Unwanted Attention Part 1 The Accident
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An Unwanted AliasChapter 7 free porn video
For us "newlyweds," the first month was pretty much a feeling-out process. But come to think of it, aren't all marriages like that? I had to admit, that as a roommate, Wendy was pretty damn terrific. I'd gotten well accustomed to sleeping on the couch, and in truth, it didn't bother me all that much. Of course, there was the communication barrier, but we'd gotten adept at communicating non-verbally. The English lessons continued, but I was chomping at the bit for some educational props to facilitate the process.
Once again, it was Sandra to the rescue. One evening, she showed up at our door carrying a surprise gift: an old laptop. "I just upgraded," she explained, "and rather than throw this old-timer away, or leave it sitting around, I thought I'd pass it on to you two."
I shook my head. "It's much appreciated, and it's exactly what we need, but there's no way Choi would let us have a computer. Remember his edict: no Internet for me."
"So, what you need to do," pointed out Sandra, not skipping a beat, "is to take this computer straight to his office before you boot it up. Explain that you want to use it to help Wendy learn English. Tell him to install whatever tracking software he deems necessary, and to disable any features his frigid heart desires. All you care about is word processing software and the ability to load and play CD's and DVD's. I'll bet you a week's pay he goes for it. He'll have his computer geeks – and there are a lot of them in his little network – work their magic. Anything that brings the two of you closer together is okay in his eyes."
Mr. Choi frequently summoned me to his office for the sole purpose of checking up on me, and the next time he did so, I brought the computer along. I explained its intended role in our life, and left it with him. The next evening, a messenger showed up at our door with the altered laptop. Done deal!
Sandra's sense of what the triad would and wouldn't do was remarkable; and Wendy and I were becoming more and more reliant on that intuition of hers. On a subsequent visit, Sandra and I got into a rather somber discussion about a touchy topic ... what Erin might have concluded now that I'd been AWOL for several months, and what her life might be like.
"I know the two of you had – have – a very solid marriage, and hopefully she's managed to remain strong, with the hope that you'll return to her soon. We don't know what theories have been offered regarding your disappearance, however. If you like, Roger – and it's entirely up to you – I can do some online searching at home, and try to come up with some answers. What do you think?"
"Go for it," I said grimly, but without hesitation.
"I'll need to know your address, and both of your dates of birth ... things like that. Let me ask you this. Do either of you have a Facebook account?"
"Nope," I replied sadly. "One of the many things we have in common is a mutual disdain for social media. Anyway, isn't Facebook blocked here in China?"
"Yes, it is. One of the challenges I'll have in conducting research like this, is what they not-so-affectionately refer to as 'The Great Firewall of China.' But if you're diligent and resourceful, you can find your way around it."
I had to laugh. "Sandra, you wrote the manual on 'diligent and resourceful.'"
Shortly thereafter, she reported back to me with a mixed bag of information, and nothing conclusive.
"Here's the good news," she began. "Erin's most recent address appears to be the home she shares with you. The problem is, I have no way of knowing just how recent that information is. There's something else I had to look into. She definitely hasn't filed for divorce. I checked the divorce records in your home county, and just to be thorough, the surrounding ones' as well. On that point, I suppose no news is good news, right?"
"Hmmph," I snorted glumly. "I guess it could be a lot worse. I appreciate your hard work, Sandra. What else did you find out?"
"There's another thing that's bloody mysterious about all this. I searched through the archives of every newspaper in South Florida for articles relating to your disappearance. You'd think it would make the news, right? I found absolutely nothing. Zero, nil, nada. That's beyond baffling, and it's one missing piece in this puzzle that's simply vital."
I took a moment to digest this. "Just how powerful is this triad, anyway? Do they have the ability to control the American media, and have a story suppressed?"
"No," she replied with confidence. "Rest assured that they don't have that kind of power. There has to be some other explanation. Anyway, on another front, I did uncover something you'll find a mite interesting."
"What's that?"
"A man named Roger Benson actually exists in this part of the world, or at least existed. He is, in fact, an American from Oklahoma. He's close to the same age that you are. He's been here in Sichuan province for several years, and seems connected to the triad in some way. And guess what? He vanished about two weeks before you arrived here, following your grand tour of the world."
"No shit," I uttered in awe. "Isn't that mind-blowing!"
"And not only that, " she continued, "he was engaged to marry a local woman at the time of his disappearance. I haven't been able to ascertain her identity. But it looks as though you and Wendy have somehow been installed in their places."
"But why?" I wondered, my mind still reeling.
"That's the big question here. I can't even venture a guess at this point."
"And how did you find out all of this?"
"If I told you," Sandra replied with a wink and a giggle, "I might have to kill you."
It didn't take long for Wendy and me to become friendly with the older couple who ran the store downstairs. Mr. and Mrs. Hong were affable and helpful. On Sundays, our day off, we often spent a couple of hours just passing time with them in the store. They spoke not a word of English, but I didn't mind. The more time I spent in the company of good-intentioned people, the less time I spent missing Erin, not to mention moping about my current predicament.
