Vincent Lam - The Headmaster’s Wager

Finally, Percival went up to his own third-floor bedroom and looked out into the street again. He tried to convince himself that there were any number of reasons, having nothing to do with his son, why these men might have returned to Cholon. Besides, if they had come to make an arrest, why did they sit outside? Unless, he thought with a chill, they had already checked for Dai Jai, knew he was not in the building, and were waiting for him to return.

This was all Cecilia’s fault. Had she not made him both angry and lustful, Percival would not have called Mrs. Ling from the lobby phone at the Cercle Sportif. Had he not called, he would not have discovered that, yes, Mrs. Ling did know a lovely girl, a dark Malay beauty newly arrived from Singapore, who was free that afternoon and could use a few extra piastres. Without this temptation, Percival would have returned directly to Cholon instead of going to one of Mrs. Ling’s discreet apartments. Were it not for Cecilia, he would have been home earlier, perhaps would have seen the dark car pull up, and could have made sure Dai Jai escaped or was safely hidden away. If he had been here, thought Percival, Dai Jai would not have dared disobey his father’s strict orders not to leave the house.

The older man stood up from the black car and had a long stretch. He paced. The younger man lit a cigarette for each of them. They were willing to wait. Below him, on the ground floor, Percival heard the school bell ring. There was the commotion of the students beginning to leave. Ah, thought Percival with relief, the quiet police were waiting for school to let out to make their arrest. It could be any one of his students they were after. Even if they wanted Dai Jai, he would not be coming out with the bell. Perhaps they would grow impatient and leave. The older one yawned. Percival gripped the window ledge, peered out from his shutters, willing them to go.

As the first students appeared below him, Percival surveyed the square. At some distance, a boy and a girl walked towards Chen Hap Sing. He glimpsed them through a row of flame trees, which were in full, extravagant bloom. Through their branches, he couldn’t be sure. He stared. Did his eyes trick him? The boy’s gait was Dai Jai’s. Were the men from Saigon looking in that direction? Perhaps they were drawn to the slim silhouette of the girl.

Percival ran out of his room, down the stairs two at a time. He pushed his way through the jostling, high-spirited students, shoved himself towards the door. Perhaps the quiet police would not recognize Dai Jai, and his son would slip back into Chen Hap Sing unnoticed. When the students saw it was Headmaster Chen, they hurried aside. Down the hall, now almost at the front door. He would distract the two men from Saigon. He did not know how. On their previous visit, they had not wanted money. He must somehow get their attention, perhaps anger them, even if that meant getting himself arrested. He hoped he was mistaken, and it was not Dai Jai whom he had seen from his window.

Percival burst out the front door. It was his son, standing alone. The girl had fled. Dai Jai was within shouting distance, but what should he call out? The men from Saigon were no longer by the car. Percival panted, out of breath. Students streamed around him, out into their afternoon, their freedom. Dai Jai stared at the quiet police, frozen in place, as they walked briskly towards him. The boy held a lotus-leaf cone suspended by a string. He had gone out to buy food for his fish, and to see his girlfriend. The men cut a direct line through the chaotic foot traffic. Percival’s instinct was to yell at his son to run, but no words came. Dai Jai did not run. He was probably correct not to, Percival realized. Now that they had spotted him, it would not help.

Percival fought for calm, for confidence, which was always the best place to start, but he had difficulty finding it. He waited by the Galaxie, chest pounding, as the two men returned to the car with Dai Jai. Each of them gripped one arm. Percival struggled to summon an air of authority as he said in Vietnamese, “What’s the problem? I’m Headmaster Percival Chen. This is my student.”

“Don’t worry, ba ,” said Dai Jai in Teochow, shaking his arms as if it would cause the men to release him.

“Speak so we can understand you,” said the older one, using his free hand to slap Dai Jai in the back of the head.

Percival found words in Vietnamese. “Brothers, you must be so tired. It is late in the day. Thank you for bringing him back. He should have been in class.” He put a firm hand on Dai Jai’s shoulder, relieved to touch him. “Dai Jai, go inside.” The younger man from Saigon wrenched Dai Jai away towards the car. As if it were a daily occurrence for students to be arrested in front of the school, Percival said, “Big brothers, thank you for returning him. I will take charge of this disobedient student.”

The younger man said to his colleague, “This headmaster thinks we are truant officers.”

The older one said, “Or he is playing dumb.”

Dai Jai said in Vietnamese, “Let go of me.”

The younger one twisted Dai Jai’s arm behind him. The older one slapped Dai Jai hard in the face. “Stupid Chinese,” he said. He waved Percival off with a backhanded gesture.

“Big brothers, there has been some mistake, a misunderstanding,” said Percival, all assurance gone from his voice. “Perhaps some additional … paperwork will help. I might have some red packets inside, also green paper. Let’s go into the school, big brothers.” The lotus-leaf cone dangled from Dai Jai’s fingers. Percival looked around, as if assistance might be nearby. The vendors watched with some curiosity. There was the one-eyed monk, begging for alms.

“Just like a Chinese. You think that money buys everything. I don’t think so.” The older man from Saigon retrieved a single-page document from a manila envelope. He squinted. It was not clear whether he was reading or if this was simply a gesture. “These arrest papers are from the Political Security Section. That section has no interest in your green paper.”

Percival saw the gold chain peeking out from under Dai Jai’s shirt, thought of the charm hidden within. He hoped it would not be snatched from the boy’s neck by these men, prayed to the ancestors’ spirits that their powers and those of the family charm would keep his son safe. He had clasped it around Dai Jai when he was a small boy, the night before he was to attend the Teochow Clan School for the first time. He had sat on the edge of Dai Jai’s bed and told him the same stories that Chen Kai had once offered, of the distant ancestor bringing the charm from abroad, of its protective power. Now he trusted, he had to trust, that the charm could somehow keep the wearer safe even if arrested by the quiet police. But he must not succumb so easily—perhaps there was still something to say. Percival tried to muster some bravado. “Ah, the political section. The new advisor to the education minister is busy, yes? I know Colonel Thuc well. An old friend, a childhood friend.” His voice trailed off. Percival thought of the photo in Mr. Tu’s office, of a man he had never met. In any case, Mak would know how to get to him.

“Unlikely. He is from Quang Ngai.”

“Long live Prime Minister Ky, who will vanquish the communist terrorists,” offered Percival desperately. “Listen, big brothers, I know all about yesterday’s unfortunate incident at the Teochow School. Is that the problem?”

“So you know all about it,” said the older one.

“Yes.”

“You know more than we do?” said the younger one. “Is that what you’re saying, hou jeung ?”

Suddenly, Dai Jai burst out in Cantonese, “I’m sorry for causing trouble.” His voice was high, his eyes wet. “I was only trying to show you my patriotism.”