T. Bunn - The Great Divide

“Silence! Mr. Kendall, I told you to wait your turn.” She glared out over the court, but said simply, “Proceed.”

“Miss Hao, let us move on to one day several weeks ago. You saw the two Chinese men who operated the factory in Zhao Ren-Fan’s absence unchain Gloria Hall from her steam press.”

“Yes.”

“Where did they take her?”

“To the room.”

He wished he could prevent Alma and Austin from hearing this, but he knew there was no way. “What room is that?”

“The room. The punishment room.” The woman’s features were hollowed to the core. Her gaze was lifeless. “The room.”

“How do you know what went on there?”

“Everybody knew. The room had a window so all could watch.”

“The punishment room had a window overlooking the factory floor, is that what you are telling us?”

“Yes.”

“How far were you from this window, Miss Hao?”

“Five machines.”

“So that would be no more than fifty feet, is that correct?”

There was a swift discourse, then, “Less.”

“So they took Gloria into the room. What was she doing?”

“Crying. Everybody cried.”

“Did you see what happened in there?”

“Yes. All must watch.”

“Please tell the court what you saw, Miss Hao.”

“They brought in a camera and made a tape.”

“A videotape?”

“Yes. They make her read off a sheet of paper. I watched carefully because I had not seen anything like this.”

“Was General Zhao taking part?”

“No. The general had not been to the factory in over a month. Longer.”

“So his son made the tape.” Marcus turned toward his table. He had to at least try and show the Halls what this cost him. Both parents looked stricken to the point of numbness, which was not altogether a bad thing. He asked quietly, “What happened then, Miss Hao?”

“They took the American girl down the stairs.”

“Where did the stairs lead, Miss Hao?”

She had the decency to stare sadly at the parents and say nothing.

Marcus waited a long moment. The air itself held a choking breath. “Miss Hao, where did the stairs lead?”

“Nobody knows.” The woman’s voice blew through the court like breath of the final winter. “Nobody ever came back.”

“No!” It was not Alma who shrieked, but Austin. The man toppled from his chair and would have collapsed in his attempt to rise had Charlie and Alma not been there to catch him. “No!”

Judge Nicols was on her feet as well. “Court is recessed until one o’clock.”

"Your witness, Mr. Logan.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Logan was slow in rising, not out of fear, but rather from caution. He faced a new opponent. He sought to strike the killing blow. “Let me understand what you told the plaintiff’s lawyer, Miss Hao. That is your real name?”

“Hao Lin. Yes.”

Marcus struggled to concentrate fully. But it was difficult. His mind felt clawed by the morning’s testimony and Austin’s collapse. Not to mention the news that Kirsten had given him during the break.

Charlie was off comforting Austin the best he could. Marcus sat with Alma, who had insisted on returning to the courtroom. One of them had to be there, she said over and over, not for themselves but for Gloria. Marcus had sent Kirsten off on another assignment, one that could not wait. Not after he had received the information she carried.

Marcus remained caught not only by the news, but by the way Kirsten had delivered it. Alma and Austin had been broken by the morning, and the scars were fresh upon Alma’s drawn features. Kirsten, however, had neither wept nor withdrawn. She had kept her gaze fastened upon him, as though his example was what kept her intact. She had delivered her news in a steady voice, turning so that she could not see Gloria’s parents huddled with Charlie. She had watched him digest the news, and accepted his instructions with the silent steadiness of a pro.

Marcus willed himself to turn away from the memory of that beautifully intent gaze, and watched Logan begin his stalking dance. “All right, Miss Hao. What you want the jury to believe is that you just happened to be held in this factory in China. Then you escaped. Then you got on a boat. Then you crossed the ocean-wait, excuse me, you crossed two oceans. Because you would have first passed over the Pacific, then somehow gotten over here to the Atlantic. And then you wound up in little old Raleigh, North Carolina. Now is that right, Miss Hao? Have I stated that correctly?”

“I was released. Not escaped. But all else is correct.”

“You were released.”

“Yes. I served the full six years, then they let me go.”

“Then you just happened to find a boat heading to America.”

“No. The boat master found me. They like to take lao gai prisoners. They know we will pay anything to leave China.”

Logan kept his distance from the witness stand. He did not approach, did not threaten. He moved cautiously, lightly. His tone was mild, almost a singsong. “But you didn’t have any money, did you?”

“No.”

“So if you couldn’t pay anything, you would do anything to get away from China.”

“Yes. Anything.”

She was so diminutive, so frail and weary and tragic, that Logan did not dare turn the jury against him by striking hard. He paced, but far away. He asked his questions in a voice almost as soft as her own. “You got into this country by not telling the truth, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“You had to lie to get in.”

“I came without papers.”

“But the ends justified the means, didn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“So you feel there are times when lying is justified, is that not true, Miss Hao?”

“Yes.”

“You took an oath at the beginning of your testimony. Do you know what an oath is?”

“A promise.”

“Exactly. A promise to tell the truth. But you have just said that you would do anything, say anything, to stay out of China. Even perjure yourself.”

“I have told the truth.”

“All right. Tell us a little more about your life back there. Are your parents still alive?”

“My mother only. She is a village doctor.”

“What did you do before you were arrested, Miss Hao?”

“I was studying at Guangzhou University.”

“What was your major, your field of study?”

She cast a bitter look over to where Logan stood on the courtroom’s far side, the only real sign of life she had given since he had risen to his feet. “I studied law.”

He hid his wince well. “How long were you at university?”

“Three and one-half years.”

“Over three years at university,” Logan said, moving gently back in her direction. “And yet you never studied English?” He caught her momentary hesitation, and moved in closer still. “Wasn’t English a required part of the university curriculum, Miss Hao?”

She spoke for herself then, the accent very strong. “Understand little. No speak.”

“So you do speak English. Did you not say you understood the oath to tell the truth?”

Hao Lin resumed speaking through the interpreter. “I never said I did not speak any English.”

“Of course not.” His smirk was for the jury. “You merely insisted upon the court’s paying the expense of flying down an interpreter for you, when in truth what you really wanted was to give yourself a bit more time to think over the questions and frame your answers more carefully. Is that not correct?”

Marcus rose. “Objection. Belaboring the witness.”

Judge Nicols hesitated, then shook her head. “Overruled. Witness is required to answer.”