The Hongs' daughter-in-law, who asked us to call her Irene, also enjoyed hanging out in the store. Her husband typically worked on Sundays, and their two-year-old son cavorted around the shop, occasionally making a nuisance of himself, but mostly remaining well-behaved. Irene, a stay-at-home mom who nonetheless had a college degree, spoke reasonable English. I was happy to find another translator in our midst.
It was on Sundays that Wendy and I did most of our shopping. There was a small electronics shop down the street, and it was there that we made one of our first purchases. We pooled our money and bought a set of beginner-level instructional English CD's. This quickly became Wendy's preferred method of learning, and we later added intermediate and advanced CD's.
It was also on a Sunday when I was given very persuasive evidence that there was, in fact, a tracking device somewhere inside my body.
I suppose I should have known better. Wendy and I were in the back of the Hongs' store, chatting with Irene. She had a state-of-the-art smart phone, one with its own WiFi, and was busy trying to look up something on the net to show to Wendy. It was all very innocent, with no defiant intent on my part. That's when a man wearing a deathly serious expression strolled into the store. He walked up to us and said to me, "Mr. Benson ... if you will please come with me."
I shot a glance at Wendy, and then at Irene; both were wearing expressions of alarm. Not too far away, the elder Hongs were looking on. They appeared absolutely terrified. I gave a puzzled look to the intruder, but made no move to follow his command.
He turned around, and merely faced outside. At once, two more menacing-looking dudes appeared. "Mr. Benson," said the first man, "I suggest very strongly that you accompany us outside."
My eyes met Wendy's. Hers bore a look of distress, pleading for me to be careful. Outside, I was ordered to get into a car. I was taken to an all-too-familiar office building, where Mr. Choi was waiting in his office.
Christ, I thought. It's Sunday afternoon. Doesn't this schmuck ever leave his office?
His eyes bored into me, letting me know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was on very thin ice right about now. "Mr. Benson," he said coolly, "you have violated perhaps the most important rule we have in place for you. You accessed the Internet. What shall be done about that?" Sitting conspicuously on his desk was what appeared to be a combat knife, perhaps eight or nine inches long, housed in a leather sheath. Its presence detracted from the chumminess of this little kaffeeklatsch in a most objectionable manner.
Eyeing the knife nervously, I explained myself. "I wasn't the one to access the Internet. My ... um, wife and a friend were checking a web site on the friend's smart phone. I just happened to be standing nearby."
Choi regarded me icily for a few seconds. He spoke in Mandarin to one of the men who'd brought me here. He picked up a phone and disappeared behind the hidden door at the rear of his office. A good ten minutes later, he returned, taking a seat in his swivel chair once again.
"I've made some inquiries, Mr. Benson," declared Choi, "and I have no reason to doubt that you are telling the truth. Even so, this can't happen again. Let me repeat the earlier order I gave you. You are not to go near any device that connects to the Internet. Do I make myself clear?"
"I understand, but at the same time, it will be pretty hard to avoid accidentally passing within range of someone else's device during the course of my daily travels. It's amazing that it hasn't happened before."
The corners of Choi's mouth curled upward, as they always did when he meant business. "I trust that you'll find a way to do just that, Mr. Benson." He picked up the knife, caressing its sheath like a long-lost lover.
In the weeks that followed, Wendy and I noticed a change in the behavior of Mr. and Mrs. Hong. Don't get me wrong, they remained cordial and helpful when we shopped in the store. Wendy told me (through Sandra) that they now avoided small talk, sticking to casual greetings and business-related topics. We typically went downstairs, exchanged greetings, made our purchases, and left. On top of that, we never saw Irene and her son in the store. They now had other things to do on Sundays.
It was clear that the Hongs had been given a "pep talk" by the triad.
I was quite concerned about repeating the WiFi incident at work, since I was in close contact with many people. But on the Monday following my meeting with Mr. Choi, a quick look around the warehouse confirmed something I'd suspected, but had never bothered to verify. There was not a cell phone, tablet, or computer in sight. I knew that Wendy had been forbidden from possessing a phone of any kind; it was apparent that she was far from the only one.
The deplorable work conditions contained one silver lining. It was a virtual certainty that I wouldn't run into a situation that caused my computer chip to go "ping."
"Ex-pen-sive," sounded out Wendy. "Expensive."
"Expensive," I repeated, nodding my head.
"The ... shirt ... is ... expensive," she said. Pen in hand, she wrote out the sentence on a page in a well-worn notebook. In the months that had passed since her English lessons commenced, she'd already filled up four or five of these notebooks.
Winter had turned into spring, and early summer was now just around the corner. I discovered in short order that Wendy was very bright, and quite determined. Each night, we spent an hour or so on her English lessons. Now, she had reached the point where actual conversation between us was increasingly possible.
The situation with the triad had remained static. We were still firmly under their iron hand, with no sign of any changes. Helping Wendy to learn English was proving to be a wonderful outlet for me; it gave me a sense of purpose in a world where I otherwise seemed to have none.
Trish
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