Meiling thought through her limited options. She found it difficult to breathe, let alone think. At length, she turned toward the kitchen. “First we will prepare the batter for the Yorkshire puddings. It will need time to chill.”
The familiar act of breaking eggs and the comforting smell of sifted flour served to calm Meiling’s spirit. An idea began to rise in her mind like the bubbles in the whisked batter. “I will speak to Madame Li,” she said at length. If that didn’t work, there would be nothing to do but accept her fate. She would be fired, but the likelihood that the minister would actually kill her was remote.
Wasn’t it?
? ? ?
The guests began to arrive three hours later. Meiling listened intently from her post in the kitchen, counting to herself as the butler, Mr. Fan, announced the names as each couple entered. Deng Wenyuan and Madame Deng, secretary of the Central Committee for Discipline Inspection and his wife; General Ma Xiannian and Madame Ma, vice chairman of Central Military Commission and his wife; Deputy Party Secretary Ip Keqiang of the State Council for Deepening Reforms and his wife, Madame Ip. Meiling’s heart sank with the arrival of Madame Xu and Lieutenant General Xu Jinlong, director of the Central Security Bureau. She wished the wives no ill will, but hoped one of them might somehow fall sick at the last minute. Even the odor of roast lamb, a smell she usually found intoxicating, did nothing for Meiling’s nerves. She stood by as if awaiting the gallows while the foreign minister and his guests inhaled her perfect bacon-and-leek quiche appetizer. She hardly heard Madame Li’s praise at the first expertly stacked bite of pink lamb, mint sauce, and delicate Yorkshire pudding. Table talk was light, with Madame Li deftly steering everyone away from politics. Meiling grew more anxious with every bite of food the guests ate, bringing them closer to the end of the meal—and she to her fate. Dessert service saw her hoping to be swallowed up by the draperies.
Minister Li tapped on his crystal glass with his silver spoon, making certain he had everyone’s attention.
“I have prepared a small surprise for our lovely wives,” he said, as if he had prepared the white ramekins himself. Each of the guests had their own crème br?lée, but the ramekins for the women were marked with a small flower of burnt sugar on the crust. It had taken Meiling an hour to prepare the delicate blossoms.
Madame Ip, the birdlike woman who shouldn’t have even been there, tapped on the crust of her dessert, hitting it several times with the tiny spoon as if she didn’t quite have the strength to break through the caramelized sugar. She squealed when she finally cracked it, and, forgetting about the creamy custard, used the spoon to dig around in the dessert like it was a playground sandbox, until she found the diamond bracelet.
It was a mystery where the foreign minister got his money, but each of the bracelets cost 11,000 yuan—more than $1,500 U.S. Meiling knew; she’d purchased them all at an expensive shop in Shunyi where Minister Li had an account. He took great pleasure in showing off to his friends at his frequent dinner parties by having her bake pieces of expensive jewelry into the desserts meant for each wife. The women would fawn over their husbands, proud of them for associating with such a powerful and generous man. The husbands, in turn, would scrape and bow to the minister for making them look so good in front of their wives.
Minister Li would always smile benevolently and help his own wife put on her bracelet. She always received jewelry as well.
Except tonight, that was not the case.
Meiling had planned on only four guests and there were not enough bracelets to go around. Madame Li had graciously given her bracelet to Madame Ip, telling Meiling not to fret. But the minister’s eyes had gone positively black the moment he saw his wife had been left out. Madame Ip had only made it worse when she sucked the custard off her new trinket and then held it up to Madame Li, saying, “Such a shame you don’t get one, too, my dear.”
Minister Li turned to give Meiling a saccharine smile. “We will retire to my study,” he said. “Please see to some brandied pears.”
“Yes, Mr. Foreign Minister,” she said, backing away.
“And Meiling,” he said, the smile fading from his lips. “Bring in the fruit yourself.”
The Ips excused themselves shortly after dinner, citing a previous engagement, but Meiling suspected they’d been told it was time for them to leave. Only three men were ever invited into Minister Li’s private study.
The crystal goblets of brandied pears rattled and clinked on the lacquer tray in Meiling’s shaking hands. She took small breaths, afraid she’d cough from the pall of cigar smoke that filled the study.
“Thank you,” the minister said. “Please leave at once.”
“Of course, sir,” Meiling said. Perhaps he had forgiven her for not being prepared. “Will there be anything else?”
Minister Li cocked his head, puffing on the awful cigar. “You misunderstand me, child,” he said. “I mean leave my house. Your services will no longer be needed.”
Tears welled and then fell from Meiling’s eyes. “But sir, there was no—”
Li held up his hand. “I have made it very clear that I value preparedness over excuses.” His eyes crept up and down. At length, he nodded, as if reaching a conclusion. He looked beside the door at a terrifying man with dark eyes and the bulge of a gun under his suit jacket—then back at the weeping Meiling. “Lieutenant General Xu’s driver will take you. If that is all right, General.”
Xu gave the man an almost imperceptible nod. “Go ahead, Long Yun.”
? ? ?
General Ma Xiannian took a series of puffs from his Cuban cigar and held it to one side, studying the glowing coal. “Killing the young woman seems harsh, even for you. It seems a terrible waste of a good cook. To forget to include your wife’s bracelet is . . .”
The foreign minister waved away the notion. “That was my fault,” he said. “But it was not the primary concern. She was not at all surprised that Ip and his bitch wife were not asked to stay after dinner. It would not have been long before she said something to someone about the meetings of our new Gang of Four.”
They never uttered the phrase outside the security of their little group. The men had come to think of themselves as a faction that wanted only the best for China but who would surely be misunderstood if they were to be discovered. The original Gang of Four had been led by Chairman Mao’s wife, Jiang Qing. After Mao’s death, and absent his protection, the former actress was accused with three others as counterrevolutionary and blamed by the government for virtually every evil of the Cultural Revolution.