Tangshan Tigers

by Dan Lee

  ‘Chi Sao – which means ‘Sticking Hands’ – is a way of bypassing brain. We skip thinking and work entirely on instinct – on touch.’ Chang reached and lightly touched Matt on the shoulder. ‘Master Chi Sao and you will not need to watch and think about what opponent is doing, and then react. You can defend yourself with much greater speed – and precision – because you will feel what opponent is about to do. Reaction immediate, not delayed.’

  Matt wrinkled his brow. It sounded great – almost like a super-power. But how did it work? He didn’t understand how you could ‘feel’ what someone was about to do. But he looked forward to learning.

  ‘Get into pairs, please,’ said Chang.

  Matt found himself paired with Shawn. They grinned at each other.

  ‘What do you think the drill’s gonna be?’ whispered Shawn.

  ‘No idea,’ said Matt. ‘But if it’s anything like Chang’s usual drills it’s bound to be full of surprises!’

  ‘Face each other. Now each put arms out, like so. Forearms should be touching – yes, both arms – contact should be firm but do not press hard.’

  Matt placed his forearm against Shawn’s. Their arms were cocked at a forty-five degree angle to their bodies as Chang had demonstrated.

  ‘Now, roll hands from side to side – like so.’ Chang illustrated the movement – a deft roll of the wrists. ‘Maintain contact at all times – forearms must not separate. Be aware of feel of movement of partner’s arm. Do not think about it, just feel it.’

  Most students, Matt saw, felt a little self-conscious at first. They grinned at each other awkwardly as they rubbed forearms; Lola had a fit of the giggles, and Carl, who was paired with Andrei, kept muttering about how stupid it was. But after only a few repetitions everyone had settled into the routine. Silence fell. All around, Matt saw serious faces.

  He had already fallen into a rhythm with Shawn. As he felt Shawn’s wrists rolling, he rolled his own wrists in the same direction, constantly adjusting the angle and pressure of contact. He soon found he did not need to think about what movement Shawn would perform next – as he felt Shawn’s muscles move against his, he just knew what to expect. Or rather, his arm knew.

  This went on for a few minutes. When everyone was moving comfortably and rhythmically, Chang called out: ‘All students who face me – when you are ready, you will launch attack on opponent. Hand strikes only. Until then, maintain contact. When you are ready, strike!’

  Shawn was facing Chang. Matt braced himself for an attack. Meanwhile, his own and Shawn’s arms kept moving, rolling, turning. Out of the corner of his eye, Matt saw one or two other students launching their attacks, but he took no notice, focusing all his attention on Shawn. A tense thirty seconds passed, Matt staring into Shawn’s eyes, waiting for him to strike.

  Suddenly Shawn made his move.

  With his right arm, he swiftly thrust Matt’s left arm to one side. Simultaneously he aimed a left-handed chop at Matt’s neck. The strike was fast, accurate and delivered without any warning – but without Matt even thinking about it his right arm shot up and intercepted the strike in a perfect block.

  Matt turned and looked at Chang, his mouth open in amazement. ‘That was fantastic! My arm moved on its own, like it was on puppet strings or something. I didn’t choose to block, I just did – like my arm knew…’

  Chang Sifu gave one of his rare smiles. ‘Yes, Matt. And this is the technique of Chi Sao.’

  Chang kept the squad working on Chi Sao for the rest of the day, apart from a short break for lunch, followed by a period of rest and meditation. Then Chi Sao training was resumed. By the late afternoon, Matt had been paired with nearly all the other students in turn.

  ‘This is great, isn’t it?’ he said to Olivier, after he’d just blocked a strike from him without even looking.

  ‘Amazing,’ Olivier agreed. ‘I love the way you can feel yourself getting better at it – like you’re discovering powers you had all along, but never knew.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s as if you can feel the little shift in energy that goes before a move,’ said Matt, ‘and you’re not responding to it after it happens, but at the same time!’

  Chang Sifu clapped his hands.

  ‘Change partners, please. Find someone you have not yet worked with.’

