Chapter Five

Memories of the Past

I

"Are you going anywhere tonight?" John asked Lee.

Lee flipped through a few TV channels before replying. "Why is it with all the channels we have there's still nothing good to watch?"

"Maybe because you've been watching TV all day long for the past week," John commented.

"I'm recuperating. That's what you do when you have a big hole in your shoulder blade," Lee growled as he flipped through a few more channels.

"Does that mean you have to be grouchy too?"

"What do you expect me to do? Sing and dance?"

John shrugged. "Not really. It's just that a few days ago you practically had Danielle in tears, and you bite my head off every time I even say boo to you. I know it hurts, but . . . "

"I'm fine. I just want to be left alone."

"I kind of got that, but everybody's worried about you. Dad feels bad about what happened."

"Tell him I'm okay. Tell everybody I'm okay. I just don't feel like talking to anybody right now."

"What about your girlfriend? She's been asking about you. What do I tell her?"

"I dunno. Tell her that I broke my arm or something."

"Why don't you tell her yourself?"

Continuing to flip through the TV channels, Lee glared angrily at the TV set.

"Having doubts about the whole Green Hornet scene?"

Lee shrugged, then winced.

"Dad wouldn't blame you if you wanted to drop it."

"Yeah, and let him think I'm not only a clumsy failure, but I'm also a gutless wonder," Lee answered bitterly.

"I'm sure he would understand."

"Did He tell you how he got all shot up those years ago?"

"Yeah, he did," John answered quietly.

"And that it's because of me that he's become the Green Hornet again?"

"So I gather."

"So what do you think he would think of me, if I fold the first time I get hurt?"

"Still, I'm sure he'd understand . . . "

Lee looked sharply at John. "He'd say he does, but that's not what he would think. I once called him a coward for not wanting to take up the Hornet again. Do you honestly think he'd have any respect for me, if I decide to quit now?"

John shook his head. As much as his father would try to be understanding, he knew as well as Lee what the elder Reid would really think.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Lee sighed placing the remote on the lamp table next to him. "I've been going through all of my father's philosophy books trying to find some words of wisdom, but I'm drawing a blank so far."

"I know how you feel."

"Do you? Have you ever come this close to being killed?"

John nodded. "Yeah," he said very softly. "I wasn't hurt as badly as you, but only because I was very lucky."

"What happened?"

"I never told anybody about this . . . "

"Why?"

"Because Mom and Dad would've pulled me home in an instant."

"So what happened?"

"It was in Kahara. I was there covering their civil war. I had become friends with some of the guys at one of the newspapers there. The religious extremists threatened to kill anybody who didn't support their cause. Nobody dared oppose them in print, except for this one little newspaper. Hell, they were so small they were barely a level above the mimeograph. But they were the bravest people, I had ever met."

John stared off into space, thinking. Remembering. "There was this one guy. He was born in the United States and even went to college here in this city, but he chose to go back to Kahara. He said he had to be where his roots were. He'd write editorials warning people about these extremists, warning them what kind of life they might face under a Muslim theocracy. It was one thing to reject the so-called Ugly American, but to reject all progress that's happened over the past several centuries . . . " John shook his head. "He was marked for death by the extremists." He fell silent, reluctant to relive the past.

"What happened to him?" Lee gently prompted.

"I was in the there at his newspaper, talking with him over some tea. You know they drink hot tea all the time?" he digressed, still gingerly dancing around the painful memory, "Even in the hottest weather. It's kind of like the way the English do. Except it's very sweet and it's spiced. It's very good.

"One moment we were talking and laughing. His wife was pregnant with their first child. He was so happy about becoming a father. Here he was in a war-torn country and he was talking about a bright future for his child.

"One moment. . . I still can't believe it. One moment he was alive. The next I was covered with his blood. Somebody had thrown a grenade through the door. I still have no idea why I wasn't killed. It was plain dumb luck. The small press I was sitting next to took some of the force of the blast in my direction. Otherwise, I would have been dead too. I got knocked on my ass and bruised and covered with shrapnel, and my friend . . . "

John stared at his hands, seeing them covered in blood. "He died in my arms," he said very quietly.

"I'm sorry," Lee said.

