One of the men said something to Asgar in a language that sounded somewhat like what Jon had heard among Northern Alliance Uzbeks in Afghanistan.
Asgar answered and translated for Jon. “Toktufan wanted to know where you hid your weapons. I told him you probably had your pistol in your belt at your back under your sweater and your knife on your leg.”
“Close.” Asgar smiled. “The other guy back there is Mierkanmilia, and the tall lady who speaks like another Yank is my sister, Alani. She and her friends will turn your face into a Uigher’s, if they can. They have Uigher clothes for you to wear, too.”
“What will you be doing?”
“Figuring out the best destination, arranging transport, and becoming Uighers again ourselves.” He motioned to the two other men. “We’ll leave you in Alani’s capable hands.” The three ducked out through the hole and put the section of brick back into place.
The women held a conference in Uigher. More accurate, the two who had remained nameless asked Alani a torrent of questions.
Finally, she turned to Jon. “Sit there, Colonel Smith.” She pointed to a’ chair. “Take off your sweater.”
Jon took off the black sweater, revealing a black cotton turtleneck.
Alani snorted. “A little overdressed, aren’t you? Must I lead you by the hand?”
Jon laughed. To his surprise, so did she, and it struck him that she had been imitating some American schoolmaster. A private joke for herself.
Under the circumstances, it was remarkable, since she was risking her life for him. He took off the turtleneck and caught a flash of interest in the tall woman’s eyes as she contemplated his naked chest.
He offered a smile. “You and your brother are different from the others.”
Her full lips gave a quiet laugh as she beckoned the other two women.
They had been whispering and laughing behind their hands as they watched him strip. They hurried forward and went to work on his face, first with a pale brown base to darken his skin.
“Why? Are we different to you because we speak English?” Alani stepped back and watched with a critical eye.
“That, and that you’re educated abroad. It speaks of a history and a plan.”
“You know our father was Han?”
“Yes. It doesn’t appear to mean much to either of you.”
“It doesn’t, except to give us an advantage other Uighers don’t have.
Also a disadvantage, of course. There is always the chance we could turn. We never have, and they would never suggest it aloud, but it lurks in the backs of their minds.”
The two makeup women were in a heated discussion, wielding long narrow-tipped brushes and pointing at his eyes and eyebrows. The brush strokes on his skin were soft, almost tickling.
Alani spoke to them sharply. They retorted, ignored her, and returned to their aesthetic disagreement. Alani shook her head in exasperation and glanced at her wristwatch.
“What advantage does it give you?” Jon wanted to know.
She was still watching the two bickering makeup artists and seemed not to have heard him. “Our mother is the daughter of one of the leaders in our independent government in exile in Kazakhstan. It makes her, and therefore us, important among the Uighers. Our grandfather was the one who made certain we were sent abroad to study.”
She barked at the women who had finally begun to work on his eyes. She pointed to her watch. “Because of that, and because our father’s Han, Beijing thinks we’d be especially useful as leaders and apologists in convincing our people to accept being part of China. To convince them to give up our heritage and assimilate. This gives us privileges as long as we appear to go along with their plans. It makes good cover, including residence papers that enable us to move around much more freely and even reside for extensive periods in Han territory. They watch us, of course, but as long as they don’t catch us, we can go almost anywhere we want.”
“Asgar seems to go places he’s arrested.”
She nodded knowingly. “We despair about Asgar. He’s a good man, and he’s never been in serious trouble yet. We keep our fingers crossed.”
“I’m trying to place your accent. Where did you study in the United States?”
“I lived with a family in New Jersey and went to public schools there, then to the University of Nebraska in Omaha. I’m a mixture of East Coast and Midwest, the perfect blend to study political science and agronomy.”
And to be an effective leader of a primarily agricultural people. Her grandfather had been thinking far ahead. “With a minor in guerrilla warfare?” She smiled. “Asgar again. When the Soviets were in Afghanistan, your CIA was keen to train any Central Asian Muslim ready to fight the Soviets, and he joined the Northern Alliance. They couldn’t seem to tell one of us from another, even a Tajik.”
The two makeup authorities finally finished, stood back clucking in admiration of their work, and beamed at Alani. She nodded and said something that, since the other women’s smiles remained, must have been complimentary. The pair packed up their tubes, bottles, jars, and brushes. They kept turning back to look at his face as one banged on the bricks with the hilt of a dagger she had produced from somewhere under her clothes.
Alani held a hand mirror. “Have a look.”
Jon stared, impressed at the results of his new, sticky, and very uncomfortable mask. His eyes had acquired something of the fold, his skin was a light chestnut brown, creased with the wrinkles of sun and wind. If he narrowed his eyes in a squint, he would probably pass in the dark.
“If you’re among us, you ought to go unnoticed,” Alani decided.
“Let’s hope we’re not stopped.”
“We’ll be stopped, of that you can be certain. But with Asgar and my papers, and those we’ve forged for the rest of us, they should treat us lightly. We’ll have to hope they don’t make us get out of the Land Rover.” She glanced again at her watch. “The others will be back soon.
You’d better put on the clothes I brought.”
There was a touch of anxiety in her voice, as if time were passing too quickly, and the men were too late.
Her uneasiness infected Jon. As he dressed, he asked, “What are you doing in Shanghai? Officially, I mean.”
“We’re studying to be teachers of teachers. Well, actually, Asgar and I are. Some of the others are being trained as village leaders or agents for Beijing. The rest are part of our underground network.”
He pulled baggy corduroy trousers up over his black jeans. “That’s a damned dangerous game, Alani. For all of you.”
“We know the risks. They’ve arrested thousands of us already and executed a hundred or so.” She looked him steadily in the eye. “Perhaps it’s a game for you and the CIA, Colonel. It’s not for us.”
The worn, unpressed white dress shirt was tight over his sweater, but the flannel shirt slipped on easily. “I’m not CIA,” Jon told her. “And it’s never been a game for me.”
She considered him. “Yes, I can see that.” “No one’s asked me why I’m here, what I came for. Not that I intend to tell you.”
“What we don’t know, they can’t get out of us. You’re against the Chinese or working to ensure the human- rights accord. That’s good enough for us.”
The harsh scraping of brick on brick interrupted their conversation.
Before the hole was completely open, Asgar climbed through. He was dressed in the rough clothes of a farmer, with the riding boots of a sheepherder. He also wore a decorated white skullcap under a straw sun hat.
He studied Jon from a distance and then closer. “In lousy light, you’ll pass.” He nodded to Alani. “We’re ready.” “Where are we going?” Jon asked.
Asgar motioned to the kitchen table where they had eaten dinner. He spread out a map of the Shanghai Municipal Region and surrounding area and pointed to a spot south of the city. “There’s an abandoned pagoda on a hill near the sea in the wider part of Huangzhou Bay, between Jinshan and Zhapu. The shore’s a bit of a rock garden there, but there are also a few more inviting beaches. Pebbly, but not bad. One in particular, a little bigger, will suit fine.”
“How’s the water depth?”
