The Last Turn of the Wheel: Book Two of the Ashoka Chronicles

THE ASHOKA CHRONICLES BOOK TWO

THE LAST TURN OF THE WHEEL

A Novel

By

Alan Bassett

For Meerananda

Published by Alan Bassett at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 by Alan A. Bassett

United States of America

All rights reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Author's Preface

PART ONE: MASTERS, MAGICIANS, AND MADMEN 1967-2001

CHAPTER I - JENNIFER’S FLIGHT INTO THE PAST

CHAPTER II - CHANG-PO’S MISSION

CHAPTER III - A FATEFUL FAUX PAS

CHAPTER IV - THE HEART OF THE WORLD

CHAPTER V - THE SILK ROAD

CHAPTER VI - STOLEN TREASURE

CHAPTER VII - A SUFI MYSTIC

CHAPTER VIII - MEETING WITH A MADMAN

CHAPTER IX - THE MYSTIC DANCE

CHAPTER X - THE ART OF WAR

CHAPTER XI - THE GATEWAY TO KASHMIR

CHAPTER XII - RENDEZVOUS IN THAILAND

CHAPTER XIII - DAMAGED INNOCENCE

CHAPTER XIV - ENCOUNTERS WITH A COUNT

CHAPTER XV - THE CAVES OF DUNGESHWARI

CHAPTER XVI - REUNION

PART TWO: PRELUDE TO HOLOCAUST 2001-2013

CHAPTER XVII - A FAMILY OF CONSPIRATORS

CHAPTER XVIII - ON THE ROAD TO SHAMBHALA

CHAPTER XIX - THE TA PROHM TEMPLE OF ANGKOR WAT

CHAPTER XX - THE PROPHET

CHAPTER XXI - THE CHILD AND THE SAGE

CHAPTER XXII - ARTHUR’S MISSION

CHAPTER XXIII - DRAGON AND COBRA

CHAPTER XXIV - RAMSAY AND AMANDA

CHAPTER XXV - TWO THOUSAND TWELVE

CHAPTER XXVI - POLITICIANS, SPIES, AND CONSPIRATORS

CHAPTER XXVII - EVANGELISTS, TERRORISTS, & ASSASSINS

CHAPTER XXVIII - PREPARING THE WAY TO MOUNT MERU

Acknowledgements

I extend my heartfelt gratitude and appreciation to those friends and loved ones who contributed their time, energy, and enthusiasm toward making the The Ashoka Chronicles come to life:

Yolanda Gonzalez Ponce for her unwavering love and devotion to this project.

Jorge Arroyo Gonzalez for his generous technical support and reading of the texts.

Chaitanya Hanspeter Kindler for his insightful and constructive critique of the text.

Wanda Arroyo Gonzalez for the creation of the cover designs.

Amir Jahanmast for his wizardry in graphic art production and web page design.

And to Osho, who pulled this frog out of the well and showed him the Ocean.

Cover image courtesy of Robert Gendler, astrophotographer.

Author’s Preface

So lost was I in my anxiety and confusion over the disappearance of Jason and Jennifer that I failed to fully appreciate the value of the gift Devananda had presented to me in Anuradhapura. Jennifer's journal added to this story 'the gracious, courageous heart of the feminine' just as she had promised, and I could never have guessed her to be the person who would ultimately reveal to me the Grand Design of the Buddhas.

It took me long to see the wisdom of her writing the journal in Mandarin Chinese. At the time, I was simply not prepared to delve into the greater mysteries unfolding within those pages. Having to set aside my impatience and to rely on Lin-Chi's slow and painstaking translation, I was able to integrate in small amounts the wonders and the horrors of this tale with acceptance and understanding.

There is but a fine line separating our limited sense of reality from the myths, legends, and folklore that give meaning to our lives and pose a promise for the future. The history of the mala extended over many centuries and vast distances. It involved some of the greatest masters who have ever walked the Earth, as well as many of their greatest disciples. Slowly, the writing of their epic has eroded my walls of rationality and opened my heart to the possibility of the miraculous.

