at him, a little coy, a little bashful, a little seductive, a little mad. She wasn’t sure what would work. But she loved this man and didn’t want to make him angry.
“I didn’t want to offend you,” he offered.
He seemed sincere enough, but she wasn’t convinced. “You mean, you don’t mind if I lie to you?”
David thought about that and cringed. “You might put it that way.” He paused.
She could tell he wasn’t done. She tried to look vulnerable and coy—pressing her lips together in a subtle grin and lowering her gaze. She couldn’t fool David, however. She was no timid bleeding heart, though her heart beat like a panicked hummingbird. Time and Jia Kun's peril were of the essence.
David groveled. “Sabriya, when I first laid eyes on you, that day in the village market, how you handled yourself in a tough situation, your poise, self-assurance, and at once gentleness…” He chuckled. “I didn’t want to look away. But you disappeared, and I was forced to talk with that other sister running your stall. I had to find out who you were. I knew you weren’t a professed nun by the way you were dressed. I was smitten. When I later found you and we talked, I was mesmerized. To say I was in love is too simple. You captured my heart. I worshiped you, although I’m sure worship was too strong a word…but it will do. Even now, I’m madly in love with you.”
Sabriya had heard similar endearments from this man before; they took her breath away and triggered a swelling in her chest. The man was a treasure. Tears came to her eyes. What was he getting at?
“Perhaps I was foolish,” he continued. “No, it wasn’t that—.” He paused again, trying to figure out what to say.
Men struggle to explain how they feel. If she were patient, it would be worth it.
“My dear, when I told my director, Sir Robert, that I wanted to marry you…this was long before I asked you, he was suspicious that you might be a spy or something like that, for the Chinese or whoever. He drilled me for some time and finally said he could not permit me to marry you and keep my job in the foreign service, without MI6 thoroughly vetting you, which would require them to interview you. I knew this, but was afraid that they would find something insidious, menacing, and lethal.”
It was Sabriya’s turn to go stiff and cold. She knew this part, and she remembered not being entirely forthcoming when, in the monastery garden, she had been interrogated by the quirky agent that she was sure no woman could love. She thought him a Russian asset; his skin was so white it might flake off, his beady eyes were small, black, and suspicious, his head too small even for a Chinaman’s hat, and his bald head was so shiny it’s a wonder he didn’t get sunburned under the cloudy Pellagore sky. He didn’t shave his scalp; it was simply void of hair follicles, just the few red strands he kept brushing over the top from behind one ear.
“Sorry,” she said.
“About what?”
“I was thinking about someone else.”
“A man?”
“Well, yes, I guess he was. Not sure.”
“Who?” There was a nervousness in David’s query, almost a demand, as if she were thinking of cheating on him.
“The guy you sent to interview me before you proposed, although I knew that’s what it was about.”
“You mean Skittles?”
“Is that his name?”
“Well, he looks like a Skittle top.”
“What’s Skittles?”
“It’s a strange game.” He spun the topic. “Sabriya, I was afraid Mr. Reynolds, that’s his name, would scare you away.”
“He almost did.”
David stared wildly at her like a mountain lion, wondering if there was enough meat for a meal.
“David!”
His trance was broken. “What?”
“Don’t scare me.”
“Sorry. I had asked Skittles, er, Reynolds, to go easy on you and not pry so much that you might not want to see me anymore.”
“No worry,” she said. “We did get married.”
“Yes, there’s that.”
“Sabriya, look — ever since, I just didn’t want to know much about your past. Thankfully, I don’t have a very vivid imagination. I could never be a spy. I am not suspicious of people. I take them at face value, the way they want to be taken, even if they are misleading me. It’s easier for me to be helpful as a diplomat. When MI6 debriefed me on their investigation into your past, I was told some things that didn’t scare me, but they did make me want to love you even more. I wanted to be the opposite of the abuse you had experienced. I even wanted to be the father of your child, Jia Kun. Although I feared asking where she was, or if she was even alive. But then they told me she was living safely with your sister, seemingly adopted by her. That happens; it seemed natural. So, I left it alone. You seemed content with it, although you had wanted to visit her. That was to be expected.
David changed his tone. Quieter now, more reticent, questioning.
“I must admit, coming back to Pellagore as we have, I wondered if something might be revealed, especially when you again expressed a desire to see Jia Kun. We’ve known each other now for seven years, and you’re not the girl of your past. I’m not sure how you overcame the trauma of your former life. I was too cowardly to ask. You loved me and agreed to marry me. That was enough. It made me very happy.”
“It was the sisters at St. Mary Elias,” Sabriya offered. “That is, what they taught me about God and his forgiveness. I was scared and bitter for a long time, but the sisters loved me, and I finally accepted that even God could forgive and forget my past. Then you, David Kensington, did the same. I could not believe your acceptance and your refusal to even ask. It was a gift.” She paused to think. “But my confidence should go to Sister Linsim and Master Singha, who often came to our monastery for lessons. Before Wing Chun, I was a terrified victim. But no longer. I still don’t completely understand.”
Sabriya stopped talking and teared up again. This time, she let the tears flow as she locked in on David’s eyes. “There was your unconditional love, regardless of my past. I didn’t want to tell you everything, and I haven’t for fear you might reject me...still. At the same time, I knew you had to know some of what I went through, because Skittles had interviewed Mother Superior, who knew a lot, but not everything. I guess they found out enough.”
