And he really had seen a man who looked like his own son among them. But Tak-Tam, he’d thought then, was safe at Chek Keng.

He saw that he’d assumed wrongly. It was Tak-Tam he’d seen—shy, loyal Tak-Tam, the slender, bookish one with an internal fortitude Cheung recognized too late. Always he’d thought of Tak-Wing as the strong one, but that strength was external and superficial, whereas Tak-Tam’s was infinitely deep and essential. Why hadn’t he seen this until now? Unknowingly, he had watched the military police march his beautiful son into that dreadful basement, as one of half a dozen men who would share the same terrible fate. Afterwards their bodies, whole or in pieces, would be thrown to the starving dogs, the ones that roamed feral and desperate through the streets, gobbling down anything they could find that was already dead and made of flesh.

Now, in this moment of true awareness, Cheung wanted to hurl his own body at the Kempeitai. He wished he had a submachine gun so he could mow them down, or if not that, a samurai sword like the one Noma sported. He would run at them, behead them on the spot, without a moment’s mercy, watch blood spurt from their aortas and squirt high into the light of the setting sun, feeling nothing but satisfaction at their deaths.

But he had no submachine gun, no samurai sword.

“Cheung.”

Cheung was lost in murderous fantasy.

“Brother.”

He looked at Lee, but his eyes were far away. He said nothing.

“Cheung. Come on, Brother. Snap out of it.”

“They took him. You let them take him. My beautiful son.” He lunged at Lee, grabbed him by the throat. But Lee was not without resources. He threw his arms up between Cheung’s and pressed down to break his hold. Then slapped him to bring him to his senses.

Cheung came back to the light, saw his beloved brother before him again. “I—”

“I know it’s my fault. I was prideful. I thought he would be fine. I risked his life to secure my own position in the East River Column. I understand if you blame me. I should never have sent him to deliver that message.” What neither of them said was that it was Cheung’s Kuomintang sympathies that had made both Lee and Tak-Tam vulnerable with the East River guerrillas, who leaned toward the Communists as the occupation progressed.