We think of our time as an age bereft of heroes. Their names may never be recorded in the history books, but I know they exist. They are larger than life and bigger than legend. Many of them are my dearest friends. I can never repay them for their magnificent acts of love and courage. I can only carry out the one request they made of me: to write the story that cannot fail to be told.

Arthur Asquith-Doyle

The Great Debacle

Shakti's Chalet,

Swiss Alps

December 15, 2012

PART ONE

MASTERS, MAGICIANS, AND MADMEN

1967 – 2001

The time is rapidly approaching when the collective and individual dreams of humanity will be extinguished in an orgy of self-destruction. There exists a single ray of hope, one circumspect anomaly, that the suicidal energies of man may yet be transformed into a great awakening of human consciousness on this planet. This unique possibility of light motivates the Ashoka Circle of Nine to take the ultimate gamble: to release the energetic forces necessary to banish the dark unconsciousness of mankind's nightmarish sleep.

Master Cheogh-tse

CHAPTER ONE

JENNIFER'S FLIGHT INTO THE PAST

The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once.

Albert Einstein

THE EMERALD MALA

She buckled her seat belt and prepared herself for the flight that would take her to the opposite side of the world. Thirteen hours to Narita International Airport, Japan, a two-hour layover, then another three-hour flight to Seoul, Korea. There she would have an overnight stay before boarding the connecting flights, first to Delhi and then to Srinagar, the capital of the hotly contested state of Kashmir. In recent weeks the conflict between India and Pakistan had been reaching the boiling point, and the intense saber-rattling was worrying the international community that the two new nuclear powers might be tempted to let their missiles fly. Jennifer was not concerned about the political instability in the region, however. She had much more pressing personal matters to resolve.

Her jaw still hurt and her face still burned from her lover's violent outburst. She felt ashamed of Jason and she felt shame for herself. As much as she tried to understand and to forgive, the small child within her was still protecting itself from the man whom she had once trusted. An old wound had been reopened, and the painful memories of a damaged childhood were threatening to reemerge. Jennifer struggled against them, forcing her mind back to the present and to the task she had decided to undertake.

Even considering the extreme circumstances of her ruptured relationship, she wasn't comfortable with the lie she had told Jason to explain her trip to Asia. Maybe he had noticed the deception when she said it was for a photo assignment, and this was what had provoked his rage. In any case, it was time to discover some things for herself. There were some missing pieces to the puzzle of her life, and there was only one man who might be able to supply them. That man was Jyangtzu, her mother's spiritual master.

The flight attendant interrupted her thoughts. Would you like chicken or beef? Jennifer reminded her she had made arrangements for the vegetarian plate. The spring rolls, sushi, and steamed vegetables were dutifully provided, but she had little appetite. She rarely drank alcohol and knew it was a bad idea to mix it with the Valium, but she hoped their tranquilizing effects might provide a much needed retreat into a deep sleep. These were not ordinary times, so she threw such precautions to the wind and ordered a glass of white wine.

When she arrived in Asia, it would be late tomorrow. 'I will have lost a day in time,' she reflected. 'How strange.' She thought of Dali's painting of the clocks lying bent, melted, and distorted on a desolate landscape. The next thought brought her back to Jason. 'I suppose that he would know better than anybody what it's like to lose time.' Another wave of sadness swept through her, bringing with it the memory of an old woman's face, dim with the passage of years, but now reappearing with striking clarity.

Jason had left for Myanmar after their first brief days and nights together in Chiang Mai. Wishing to savor each moment of their new love affair, she retraced the steps they had walked along the canals of the city. She had expected to find the woman with the caged birds sitting just as before on the stairs leading up to the temple, but instead there was a very old Buddhist nun in her place. Dressed in a white robe and shawl, the nun's face was a tapestry of wrinkles and lines, her body was stooped with age, and her hands were gnarled like the bark of an ancient oak tree.

