"Please have a seat; I hope you and your family are well." Sung Li spoke in a quiet, refined voice as Wu Jiang sat nervously on the sole hard chair in the bare office, wondering why Sung Li had called him, wondering why he had ordered him to appear today without notice, interrupting his practice, destroying his concentration, agitating his teammates.

"I'm fine," Wu Jiang lied, as he sat up rampant in his hard backed chair and stared Sung Li straight into his ice-filled eyes.

"I've heard, I've heard," Sung Li paused, watching Wu Jiang's reactions, waiting for a muscular twitch, a blinking eye, a jiggling leg-anything to signify the boy's anticipation. "My men have contacts; they tell me you've been with Westerners, that you were seen whispering with Westerners." Sung Li's voice rose as he stood and pointed his knobby finger at the boy, "Westerners are decadent!" Sung Li's screeching voice forced Jiang to jamb his buttocks firmly against the chair and to rear back away from the policeman's fist. "Do you know what the Party has waiting for people who fraternize with Westerners?"

Jiang knew better than to answer. He held his breath, too afraid to gasp for air. He knew about the table and his balls cringed in fear. Everyone had warned him, but Jiang had tried to shake the thought from his mind years ago. Surely Sung Li won't put me on the table! Surely he won't destroy China's athletic program. The government will never allow that, but Jiang didn't believe his own thoughts. He knew how easy it was for men in his region to disappear. He knew how much power Sung Li and his thugs possessed. If only I had been more careful, if only - Jiang's mind raced, trying to recall a time when he was alone with a Westerner. Two men approached the coach last week, but they looked Chinese to me; I smiled at them to be polite, is that a crime? Jiang's thoughts were racing so rapidly that he barely had time to connect one with the other. Is that what this is all about? Smiling at strangers? There's nothing wrong with that. Why is Sung Li accusing me? What's he really after?

Jiang didn't have time to answer his own questions because, within moments, Sung Li shouted for Han and Ming. "Take Jiang to the outer interrogation room. We may need to take him to the table later, but that will depend on how he responds to my questions."

The men grabbed Jiang by his elbows, hoisting him up and out of the chair and walked-dragged him out of Sung Li's office. Quickly they carried Jiang toward the interrogation room, the anteroom just outside the room with the infamous table, the room everyone dreaded, the room few men lived to describe. If Jiang wanted to create his own reality, he knew he must make a stand before they took him through that final door into the room with the table, otherwise he realized he'd be tortured, raped, or castrated. "What have I done? Why am I here?" Jiang screamed as the men shoved him onto the floor centimeters from the torture room door.

Fortunately, Lin-Chu, Jiang's teammate, had followed Jiang to Sung Li's office and when he peeked through the window and saw what was happening, he raced back to Coach Luo Cong, knowing that sped was important, knowing he must reach the coach while there was still time. If Sung Li takes Jiang into the torture room, we'll never see him again. I must hurry; I must find the coach.

"I like you, Jiang, I like you a lot; perhaps you'd like to talk to me before I'm forced to show you the table." Sung Li lay back on his heels thinking of the pleasure of the table, picturing the naked athlete tied helplessly to the table, imagining Jiang's suffering and howling as Sung Li erupted in his trousers. "The table can be a blessing. You have no idea how pleasurable it can be." Sung Li clandestinely rubbed his crotch as he smiled at the boy.

"What do you want from me? What have I done?"

"I told you, you've been seen with Westerners. What's your explanation? Why were you fraternizing with Westerners?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've never met a Westerner."

"Do we need to take you to the table now?"

"Do it and all of China will be after your fat ass!" Jiang couldn't believe what he was saying, but he was desperate enough to try anything now.

Sung Li stepped back, shocked that a boy would speak to him as if he were a man. "What gives you the right to-?"

"I'm the best swimmer in China. I'm going to swim in Shanghai where I'll win the national championship. If anything happens to me, you'll have to answer to the entire Party."

No one in the village had ever spoken against an adult and Sung Li was so confused he didn't know what to do. Why is Jiang behaving like this? Has he really met Westerners? Have they influenced him or is he more stubborn than I imagined?

Sung Li paused before making a decision, if I make a mistake, this boy's word will be proven true and I'll lose everything-my wife, my children, and my job-everything. But if I stand here, if I take it in front of my men, I'll be disgraced. Sung Li turned rapidly and spoke softly to his men, "Go into the other room; I can handle this boy. I can handle him very effectively . . . alone."

The men left quickly and Sung Li followed them outside, "You heard nothing in there. Nothing!" The men nodded as Sung Li walked slowly back into the interrogation room, still unsure of what he wanted to do, still unsure of what Jiang would do.

"Listen boy, you will never speak to me like that again, do you understand?" Jiang nodded less defiantly than he wanted to, but not as meekly as Sung Li would have liked. "I don't know what your game is or why you're playing, but I'm in charge here. Do you understand that? I make the rules here and," Sung Li stopped long enough for his words to sink in, "I break the rules whenever I want. Do you follow me?"

Jiang nodded again-this time more subserviently. He knew he was winning now and one way or another, he knew he would be released.

"I don't know what to do with you. My men have seen you with Westerners and now you act like this. It's obviously proof they were right! You've been associating with foreigners, haven't you?" Sung Li calmed down a little and spoke in a less adrenaline-saturated tone of voice. He figured the boy had called his hand once; he wasn't going to let it happen again. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Jiang knew he'd have to use every facet of his manhood to prove himself now that he was Sung Li's primary adversary. I must think this through carefully before I speak. I must consider my swimming . . . but I also must consider Sung Li's reputation. He's lost face because of me. I must find a way to restore that and still retain my reputation; I must find a way for both of us to win.

