A Map of Betrayal: A Novel

by Ha Jin

  “On some level Gary was a conceited man.”

  “He had to have a high opinion of himself or how could he survive? A spy of his kind had to convince himself of the importance of his mission so that he could continue in the face of adversity.”

  Ben’s words reminded me of a sentence in Gary’s diary that had baffled me for a while: “For me, self-sacrifice is sweet.” My father seemed to believe in the grandeur of what he was doing. In spite of his remarkable intelligence, he lived in a fog, possessed by an ancient emotion whose validity his reason couldn’t penetrate. Indeed, an exalted vision or illusion might make pain bright and supportable.

  Farther along the beach a little girl cried out. She was carrying a miniature saffron bucket with a spade in it and wobbling toward her mother, who was sitting on a boulder and flipping through a fashion magazine. The sun had come out, and the sand was turning whitish. Ben went on about Gary, “I still think he gave up too easily. China might have made a rescue effort to get him repatriated.”

  “You’re too naïve,” I said. “Didn’t the Chinese ambassador deny that China had anything to do with him?”

  “But that couldn’t be the final word. My grandfather held at least the same rank as the ambassador, probably even higher. That is to say, the ambassador had no right to decide Gary’s fate. The official denial might just have been routine bureaucracy. Once the media quieted down and the case was out of public view, there might have been a way to get him out of jail and back to China.”

  “But the ambassador represented the country.”

  “Look, even for small potatoes like me there’s an exit plan in the event of emergency. My grandfather’s case couldn’t be that simple.”

  I was about to ask Ben how he could extricate himself, but I refrained. A pair of mottled seagulls took off from the teeth of the soft waves and let out sharp squawks. They were suspended in the air, their wings hardly moving. I said, “Maybe Suzie Chao knows more about this. Last winter when we talked, she said she hated the Communists because they had abandoned your grandfather.”

  “She’s someone I’d like to meet. She seemed to remain loyal to him, to the very end.”

  “Maybe I should pay her another visit. Would you like to come if I go to see her again?”

  “When do you plan to go?”

  I thought about it and believed that the FBI might swoop down on Ben any minute, so I said, “The sooner the better. Let me give her a call.”

  I fished my cell phone out of my black suede purse and dialed Suzie’s number. On the third ring her voice came on, halting as if I’d woken her up. I said, “Suzie, this is Lilian.”

  “Lilian who?”

  “Gary’s daughter.”

  “Oh, I thought you’d wiped me out of your mind long ago.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “Still up and around.”

  “Listen, my nephew, Gary’s grandson, and I would love to see you. Can we visit you if we come to Montreal?”

  “Sure, anytime. I’ll be happy to see you. You say you have a nephew, a Chinese?”

  “Yes, he’s from China. We’ll speak more about this tonight, okay?”

  “That’s fine, call around nine.”

  I was pleased by her agreement. Putting away the phone, I turned to Ben. “Suzie can meet us anytime. Today is Friday. Maybe we should head to Montreal tomorrow. What do you think?”

  “Well, I can’t fly. The moment I board a plane, the FBI will know. Perhaps we should drive.”

  “Good idea, but don’t you need a visa for crossing the border?”

  “Not if I have a green card.”

  “Then let’s drive.”

  “Should we rent a car or use mine? I just got my engine replaced. The car runs like new.”

  “We can drive your car. This should be safe.”

  On our walk back to his place, Ben talked more about how he’d gone into the espionage business. He said, “Most of my schoolmates enrolled at the spy college in Luoyang because their parents or grandparents had been in the profession. We were told that we were the crème de la crème of our generation, handpicked by the Party, and we all pledged allegiance to the country and the revolutionary cause. In retrospect, I can see that the whole thing was quite sanctimonious, as if every one of us were a great man in the making. Our Party leaders even called us ‘linchpins of the nation.’