Jennifer was surprised when the nun motioned for her to come and sit beside her. The old woman's eyes, bright and alive, sparkled with mischief and curiosity. Take off your sunglasses and give them to me, pretty girl. I want to see you... Not the person you think you are, but the real one.

The nun put Jennifer's sunglasses on her own head, making comical faces and postures while Jennifer laughed. Yes, it is funny to wear dark glasses, hiding so many things from yourself, she said. How can you know yourself if you are ignorant of the past and cannot see your future?

Jennifer's laughter stopped when she realized the old woman was quite serious. I... I'm not sure I understand what you mean.

The nun's eyes lit up when they fell on the emerald necklace. Ah ha! I knew you were under a spell of protection as soon as I saw you climb these steps. You wear the magical charm of Amitabha! How did it come to you, dear girl?

Jennifer became alarmed by the woman's insight. It was given to me by my mother, just before she died.

May I hold it in these withered old hands? I want to listen to what it has to say to you. She reached out and rubbed the emerald mala between her palms. So many secrets! How can you not know them! Ah ha! You don't want to know them! But you must, dear child. You must! It is your destiny you wear around your neck. Each bead holds a secret from the past, and each secret you unravel will tell you the road that you must travel. Your mother was a woman of knowing, I can feel her in the beads. Ah yes! How wise... She wanted you to discover these things for yourself!

Jennifer tried to restrain her tears, but she could not stop them, nor could she stop the feeling of fear and agitation clutching at her heart. But what secrets? I don't know what you are talking about!

The emerald amulet will lift the veil, but only when you are ready to see, and even then only in your dreams. The old woman paused to fondle the beads once more, and then she cackled with surprise. "Ah ha! So you know some of these dreams already, don't you, child? I see the same frozen river you have seen, the same man you pulled from its icy depths!"

No! I can't hear more! Not another word! I have to go now. She jumped up and ran down the steps of the temple, but not fast enough to escape hearing the old nun's voice calling after her. "You cannot run from your fate, child. In dreams! Unlock the secrets in your dreams!"

The nun's grizzled face faded from her mind, leaving Jennifer feeling anxious and disturbed. 'Funny how I had almost forgotten about that old woman. They say mad people see things that others cannot; but even if they can, I don't care to meet any more scary old nuns!'

She finished her glass of Chardonnay while the flight attendant removed her tray. The tension in her body was slowly dissolving, replaced by a woozy feeling of drowsiness. She nestled into the plush chair, proud that she had extravagantly purchased a first class seat. Her cares and concerns were drifting into clouds far away when the velvet shades of darkness descended upon her.

* * * * *

"Non, Papa, s'il vous plait! Mama, tell him to let me go!"

Madame.... Madame? Someone was gently shaking her arm. Jennifer looked up from what seemed a great distance, and was surprised to see that it was not her mother. I'm afraid you were having a bad dream. May I bring you something to drink? The flight attendant looked concerned, and the few other passengers sitting nearby were glancing at her from the corners of their eyes. The lights in the cabin were dim, and a movie was playing from several screens.

Yes, some ice water, please. Thank you, she replied. Jennifer managed to drink half a cup before the drowsiness began to draw her back into a restless slumber. 'My mother, Mae-Su,' she mused. 'She spent the first eighteen years of my life devoted to protecting me from my own father. How terribly sad, for her and for me. She very nearly succeeded.'

She clenched the amulet of Amitabha, the Buddha of Limitless Luminosity, in her hands and held it close to her bosom, remembering that the emerald mala promised to protect her from harm; but memories and mystifying visions from the past were arising to the surface of her sleep, and from these there was no protection possible.

AN ORIENTAL STUDENT IN PARIS

Mae-Su Sung was born in the thriving commercial center of Chiang Rai, the capital of Thailand's northernmost province, located near the present Thai borders with Laos and Myanmar and not far from the southern boundary of China. It was the proximity of Chiang Rai to the Mekong River which made it an important link in the trade route extending from the south of China down through the entire length of the Indo-Chinese peninsula. For the past two thousand years and including the recent power struggles between the United States and Vietnam, political entities from the size of city-states to that of great empires had warred for control of the region and its precious trade along the artery of the Mekong River.

