Snakehead (16 page)

‘Wei?’
He spoke automatically in Chinese, then quickly corrected himself. ‘Hello.’

A voice heavy with sleazy innuendo said, ‘Didn’t get you out of your bed, did I?’ It took Li a moment to realise it was Hrycyk.

‘No,’ he said.

‘She’s there, though, huh?’

‘What do you want, Hrycyk?’

‘I want you both on the seven a.m. flight to Houston. My people have set up a series of raids in Chinatown. We’re going to start pulling in as many illegals as we can find. And I want my agents properly protected in case any of them have got the flu. So we need the little lady along.’ He paused. ‘Is she there, or do I need to track her down somewhere else?’

Li said reluctantly, ‘She’s here.’

There was an almost imperceptible chuckle at the other end of the line. ‘Thought so. Sweet dreams, Chinaman.’ And he hung up.

Li stood for a moment, anger and humiliation smouldering inside him. Slowly he replaced the receiver and turned to tell Margaret what Hrycyk had told him.

She listened in silence, and then nodded. ‘We’d better get some sleep then.’

And when he had taken her upstairs and left her in his room to go off and sleep on an unmade bed somewhere else, she stood by the window bathed in the moonlight that slanted in through the trees, and wished she had told him to stay. She was lonely and confused, and then with a sudden sickening start remembered her promise to take Steve the photograph of his little girl tomorrow. Impossible now. Another failure. Her great talent, it seemed, was for inflicting hurt on the people she cared about most.

Chapter Six

I

There were fifteen INS agents, including Hrycyk, in two unmarked white vans parked in the shopping plaza opposite the two-storey Dong’an apartment block. Margaret had spent most of the day securing supplies to ensure that the raiding party was properly equipped. They were all crouched uncomfortably in their white Tivek tear-resistant suits, hoods pulled tightly over their heads. Each wore a flimsy plastic face mask, filtered air blowing down over their faces from portable, battery-powered HEPA filter systems held in the small of their backs by a belt around the waist.

‘Just don’t fart,’ she had warned them, and their laughter had broken the tension in the build-up to the raid. Both she and Li were similarly equipped, and they all knew that they would present a bizarre spectacle as they stormed the building.

Police back-up had been requested to deal with any traffic and crowd control problems that might arise in the street outside. They were going to have to stop the early evening traffic on Bellaire to let the INS vans cross its six lanes and enter the pot-holed parking area alongside the crumbling apartment block. There were two minutes to go.

Outside, the sinking sun was burning the sky red and the heat of the day was starting to fade. It had been a stark contrast to the icy temperatures they had left behind them in Washington. The parking lot was quiet. There were a few cars scattered across its undulating tarmac. In Susie’s nail salon, a group of Chinese women sat in the window waiting for a manicure. In the café next door a couple of old men sat sipping at mugs of green tea and eating hot, sweet dim sum straight from the steamer.

Hrycyk was crouched on Margaret’s left. He leaned in very close. ‘You get a buzz out of it, or something?’ he asked.

She frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

He lowered his voice. ‘Sleeping with Chinamen.’

If there had been space she would have swung a clenched fist into his face. Her anger boiled inside of her, and she turned to hiss in his face, ‘Yeah, and I’d sleep with every last one of them before I ever slept with you.’

She heard the radio crackle from the front of the van and a voice screamed, ‘Go, go, go!’ They heard a screech of tyres out on the boulevard, and their engines which had been ticking over on low rev suddenly fired up and they lurched forwards, the underside of their vehicle scraping on the road as they bumped down off the sidewalk and slewed across the boulevard into the parking lot. The back doors flew open, and they were spilling out into the fading light, running left and right, securing the exits.

Margaret was last out, just behind Li. They were the only members of the group not carrying a weapon. They followed the main body of agents along the cracked and uneven paving stones that marked the front of the building. Margaret glanced up at rusted wrought-iron balconies on windows with neglected-looking ornamental shutters. In a tree opposite the arched entrance to the main courtyard, a red squirrel sat frozen in terror as these bizarre-looking creatures in white rushed past.