"I felt so helpless. Here I am in the middle of a war, covered with my friend's blood, and what am I going to do about it? Just write about it? How can that be all I can do? What good is it? How can a story do anything about ending all the insanity? How does that give any meaning to my friend's life or death?"

"What did you do?"

"I got solidly drunk for a few days." John answered Lee's question before he could ask it, "Yeah, I know, Muslim country and all that, but Kahara City is like a lot of big Arabic cities, there's liquor if you know where to look for it. I did."

He sighed, then continued, "Then after I woke up in some back alley after getting my ass beat in some bar fight, I wrote the best damned story I could about what happened and what I felt. I wrote about one of the finest men I had ever met." John barked a humorless laugh.

"The story never appeared in Kahara. Nobody there was brave enough to print it. And here? It ran in the Sentinel. Dad wrote an editorial to go with it, but nobody gave a damn. And it sure as hell didn't do a damn thing about stopping the insanity in Kahara."

"I thought you said you didn't mention this to your parents."

John grinned lopsidedly, "Let's just say I left out the fact of how close I came to buying it."

"And then you came home with Fatima."

"Yeah. The first chance I get, I come running home with my tail between my legs, and you saw how that turned out."

Lee nodded his understanding. "It must have been like a nightmare to see the Sentinel explode right in front of your eyes."

"It was," John admitted. "All I could think of was my parents dying just like my friend."

"So what do you intend to do now?"

"I intend to do my damnedest to make sure that what happened in Kahara doesn't happen here. There's so much corruption here and so many people pretending that only they know the truth. There's demagogues telling people just what they want to hear, and then there's the politicians who are doing the exact same thing and destroying anyone who dares say thing different. Everybody's out to push their own damned agenda without giving a thought to what's good for everyone.

"And hell, where it should be the job of the news media to provide balanced coverage and intelligent criticism we're reduced to light entertainment to satisfy corporate bean counters. We go from scandal to scandal, anything to increase circulation, while trying to stay out of lawsuits by not saying anything that might possibly make somebody angry or worse, upset the advertisers."

"Your father doesn't do that."

"No, he doesn't. Not as long as he can keep the Sentinel independent. But all it takes is another disaster. If we should ever have to accept any kind of outside financing or be forced into some kind of joint operating agreement, anything that destroys our financial and editorial independence, then the Sentinel will wind up as just another corporate mouthpiece. That's why I've been pushing to change how we do things, to modernize, expand, to get different sources of funding. We're vulnerable now. We need to make changes now on our own terms before we get into the shape where somebody else is the one calling the shots."

Lee absently rubbed his aching shoulder. "I'm starting to see how the Green Hornet might play a part."

John nodded. "It's a way for both of us to redeem ourselves."

"But your father won't allow you . . . "

"Not yet, but I'm working on it."

"It'll take some time. He's a stubborn man."

"Don't I know it."

"Let me think about it," Lee said.

"Sure. Now what about your girlfriend?"

"Maybe it's time for me to get out of the house for a while."

II

In the shadows of the new Bank of Hong Kong building stood a small collection of buildings that were waiting for the newest round of the rehabilitation fever that was overtaking the city's Chinatown. For many years the younger generations had headed out to suburbia, rejecting the traditions of their parents as they grabbed for the brass ring of the American dream. Now their children were coming back to reclaim Chinatown and their heritage. Among them was the small group of actors assembled in an elaborate old theater that had once hosted Valentino silents subtitled in Chinese.

Most of the actors had left after a long evening of rehearsal. Only two of them were left in the darkened theater. They were continuing an argument that had split the small group into two camps that were barely speaking to each other outside of the lines spoken in the play.

"I told you he wasn't going to come!" Tommy Chong complained angrily as he paced in front of the stage. The dark-blue Mao suit and black horn-rimmed glasses only made him look more overweight and disheveled than he usually did. Hui Ying, a pretty round-faced Chinese girl with black hair cut in a short bob, watched him in disgusted silence.

"I don't know why you even insist on having him!" he continued.

"I told you before why we need him, Tommy," the girl replied finally, "We will fail if he doesn't join us."

