Flags of Sin (9 page)

“Evidence
of what?”

“Perhaps
if you read it?” suggested Li.

Hong
leaned in even closer, lowering his voice.

“Forget
you ever saw this.”

He spun
around and marched off, leaving Li and Ping agape.

“What
the hell was that all about?” hissed Ping.

But Li
knew what it was about.

It was
what he had feared.

These
killings are organized, with a political purpose, and the State knows.

And
they’re covering it up.

Shaoshan, Hunan Province, China

December 26, 1893

Li Mei held her adopted son’s hand as they waited outside the bedroom.
Screams sliced through the calm every minute or so, each time sending her son, her
Little Emperor, Shun-sheng, to his feet. And each time
Mei would take him by the hand and pull him back into his seat.

She was
about to be a grandmother.

She
smiled at the thought, but a pang of regret shot through her chest as she
thought of her beloved Jun, and how he was missing the birth of their first
grandchild.

Oh
Jun!

He had
died of a fever just last winter, and she knew this winter would be hard
without him. Her son, Shun-sheng, whom she silently still called Little
Emperor, had taken it hard. He had been close to his father, and it was a
regret she had always carried that she had never told him the truth.

He had
had such a happy childhood, surrounded by her family, and by his own siblings
as they had been born, seven in all, for his own safety, her and Jun had agreed
the secret must die with them. There was no hope of him ever regaining the
throne, therefore there was no need for him to know the truth about his past.

Another
cry from behind the door, another jump from the chair, Shun-sheng pacing far
enough away now that she would have to get up to settle him. She began to push
herself from her seat when he waved her off and returned on his own.

A smack
and a cry, and they both looked at each other with smiles on their faces.

The door
opened, and the mid-wife appeared, holding the baby, swaddled tightly. She
handed him to Shun-sheng and bowed.

“It’s a
boy, sir.”

Shun-sheng
took the tiny infant and carefully cradled him in his arms, as Mei had done so
many years before. “And my wife?”

“She is
fine. Resting. You may see her.”

The
mid-wife bowed, then went back into the room, followed by Shun-sheng and Mei.
Her daughter-in-law, Lin, lay exhausted on the bed, but with a glow that only
mother’s understood. She stretched her arms out, and Shun-sheng handed her the
baby. Lin placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“So,
what will you name him?” asked Mei.

Shun-sheng
held Lin’s hand and smiled at her, then looked at Mei.

“We
shall name him after my uncle, Zedong. Mao Zedong.”

Mei
leaned over the bed and stroked little Zedong’s cheek.

“I think
he is destined for great things.”

Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport, Detroit, Michigan

Six days ago

“Welcome back. For those of you just tuning in, we’re at Detroit
Metro Airport, awaiting the arrival of our Dream Vacation winners, husband and
wife Deniz and Alex Berkin, who should be coming through those gates any moment
now, returning from their
dream
vacation, an all-expenses paid trip to
China. People have been streaming out the doors for a few minutes now, so we
should see them any moment and we’ll find out how their vacation went. While we
wait, here’s a reminder of how it all started.”

Steve
Madely pulled the headphones off as a recording of the phone call he had made to
the winning household was played. He turned to his partner in crime, Shelley
McLean.

“Have we
heard anything?”

She
shook her head and beckoned one of their colleagues over. Rob Snow left a small
gaggle of VIPs, including the station manager, several sponsors, and a
representative from the airline.

“Anything?”
asked Madely.

Snow
shook his head. “Nothing. And the airline isn’t being too helpful. They won’t
confirm if they even got on the plane. They’re citing privacy laws.”

“What
are we going to do?” asked Madely. “I can’t drag this out much longer.”

“Let’s
just go with the next segment, and we’ll come back to this—”

“Rob!”

The
station manager was waving and Madely turned to see that another airline
representative had arrived, a frown on her face.

“This
doesn’t look good,” he muttered to Shelley.

“Look at
the kids.”

Madely
turned his head slightly and saw the Berkin’s two adult children standing,
their own tots clearly restless, talking to an airline representative.

“But
that’s impossible!” exclaimed the son, whose name escaped Madely at the moment.

Rob Snow
rushed up to them.

“They
weren’t on the plane!” he hissed as he took a knee between the two hosts.

“You’re
kidding me!” Shelley shook her head. “How the hell do you miss your flight in
this day and age?”

“Has
anybody reached them? Are we sure they’re okay?” asked Madely, his mind
immediately putting on his reporter hat, rather than host hat.

Snow
shook his head. “No, that’s just the thing. They haven’t been heard from in several
days. I just spoke to the tour organizer, and she said they didn’t show up for
a planned event yesterday, and they confirmed they never boarded the plane.”

“And the
hotel?” asked Madely.

“Hasn’t
seen them in over a week.”

Madely
had a sinking feeling.
They’re dead.
He made eye contact with Shelley,
and could tell she was thinking the same thing.

“What do
we tell our audience?” she asked.

“We tell
them the truth,” said Madely. “But only what we know for sure, which is that
they aren’t here, and apparently missed their flight, to which we’ll chalk it
up to having too good a time, and move on with the show. There’s no point
speculating right now, and this entire thing is a co-sponsor event—we have a
responsibility to not have this turn into a PR nightmare for them, before we
know all the facts.”

Snow
nodded and their producer stepped in front of the table they were sitting at,
the station’s call-sign emblazoned across the front.

“We’re
back in five, four, three...” He finished with hand signals, and Madely took a
deep breath.

“Well
folks, you’re not going to believe what’s going on here. It looks like they
missed their flight!” He chuckled, giving Shelley a look, his eyes widening
slightly as if searching for something else to say.