In the courtyard, a metal staircase ran up to a mesh walkway running left and right into open corridors leading to the upper apartments. At the far end, a man carrying a bucket emerged from a cellar door. For just a moment he was like a rabbit caught in the headlamps of a car. Then he dropped his bucket and a foul cocktail of urine and human excrement spilled across the cobbles. He turned and ran, jumping up to try to catch a handhold on the top of the back wall. Two agents caught his legs and pulled him on to the ground, turning him face down in the shit and handcuffing him almost before he could scream. Several other agents clattered up the metal stairs to secure the corridors. The rest funneled through the door from which the man with the bucket had emerged.

At the briefing, they had been given hand-drawn plans of the block, with key areas marked in red. They knew from intelligence previously received from Yu Lin that the illegals were kept in a large cellar area below the main apartments. So far the drawings had been completely accurate.

Nothing, however, had prepared them for what they would find in the basement. The stink of human waste, hot and fetid, rose to meet them as they ran down cold stone steps. Their HEPA filters did not protect them from the foul stench of captive humanity. It was dark, and the walls ran with condensation and dampness. As Margaret stumbled to the foot of the stairs, grabbing Li’s arm to steady herself, someone flicked a light switch, and they found themselves looking down a long, narrow room with a concrete floor, double tiers of rough, wooden bunk beds lining the walls on each side Dozens of pairs of dark, frightened eyes peered at them in the harsh yellow light. Somewhere toward the back of the room a woman screamed, and a child started crying.

‘Jesus,’ Margaret whispered. ‘There are children in here.’ She had not been expecting that.

A young man wearing jeans and a leather jacket tried to make a break for the stairs. A chorus of INS voices called on him to stop, and he found himself staring down the barrels of several guns pointing directly at his head. He stopped, resigned, and raised his hands, a sick smile on his face. Margaret heard Hrycyk’s voice. ‘He’ll be one of the
ma zhai
. Get him outta here!’ An agent stepped up to pull his arms down and cuff his hands behind his back. ‘Bring the vans in now.’ Hrycyk’s voice again, barking into a handset. He turned to the other agents. ‘Let’s get these people up the stairs before I throw up.’ He turned to Li. ‘Tell them no one’s going to hurt them. If they come peaceful they’ll be fed and watered, and get the chance to clean up.’

Li spoke rapidly in Mandarin to the frightened faces that peered back at him out of the gloom, depressed and resigned, knowing that their dreams of the Golden Mountain were over. Reluctantly they began gathering together what few miserable belongings they had and filing out toward the stairs under the watchful eyes of the men in white.

One woman sat on her bunk, making no effort to move. Silent tears made tracks through the dirt on her face. Li made his way toward her and crouched at her knees. He took her hand. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked her.

She shook her head. ‘My husband died on the journey,’ she said. ‘I lost my baby. I have no family to go back to. Only his family. And they don’t want to know. They wouldn’t pay my snakehead.’

Li said, ‘Anything must be better than this. Surely?’

She looked at him bleakly and said, ‘Death, perhaps.’

Li lifted her pillow. Beneath it were a few items of clothing neatly laid out, a broken wrist watch, a faded colour photograph, the glaze cracked where it had been folded. A couple smiled for the camera, standing erect, arm-in-arm before the Gate of Heavenly Peace in Tiananmen Square. Li realised, with a shock, that it was the woman who sat on the bed. ‘Your husband?’ he asked. She nodded. He slipped the pillow out of its stained and filthy cover to make a bag and put her clothes and her watch and her photograph inside. ‘You can’t stay here,’ he said. He took her arm to help her to her feet, and she flinched away in pain. He looked round and saw Margaret standing there.

‘Let me have a look at her,’ she said, and she leaned over to draw the skimpy cotton dress off the woman’s shoulder. It was striped with dark bruising. ‘My God,’ she said. ‘This woman’s been beaten.’

‘Who beat you?’ Li asked her.

‘The
ma zhai
,’ she said simply. ‘Because I couldn’t pay. They said I would have to give massage, and when I said no they beat me. They said, then I have to work in clothing factory to pay my debt, and live here for many years until it is all cleared. They said I have to pay for my husband, too, even though he is dead.’

Li was sickened. Could life possibly have been so bad for these people in China that it was worth enduring this? He knew that virtually none of them was fleeing political persecution. They were what the United Nations would call ‘economic migrants’. The idea that in America they would find the fabled Golden Mountain was an illusion. And yet the myth persisted.

