The tall blonde woman strode through the airport dressed in black leather and high heel boots. She was on a mission and in no mood for delays. She scanned the arrival hall and spotted her name held up by a small Chinese man dressed in a nondescript blue jacket, dark pants and back slip-ons. She walked toward him and he lowered the sign. He pointed to the exit and she followed him out to the door of a black SUV parked illegally over a pedestrian crossing.
Temple Wall, Wutai Shan, China. (Photo: M Griffiths)
Beijing Private Eyes - A foreign teacher in Beijing meets an unexpected and attractive visitor in need of assistance. He offers to help and things begin to get complicated.
This story started out as a mini-novel of 27,000 words. I have edited it down a lot and will be posting it over the next month or so in bite sized chunks.
(For the 6 stories I wrote for the peak oil story competition, set in Australia and China, see here.)
Beijing Private Eyes
Part 1
- Arrival
The tall blonde woman strode through the
airport dressed in black leather and high heel boots. She was on a mission and
in no mood for delays. She scanned the arrival hall and spotted her name held
up by a small Chinese man dressed in a nondescript blue jacket, dark pants and
back slip-ons. She walked toward him and he lowered the sign. He pointed to the
exit and she followed him out to the door of a black SUV parked illegally over
a pedestrian crossing. She threw her small bag into the foot well and climbed
in. The driver slid into his seat and started the engine. They crawled along
through the airport traffic, the vehicle glinting in the dark under the bright
fluorescent street lights, and then accelerated towards the airport expressway
and south west into the city.
“Do you speak English” she asked.
The driver shook his head with a sheepish
smile, “Solly. No speak.”
Sam Clayfield was in Beijing to find
a missing artefact. Her client in L.A. had been robbed and the leads pointed to
China. Her partner, Brad, had stayed in L.A. He wasn’t keen to go chasing
something halfway across the world when they weren’t even sure what it looked like, in a country where they didn’t speak the
language and had no idea how things worked. Way outside his comfort zone. She
on the other hand felt that the best way to expand your comfort zone was kick
it in the ass.
The driver suddenly swerved to the
right into small slip road and stopped. He opened his door and ran. Two men
appeared on either side of the vehicle. One raised a pistol and pointed it at
her face. “Come with us.” The men bound her hands and feet and stuffed her into
the back of a van.
Sam thought briefly of Brad again.
Sometimes of course he was right, but she wasn’t going to let this be one of
them. She struggled unsuccessfully to loosen the tape holding her hands behind
her. The van sped through the darkness and she lost track of the direction as
it turned and twisted along unfamiliar roads.
Crunch.
The sound of crumpling metal reverberated through the van as it was hit
something in front and shuddered to a stop. She flew forward hitting her head.
The front doors were flung open accompanied by rapid-fire shouting in Chinese. The
two men were dragged to the ground and disarmed. One made to get up and was
dissuaded by a swift kick in the ribs. The back door of the van opened and a
tall handsome Chinese man climbed in and began to cut the tape with a knife.
“Mr Chen I presume.” said Sam as she hopped
out and brushed herself off. “You’re late.”
“My humble apologies Ms Clayfield. I was
unavoidably detained.” he said pointing to a long gash on his arm which had
already stained his shirt sleeve red. He waved towards a black SUV, identical
to the one she had got into at the airport.
“Shall we go to your hotel?”
“Sure. I could do with a drink.”
“All
the best mate, have good one.” Mark said as they shook hands.
“Yeah, you too. Hope you find something to
keep you occupied.”
“No worries. If nothing comes up at worst I
can go back to work early, save the holidays and hope Tibet opens up again
soon. See ya.”
As Jason disappeared into the
security queue, Mark headed downstairs to the arrivals hall. He spotted a few
travel reps waving brochures but for the usual sights around Beijing, most of
which he’d already seen at least once. In hindsight
late on a Sunday evening probably wasn’t the best time to come.
He wondered whether to flag it away
and head home to bed when he spotted a face in the crowd coming out from the
customs area. She was blonde, tall and slim. She wore a long tan jacket, a
white blouse, black pants and low heeled boots. She trailed a small suitcase on
wheels with a carry-on bag perched on top.