"I was trying to tell you the truth, Sung Li," Jiang thought it wisest to use the police chief's formal name instead of his rank. "Thank you for giving me that opportunity. I was rude to you; I didn't mean to be rude and I will apologize to your men. The last thing I want to do is to embarrass you in front of your subordinates, but now we must both think about China and what we're doing here." Jiang paused for a moment gathering his thoughts, watching Sung Li's reactions, watching Sung Li swell up another six or seven ounces. "If I don't swim, it will be China's loss and neither of us knows how Beijing will react. Times are difficult now. Times are very difficult." Jiang paused, carefully constructing each phrase, "We must play our game carefully. We both know you don't want Beijing to make your decisions for you. And we know that neither of us wants to appear a fool . . . so we must be careful, very careful, we must both save face."

Sung Li nodded, amazed at Jiang's maturity, confused, yet hopeful that the boy could find a way to end their predicament.

"I never talked to Westerners, but I did nod to a few men who spoke to the coach. Perhaps those are the men your deputies saw," Jiang paused, gathering more of his thoughts, trying to form a plan. "Why don't we tell your men that I talked to the representatives from Beijing? Perhaps Han and Ming thought they looked like Westerners. Why don't we just tell your deputies the truth? The representatives from Beijing spoke to the coach about me. Remind your men that it was dusk and the light was failing," to Jiang it was like picking up grains of rice one at a time, as he prayed for a solution and a way to save face for himself and Sung Li, knowing he was bright enough to do it, if only he could find the right words, "No one will be harmed if we both tell the same truth, right?"

Sung Li paused for an excruciatingly long time, scaring Jiang so badly that he was ready to bolt out the door and run for freedom just like Xiao had done four days before.

"You might be right, Jiang, you just might be right. Let's ask the men; let's get to the bottom of this."

Sung Li called his men back into the integration room, "It was dark when you saw Jiang, so you can't be sure the men with Jiang were Chinese or Westerners, can you?"

"But-"

"It was dark, wasn't it?"

"Yes," his men replied in unison as the semi-automatons they were.

"I thought so," Sung Li stepped back and glowered at his men for an eternity before screaming so loudly that the walls of the room vibrated, "How dare you accuse such a fine young man as Jiang. He is China's future. Don't you know that? Don't you have any better use than to waste my time and attach this young man for no reason at all?"

The men, backing into the deepest crevices of the paint in the wall, hung their heads in shame.

"Don't take it out on them. They were doing their job for the good of the motherland. Please don't take it out on them," Jiang paused, "and please accept my apology. I put you all in a bad light. I didn't mean to do that, comrade!" Jiang had never used the world comrade before and it felt strange on his lips as it dribbled off his tongue, but he knew he had to play the game masterfully if he was going to escape the wrath of Sung Li and the terrors of his torture table.

"I accept your humble and gracious apology. I hope my men have not caused you any inconveniences."

"Not at all," Jiang felt more like an ancient warlord than like a Chinese peasant now and he enjoyed his new role. Perhaps there's truth in reincarnation after all, Jiang thought, perhaps those theories Xiao shared with me really are true. Perhaps I was a nobleman in another life; perhaps that's why I was able to talk myself out of this.

Then, as if he had had an epiphany, Jiang stood up tall and proud, "I hope I have not embarrassed the motherland. I would never want to embarrass Mother China."

Sung Li and his men are eating out of my hand, but I'd better be careful. I don't want to overdo it. Jiang looked for a polite way to exit and, as luck would have it, he saw his coach hurrying down the road.

"Wu Jiang," Luo Cong shouted, I've heard you were being held here, are you okay?"

Jiang took the coach's hand in his own and held it as he bowed slightly from the waist. "Everything's fine. Sung Li and I were having a little chat about my upcoming swimming competition. He hopes to see me win for the motherland."

Sung Li smiled half out of one corner of his mouth and half out of the other side, beaming a smile almost as ugly as a Jack-o-lantern. "Yes, Luo Cong, I wonder if it's possible to go to Shanghai and watch Jiang."

"Perhaps," the startled coach replied, "but first, Jiang must finish practice." The coach turned to Jiang, rubbed the top of the boy's head and said, "You are late, did you know that?"

"I'm sorry coach. If you'll excuse me, Sung Li, the coach needs me. I must win for China."

"Of course, Jiang, of course."

Jiang's knees almost gave way as he walked up the dirt road leading to the pond. If Sung Li only knew how close I was to pissing my pants. If he only knew hold close I was to crying like a baby . . . but perhaps someday I will be China's champion, then he'll remember this day, then he'll be thankful he gave me a chance to win the Gold.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As the dust settled behind Jiang, Sung Li turned to his men, "Watch him. He's craftier than the lioness that creeps along the mountain. He thinks he misled me, but he's nothing but a liar. Watch him; he knows a lot more than he's telling." Sung Li then had his own epiphany, "His best friend is Feng Xiao. Perhaps we can grab two revolutionaries at the same time. I bet Jiang still has feelings for that little faggot."

Sung Li smiled, thinking of the fun he'd have with Feng Xiao, thinking of the days he could torment the boy, thinking of the nights he would enjoy his ass.

"Follow Jiang . . . and if you lose him, I'll put you on the table."

Ming and Wei hurried after Jiang-afraid they'd lose him, and even more afraid they'd lose their manhood on Sung Li's table.


On to Chapter Twenty
Into the Maelstrom
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Plan of Escape
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