  “They chose me because my grandfather had been a top spy, so I was supposed to be cut out for the work as well. But in most ways I wasn’t a good student. If anything, I was on the underperforming side. I couldn’t shoot well or swim more than two miles. In barehanded melee I usually lost to my opponents. But I had an ear for language, and my English was among the best in the class. I could reel off whatever we’d learned the previous day and could imitate all kinds of sounds and tones like a ventriloquist. What’s more, I had interpersonal skills; I was able to strike up productive conversations with strangers. I was nicknamed Superglue, which meant I could always find ways to make a connection with others. During our training, whenever we were sent out to gather intelligence from folks in small towns, I would get more useful information than my classmates. That impressed our instructors. I also was good at analyzing intelligence and could see implications in small details. That’s why they continued to train me after graduation, to prepare me for missions abroad. They let me enroll in a master’s program and I got an MS in technology.”

  “What did they tell you about your grandfather?” I asked.

  “They said he was a martyr who had fallen in the line of duty, so I was obliged to follow in his footsteps.”

  “In hindsight, do you resent that?”

  “Sort of. But they also made me a more capable man, well off and privileged in some ways.”

  “Do you know you’re in danger now? The FBI might move in on you at any moment.”

  “I’m aware of that and must act soon.”

  “But you have been passive for so long. Does Sonya know your true profession?”

  “She might’ve sensed it, but I didn’t tell her anything.”

  “You have a lot to decide. To be honest, few women can stand your kind of passivity.”

  “Actually, I asked my higher-ups for permission to marry her so that we could have the baby and live in America for some years, but they want to keep me more or less detached from this place. A baby born here will be a U.S. citizen, and that might bind me to America. My superiors reprimanded me for losing control of my sex life and told me to make Sonya have an abortion. I’ve been trying to figure out a solution. I can’t force her to do anything.”

  When we arrived at his place, Sonya was cooking spaghetti and, with a wooden spoon, stirring the sauce of ground beef and black olives. She was wearing a mauve housedress like a maternity outfit, though her pregnancy wasn’t showing yet. In spite of her smile, which accentuated a pimple on her nose, her roundish face was a picture of worries, her eyes a bit shadowy, but she still looked pretty, especially in profile. She’d been suffering from morning sickness, and her nose was congested. The previous evening she had confided to me, “I just can’t figure Ben out. He seems sick of everything. He promised me this and that, but I’m not sure I can believe him.”

  After trying the sauce, I told Sonya, “This is delicious.” Then I said in an undertone that we were going to Montreal the next morning, but she mustn’t let anyone know of the trip.

  “What for?” she asked.

  “We’re going to see an old friend of my father’s. We’ll be back on Sunday.” I kept my voice low and assured her, “Don’t worry too much. Everything will work out fine.”

  “I hope so.” She breathed a feeble sigh. Another pot was coming to a boil. Sonya broke a bunch of angel-hair spaghetti in two, threw it into the water, and began stirring. I turned to wash the pans in the sink.

  There was a gas station close by, so after dinner I took Ben’s black Mustang there and filled the tank. Then he worked for a while on his car in the basement ga
rage. He poured a bottle of fuel treatment into the tank, saying that was something he’d done every fall. He also checked all the lights and added fluids. I put two coats into the trunk, having heard that the temperature would plummet the following day. Back in his apartment, he and I avoided talking about his spying activities and the trip openly, not so much because of Sonya as because the place might have been bugged. In a way, I admired Ben for his composure. He seemed to have inherited Gary’s ability to bear stress and uncertainty. Though knowing the FBI was after him, he was still clearheaded about everything—he must have gone through a considerable amount of mental training. In spite of my admiration, I feared he might not be able to find his way out of danger. Perhaps I should urge him to defect and file for political asylum, but we had to thoroughly consider the pros and cons of such a drastic move.

  AFTER WE CHECKED IN to a motel outside Montreal, I phoned Suzie to let her know we had arrived. She said her apartment was too messy for us to meet there. I offered to take her to lunch in Chinatown, where she lived. She suggested Kam Fung, which I knew was a pricey Cantonese place where all the tables had tablecloths. We agreed to meet at eleven the next morning.

