Remember (4 page)

Luke waved back, and stood up. “I’ll go and see what Tony wants,” he said to Clee. “Maybe he knows something we don’t, has some new information. I’ll be back.”

“Take your time,” Clee said, gazing out on the square. He knew he would be leaving China soon, the end was in sight. His elbows on his knees, his head propped morosely in his hands, he felt dreadful for the kids—they were so idealistic, so innocent, so brave. When he first came to Beijing almost six weeks ago, he had found them full of excitement and hope. They had spoken stirring words about liberty and democracy, and had sung their songs and played their guitars.

But tonight their guitars were still, and soon their voices would be still too. He shuddered slightly and felt the prickle of gooseflesh, he did not want to think of their fate—he knew they were in grave danger. Although he had not said this to Nicky or to anyone else, he did not have to, they all knew that time was running out for the students.

Suddenly, Clee saw Nicky walking through the square toward the monument. Like Changan Avenue, Tiananmen was extremely well illuminated, with numerous tall streetlamps, each topped with branches of lights, about nine altogether and shaded in white opaque glass. The square was so bright it could almost have been daytime, everyone was visible, and it was even possible to read a book quite comfortably.

A smile touched his eyes at the sight of Nicky, and he climbed down off the ledge and dodged through the crowd, hurrying to meet her. She spotted him and waved. “I knew you’d be out here before long,” he said, coming up to her and smiling.

She nodded. “I had to be out here, Clee. My instinct tells me the situation is about to blow.”

“Wide open,” he confirmed. Taking her arm, he guided her away from the monument. “Let’s walk around a bit, I need to stretch my legs, I’ve been sitting on that ledge for about an hour.”

“Good, that’s what I’d like to do, and perhaps we’ll see Yoyo.

He’s usually with Chai Ling and some of the other student leaders, and he might know something new.”

“He’s constantly in touch with the Flying Tigers. I’ve noticed several of them whizzing around on their bikes in the last hour,” Clee remarked, referring to a motorcycle brigade of young entrepreneurs who had also been dubbed Paul Reveres by the American press. They roared all over Beijing, carrying messages, monitoring troop movements and the actions of the police, and in general acting as lookouts for the students.

“Yoyo’s probably in the tent encampment. Shall we head over there?” she suggested.

“Yes, good idea.”

“Where’s Luke? Arch said he was with you.”

“He just went offwith that guy from the BBC, Tony Marsden.

They’re somewhere around. Do you need him?”

“No, I just wondered, that’s all. And speaking of the BBC, have you seen Kate Adie this evening?”

Clee shook his head, and Nicky said, “That’s odd, she’s usually one step ahead of me.”

Clee chuckled. “Your British counterpart is often right in step with you, and sometimes she’s a step behind you but she’s never ahead of you.”

Nicky laughed. “You’re prejudiced, which is very nice.”

“I guess so. In any event, Kate’s probably somewhere in the crowd.

There are a helluva lot of foreign press out tonight—no doubt sensing trouble in the wind.”

Nicky looked at him swiftly. “I think the crackdown’s almost upon us, don’t you?”

“Yes. The students and the government have reached an impasse, something’s got to give. It’ll have to be the students, I’m afraid, and we’re going to see a lot of force thrown against them.” Nicky shivered despite the warmth of the evening. “Where’s your camera?”

“Under my jacket, strapped to my shoulder. My buddies from Magnum and the Associated Press are doing exactly the same thing, as are most of the photographers.”

“Clee … It’s going to get dangerous out here—real soon.”

“I think so too. And before you say it, yes, I’ll be careful.” A faint smile played around his mouth. “As careful as you are.”

“I don’t take unnecessary chances, even though Arch seems to think I do. I try to minimize the odds against me.”

“That’s one of the things we have in common,” Clee said.

“There’s another?”

“Yes. We both have nerves of steel.”

“I suppose we do,” she agreed, laughing. “We’d bette, in this business. Just as we have to have a sixth sense for danger.”

Clee nodded but did not say anything, and they walked on in companionable silence for a few minutes. As they came to the tent encampment, Nicky turned to him. “You know, this place has really taken on a life of its own, what with the tents and the buses.

It’s like a small town, and—” “A shantytown,” Clee cut in.

