Ming-Ji requested five hundred dollars, and when Nola gave her the bills, Ming-Ji rolled them up and placed them in the pocket of her cotton pants. The doctor’s brow and upper lip glistened even though the room was cool. A new swell of adrenaline pumped into Nola's veins. Ming-Ji was risking far more than she was.

Nola gulped down a glass of water, put on a sweatsuit and the sneakers, and gathered her hair under a baseball cap. She grabbed a heavy jacket and a thick baby blanket. Two days? Did Ming-Ji mean two days and one night, or two days and three nights? Don’t think. Just do it. Get out of here. There was no other way. “Let’s go,” she whispered. For the second time in forty-eight hours, she had become a fugitive.

Leslie hugged her. With an edge of hysteria in his voice, he said, “Remember to use only disposable chopsticks.”

His hug felt foreign. Through his exercise regime and beauty care he had come to know her body, but physical affection between them wasn’t in their repertoire. Her life had always been the focus of their universe, while his remained closed to her. Mistress and servant, tied together in a symbiotic existence.

“You’re my best friend,” she said. “Go back to bed. You’ve heard nothing, you’ve seen nothing. Don’t get into trouble. We have many years ahead.”

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 31

Nola sneaked with Ming-Ji out of the suite kitchenette and along a stark service corridor, surprisingly empty of sentries. With years of Leslie’s arduous training, Nola had thought she was strong. But with the heavy travel bag on her shoulder and clutching Lulu to her chest, she realized that covering a great distance would not be simple. She let Ming-Ji carry a second bag of diapers and bottles. Good thing they weren’t crossing the Tibet mountains.

A Chinese officer stepped forward from the dark. Nola gave a yelp of fright.

“It’s okay,” Ming-Ji murmured. Without stopping, she entered a freight elevator that smelled of fried foods. The officer regarded Nola, but his eyes were kind. A moment later, he led them to the huge hotel kitchen, silent and dimly lit. They skulked along the line of pantries against the wall, until they reached a double metal door.

Two peasants in Mao quilted jackets waited behind the garbage dumpster by the hotel’s loading dock. The officer coughed into his coned palm, and Ming-Ji handed him the five hundred dollars in rolled bills and bowed deeply. He bowed in response. Before taking his leave, he brought up phlegm and spit. At five hundred dollars a pop, Nola wondered, how long would it be before her money ran out?