Chapter 43

I Become a Communist

Did I really sleep?  Yes.  That hundred-year-old bed had the softest mattress I have ever felt.  I sunk down into it like I might disappear from view.  Then, as the evening air chilled, he pulled a heavy comforter over us.  Very nice.  But it was his arms that made the difference.  He had great arms.  He held me against him.  I didn’t pretend to resist.  I rolled up against his chest, my lips on his neck.  I kissed him, closed my eyes, and slept.

Trust.  He was doing and saying things I didn’t understand, but still, I trusted him.  He wasn’t going to hurt me.  He was going to hold me, protect me, love me.  So I rested in his arms.  I slept nestled against him.  I loved his touch, and his strength.  Whatever conflict was going on between us, well, he was right - we would work that out in the morning.  In the meantime, I would enjoy a night in his arms.

I woke at dawn and kissed him.  He was already awake, watching me.

“You’re mine now, Mary.”

“No.  I belong to Jiks.  You are just a monthly fantasy.  That night on the wall was the most romantic evening any woman ever shared.  But I went home to Jiks.  He is my husband, and he will be the father of my children.”

“I think you are mine.”

He rolled over onto me and made love to me.  Slow.  Gentle.  Lots of kisses.  His hands in my hair and on my breasts.  The man was fabulous.  I moaned enough to wake up the ghosts of that ancient bed.  And, yes, I understood I was now his in important ways.  He would fill my dreams.  I looked up into his face and knew I loved him.  I wanted to be right where I was, his face over mine, his body joined to mine.

He finished and lay down beside me again.  His arms still held me.  I pressed myself against him.

“He knows about you, or somehow senses you.  He is rough with me now.  He demands things of me.  As is his right.  He is my husband.”

“He is your employer.”

“Yes, he has given me a career.  But the career will end.  I will have his children.”

Sheng spent a long time staring into my eyes and playing with my hair before responding.

“You may do so if you wish.  But you will also serve the Party.”

“I will attend these meetings and pretend to understand the poetry, but my role in the world is to make simple movies and to be a mother.”

“Fort Meade.”

I wondered if I had heard him wrong.  My poor Chinese.  Maybe the wrong tone.  I stared at him.

“It took us over a year to confirm your links.  Just one more visitor to the Cryptographic Museum.  One image of thousands.  It took patience.  And visual sorting.  Our software is good and getting better.”

I think I finally understood why my wrists were bound.  I would lie still.  No attempts to fight or flee.  He would hold me.  He would study me.

“This is where we build trust, Mary.  You acknowledge the NSA connection, or you attempt to lie to my face.  Which will it be?”

“There is a connection.  A woman there helped me get a job with the video group that made my YouTube channel.”

“Since then you have been sending her reports.  Emails routed through your mother.  Simple reports.  Nothing we object to.  Nothing we will prevent.”

“Then what do you want?”

“First, we build trust.  Trust in you.  A bank account that puts you in legal peril.  Photographs that could embarrass.  And Party membership to show public commitment.  Three forms of control.  The Party must feel that control.  Only then will it trust you.”

“Trust me to do what?”

His hand kept stoking my hair as he waited to answer my question.  That was the odd thing about that whole interview.  My wrists were bound, he listed all the forms of control he had over me, but his hand was still soft and warm.  Loving.  I saw love in his eyes and felt it on his lips as he kissed me. 

“From time to time you will send longer emails to your mother.”

“Lies to the NSA?”

“No.  You will never send lies.”

His fingertips were on my cheek.  Light caresses.  Barely touching me.  Enticing.  His eyes never left mine as his touch aroused me.  He was such a perfect lover.

“I don’t want to do this, Sheng.  Don’t make me.”

“You will do little, but the little you do will be valuable to both countries.  The term is ‘Back Channel.’  A way for people to communicate outside the normal process and reach people outside the normal hierarchy.  You will be a new channel between some people in the Party and some people at NSA.”

“Use someone else.”

“There are others.  Many others.  You will be one more.”

His fingers stayed on my cheek.  It was hard for me to concentrate.  His words.  His touches.  The warmth of his thigh as it pressed between mine.  His lips so close.

“Stop the seduction.  Tell me the truth.”

“The truth is several senior Party members like your films.  They think you like China.  They wish you to help them.  They wish to say some things privately that they cannot say publicly.  You can be the link to make that happen.”

“But to do that I must join the Party.”

“Yes.  It creates a new set of links for you – and for them.”

“It will destroy me in America if it is ever known.”

“It will not be widely known, but it will be known.  It is a sacrifice I am asking you to make.” 

I lay still and watched him.  Felt him.  His fingers never stopped caressing my cheek.  His thigh warmed my thighs.  I was hot and wet from him.  I think I would have said “yes” to anything.  Almost anything.

“Free my wrists.”

He rolled me toward him and pulled his necktie free.  Now that I could move my hands, I wasn’t sure what to do with them.  Finally I just grabbed fists full of his hair and pulled his mouth to mine.

“I will sign the papers and go back to my husband.  I will never see you again.”

“You will see me every month.  You know that.  You want that.”

He pulled me out of bed and into a hidden washroom.  He washed me over and over.  And yes, I knew I would see him again.  In a month I would be desperate for him.