Free A Map of Betrayal by Ha Jin Page A

family for five years.”
    “Ah, that’s another matter I’m supposed to discuss with you.” Bingwen smiled cunningly, his hawk eyes scanning, as if to check whether the other seven or eight diners were eavesdropping. They were all out of earshot. He said to Gary, “Your family’s fine. We’ve been taking good care of them.”
    “Can I go back to see them, just for a short visit?”
    “No, you cannot, because the moment you cross the border, the Brits will inform the Yanks about you and that will blow your cover. The Party wants you to stay with the U.S. agency in Okinawa and to gather as much intelligence as you can. For this mission your identity must be kept secret. Brother, I know it’s hard for you. You’ve been making a tremendous sacrifice for our country. For that you have our highest respect.”
    Hearing that, Gary felt touched and disarmed, unable to push his request further. A dull pang seized his heart again while a hot lump swelled his gullet. He lowered his eyes and asked, “What if the agency moves back to the United States? There’s been talk about that.”
    “Go with them. That’s the instruction from above.”
    Gary frowned, breathing hard as though something were stuck in his throat. “Look—I’m going to be thirty in a month, and this celibate life isn’t easy for me.” His voice took on a petulant note. “I won’t say I miss my wife terribly like a newlywed. My parents picked her out for me. But I feel bad, guilty—I shouldn’t have treated Yufeng this way. Besides, I miss home.”
    “We know Yufeng is a good woman, and she understands you’ve been doing an indispensable service to our country. As for your personal life”—Bingwen blinked meaningfully and gave atight smile—“the higher-ups deliberated about that too. If necessary, you should consider starting another family abroad. This also means you must prepare to live overseas for many years.”
    “So mine is a protracted mission?”
    “That’s right.”
    Gary was stunned, but he managed to say, “Okay, I understand.” He came within a breath of protesting but realized that would only make matters worse and might jeopardize his family. He heaved a sigh, unable to fathom the full implications of the directive.
    As much as he was happy to see his friend and handler and to know he was a Party member now, the welcome-home lunch was a huge letdown. In addition to the $500 in the envelope, Bingwen notified Gary that he’d been promoted, now holding rank similar to a captain’s in the army. From now on he would earn two salaries a month—$230 from the American agency and 102 yuan, about $50, from China’s Ministry of National Security. He was sure that few of his comrades were paid so well. That lessened his despondency a little. If he lived frugally and saved, someday he’d be able to return home a wealthy man. Still, hard as he tried, he couldn’t reason away his misery.
    Hong Kong was warm in February, and there was a scent of spring in the air. The streets were overflowing with pedestrians, many of them in rags, apparently refugees from inland. Yet few wore cotton-padded clothes or heavy coats as people did in the north. Walking back to his hotel, Gary heard pigeons cooing and raised his head to look around, but he didn’t see any birds. Instead, he saw colored laundry fluttering on bamboo poles stretched between the balcony rails. Along the street endless shop signs swayed like tattered banners. A uniformed Indian guard appeared, standing at the entrance to a grand stone building, his head turbaned and his beard trimmed. The air was musty and felt a little sticky. Summer must be insufferable here, Gary thought. Perhaps hotter than Okinawa.
    A small cleft-lipped boy in a patched gown accosted him, stretching out his cupped hand, but Gary recognized him—on his way to lunch he’d given this same beggar two coins, so he shooed him away. An old woman was limping over from the opposite direction, holding an