He glanced at them and was about to place them in a folder, when Nola said, “I’m sorry. I must hold on to them. You may make a copy or review them in my presence.”

He handed them back to her. “Regardless, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until the ambassador’s return.”

She forced her tone a couple of notches below his. “I need to make another phone call.”

“I’d rather you waited—” He coned his palm and coughed into it.

Heat filled Nola's head. “Am I missing something? Am I under house arrest?”

“Of course not.” He coughed again.

“Would you please leave the room?” She reached for the phone, doubting the line was secure from his eavesdropping. “It’s private.”

After he left, Sharon lingered a moment, sending glances at the door. “I’ve compiled a report for the ambassador,” she whispered. “These past four days you have become the single most beloved Westerner in China—in spite of the Chinese government’s propaganda against you. Your music has become so big, Beijing has given up on trying to block it. It recognizes that it has been losing credibility with its people by depicting you as a CIA spy. The people saw with their own eyes, heard with their own ears.”

“Cool. Thanks for telling me,” Nola said.

“I’m your fan, and I believe in what you’ve done. About Lulu, I mean, and the song.” Sharon’s lips curved up in a shy smile and she glided out.

Nola asked the operator to locate Daniel Chen’s number in D.C. and connect her.

He picked up on the first ring. “I thought you’d be out doing your Tai Chi,” she said.

“Not till I heard from you.”

“Have you been listening to Big Mouth?”

“Yes.” He laughed softly. “I was so relieved to hear you’re all right. Are you?”

“A bit rattled.” In her mind’s eye once again, she saw Daniel standing, brave and solid, in the coin of light on the stage. “How was your trip out of China?” she asked.

“That will have to wait for another time.”

“I want to tell you where I am, but not how I got here,” she said. “That, too, will have to wait for a more opportune moment.”

“Looks like there’s a lot we want to say that must wait.”

“Yes,” she whispered. She felt tingling in the hand clutching the phone and excitement spreading down her spine. “I’m at the embassy in Manila. And as if getting here has been easy, I may run into a snag of sorts. I wanted you to know where I am, just in case….” The notion that she was unsafe at an American embassy was preposterous. “Stay tuned.”

“I’m sorry. You must have been through a lot,” he said. “Come home.”

Come home. For a while, the silence that stretched over the thousands of miles was alive.