by F. J. Chase
“Yes, I also assumed they were lying,” said Commissioner Zhou. “And I share your concern. We must be on our guard. But at the moment I am more concerned about being shot by our own nervous forces than by bad elements. I will be surprised if there is not a roadblock on the bridge ahead, so proceed cautiously.”
There were actually two anti-riot vehicles blocking the bridge. Land Rover-type vehicles but with armored bodies. As they drove up they were caught in the beams of two searchlights. An amplified voice ordered, “Halt!”
The sergeant stopped the car.
Commissioner Zhou said, “Do not show your weapons.” He opened his door and stepped out with his hands over his head, holding his credentials. Walking forward he kept his head turned to one side against the blinding light.
Armed police guards with rifles trained upon him were in the top hatches of each vehicle. Commissioner Zhou hoped that the sight of his armored vest reassured them.
A voice commanded, “Step forward.”
An armed police lieutenant appeared from between the vehicles. “Identify yourself.”
“Commissioner Zhou Deming of the Ministry of Public Security.”
The lieutenant tightened up a bit and said, in a much more respectful tone, “Show your credentials.”
Commissioner Zhou passed them over.
The lieutenant held them up to the searchlight and then saluted. “My apologies, Comrade Commissioner. Lieutenant Mao of the People’s Armed Police.”
“What is the situation ahead?” Commissioner Zhou asked.
“What is your destination, Comrade Commissioner?”
“The 110 Highway.”
“You will find one more checkpoint, Comrade Commissioner. And the Public Security station just before you leave the city.”
“Radio ahead and inform both of our arrival.”
“As you order, Comrade Commissioner.”
“Will we encounter trouble on the road?”
“More thieves and criminal opportunists than rioters, Comrade Commissioner. But be cautious. Since you are not traveling in an official vehicle they may attempt to stop you and steal it. I assume you are well armed?”
“Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant. Is there anything else we should know?”
“Continue straight ahead as you cross the bridge, Comrade Commissioner. A right turn would lead you to the city and party offices. There are many troops there, and they have orders to shoot on sight.”
Of course they did. “The vehicle behind is also with me.”
“Yes, Comrade Commissioner.” The lieutenant dropped his voice. “Comrade Commissioner, is it permissible to tell me what is happening?”
Commissioner Zhou did not wish to spread alarm. “All is well, Lieutenant. Be resolute before your men, perform your duties, and all will continue to be well.”
The lieutenant saluted. “Yes, Comrade Commissioner.”
Commissioner Zhou returned to his car.
The lieutenant gave a hand signal and the two riot vehicles backed up to open a space. The cars passed through and he signaled the searchlights off and the block restored.
The platoon sergeant sidled up to his officer. “Comrade Lieutenant, what did he say?”
“It is very bad,” Lieutenant Mao replied.
Once over the bridge they followed the lieutenant’s directions.
“Comrade Commissioner?” said the sergeant driver, the one who had been so concerned earlier about the possibility of walking. What was his name?
“Yes?”
“We may be out on the highway for some time?”
“It is possible.”
“Perhaps we should stop for provisions?”
Commissioner Zhou smiled. He had given this matter no thought at all. Trust a sergeant to deal in practicalities. “If you are able to find a shop open for business you have my permission to stop.”
The lieutenant had called ahead, because they were waved right through the next checkpoint. Nearing the city outskirts they saw a light up ahead, an oasis in the darkness, with a column of trucks parked on each side of the road.
“It seems someone is open for business,” said Commissioner Zhou.
A small store with a large clientele. Men were sitting on the steps and all across the ground in front, drinking beer and playing cards by the light shining through the windows.
The sergeants took their rifles.
Commissioner Zhou replied to Inspector He’s questioning look with, “The sergeants felt we needed provisions.”
Inspector He nodded. And did not sling his rifle. Even outside there was a sullen drunken atmosphere that the policemen picked up on instantly.
At least four small generators were hammering away at the side of the building. The electric cables ran in through a window.
The inside was even more crowded. Between the shelves and the drinkers there was hardly a clear space on the floor to place one’s foot. The loud talk all shut off as soon as the policemen stepped inside. A fan spun furiously without making any headway against the cigarette smoke and body heat. Jangling pop music was being played too loudly from a too-small speaker.
At Commissioner Zhou’s nod two of the sergeants began shopping. The rest spread out and watched the crowd.
The proprietor was a mousy little man who seemed torn between abject terror of his customers and the windfall he was experiencing.
“Good business?” said Commissioner Zhou.
The man shrugged.
A door opened and a middle-aged woman, obviously his wife, appeared from the back room carrying a crate of beer. A chubby dynamo, all smiles and perpetual motion. Every store seemed to have one. “Good evening, good evening!” she shouted at Commissioner Zhou.
“Good evening, Mother,” he replied, bowing. “You are busy tonight.”
“Busy?” she exclaimed happily. “We have never seen such business.” She walked the crate around the room to see who might need a fresh bottle.
Commissioner Zhou did not doubt it, from the way her husband was glaring at her. With power and refrigeration and traffic unable to enter the city their fortune seemed at least temporarily assured.