  At the front desk of the motel, I’d thought Ben might feel uncomfortable about sharing a room with me, but he had stopped me when I asked for two rooms. He said, “Let’s have one room with two beds. This is more natural.” I was pleased he felt that way. We didn’t go to bed until midnight, even though the seven-hour trip had tired me out. We were talking about his family back in Fushan County and about my father. As our conversation continued, I managed to steer it to his current situation and even mentioned the possibility of turning himself in to the FBI. He shook his head and said, “You’re too naïve, Aunt Lilian. Like most Americans, you think only in clear and straight ways. What will happen to my parents and siblings if I defect? China will grind them down, and they’ll never forgive me.”

  “I didn’t take them into account,” I admitted.

  “You met them and saw how well they were doing in a godforsaken town. Do you think they could succeed like that just on their own? There’ve been powerful hands helping them ever since I started in my profession. If I betray my country, those hands can also destroy them.”

  “What should you do?”

  “That’s the question I’ve been grappling with these days. My business here is worth one and a half million dollars. It was the Chinese government’s investment. If I surrender to the FBI, the business will be gone and I’ll be blamed for the loss. Worse yet, I’d have to give the FBI a lot of information on Chinese espionage operations, especially in North America. Then to China I’ll become a criminal guilty of high treason.”

  “Why can’t you reverse the roles of the plaintiff and the accused? Why is a country always innocent and always right? Hasn’t China used both you and your grandfather relentlessly? Hasn’t your country betrayed you?”

  He looked astonished, his eyebrows locked together. I continued, “Ben, things have been changing in China, where many people no longer depend on the state for their livelihood and survival. If your family’s economic situation takes a downturn, I can send them money regularly. So for now, just think about what will be the best for you and Sonya.” I had to mention money to fully convince him that his family’s survival might not depend on the state anymore.

  “Thank you, Aunt Lilian! This means a great deal to me. With your help I’ll have my rear base covered. I will figure out a way.”

  He didn’t go to sleep for a long time after I switched off the lights. He tossed and twisted in the bed close to the window, now and again letting out a faint sigh. My promise must have set his mind racing.

  We checked out of the motel the next morning and drove into the city. It took just fifteen minutes to get to Chinatown. I liked Montreal for its easy traffic. After parking in an outside lot, we headed to Saint-Urbain Street, where Kam Fung was. No sooner had we sat down at a corner table than Suzie appeared, using a cane that had a thin leather strap attached to it. She was much frailer and more bent than ten months before and might have suffered from rheumatism and osteoporosis. Ben and I stood, he drew up a chair, and we sat her down. I hung her cane on the back of the chair. She took out a Kleenex and blew her nose. She tried to smile, but her effort only made her face look sickly. Her eyes were watery, the lower lids a little swollen.

  I said, “Are you under the weather, Suzie?”

  “No, it’s just the withdrawal symptoms.”

  “Withdrawal from what?” I asked.

  “Caffeine. I just quit coffee.”

  “Why did you do that?” The thought came to me that she might not have many years to live.

  “I want to put my life together again.”

  “Have you been dating someone?” I asked in earnest.

  “Get out of here!” She cackled. “I quit sex long ago. I just want to live longer. When I was young, I thought I’d die before sixty, and I wouldn’t mind that as long as I was happy when I was alive. But since I turned sixty, somehow the older I get, the longer I want to live. Guess I’ve got greedy.”

  “That’s natural,” I said. “Life has become more precious to you.”

  “What a smart girl. That’s why I like you much more than your mom.”

  Ben poured her a cup of jasmine tea and said, “Here, drink this, Grandaunt, and you’ll feel better.”