  The only student Matt hadn’t paired up with was Carl. They faced each other and touched forearms. Matt looked into Carl’s face, expecting to see the usual sneer there, or for Carl to make some sarcastic remark. But to his surprise Carl appeared to be taking the exercise seriously. He wore an expression of concentration. Unusually for Carl, he didn’t say a word.

  For a few seconds they rolled forearms together, settling into a rhythm. Hoping to catch Carl by surprise, Matt went for an early attack – a straight, super-fast spear-hand thrust, aimed directly at Carl’s centre line. Instantly Carl blocked, pushing Matt’s arm aside.

  Matt felt a twinge of annoyance at having one of his best strikes blocked so easily. But he gave credit where it was due.

  ‘Nice,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘It works, doesn’t it, this Chi Sao?’

  ‘I guess,’ said Carl shortly.

  ‘So it’s been a pretty good session, hasn’t it?’ Matt couldn’t resist teasing Carl a little after he’d been so scathing about Chang Sifu’s training sessions.

  ‘Well, I’ve been to worse,’ said Carl, as though he was a professional inspector of martial arts lessons. ‘It hasn’t been completely useless.’

  ‘So Chang’s not past it then?’

  ‘Maybe not completely,’ said Carl grudgingly, as he turned away.

  After they’d showered and changed it was time for supper. Matt and the Tigers sat together, chatting about the trip to London.

  ‘What’s the food like there?’ asked Shawn. ‘I heard it’s not great.’

  ‘No, English food is good!’ said Matt. ‘Roast beef, fish and chips, apple crumble – you’ll love it. Anyway, London’s such an international city, you can get any kind of food there. Chinese, Indian, French…’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Olivier. ‘There are so many good restaurants in London. I’ve been to some of them with my parents.’ Olivier’s mum and dad had worked all over the world as diplomats.

  ‘Brazilian?’ asked Catarina.

  ‘Sure – anything!’

  ‘It’s a real happening city, isn’t it?’ asked Shawn.

  ‘Yep. You can watch the best football in the world there – that’s soccer to you, Shawn. There are always shows and exhibitions going on, and there are things like the London Eye – that’s this massive big wheel by the side of the Thames, and you can go right up and you get such a fantastic view –’

  ‘Sounds awesome,’ said Catarina.

  ‘Reckon we’ll win the tournament?’ asked Shawn. ‘That Chi Sao training’s gotta help.’

  ‘They’re a tough team, Kensington,’ said Matt. ‘Haven’t lost for a long time.’

  As he spoke, he realized that he’d have to meet Adam Bates again, and felt his first twinge of nerves. He was looking forward to seeing most of his old friends, but Adam had not been a friend. More like a bully throwing his weight around. He was seriously good at martial arts though, and was bound to be in the team.

  ‘But no one can keep on winning forever,’ Matt said, shaking his head clear of these thoughts. ‘I reckon we’ve got a chance.’

  ‘They’ll know they’ve been in a fight, that’s for sure!’ said Catarina.

  ‘Just think – this time tomorrow, we’ll be there,’ said Olivier.

  ‘Guess we’d better go and get packed,’ said Shawn. ‘Early start in the morning.’

  ‘Boy, are you lucky!’ said Johnny.

  Matt turned. He’d been standing by the landscape window of his room, gazing out at Beijing; he hadn’t heard his room-mate come in. The sky was dark and the skyscrapers were ablaze with light. It was a spectacular sight, but this time tomorrow he’d be looking at a very
different view – the city where he’d grown up. He had already phoned his mum to tell her the good news and she’d been thrilled for him. He couldn’t wait to see London again – the River Thames, the giant pencil-shape of Canary Wharf and the glittering cylinder of the Gherkin. He was looking forward to showing the city to his friends.

  ‘You’ve heard the news then?’ said Matt.

  ‘Yeah and am I jealous – I’d love to see London!’ Johnny said, throwing himself on to his bed.

  ‘Maybe you’ll go there with the basketball team one day,’ said Matt.

  ‘I sure hope so. You through with the bathroom?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Goodnight then.’

  Johnny got up and disappeared into the en suite bathroom.

  Matt yawned and pressed a button on the wall. The blinds smoothly descended, shutting out the glittering skyscrapers of Beijing.