“That’s
live radio for you, Steve,” said Shelley, jumping to the rescue. “You don’t get
this type of stuff happening on reality TV. Only here on the radio can you have
the stars of your show just not show up.”

“Well,
it was one fabulous package Middle Earth Vacations put together for them, so I
guess they just didn’t want it to end,” laughed Madely. “Let’s run through once
again what they’ve been doing, then we’ll hand it over to our news department
at the top of the hour.”

Shelley
began running down the list of vacation features as Madely leaned back in his
chair, a pit forming in his stomach.

They’re
definitely dead.

He
looked over at the kids and could tell by the expressions on their faces they
were worried.

Madely
looked at the floor, his chin resting in his hands as he tried to get a hold of
the situation. He had picked the name out of the proverbial hat, had made the
phone call, had rejoiced with them, had met them personally before they had
left, and seen them off at the airport. The excited couple, down on their luck,
had been in his mind two of the most deserving winners he had ever seen in his
nearly fifty years of broadcasting.

And he
felt responsible for whatever might have happened to them.

Shaoshan, Hunan Province, China

October 2, 1908

“So, mother, what do you think?”

Mei
stood beside her adopted son, her Little Emperor, Shun-sheng, and smiled as she
looked out over the vast fields he now owned. He had ambition, of that there
was no doubt.
And what did you expect, the son of an emperor?
Through
his boldness, and lack of fear, he had built the largest farm in the region by
purchasing the produce of the local farmers too intimidated to sell it in the
cities, then doing just that. And he was now very wealthy compared to his
counterparts.

“You
have done well, your father would have been proud.”

But
your true father would have demanded more.

With her
beloved Jun gone over fifteen years now, she had been forced to keep the secret
herself, and it was getting more and more difficult as she felt herself aging.
But it was something her and her dear husband had decided was for the best, and
she agreed, but the promise she had made to her late Emperor still gnawed at
her from time to time, especially when she would hear news of the Empress
Dowager Cixi and the puppets she used to replace the true heir to the throne.

“Mother,
may I ask you something?”

“When
have you ever needed my permission?”

He
pointed at one of the chairs that occupied the porch of his estate. Mei lowered
her tiny, creaking frame into the chair. Shun-sheng sat beside her, but didn’t
look at her.

“I need
you to tell me the truth, no matter how painful. Do not worry, it won’t affect
how I feel about you or Dad, but I need to know.”

Her
stomach suddenly felt hollowed out, and her heart beat a little faster.

“Very well.”

He gave
her a quick glance, then looked away again, across the fields.

“I heard
you talking in your sleep last night.”

The pit
in her stomach got a little deeper.

She said
nothing.

“Who are
my real parents?”

She knew
if she could see herself, she’d be ghostly pale, as she felt herself almost
become faint. She gripped the arms of the chair she sat in, and steeled
herself.

And she
said nothing.

His head
turned toward her, and she looked into his eyes, eyes filled with questions,
eyes filled with pain. And she knew he had to know. The secret that had become
almost too much to bear, the unkept promise of over thirty years, the guilt in
lying to her son, to her family, to herself, every day.

And she
said nothing.

“Please,
mother. I need to know.”

She
sighed, then reached out and took his hand.

“Are you
sure you want the truth?”

His head
bobbed, but she could tell he was several shades paler, as he realized there
was indeed a truth he knew nothing about.

“Very
well. Please realize, first, that to me you are my son, the same as any of my
other sons. I feel no differently about you, than I do them.”

He
nodded, and paled some more.

“Your
father and I, are not your real parents.”

His hand
began to slip from hers, but she held onto it tighter, not letting him draw
away.

“Then—”

She
leaned closer, lowering her voice.

“We had
to pretend to be your parents, because you were in danger.”

His
eyebrows rose slightly.

“Danger?”

She
nodded, then took a deep breath. “You are the son of the Tongzhi Emperor, the
last true Emperor to hold the throne, and
you
are the rightful heir to
that throne as his first and only son.”

He
dropped back in his chair, his eyes darting between her and various objects on
the porch or in the yard. They finally settled on the gold and blue flag
fluttering at the entrance to the town in the distance.

“How is
this possible?”

“Your
father had a son, and he kept it hidden from his mother—”

“The
Empress Dowager Cixi?”

“Yes.”
Mei paused then looked at her son, her expression curious. “What is your
opinion of her?”

He
looked at her, startled, the question apparently catching him off guard.

“I-I
don’t know. I’ve heard bad things, and good things. She’s the Empress Dowager,
the most powerful person in China. I just assumed, I guess, that she’s good,
and that the stories were spread by her enemies.”

Mei
shook her head. “She’s an evil, evil woman, who will do anything to keep power,
including kill her own son. And grandson.”

Shun-sheng’s
jaw dropped, and Mei nodded, affirming her last statement.

“How do
you think your father, your
real
father, died?”

Shun-sheng
looked at her, then the floor, turning a shade redder than usual. “The official
story is smallpox, but I heard from some friends it was syphilis, caught from
one of the whorehouses he frequented outside the walls of the Forbidden City.”

“And now
that you know the truth of who you are?”

He
frowned.

“I don’t
know. I guess the syphilis story was spread to destroy his legacy?”

“Exactly.
And the smallpox story wasn’t true either.”

“What do
you mean?”

“What I
mean, my son, is that your father died, with sword in hand, saving your life,
by delaying the soldiers sent by your grandmother, his mother, to kill you.”

Shun-sheng’s
eyes narrowed, and his face flushed.

“He was
murdered?”

“Yes,
and I and many others fled with you, but we were betrayed. Only your father—your
adopted father—and I survived, and while trying to get you to safety, fell in
love, married, and swore to raise you as our own.” She patted his knee. “And we
couldn’t be more proud of what you’ve become.”