He frowned in frustration, ‘Who was
that?’ She was too beautiful to be a friend he admitted to himself. But she did
look awfully familiar.
Then he twigged: Sam Clayfield from “Private Eyes”. At least that was her
character’s name. Her real name was Evie Thomasson. The show was a moderately
popular and quirky take on the classic private investigation genre - mystery
solving and crime fighting while with the male and female characters slowly
worked out they were attracted to each other. Neither of the stars had broken
out into a top movie role but Evie had been in several good films and was
climbing the ranks of popularity.
And here she was looking lost and
out of her depth, not something her character would readily admit to. He
watched her for another half a minute. She stood and scanned the signs being
held up by the few remaining drivers again and gave up. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a
sheaf of papers and began looking through them.
Arriving in a strange country with
no one to help out was not a fun experience, he thought, and he decided that he
couldn’t stand by and watch any longer. He walked over to her and stopped a
couple of feet away. “Excuse me, can I help at all. You seem a little lost.”
She looked up from the papers and stared at him
up briefly.
“Yes.” she said, “Someone was supposed to
meet me.”
“Maybe I can help. Do you have a number to
call?” He looked at the mixture of Chinese and English writing on the top page.
“I speak some Chinese if that helps.”
“Oh, ok.” She shuffled the papers and
selected one page. “This is it I think.”
Mark looked at the sheet. ‘Beijing Tiantan Television and Film Company’,
with an address in Haidian district in the north west of the city. The phone
number looked like a landline, not a mobile. “Might not be anyone there at this
time. Let’s try it anyway.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and punched
in the number. After a few seconds it rang. He waited for 15 seconds and still
there was no answer. He shook his head at her and continued to listen for
another 15 seconds. “No one there” he said finally. “Maybe there is a mobile
number somewhere in that info. Can I have a look?”
“Ok, go ahead.”
He skimmed through the sheets
searching for another number. Nothing that looked like a mobile. There were no
hotel details either.
“Sorry, it’s not looking good.” He came to
the last page, which contained a scribbled note on the fax that looked like a
name and mobile number. “This might be what we’re looking for.” He read the
three characters out loud slowly, “Wang
Lianhua”. He punched the number into this phone. The ring tone started and
then was interrupted by a recorded message first in Chinese and then in English
“Sorry this number is not available. Please try again later”. The message began
to repeat. “Out of range or not switched on.” he said and he held it out to her.
She listened to the message and handed it back. “Sorry about that.” he said.
“Thanks for your help anyway.” she replied
with a frown.
“Normally Chinese are very good at the
hospitality thing. It’s a big part of the culture. Of course, there’s any number
of reasons why it could be stuffed up. Things don’t work quite the same here.”
“A bit different to back packing round
Europe.” she said.
“Oh yes, definitely different. My name’s Mark
by the way.” He said extending his hand toward her.
“Hi, I’m Evie.” she said shaking it.
“Thomasson. I know.” He grinned, “I’m a fan
actually. I love your show. I don’t watch much TV but it’s one of my
favourites.”
“Oh!” she smiled graciously. “Thanks. Glad
you like it.”
“Hey, that’s weird. You have an
American accent on the show, but you don’t sound American.”
“No, I’m English. The accent is for the show
only. I’m getting better at it though. Where are you from? Australia? New
Zealand?”
“New Zealand, yeah. I live here though. I
teach English. What brings you to Beijing?”
“The studio in the L.A. has signed a deal with
one here to produce a Chinese spin-off of the show. Apparently it’s popular
here and the studio wants to tap into the next big market and all that. I’m
here to shoot the pilot and do some photos and promos.”
“Sounds good. Ok, what do want to do now?
It’s getting late. Can I help you try and find a place to stay?”
“Umm yeah, ok.”
Mark looked around. The tourism reps had
vanished and the travel counters were shutting up as the last of the foreigners
from the plane disappeared out into the night. “It could be tricky. Haidian
district, where the studio is, is also the university district. Hotels there
will probably be full since it’s the start of the school year. We can head for
the centre of town and have a look although it could be difficult there too.