Margaret said, ‘Ask her if she was vaccinated before they brought her across the border.’

The woman nodded to confirm that she was.

‘How long ago was that?’ Li asked.

She shrugged. ‘Five weeks, maybe six.’

Li told Margaret, and they were silent for a moment. The implications were not lost on them. At the briefing, Hrycyk had told them that the INS estimated around eight thousand illegals crossed the border into the US every month. If these people were being injected with the flu virus as long as six weeks ago, then already there could be up to ten thousand carriers in the country. It was a terrifying prospect, and raised the scale of the whole thing beyond anything any of them might have imagined.

Margaret said, ‘I’m calling in the Department of Health. We can’t just lock these people up. They’re going to have to be held in isolation and individually examined.’

Hrycyk came hurrying down the narrow passage between the rows of bunk beds. ‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he said. ‘There’s no toilets or running water in this place. They’ve been shitting all over the floor.’ He paused and looked at Margaret. She could see his concern through his visor. ‘There’s another room through the back there,’ he said. ‘And there’s a guy sneezing and coughing his lungs up. I think he might have the flu.’

Margaret pushed past him to hurry back toward the other room. Hrycyk grabbed her arm. ‘This mask’s gonna protect me, right? I’m not gonna get the flu as long as I got this on?’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ she said. ‘You’ve already caught something a whole lot worse.’

She saw the alarm on his face. ‘What do you mean? What have I got?’

‘It’s a nasty disease of the intellect called racism,’ she said. ‘And I’m not sure if there’s any cure for it.’

He let go of her and sneered, ‘Yeah, very fucking funny.’ Then, ‘Hey,’ he called after her as she headed down the aisle. ‘Better not stick around for the next port of call. Little whorehouse down the road. You might get squeamish about picking up your own kind.’

Li came at him out of left field, catching him totally unawares. The two men crashed backwards, demolishing one of the flimsy beds and tumbling to the floor. Hrycyk was overweight and seriously unfit. He was no match for Li who grabbed a handful of Tivek at the American’s neck and raised a fist to smash down into Hrycyk’s face.

‘Yeah, go on, do it!’ the INS agent urged him. ‘Fucking do it, and your feet won’t touch the ground till you hit Tiananmen.’

Li felt Margaret pulling his arm. ‘For Christ’s sake, Li Yan, grow up! Didn’t your uncle ever tell you that violence was the first resort of the moron? Don’t get down there in the gutter with animals like him.’

Li shook his arm free of her and stood up. Hrycyk scrambled to his feet, trying to recover at least a little of his dignity. He stabbed a finger through the air toward Li. ‘Gonna have you, Chinaman,’ he said, spluttering all over the inside of his visor. ‘Gonna fucking have you.’

II

Hrycyk’s Santana cruised slowly across the parking lot before drawing gently to a stop, engine ticking over quietly. The row of shops below the green-tiled roof at the far side looked innocuous enough. There was a video store, a grocery shop, a hairdresser’s, a restaurant. Yellow light fell in slabs across the tarmac, loud music playing somewhere nearby drifted across the warm night air. If it wasn’t for the Chinese characters on the shopfronts, you could have mistaken this for any suburban shopping plaza in America.

The raid on the Dong’an apartments had netted more than fifty men, women and children. None of them had papers. They were all, almost certainly, illegal. Margaret had determined that the man Hrycyk feared might have the flu was suffering from a bad head cold. They had also picked up half a dozen
ma zhai
, and were holding them in company with the same people they had once held prisoner themselves. Under Department of Health supervision, the INS had already dispatched the immigrants on buses north to Huntsville, where FEMA had rented an entire unit from the state prison to keep them in secure isolation until they could be brought in front of the immigration court.

Li sat in the front seat beside Hrycyk, Margaret in back. The tension in the car was tangible. They still wore their Tivek suits and HEPA filters, each aware of how ridiculous they appeared to the other. There might have been something faintly comic about their situation were it not so grave. They were waiting for the vans to go in first.

Finally, Margaret could contain her curiosity no longer. ‘Which one’s the whorehouse?’