  Indeed, a few swallows later she returned to normal, relaxed with her legs folded under her. She grinned, and her face creased, showing a coating of makeup. She glanced sideways at Ben, blinking her eyes, which had lost their almond shape and were almost triangular now. “He’s handsome like your dad,” she said about Ben.

  “You bet,” I agreed. “He’s also smart like him.”

  We ordered lunch. Suzie wanted only a bowl of wontons, saying she wasn’t hungry and was happy just to see us. Indeed, she’d been beaming nonstop. We resumed making small talk.

  When our food had come, I said to Suzie, “One question has been on my mind since we last met. How come my dad left his diary with you?”

  “Gary had a feeling that something bad might happen to him. He told me to say nothing about his secret profession to the investigators. Just play the fool and deny knowing anything. He wanted me to keep the diary and let nobody know of its existence. He had a sixth sense for danger.”

  “He wanted you to pass it on to me?”

  “He said nothing like that, but I assumed that could be his intention. Also, the diary could have become criminal evidence, so he wouldn’t want the FBI to get hold of it.”

  “Grandaunt Suzie,” Ben joined in, “one thing I can’t figure out about my granddad—why did he commit suicide? There must have been ways China could rescue him.”

  “Baloney! China dumped him,” she said, twisting her mouth a little. “I got a note from Gary after he was in custody. He asked me to go to Beijing and beg Deng Xiaoping to swap some imprisoned U.S. spies for him.”

  “You received a letter from him?” I was so surprised that I put down my soup spoon.

  “Yes, it came to me through the mail.”

  “How could he send you the letter from prison?” Ben asked.

  “It’s beyond me too. Guess there must’ve been a secret agent who smuggled the letter out of jail and dropped it into the mailbox. Or someone who visited Gary might have brought it out for him. In any event, the letter reached me without a glitch. So I went to Hong Kong right away and got in touch with Bingwen Chu, Gary’s handler, who helped me cross the border into China. In Beijing I asked some officials to let me speak to Deng Xiaoping personally.”

  “Did you get to?” Again I was taken aback.

  “Of course not. There was this man named Ding, a big shot in the Ministry of National Security. He received me in his office, but no matter how I begged, they wouldn’t try to rescue Gary.”

  Ben put in, “That must have been Hao Ding, the minister of national security. He was in charge of China’s intelligence service in
the eighties. What did he tell you, Grandaunt?”

  “He said his country had nothing to do with Gary Shang anymore. To them, Gary was a traitor, a blackmailer. Ding told me, ‘He just extorted seventy thousand dollars from our country. What kind of money is that? Let me give you an idea: I make only two hundred dollars a month. That’s thirty years’ salary for me.’ Another man jumped in, ‘Gary Shang got rich in the U.S. He was rolling in cash and always drove a Buick, but he was corrupted by capitalism, greedy like a snake that wants to swallow an elephant.’ The same man went on to say that Gary even had a bourgeois disease, because anyone who ate coarse grains and vegetables every day wouldn’t suffer from diabetes. I realized there was no way I could reason with them, so again I asked to see Deng Xiaoping in person. They laughed in my face, saying I was out of my senses and that Chairman Deng had no time for such a trifle. I got furious and yelled at them.

  “Seeing me distraught, Ding revealed to me, ‘To tell you the truth, there’s no need to make such a futile attempt. Chairman Deng was well informed of Gary Shang’s case and already gave instructions: “Let that selfish man rot in an American prison together with his silly dream of being loyal to both countries.” So Gary Shang blew his chance and the case is closed. Nobody can help him anymore.’ Those were the final words I got from them.”

  “Then you came back and told my father that?” I asked.

  “No, I wasn’t a family member and couldn’t go to the jailhouse to see him. Someone else must have passed the message on to him.”

  “I cannot believe this,” Ben said, stupefied. “He held the rank of major general.”

  “A general is also a soldier,” I told him. “Soldiers are all expendable.”

  “Everybody is,” Suzie agreed.

  “I have another question for you, Suzie,” I said.

  “Okay, go ahead.”