“You’re right. Does it smell again tonight?”

“They’ve probably removed the garbage by now. In any case, there’s a nice breeze blowing up.”

“The other day when I came looking for Yoyo it stank, that’s the only word for it. The stench was disgusting—rotting food, unwashed bodies, heaven knows what else. I felt nauseated.”

As they entered the encampment and walked past several buses where some of the students lived, the air was surprisingly fresh, and the area looked as if it had recently been swept and cleaned up. There was no trash in sight.

Nicky was surprised, once again, by the neat lines of olive-green tents, waterproof and commodious, which had been sent from Hong Kong.

They were arranged in horizontal patterns, with almost military precision, and lettered signs hung over each group of tents, identifying where the different contingents had come from.

There were delegations of students from almost every university in every province of China.

Weeks ago she had discovered that most of the students slept during the day because the action came at night. Now the majority of the tents were empty, although a few late stragglers were only just emerging, getting ready for the rest of the evening and the early hours of the morning that lay ahead.

Vendors hung around on the pavement, selling sodas, bottled water, ices, popsicles and other small snacks.

Clee glanced at her. “Would you like a popsicle?”

She made a face and shook her head.

The young Chinese student, Chin Yong Yu, nicknamed Yoyo, was standing with a young woman in the center of the encampment near his tent. Both of them wore blue jeans and white cotton shirts.

The girl was attractive and looked to be about the same age as Yoyo, who was twenty-two. Nicky wondered if this was his girlfriend, whom he had mentioned and who had been visiting relatives in Shanghai for the past few weeks. Yoyo was deep in conversation with the girl, but when he saw Nicky and Clee he broke off and waved enthusiastically, then turning to the girl, he said something and then hurried over to greet them.

Nicky had met Yoyo, an art student, quite by accident, in Tiananmen Square, when she first arrived in Beijing. She had been endeavoring to speak to some of the students that day, hoping to find someone who understood English. Yoyo had approached her with a smile and told her in fairly understandable English that he would be happy to help her if he could. After that, he had been useful in all sorts of ways, he had passed on information, introduced her to other student leaders, such as Chai Ling and Wuer Kaixi, and kept her abreast of developments among the students and the leaders of the movement. He was not only friendly but bright, and she had grown very fond of him, as had the crew, and Clee. They worried about Yoyo, worried about what would happen to him when all this was over.

“Nicky!” Yoyo cried, coming toward her, smiling widely, his hand outstretched.

“Hello, Yoyo,” she said, shaking his hand. “Clee and I were looking for you.”

“Good evening, Clee,” Yoyo said.

“Hi, Yoyo! What’s going on?” Clee asked as he took the student’s hand.

Yoyo’s expression changed, and he said grimly, “Bad things coming.

Army drop canisters of tear gas from helicopters. On square.

Tonight.

You see. You have masks? Also, troops coming.”

“Tonight? The troops are coming tonight?” Nicky probed.

Yoyo nodded. “I hear troops hidden in buildings near square. They come. Very sure. Bad things happen. You tell world, yes?”

“We’ll certainly keep telling the world, Yoyo,” Nicky assured him.

“But do you believe the People’s Liberation Army will open fire on the people?”

“Oh yes. Yes.” He nodded emphatically. “Some students say no, not possible. The People’s Liberation Army our army, they say. Won’t kill us. They foolish. Army very disciplined. Army follows orders. I know this.”

Nicky stared at him, her clear, intelligent eyes riveted on his face.

“You should leave the square. Now. While it’s still possible, still safe.”

“That wise, yes,” Yoyo agreed. “But not everyone go, Nicky. Hard get everyone go. Blood tonight.”

Nicky shivered and looked pointedly at Clee.

“What about Chai Ling and some of the other leaders?” Clee asked.

“Can’t they get the students to leave?”

Yoyo shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Where are they?” Clee asked.

“Don’t see tonight. You like water? Soda?”

“No, thanks,” Clee answered.

Nicky shook her head.

The young Chinese looked thoughtful, then he remarked, “Movement lost spirit after martial law declared. Students very depressed.

True, they should leave. They won’t. End will be bad thing.”

