Mrs. Pollifax on the China Station

good-bye to brave
and courageous people.”
    The tension in his face dissipated as he smiled his very rare warm
smile. ”And I’m saying good-bye right now to a very brave courageous person.
Except it can’t be good-bye... If I ever get out of this—” He leaned over and
kissed her on the cheek. ”Say hello to Cyrus for me, and marry him, will you?”
    He turned, gave a glance at the carnage around them, shook his head over
it and began to run, toward the north and toward the deep forest.
    ”Say hello to the Queen of Sheba for me,” she called after him, and
then, in a whisper, ”God bless you, Peter.” She stood watching him until he
disappeared among the trees, and only then did she begin walking tiredly toward
the mountain down which she and the horse had catapulted. She had just reached
the first line of trees and had begun to ascend when she was met by men with
horses, Kazakhs who had come to look for her.

Chapter F ourteen
     
    T he corridors were broad
and dusty—there seemed to be dust everywhere in China , she thought blurredly—but in
the halls of a hospital it was unexpected. Everything she saw held a surreal
quality, filled with intimations of violence: a young woman rushing up a
staircase, her white jacket stained with blood; a young worker wiping up a pool
of blood in a corner; a patient with a bloody bandage around his head being
supported by two orderlies; Army guards stationed at the end of each hall,
leaning casually against the walls, their faces blank.
    She refused anesthesia. The doctor was a young woman, her soft dark hair
plaited into braids, face serious, her white jacket worn over cotton pants.
Consultations were held with others —she was still a tourist, Mrs. Pollifax
noticed, wondering for how long she would be treated as one. A young man with a
wide eager smile tried a little English with her. Again she refused anesthesia
and a hospital bed for the night and hoped that no one would guess it was
because she feared what she might say under anesthesia. She was given a local
injection and her hand strung up on a traction bar while the young woman
manipulated, kneaded, tugged, and pressed the bone into place.
    ”A bad break,” the young man translated for her, and when the
doctor had completed her manipulations she began winding gauze around her arm,
finishing it off with wet plaster. She found herself encased to the elbow.
    ”No acupuncture?” she quipped, feeling that the numbing weight of her
broken hand now dominated her entire body like an aching tooth that turned even
her thoughts jaded.
    ”Pliss,” he said, smiling his toothsome smile. ”We treat you American
way, all of us being most sorry you have had this accident in our country.”
    Mrs. Pollifax gravely accepted this apology and thanked them all. In the
hall outside she found Malcolm and Mr. Li waiting for her, and at sight of
Malcolm she promptly burst into tears. He handed her a handkerchief and hugged
her. ”You’re still in shock,” he told her. ”Hang in!”
    In shock yes, but not entirely from the wrist, she remembered, and knew
that she didn’t want to think yet about that horrible scene at the river, and
of Peter leaving.
    Malcolm said, ”I wanted to come with Mr. Li and tell you.”
    ”Tell me?” she repeated, and glancing at Mr. Li she saw that his poise
was shattered, he looked distraught and anxious.
    ”Yes,” Malcolm said. ”It’s your turn to be interviewed by the police and
the fact that you’re in pain and shock doesn’t seem to move them at all. They
insist on seeing you now.”
    ”Yes,” she said, quite understanding why. ”You don’t look terribly well
yourself, Malcolm.”
    He smiled wryly. ”We’ve all had a shock, of course, but I begin to
suspect that Jenny’s raisins are doing us all in.” He made a face. ”George is
sick back at the hotel and Jenny’s back in bed, and bed is where I’m heading
next.”
    ”And Peter and Forbes are dead,” she added, wanting to make it real to
her, wanting to fix it firmly in her mind that Peter too was dead, not just
missing, not gone to meet X and Sheng, but dead. ”Have they found Peter’s body
yet?” she asked.
    ”I don’t think so,” Malcolm said. ”We’ve all given statements but we’ve
not been told anything.” Mr. Li made a sound in his throat and Malcolm added,
”Oh yes, and we’re not supposed to talk about it. I promised, we all did,
because you’re the only one who can tell the police what happened, you