There’s a big communist party chinwag on at the moment and it’s peak season for
tourists as well." He shrugged. "I’m happy to come with you and translate.”
“Thanks. I’m pretty zonked. I didn’t manage
to sleep much on the plane, and I’m due at the studio by 10am tomorrow.”
“Ok. Well, it will take a while to
get into the city and scope out some options, so we'd better get going”
She shrugged and began to put the papers back
into her bag.
Mark bit his lip. “Look. Don’t get the wrong
idea here. But, umm, my flatmate is away, he just flew out to the UK, and
you’re welcome to use his room if you want to crash fast. The standard of accommodation is more two
star than five, and the bathroom is maybe one and a half. Probably not what you
are used to. But it’s there if you’d like, and it’s in Xicheng which is close
to Haidian. I can help you get to the studio tomorrow as well. I’m not working
this week so I’m happy to lend a hand.”
She looked him up and down and a
shadow of concern crossed her face. He watched her, slowly grasping her
hesitation. He smiled, trying to put her at ease. “I think I know what you’re
wondering. According to official police records, I’m not an axe murderer or a
rapist,” he held up three fingers, “scouts honour. And there’s also a bolt on the bedroom
door for your peace of mind. Previous tenant put it there I think, not my current
flatmate.”
She continued to examine his face.
After a couple seconds, she exhaled, “What about the stuff the police don’t
know?”
“Sadly, nothing very exciting.”
She nodded slowly. “Ok then. Right now a bed,
a pillow and some sleep is what I need. Hopefully I can sort it out tomorrow so
I won’t have to trouble you any further.”
“No worries. Let’s go”. Mark reached for the
handle of the wheeled suitcase and they headed for the exit.
As the taxi sped down the airport
expressway into the city Evie pulled out her mobile phone and turned it
on. “Hope it works here.” After half a
minute the signal bars lit up and an incoming beep heralded a message from
China Telecom welcoming her to Beijing. “What time is it in L.A.?”
He glanced at this watch and thought for a
moment, “Mid-morning I think.”
“Excellent” she said. “Better tell my Mum
I’ve arrived safely.” After that she sent short texts to her agent and the US
show’s producer. “Now Twitter and Facebook. Got to keep the fans happy.” Evie
said eyes on her phone.
“You’re on Twitter?”
“Yes. It’s great. You can have two way
communication with the fans. Feels like you’re connected a bit. I have over
200,000 followers.”
“Geez, really?! That’s amazing.”
“Hey, I can’t access it. What’s wrong?” exclaimed Evie.
“Ahh. Welcome to the Great Firewall of China.”
said Mark. “Facebook, Twitter, and Youtube are all blocked here. You need to go
through a proxy server overseas. Here, let me show you.” He reached for her phone.
“Oh. Ok, thanks.
Evie Thomasson
@Evie_T
In Beijing to shoot
Chinese pilot of #Beijing_Private_Eyes
Dark here. Good night
Beijing. Good morning LA
The taxi pulled into the apartment compound.
The gates were manned by a security guard. Mark greeted the guard as they entered
and told him he had a friend staying. He led her to one of the ten six storey red
brick buildings in the compound and up the concrete stairs to the third floor. He
unlocked the door and showed her to the empty bedroom, pointing out the bathroom
on the way.
“Chinese beds are usually pretty hard. It’s
got an extra layer of foam on it but you can put a duvet underneath if you
want. There’s another one in the wardrobe. Let me change the sheets while you
have a wash and then it’s all yours.”
“Ok, thanks.”
He
changed the bed and tidied up the room quickly. Evie came in from the bathroom.
“All set. Let me know if you need anything
Sam…..Sorry, I mean Evie.”
“Can I get some water? I’m parched. I had a
couple of wines on the plane.”
“Sure. I’ll get you one. We keep a jug of
boiled water in the fridge. Don’t drink the tap water, it tastes horrible.”
“Ok. Thanks.” She returned to her bedroom.”
“Sleep well.” said Mark.
“Cheers. Good night.” She closed the door and
as he walked into his room he heard a click as the bolt slipped to.
********
Read Beijing Private Eyes - Part 2 Lights, camera... here
Instalments will be posted each Wednesday.
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