Lost in Translation Page 0,18

past. Yinfei, Yuhuan. None of them her real name.

None of this her true self. She folded the edge of the paper over so the two characters, Yulian, were covered. Out of sight.

She took a long, cleansing breath and began again.

"Aiya, tian luo di wang!" Professor Kong Zhen grumbled as he picked up the hand of cards that had just been dealt onto the table, fanned them out, and studied them. You’ve filled heaven with nets and all the earth with snares.

"I’m the one whose luck is odious," Vice Director Han complained, keeping just enough bile in his voice to mask the glee that bubbled up in him when he saw the winning cards he now held. "You’re one hundred and eighty ahead at the moment, cousin."

"And in one turn of the head it’s gone." Kong Zhen sighed, laying down his cards, knowing he would lose the pile of well-worn bills in front of him, knowing, too, that he was capable of playing far more cleverly, and winning—certainly he could win if he wanted to—but the vice director was his elder-born relative and, more important, a high official in the IVPP, the Institute. Although the IVPP had no say over his own danwei, Huabei University, it controlled all the research money for archaeology as well as most excavation permits. And Vice Director Han was a powerful man in the IVPP. It would not do to win against him. "Aiya, cousin," he said, pretending bitterness, "I wanted that one-eighty."

"So did I," the vice director said happily, and pocketed it. "More tea?" He poured.

"Yes. It’s excellent." Kong Zhen settled back in his chair. He was a lizard-shaped man with a fondness for shiny, tightly belted Western slacks and all the accoutrements of the kai fang: portable phones, beepers, computers, faxes, knockoffs of foreign suits, and clean, lustrous white running shoes. He loved these things almost as much as he loved the archaeology of the Late Paleolithic—but not quite.

He savored the lichee tea now, the hot Beijing night, the comfortable antique furniture and paintings in the vice director’s study. He knew that the vice director had invited him to the capital so they could discuss his joining an American archaeological expedition, but he did not yet know why. What was so special about this particular expedition that it had to be monitored—and by a relative of the vice director, no less? But he did not ask. The Chinese approach was to talk, to socialize, to play cards, to cement the sense of a relationship, before undertaking anything. This took time. And who of consequence did not have time? Kong Zhen sipped his tea, content with the dinner and the round of cards. Elder cousin would say what had to be said in due time.

"Younger born," said the vice director at length. "There’s this delicate matter of the expedition I have asked you to accompany. "

"Yes," his cousin answered, face calm, senses alert.

"My colleagues and I may grant permits for the foreigners, but they will have to travel across military installations. And there are also"—he paused—"reform camps in the area."

Kong Zhen raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I know. It’s most unusual to let foreigners in. But what they seek is unusual as well."

"And what is that?" asked Kong Zhen.

"Peking Man." The vice director cleared his throat, drank from his cup. "They believe they can recover Peking Man."

Professor Kong let out a snort of surprise.

"It’s so." The vice director smiled.

"But—in the Northwest?"

"They have evidence that the French priest got it back from the Japanese and hid it out there. Younger cousin. I need you to go with them. And I need you to select a colleague from your department to go too—a Homo erectus specialist. I know that’s not been your concentration."

"I know a good man," Kong Zhen said, thinking of one of his fellow professors, the thoughtful Lin Shiyang.

"Do you? Then arrange it. And bring him back with you to Beijing in the next few days. We’ll discuss all the facets of this thing."

"Of course," Kong Zhen answered.

"Cousin. Let me put the eye on the dragon. Why do I need you there, watching every step they take? Eh?"

Kong Zhen raised his eyes to meet the other’s and waited. He knew the vice director wished to answer his own question.

"To stop them smuggling Peking Man out to America."

Kong gasped. "You believe they would?"

"Merely consider history! Where were the fossils when they were last seen in 1941?"

Professor Kong hesitated. "The war—the Americans were preparing to ship them to New