“Come with us,” Nicky said urgently. “Come with us to the Martyrs’ Monument. Find one of the bullhorns you’ve been using, and relay a message to the students. They’ll listen to you, you’re one of their leaders. Ask them to leave, beg them, if necessary. And you must leave with them. If you and the other students get out of Tiananmen while there’s still time, you’ll save your lives. Please, Yoyo, do this. It will be an act of bravery if you lead the students away from the square. It will be aood thing to do.”

She reached out impulsively, took hold of his arm. “Please, Yoyo, don’t stay here. You could be killed.”

Her words appeared to reach him. “I come monument. Soon. Bring Mai, my girlfriend. Go, Nicky. I come soon. I promise.”

“We’ll be waiting for you, but don’t be too long, Yoyo. There’s not much time left.”

When Nicky and Clee got back to the Martyrs’ Monument, they found Luke waiting for them, and Nicky told him what had happened with Yoyo. She repeated what the student leader had said about the troops coming that night or in the early hours of the morning.

“Oh Jesus!” Luke exclaimed. “If that happens, those kids don’t stand a chance.”

“Actually they’re sitting ducks,” Nicky pointed out. “They’re centered in a relatively small area, in relation to the overall size of the square, which is three-quarters empty right now. If the army comes in from the other side, it’ll have a clear run straight across the square.”

“That’s right,” Luke muttered.

“Let’s hope Yoyo can persuade the students to leave before that happens,” Clee said.

Nicky was silent, her expression anxious. Then she brightened.

“Here he is now, thank goodness. Perhaps we can get him up on the monument with a bullhorn. He can at least warn the kids.”

Yoyo and Mai joined them. They were holding hands, and Yoyo said, “This my friend, Mai. Her English not very excellent!”

“No need to apologize,” Nicky replied warmly. As she looked at Mai she was startled—when she had seen the girl a little earlier, she had not realized how lovely Mai was. Her features were beautiful, her black, almond-shaped eyes enormous in her sweet and innocent young face. She had long glossy black hair, was small and slender, and everything about her was delicate.

Nicky thought she was like an enchanting little doll.

Thrusting out her hand, Nicky said with a wide smile, “I’m so pleased to know you, Mai.”

The girl smiled back shyly, showing perfect white teeth. Nicky was surprised at the firmness of her hold, as she softly said, “Hi.”

Mai shook hands with Clee and Luke, who also obviously appreciated the girl’s loveliness.

To Yoyo, Nicky said, “Did you find a bullhorn?”

“Not necessary. I don’t speak. Chai Ling speak. Later.”

“You’ve seen her?” Nicky asked, her voice suddenly sharp.

“Yes, near goddess. Chai Ling will take bullhorn, tell students to go home. She promise.”

“Let’s hope she keeps that promise,” Clee murmured. “In the meantime, let’s sit down.”

The five of them found places on the ledges that ran around the base and lower part of the monument, and they sat down to wait for Arch and Jimmy. And, they hoped, for Chai Ling, the respected leader of the student movement, commander in chief of the Tiananmen demonstrators and a graduate student in psychology at Beijing Normal University.

It was almost one o’clock in the morning of June 3 when Arch and Jimmy finally appeared. They came running into the square and as they approached the small group clustered together on the monument, Nicky immediately noticed their troubled expressions.

“What is it?” she cried with raised brows, glancing at Arch and then at Jimmy.

While trying to catch his breath Arch blurted out, “The troops !

They’re coming down Changan Avenue. We just saw them as we were heading toward the square and—” Jimmy interjected, “They’re being stopped by the people.”

“What do you mean?” Nicky cried, looking puzzled.

“The citizens of Beijing have formed a blockade—with their bodies. A human blockade. To stop the army from getting to the students in the square. They’re keeping the army out of the square!” Jimmy said.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Luke said.

Clee did not wait to hear another word, and neither did Nicky.

Simultaneously they jumped off the ledge and began to run toward Tiananmen Gate, which led into Changan Avenue. They were closely followed by Yoyo, who was clutching Mai’s hand, and behind them came Luke, sprinting at such a speed he soon caught up with Clee and Nicky.

Arch and Jimmy took a few seconds to catch their breath, and then they took offtoo, making for the entrance onto the avenue.