"I told you before, call me Chong Tan-ming. I have rejected the ways of the guai lo. I will not stoop to the ways of the barbarian west."

Hui Ying rolled her eyes. "Give me a break. What're you going to do? Start dressing like some old-fashioned Chinese warlord in silk and a queue?"

"Of course not. I am a man of the common people," Tommy boasted, "the people on whose backs the Emperors built their palaces."

Hui Ying shook her head, "How typical. You have no idea what China is really like. The closest you've ever gotten is the 'made in China' label on your clothes. The only reason you've joined us is to piss off your rich father, the D.A."

"That's not true. I believe in honoring the traditions of my ancestors, not like this Lee guy you're going out with. Hell, he's only half Chinese as it is."

"That's the part that's important," Hui Ying replied.

"He might look Chinese and he may know some Chinese martial arts, but his heart is not Chinese. You only want him because he's good looking."

"That's it, isn't it? You're jealous."

"No, I'm not," Tommy replied petulantly. "It's just that nobody is going to accept him, no matter who you say his ancestors are."

"I think they will."

"So when are you planning on telling him of your plans?"

Hui Ying heard a knock at the door. "That's probably him now. No more of this until later," she hissed as she went to answer the door.

"Lee," she said happily as she opened the door to let Lee in. Her face quickly fell when she saw that his arm was in a sling. "What happened?"

"I was doing some yard work and fell on a broken branch that was sticking out of the ground," Lee answered. He quickly noted that the only other person left in the theater was Tommy Chong who had perched himself on the edge of the stage. "I'm sorry I'm so late."

"You could've called," Tommy complained.

"Forget it," Hui Ying said lightly, "I'm just glad you're here."

"I guess you're going to have to find someone else for the part now that my arm's all messed up," Lee said as she escorted him down the shallow incline to in front of the stage.

"No way," she said, "We can work that into the play with no problem at all. That will only make your character seem more courageous."

Tommy rolled his eyes at Hui Ying's reply. "I'm outta here," he grumbled as he slid heavily off the edge of the stage. "Let me know when wonder boy here decides on a time when he might deign to join the rest of us for rehearsal. Might be nice to have your 'star' around to practice his part." He glared pointedly at Lee, "Unless, of course, you're too damn perfect to need to rehearse."

"Now wait a minute," Lee said, grabbing at the angry young man as he pushed between him and Hui Ying, "If you don't like me in this production of yours, say so and I'll butt out."

Hui Ying placed her hand on Lee's arm. "He didn't mean anything. He's just tired. It's been a long night. We're always chewing on each other when we're hammering out a new play. Things'll settle down once all the details are straightened out. Won't they, Tommy?"

Tommy's jaw worked as he considered his reply. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say."

Hui Ying sighed tiredly at Tommy's retreating back. "Don't take him too seriously," she said to Lee.

Lee shook his head. "He's got a point Hui Ying. I'm an outsider. I don't have a right to be in this play, especially as the star. I'm not an actor."

"You're wrong. You're a natural. I can tell. I've seen a lot of people, like Tommy there, who figure that if they can memorize a few lines they're an actor. But they have to have something special, some kind of charisma that connects with the audience. I know you have that ability."

"Aw, c'mon, be serious. Just because we're friends doesn't mean that I'm right for the part. After all it's mighty important. Like Tommy said, the character of your brother is too important for somebody out of the blue to take over. Especially somebody who can't devote themselves fully to the part. I got too much going on to get as deeply involved as I should."

"Does that include being involved with me?"

"No, of course not. It's just that I have a lot to do at the Sentinel. I'm just starting to learn my way around there and earn my keep. I don't want to screw up. I don't have a lot of time to show up for rehearsals. Tommy resents that and I'm sure a lot of the other people resent it too. It'd be a lot better if somebody who really deserved the part got it instead of me."

"But Lee, it's important to me. It's my brother's story. You remind me so much of him. I just know you'd be perfect for the part. You don't have to rehearse with the group. It can be just you and me. We can go through your part every time we get together."

"But . . . "

"You don't understand, nobody really does. This isn't just a play, like something a bunch of high school kids throw together. This is about a cause, no, let me take it back, it's not about a cause, it is a cause. It was my brother's cause, my family's cause, and now it's mine.