A man stuck his head through the front door, yelling, “Hey, we’ve got some more!” The words choked off when he saw the policemen.
Commissioner Zhou leaned over to look through the open doorway. A small pickup truck loaded with beer crates and other goods.
The wife took charge of the situation, grabbing the man by the arm and dragging him out. “Take your delivery to the back,” she sang, still smiling at Commissioner Zhou. “All deliveries in the back.”
“It seems your supply chain is still functioning,” Commissioner Zhou said to the proprietor. “I congratulate you.” Buy beer from looters at cut rate—sell it at full price or more. A fine business. Though even in normal times, half the stock of any small grocery was stolen goods.
“He’s an honest man!” an angry voice shouted, shocking everyone in the store. A young truck driver, barely out of his teens, staggered to his feet while his friends plucked at his trouser legs, trying to stop him. Heedlessly drunk. “He could charge us triple but doesn’t!” The boy stopped as if he’d forgotten what he wanted to say next. So he swayed back and forth in silent defiance.
He would lose consciousness soon, Commissioner Zhou’s experienced eye predicted. Big mouth, no threat.
The sergeants had finished their shopping and he was after bigger game. “How much?” he said to the proprietor.
The reply came as a question. “Two hundred RMB?”
Commissioner Zhou opened his notebook and wrote out a voucher for the amount. Placing it on the counter, he took out his official signature seal and put his chop on the document. The proprietor gazed at it mournfully. “You may redeem this at any Public Security office.”
“If there is a Public Security office tomorrow!” the young truck driver shouted, surprising everyone by coming back to life. “Your time is here. All you cheaters, thieves. Hol
d up our trucks. Make us wait a week in our cabs to be inspected. Steal our money to let us pass. Every day you have your foot on our neck, and now our day is come. How does it feel, eh? How does it feel? Choubiaozi!” Stinking whores.
Everyone else in the store was acting like a Chinese: as if they weren’t even there, yet hanging on every word.
It was one thing to have more pressing business, quite another to permit loss of mianzi, authority face. The sergeants had been waiting for his signal, and all he had to do was glance at them. Two sprang across the room and smashed the truck driver with their rifle butts. They beat him down to the floor while the others covered the room.
No one else moved.
They were particularly thorough, stopping only when the truck driver was bloody and moaning unintelligibly.
Commissioner Zhou pointed to two of the driver’s friends. “Pick up our goods and carry them outside. The rest of you remain seated.”
The music was still playing, the bouncy beat in complete contrast to the mood in the store. And underneath that the whirring of the fan and the truck driver’s monotone moaning. The two sergeants who had administered the beating looked to Commissioner Zhou for guidance. He nodded. They snapped handcuffs on the driver and dragged him out the door. Inspector He and the other sergeants backed out with their rifles leveled.
A crowd had been watching through the windows and parted to let them through, muttering angrily.
Commissioner Zhou said to Inspector He, loud enough to be heard, “If a single rock is thrown, open fire.”
Whispers passed that news along, and everyone began melting away into the darkness.
The supplies were loaded and the truck driver thrown onto the floor of the car. “We will stop for information at the Public Security station,” said Commissioner Zhou. “And leave him in custody there.”
They drove off into the darkness, leaving that oasis of light on the road behind them.
Commissioner Zhou anticipated that the station would also be lit by a generator, so perhaps he and his driver paid a little less attention to the roadside because of that. Until Inspector He’s car beeped its horn and flashed its lights.
The driver pulled over and the trail car drew even with them. “We have passed the station,” Inspector He called out.
“Were there no lights?” Commissioner Zhou shouted through the window across the driver’s body.
“No, Comrade Commissioner.”
“Lead us back, then. And be cautious.”
It was a small office right on the side of the road. They did not stop in front, but on either side.
“Circle the building, quietly, and report to me at Inspector He’s vehicle,” Commissioner Zhou ordered his sergeants.
They exchanged glances, and the metallic snaps of their rifle safeties coming off could be heard.
When they disappeared along the side of the building, Commissioner Zhou walked casually across the front, toward the other car. There was light inside the building, faint light, but the plastic window blinds had been shut tightly.
“What do you make of it?” he said to Inspector He.
“There was movement inside when you passed, Comrade Commissioner. This is not as a station should be. Perhaps it has been taken over by rioters?”
Commissioner Zhou was furious at all the effrontery he had witnessed. “Then we cannot drive away and leave it in their hands.”
“We are few, Comrade Commissioner. Perhaps we should return to the city for assistance?”
“I believe we will receive none. But we will withdraw if the opposition is too great.”
The two sergeants returned from their tour around the building. “Everything as usual outside, Comrade Commissioner. The generator is operating. No sign of any officers inside, but the windows are all blocked.”
“Vehicles?” said Commissioner Zhou.
“A patrol car.”
One of Inspector He’s sergeants was carrying a single-shot riot grenade launcher in addition to his rifle. “Stand by to fire a gas grenade through the window,” Commissioner Zhou ordered. “You two, go back and cover the rear. If there is any firing from the front, shoot anyone who runs out.” And to the others, “Cover me and be ready with the gas.”