  He climbed into bed. Soothing, swirling patterns were projected on to the blind – a kaleidoscope of soft glowing colours. Matt watched them sleepily. As always, they had a hypnotic effect. He felt his eyes beginning to close. This time tomorrow we’ll be on the plane, he thought. This time tomorrow…

  Chapter 3

  HEART OF A DIAMOND

  ‘I can’t believe we’re here! In London!’ said Catarina excitedly.

  ‘And this is just the airport,’ said Matt. ‘It gets even better!’

  His friends laughed.

  ‘Come along, this way,’ said Mr Figgis. He was their history teacher and form tutor who had accompanied the team, along with Chang. ‘Stick together.’

  The team followed the two teachers through passport control and out into the arrivals lounge. A crowd stood behind the barrier, waiting to greet the newly arrived passengers. Many held placards with the name of the person they were waiting for. Matt’s jaw dropped in surprise as he saw one of the placards said Matt James. And holding it was his –

  ‘Mum!’ said Matt.

  Smiling, his mum pushed through the crowd towards him. ‘Surprised?’ She threw her arms around him and hugged him.

  ‘Great to see you, Mum! But –’ He gently disentangled himself. It was great to see her, but a bit embarrassing too. The whole team was watching.

  ‘Isn’t that sweet!’ said Carl mockingly. ‘The little boy’s reunited with his mummy and – oof!’

  Catarina had just given him a violent shove in the back.

  ‘Now now, settle down, no pushing!’ said Mr Figgis.

  ‘But, Mum, what are you doing here? I thought –’

  ‘I was still in Beijing? The embassy sent me to London for a meeting, so I decided to surprise you!’

  Matt grinned. He had a feeling his mother might have deliberately arranged the embassy meeting, once she knew he was coming to London. ‘That’s just great!’

  ‘Isn’t it? And I thought we could stay with Grandma and Grandad – they’d love to see you again.’

  ‘I’m afraid that will not be possible, Mrs James,’ said Chang politely. ‘It is most necessary that Matt stays with squad. There will be time for visits after the tournament. But as captain, Matt must be with the squad.’

  ‘Captain? Oh well, of course – in that case…’ She turned to Matt. ‘You didn’t tell me you were captain!’

  ‘Only for this one tournament,’ muttered Carl sourly.

  ‘Could you squeeze in one little visit before the contest?’ Mrs James asked. ‘There’s a party at the embassy tomorrow night and I’d like to invite the whole squad. Teachers included, of course. Would that be possible?’

  Matt looked at Chang Sifu, hoping he’d say yes.

  Chang gave a small bow. Mr Figgis nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘We accept,’ said Chang. ‘It will be an honour to attend. But we shall not be able to stay late. Team need their rest. And now, we should make our way to hotel.’

  He looked pointedly at Matt. Matt suddenly realized that as captain, it was his responsibility to lead the team out of here.

  ‘OK, team,’ he said. ‘This way.’

  He said goodbye to his mother and strode through the concourse to the exit. Outside, a gleaming silver double-decker coach was waiting for them. Passers-by cast admiring, curious glances at the squad of eleven young athletes in their red Beijing Academy tracksuits. Matt felt a surge of pride to be captaining them. He saw the team on to the coach and was the last to board.

  Chang Sifu and Mr Figgis sat at the front downstairs. Matt joined the team upstairs. He sat next to Shawn, with Catarina and Olivier in the seat behind.

  ‘London, here we come!’ said Catarina, as the coach pulled away. The squad whooped and cheered in excitement.

  ‘You’ll have to show us the sights, Matt,’ said Shawn.

  ‘Sure,’ said Matt. ‘If you look out of the window on your left, there’s Buckingham Palace!’

  ‘No kidding!’ said Shawn, staring out of the window at the large white building they were passing. ‘Really?’

  ‘No!’ grinned Matt. ‘It’s only the Hoover Building!’

  Everyone roared with laughter. Except Carl, who tutted loudly and took out a karate magazine.

  As the son of an ambassador, Matt was used to official parties and receptions. But this one seemed particularly impressive. The embassy building was in a square in Kensington – a white mansion, four storeys high, with great tall double doors, and a uniformed doorman in a top hat. He bowed as the Beijing team passed.