"People who have never lived in China under the communists cannot possibly understand how it is there. They don't know how it is to live under constant repression where the government controls everything in your life. Why, did you know, people are forced to have only one child, and worse, all too often when somebody finds out they're going to have a girl, they chose to abort the baby so they can try for a boy the next time? I might not have even been born except my father was a popular professor and his first wife had died. He was allowed to have another child by his second wife. That child was me. The government is involved in everything. Worse it's run by a bunch of fearful old men who are afraid of any challenge to their power. Good god, now they're persecuting people who are merely doing meditative exercises in the park."

"But how can a play change anything?"

"It can remind people of what happened at Tiananmen Square in 1989. Peaceful demonstrators were brutally murdered by government forces there. People like my brother were run over by tanks. Thousands were killed or maimed. Others like my parents went into hiding. They sent me here so I would be safe. I haven't seen my parents since I was a little girl. We have to remind people of what happened. We have to remind them that there is still repression going on and that it is very important that we continue to fight for our freedom."

"Okay, I can see how it's so important to you," Lee said thoughtfully, "But I still don't see why you think I'm so important to your play. Wouldn't it be better if you had someone who was an experienced actor in the part? I'd hate to blow it for you because I can't act . . . " Lee raised his hand when Hui Ying started to retort, "Okay, maybe it'll turn out I can act, but still I don't want you to feel you have to place me in the starring role because of our relationship."

Hui Ying sighed, "I can see I can't change your mind. At least not yet. Why don't we give it a try? You might surprise yourself. Why don't you give it and me a chance?"

Lee shook his head. "Okay, I'll give it a shot."

"Great, because you see, I do have an ulterior motive."

"What's that?"

"I want you to go with me when we take this to China."

"China? You have got to be kidding. Don't you have any idea how dangerous that might be?"

"Yes, I do. That's why I need you with me. I know you're the only one that has the courage to stand by me if things get rough."

"Gee, I don't know, Hui Ying. Mr. Reid counts on me a lot at the Sentinel. I don't want to leave him in the lurch after all that he's done for me."

"But don't you think your own people, the people of China, are more important?"

Lee frowned doubtfully, torn between two worlds.

Seeing his doubt, Hui Ying changed her tack. She squeezed his uninjured arm. "I didn't mean that way. I can see how important Mr. Reid and your work at the Daily Sentinel is to you. I don't want to imply that it's not important. But haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to go to China. Haven't you ever wondered about your father's origins?"

"Yeah, I have," Lee admitted reluctantly, "I've always wanted to go to China to see where he came from. There was always some kind of mystery about it. But I don't want to make a big production out of it. I'd rather keep it kind of low key, if you know what I mean."

Hui Ying smiled, "Maybe you're right. I'm probably pushing too hard. Why don't we see how everything goes with the play first before we make any kind of plans about going to China?"

"I'd like that," Lee agreed.

III

After pulling up in front of his grandfather's house Tommy Chong nervously chewed on his thumbnail, trying to gather the courage to talk to the old man. For some unexplained reason he always gave Tommy the creeps. To most people no one seemed more ordinary than his grandfather, but there was something about the old man that made Tommy very uneasy.

Just as the Bamboo Curtain fell his grandfather had fled with his wife and infant son for the United States. He left his Chinese name on the ship and as his feet touched the soil of America he had taken the plain American name of George, becoming known to everyone since then as George Chong. Most people only called him Mr. Chong. He was not one to tolerate the familiarity of being called merely by his first name. There were rumors that he had hidden a fortune in gold in the basket that his infant son had slept in. No one ever knew for sure. Only one thing for sure was that his grandfather had become a wealthy man and had put aside everything that connected him to China.

George Chong had once explained to his grandson that one could not be taken seriously as a businessman outside of Chinatown if one was dressed as a Mandarin. Thus, he always appeared impeccably dressed in Armani suits, handmade Italian shoes and silk ties. Even when relaxing Tommy's grandfather always dressed in the best labels and of the finest materials. Like the white ranch-style house that sprawled among manicured lawns and well-trimmed hedges there was nothing to connect George Chong to his homeland. If not for the oriental cast of his features one would have thought his ancestors had come on the Mayflower instead of a battered steamer with a Hong Kong registry.