He walked across the parking area to the front door. With his back to the wall, and only exposing one arm, he tried to open it. Locked. He pounded on the door. “Open up!”
“Go away or we will shoot,” said a quavering voice from inside.
Go away or we will shoot? “Are you police or not?” Commissioner Zhou shouted.
“Go away. Go to the city bureau.”
No rioter would say that. “This is Commissioner Zhou of the Ministry. Open the door at once or I will fire gas inside the building.” He waved Inspector He and his men over.
The door opened slowly and revealed a sergeant 3rd grade attempting to button up his uniform blouse.
Commissioner Zhou stuck his credentials under the man’s nose. “What is happening here?”
“Y-your pardon, Comrade Commissioner.”
He pushed his way in. Drunk. The man was stinking drunk. An officer 1st grade was asleep on the floor among empty alcohol bottles.
“Drunk!” Commissioner Zhou shouted. “And hiding? During an emergency? Who is in charge here?”
“Th-the inspector has gone, Comrade Commissioner.” The sergeant had developed a nasty stutter.
“What do you mean, gone? Where?”
“I—I do not know, Comrade Commissioner. He left.”
“You mean he deserted his post.” Commissioner Zhou turned to Inspector He. “Call the men in back and bring in the prisoner.” His attention shifted back to the sergeant. “Is there anyone else here?”
“N-no, Comrade Commissioner.”
“You have one patrol car in the back. Is it in operating condition?”
“A-as far as I know, Comrade Commissioner.”
“I will be taking it. And roadblock barriers, if you have the proper kit here. Now, are you able to fully understand me?”
“Y-yes, Comrade Commissioner.”
“I could have you dismissed and sentenced to ten years in a labor camp for this. But I will allow you to redeem yourself. Pull yourself together, sober up, clean and reopen this station, and perform your duty. Regain your courage and I will forget this. I will have your inspector and the other deserters shot. Brave police officers are fighting hard in the city. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, Comrade Commissioner. Thank you, Comrade Commissioner.”
“Do not forget what I have said.”
They dragged the truck driver in.
“Lock him in a cell,” Commissioner Zhou ordered. And to the sergeant, “Charge this man with drunkenness, resisting arrest and assault on officers. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, Comrade Commissioner.”
“Remember my words,” Commissioner Zhou warned. As he turned to leave he nearly stepped on the officer still snoring away on the floor. “And wake up this drunken fool!”
As they waited in front for the patrol car to be brought around, Commissioner Zhou heard one sergeant whisper to another, “Things are falling apart.”
The city and the store had not shaken them, but this had. Police cowering behind the locked doors of their station in fear of mobs. “Listen to me,” he said loudly. “It will not fall apart if we do not allow it to fall apart.”
24
The river seemed to come to an end up ahead. Avakian knew that meant a bend. He just didn’t know if it was the one he wanted.
As they floated around it and continued downriver he did see something that pleased him. Highway guardrails. The bank was too high to see the highway, but the metal rails were enough. Still no stars or moon through the smoke overcast, but the sky was beginning to lighten near the horizon. It was time to get out of the river.
“Start kicking for the right bank,” he whispered to Judy.
“Are we there yet?” she whispered in a little-girl v
oice.
If she hadn’t been there he knew for sure he wouldn’t have felt like smiling at that point in the evening. “I honestly don’t know.”
It took time to kick the raft out of the main channel and near the bank. Though the feel of finally standing on the solid rocks of the riverbed was incredible. They beached the raft just far enough inland to keep it from moving.
Avakian had his rifle pointed up at the bank, drawing the cocking handle back an inch to retract the bolt, breaking any suction in the chamber and allowing the water to drain from the barrel. Otherwise it might blow up if he pulled the trigger. Which would be awkward. “I have to see if the coast is clear,” he whispered in her ear. “And you have to make sure the raft doesn’t float away.”
That was absolutely the last thing Judy wanted to hear. The logic might be unassailable, but that wasn’t her concern. Being abandoned again was. She shook her head violently.
He opened his hands as if to say: no choice.
She pointed at him: I’m warning you.
He blew her a kiss and disappeared.
She punched the raft in frustration. And the impact caused it to slide back into the water. And she had to grab it and drag it back. And then felt like punching something else.
Avakian glided up the bank, trying not to dislodge any rocks. He poked his head over the top and, as expected, there was a hard surface road. No signs in sight, though. Dammit. Across the road was one building with lights on in the midst of a darkened neighborhood. What could that be? He looked at it from the side, since the rods and cones of the peripheral vision were much more acute at night. Still too far to make out. Maybe he ought to cross the road for a better look.
Firmly in the grip of every worst-case scenario her imagination could come up with, Judy was well on her way to panic. Sitting half out of the river and getting a full appreciation for how much she stank. Literally stank. And just waiting for the sound of gunfire. She wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety or the stink that was making her sick to her stomach.
She nearly launched out of the river like a rocket when Pete suddenly appeared right next to her without having made a sound.