  ‘Whoa,’ said Catarina. ‘Will you look at this place?’

  ‘This is quite something, Matt,’ said Shawn.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ said Matt. He realized his palms were sweating.

  A curved marble staircase led up to the reception. Along the walls hung portraits in gilt frames, of lords and ladies and generals. Matt noticed Chang looking around with interest as they ascended the stairs. It must look as exotic to him as the Forbidden City does to me, thought Matt.

  They passed through into a great hall with a polished parquet floor, twinkling chandeliers and high windows that overlooked the green square. The room was full of people in smart suits and evening dresses. There was a loud buzz of conversation and laughter, and a string quartet was playing classical music.

  Across the room, Matt saw his mother. She had her hair pinned up and she was wearing a shimmering blue evening dress and a glittering diamond necklace. Matt watched her chatting, gracefully moving from one group to the next. Matt caught her eye and she gave him a small wave, but he didn’t go up and speak to her yet; she might look like she was having fun, but he knew that to an ambassador, meeting and greeting people was all part of the job.

  Waitresses in black dresses with little white aprons were circulating with trays of canapés – prawns on skewers, tiny triangles of toast with caviar, miniature chocolate puddings – and glasses of champagne and soft drinks.

  ‘This is the life!’ said Olivier.

  Most of the Beijing team stood together in a cluster, sipping orange juice. Carl and Andrei stood a little way off.

  ‘Do you think everyone’s having a good time?’ Matt asked the other Tigers.

  ‘They ought to, with food like this,’ said Olivier, as he took a canapé from a passing waitress.

  ‘What’s this one?’ asked Catarina, her hand hovering over a canapé with a sliver of something bright red on top.

  ‘I’d be careful of that one – it’s got raw chilli on, by the look of it!’ said Olivier.

  ‘How come you know so much about these things?’ asked Shawn.

  ‘I’ve been to tons of these things with my dad,’ said Olivier.

  Matt caught sight of a familiar figure on the other side of the room – a boy about his own age, stocky, with curly hair and a broad friendly face. ‘Hey, Harry!’

  He made his way through the throng of guests. Harry’s face lit up.

  ‘Matt! What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m in London for the tournament. With your lot! You in the team?’

  ‘I certainly am
! So we’re gonna be up against each other? This is going to be interesting!’

  ‘Come and meet the rest of the Beijing team – you’ll like them, they’re a great bunch of guys.’

  Matt led Harry over to the squad. ‘This is my old friend Harry Vincent-Bennett. We were at school together before BIA.’

  ‘Good to meet you, Harry,’ said Olivier, politely shaking hands.

  ‘Hi, Harry,’ said Catarina.

  ‘He’s going to be fighting against us in the tournament,’ Matt explained.

  ‘Yeah?’ said Shawn. ‘What’s your martial art?’

  ‘Tae kwon-do. Took it up at the same time as Matt – and I taught him everything he knows!’ grinned Harry.

  ‘You wish!’ said Matt.

  The rest of the Beijing squad – Wolfgang, Lola, Jahmal and the others – gathered round to greet Matt’s friend. The only one who did not join in was Carl, who folded his arms and turned away. ‘I don’t want to talk to the opposition, thanks very much!’ he said in a loud voice.

  ‘Carl,’ said Matt, ‘that’s stupid. Harry’s my friend, and there’s no need –’

  ‘You’re supposed to be the captain!’ Carl fired back. ‘You should set an example, not be hobnobbing with the enemy!’

  ‘Harry!’ said a voice even louder than Carl’s. ‘What do you think you’re playing at?’

  A twinge of dread ran through Matt. I know that voice, he thought. He turned to see Adam Bates. His chin was held high and his eyes had the same stony stare Matt remembered. He hadn’t changed at all since Matt had seen him last – except that he was taller now. He was easily as tall as Catarina (who was the tallest of the Beijing squad) and much more heavily built, with broad shoulders and thick arms and legs.

  Most members of the Beijing team took a step away from Adam. They could sense he was trouble. But only Matt knew just how much trouble Adam could be.