Finally mustering his courage, Tommy climbed out of his car, slamming the door behind him loud enough to start the neighbors' dogs barking. The blonde butler did not seem surprised to find Tommy at the door even though it was late, nor did Tommy find that unusual. His grandfather kept late hours and often had visitors all hours of the night. He was led to the den where his grandfather was reading the New York Times while smoking a pipe filled with sweet-smelling tobacco, the very image of American urbanity from the shock of his thick white hair to the shine of his penny-loafers.

Taking in the wrinkled blue Mao suit and cheap horn-rimmed glass, George Chong frowned. "I see you are still working with those actors."

"Yes, Grandfather, I am."

"I don't understand why you associate with them. Your father and I had envisioned a better future for you than acting."

"I know Grandfather. I don't intend to do this forever. It's just temporary."

"Temporary. I see, and what do you intend to do with your life? That is, once you have finished 'finding yourself'?"

Tommy unhappily bowed his head. "I don't know," he answered very quietly.

George Chong sadly shook his head. "Since I am sure you did not come to me to discuss your choice of careers, why are you here?" he asked.

"I want to ask you a favor."

"And what is the favor?"

"There is a man I want you to take care of."

"Take care of? In what manner?"

"I know that you know people who can make other people disappear."

"Grandson, I believe that you have been believing too many rumors about me."

"I know you have dealings with many powerful people, including those who can remove 'obstacles'."

"I see, and who is this man and how has be become an obstacle to you?"

"There is a girl . . . "

"One of the actors?"

"Yes . . . "

"The activist?"

"Yes."

"I take it then that this unfortunate man is competing with you for her affections?"

"Yes, Grandfather."

"I do not make people disappear simply because my grandson is jealous. If you cannot earn the girl's affection on your own, then you are unworthy of them."

"But Grandfather, he could be valuable to you, or to some of your business associates."

"How?"

"He works for Britt Reid of the Daily Sentinel."

George Chong snorted. "You want an employee of the Daily Sentinel to disappear? I don't think that would be wise. Mr. Reid places too much value on his people. It would cause more trouble than it would be worth."

"This man is the son of a man who was Mr. Reid's valet."

"Worse yet, unless they parted enemies. Which I doubt."

Tommy sighed in frustration. This wasn't going well at all. Gathering his muddled thoughts, he tried again. "Once there was an emperor of China . . . "

"I am fully aware of that, grandson . . . " the old man said testily.

"It is said that he died childless. That the last emperor died leaving no one behind him to take the peacock throne."

"That is true, although there were rumors . . . " Tommy's grandfather began thoughtfully. "But surely those were only rumors."

"What if they weren't rumors? What if is true that there was an heir? That the baby was taken away to safety. What if the child survived to adulthood?"

George Chong shook his slowly. "There are too many if's. I don't see what this . . . , this fairy tale has to do with you."

"Hui Ying believes those rumors to be true. She says she has proof that the emperor did have a son, who in turn had a son of his own."

"And this rival of yours is the man she believes to be the true heir to the peacock throne?"

"Yes, Grandfather. She wants him to return with her to China. She wants him to help lead a revolution against the communists."

"Impossible. It's been too many years. No one would follow someone merely because he claims to be the grandson of the last emperor of China."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Do you think the communists would want to take that chance?"

"I doubt it. They are not the types to ignore even the slightest threat to their hold over the Chinese people."

"And surely Grandfather, they would pay dearly for the information that would lead them to this potential threat."

"So if arrangements were made with certain people for this young man to disappear, not only would I prosper, you would be free to pursue this young woman you so greatly desire."

"That is so grandfather. We would both benefit."

George Chong nodded thoughtfully to himself. "I will give this some thought."

"When will I know your decision?" Tommy asked eagerly.

"When the time is right, I will let you know. Now, it is late, I believe it is time for you to go home before your father worries."

Tommy bowed to his grandfather, trying hard not to show how happy he was, "I am glad I could come up with something that will benefit both of us."

"I'm sure you are," George replied, not as sure of it as his grandson.