Sabriya and David were both quiet for a time, gazing at each other, then glancing away, as if embarrassed to watch the other, or letting the other watch them. But their current intercourse had a purpose, and it wasn’t romantic. They were not headed to the bedroom for a loving, life-giving embrace. They were headed for destruction and death. Sabriya was also worried that the closer they came to solving the mystery of what had happened to Jia Kun and Gely Suy, the more disturbing secrets about her past would come to light. She was tempted to blurt them out, just to rid herself of the tension. The crisis they faced could erupt at any moment, and all would be known, and her life, their life, would be over and done with.
Sabriya made a decision and broke the silence. “There are two brothels that were used as the headend for trafficked girls. Their covers were two restaurants on Cabbage Avenue. One is the Iron Spoon in Mandarin Town, next to the Bay Island bridge. The other is the Backroom Wok, about a half-mile north. Ordering a Southern Veil from the barkeep at either place, not a waiter, will get you ushered into the back.”
David’s face turned white; every muscle in his body froze. Sabriya knew that he had heard of Cabbage Avenue as the dark underbelly of Meijing, where corruption of local politicians, royalty, and police was thick. The entire embassy staff had been advised never to set foot there for fear of being inadvertently photographed, thereby tarnishing the British Foreign Service. Sabriya was sure Sir David had complied, but her knowledge of Cabbage Avenue establishments suggested something more sinister to David—something he had never, ever wanted to know, but now he could never forget. He needed clarification: “How do you know this?”
Sabriya bowed her head for a moment, but then sat erect and raised her head high, ready for her opponent’s attack, while hoping at the same time he wouldn’t. She was not proud of what she had been, but she was proud of what she is now. “I was one of the girls, but not willingly.”
She could see David’s body react to the shock of her answer. His lips went rigid and white; his breathing ceased; his eyes widened and watered. He dropped his gaze, stared at his hands, looked away, and avoided her eyes. Then he tried to pivot. “About the brothels. The Iron Spoon and, ah, what was the other?”
“The Wok—the Backroom Wok.”
David slowly reached for his portable encrypted radio, which sat in the corner of his desk. His hand tremored. Depressing the PTT key: “J.C., J.C. Office.” He released the PTT key and set the radio down. There was a momentary silence, then a radio squawk and Jack’s voice: “On my way.”
When Jack entered the office, he was greeted by a somber Ambassador and his wife. “Jack, this is very confidential. It doesn’t leave the room. Under no circumstances does the Service know about this, beyond what it already does. Understand?”
Jack did.
David explained everything he and Sabriya had discussed, with Sabriya filling in the details. But she was hurt. Not once did David look at her, no doubt because she had hurt him.
Jack knew most of the story, but not that prostitution had been forced upon her. That was new, and it showed in Jack’s eyes. She explained that if the two brothels were still operating, they might find Jia Kun and Gely there, or at least someone who knew their whereabouts.
“Jack, I can’t go there,” David pleaded. “I mean, I can’t pass that information to the police. Nor can you. And definitely not to the Palace, or even to the Foreign Service. They would ask how I know about these two places. What would I say? My wife told me? Our careers and the honor of Her Majesty’s Service would be ruined, to say nothing of dragging Queen Devi into this because of her connection to Sabriya.”
David finally allowed Sabriya’s eyes to catch his again. She sighed in relief and held his gaze, a tender grimace curling her lips, telling him she understood how hard the truth was. How was it possible that he, the Ambassador of Pellagore, a respected diplomat of Her Majesty’s Foreign Service, had fallen in love and married a prostitute from a seedy establishment on Meijing’s brothel row? His career was over. Could she help him lie his way back to respectability? Should she tell him that diplomats from other countries had frequented these restaurants, and what they came for wasn’t on the menu? She decided he didn’t need to learn that from her.
“Jack,” said David, “we need to quietly discover if these places are still in business, and if so, is there any connection to the kidnapping in Miwu Cun?”
Jack was quiet only for a moment. “I can do that. I can get a disguise from Landon. Although I’m not sure Hannah would be pleased with me going there and poking around.”
“Wait a minute,” said David. “Sabriya, how many places in the city, or country for that matter, could the kids have been taken to?”
“I don’t know, dozens, I suppose, the way the Queen talks. I’ve been thinking I should tell the Queen that my niece has been taken. That might tell us something and cause the right kind of stir.”
“No, remember? We already talked to the Palace and asked for help. They were ambivalent.”
“But you talked to some official. You didn’t talk to the Queen. But I can.”
David winced, and Jack added, “What if the girls were taken out of the country? Miwu Cun is only a few miles from the Chinese border. All they’d need is one corrupt border guard.”
Sabriya’s heart sank.
“Look,” Jack offered. “Let me check out the Iron Spoon and the Wok place. I can get in and out without…”
“No,” David interrupted. “That’s not your job. I’ll ask Landon without telling him anything about Sabriya. He’s the spook.”
“Every minute counts,” Sabriya warned. It’s been hours since the girls were snatched. No telling where they are or how far away by now.”
There was a beat of silence.
“You two take off,” David ordered. “As soon as I take care of something, I’ll ask Landon and see what he can discover about those brothels without raising suspicion, and I’ll go to the palace and try to contact the Queen directly.”
“Let me,” said Sabriya, “talk to the queen. I can’t sit and wait. I need to do something.”
