From the bridge where the lighting engineer had stood came a scuffle and angry commands. The klieg lights were killed. The shrieking, flat siren of the microphone, like a patient’s heart monitor announcing death, filled the air, then was cut.

A murmur passed through the crowd, now lit by the dim stadium lights. Nola’s eyes, no longer blinded by the brilliant stage lights, took in the thousands of solemn, shocked people as they remained seated. Then one pair of hands clapped. It was joined by another, then another. The lonely, scattered applause came from separate areas of the stadium.

In the flash of light that flooded the arena, Nola saw it was women who applauded. Brave, lonely women who must have suffered the coercive loss of a child. They did not stop, even under the exposing glare. A moment later, they were joined by several men, who put their hands together in tentative applause. Within seconds, hundreds of policemen materialized and shoved their way down the aisles and into the audience.

Simultaneously, the squad of soldiers created a half circle behind Nola on stage, and she glimpsed George Mauriello’s somber face and Ambassador Ashford’s ruby one as they approached. Wade's frantic hand gestured “cut,” and his facial features stretched as he urged Nola to get off the stage. Eclipsing it all, Nola was cognizant of the charged bubble in which she and Daniel stood alone with Lulu.

“I’ll be forced to leave,” he whispered. “Contact Ming-Ji. Tonight. She’ll help you get out.”

“Da-da-da—” Lulu said, and clutched the lapel of his tuxedo.

He disengaged her little hand, and with his eyes locked into Nola's, brought Lulu's’ fingers to his lips tenderly. He turned and left.

Nola knew this kiss was meant for her.

PART THREE

PART THREE

The Dragon Lantern

When the boat reaches midstream, it is too late to stop the leak.

—A Chinese proverb

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 30

Later, when Nola tried to reconstruct the chain of events, they blurred into one another, like a LeRoy Neiman montage chronicling historical occasions, except that the closing of her concert celebrated no obvious triumph. Ashford had relayed the message that the rest of her tour was canceled, and the Shanghai gala party for the local dignitaries, foreign diplomats and American industry giants was called off. She was whisked, with Lulu, into her limousine with six armed Chinese—and no Wade or Leslie—and deposited back at her hotel. From then on, she was under house arrest, although no one quite said that she was.