Mae-Su's family traced its ancestry back to the time of Kublai Khan in the thirteenth century, and its entrepreneurial activities were an indistinguishable part of that lineage. Over the many turbulent centuries, countless family business houses had risen to the pinnacle of wealth and power only to eventually fall into poverty and obscurity. Her own family's business had outlasted them all by following the Buddhist wisdom of the 'Middle Path' in the midst of the constantly shifting winds of fortune. Rather than seeking to build a huge financial empire, the House of Sung had been careful not to become too large or too visible; thus, it neither posed a threat nor became a target for stronger business competitors.

The key to the prosperity of the family business was flexibility. Built upon a broad base of small businesses specializing in a wide variety of goods, the House of Sung could rapidly adjust to the ever-changing market conditions. Spices, tapestries, silks, opium, and precious gems, whatever the demand happened to be at a particular time, the Sung clan was ready to meet that demand and to profit from it.

By the second half of the twentieth century, the fortunes of the family business had reached a plateau. By no means rich according to Western corporate standards, Mae-Su's family remained in an enviable position by any economic measure in Thailand. Her grandparents and parents had accurately perceived that the growth of the Thai economy would be dependent on the influence and technology of the Western countries and Japan, and more specifically on the financial investments from those countries. They foresaw Bangkok's development into an international center of commerce that would rival both Hong Kong and Singapore. In response, the family invested heavily in land and commercial properties in the Thai capital.

During and immediately after the time of the Vietnam War, it also became clear that Thailand would soon develop into one of the world's premier centers for the tourist industry. The family elders decided to commit a substantial proportion of their wealth to investments in beachfront properties, particularly on key islands such as Phuket, Koh Samui, and Krabbe. This represented a major shift in the focus of the business activities of the House of Sung as the family made the risky transition from trade to property investment and management.

While potential profits promised a fortune previously undreamed of, the fluid capital of the House of Sung reached an all-time low. What little resources remained after a period of considerable belt-tightening were invested in the education of the children and grandchildren. Business management, computer information systems, and a thorough knowledge of English, French, and German were subjects not only encouraged but also required of the younger generations of the family.

Mae-Su's academic aptitude and performance proved to be superior to most of her male siblings and cousins. At the age of twelve, she was sent to Chiang Mai to attend the international school operated by a British educational corporation. Five years later the elders entered into a heated debate about financing her university education in the West, a privilege previously reserved for the male members of the clan. Mae-Su was her grandmother's favorite, and the matron of the family decided the issue, resulting in the seventeen-year-old's entry into the Sorbonne University in Paris.

A magical world opened for Mae-Su in Paris that she had previously only been able to imagine from her few exposures to the Western cinema. Her classes were often somewhat dry and boring, but her extracurricular life was nothing short of a revolution in her new experience of a vastly expanded world of people and ideas. It was as though she were leading two different lives at once. During the day, she devoted her full attention to her classes and spent her afternoons studying in the library. As soon as she completed her assignments, she left the campus to immerse herself in the electrifying atmosphere of the city lights and Parisian nights.

Although she was the inheritor of a gene pool that included Chinese, Mongolian, Thai, and Laotian ancestors, Mae-Su had been raised in the traditional Thai family style. Despite her striking beauty and intelligence, she was shy and reticent to join in the social life of the teeming masses of students from diverse cultures and countries who inhabited the left bank of the Seine River. During her first year at the university, she contented herself to marvel at the artists, the musicians, the mime performers, clowns, and Tarot readers who populated every street corner and park of the student district.

After lingering on the Pont Neuf, she would make her way through the lively and laughing crowds of young people to find a cafe or bistro. There she would order a croque monsieur and allow herself one glass of white wine while she observed the students and listened to their often heated political discussions and debates. The only variations from this fascinating daily routine were her Sunday afternoon excursions through the cathedrals, museums, and parks of central Paris.

Mae-Su’s parents had decided it was too expensive to fly her back to Thailand for summer holidays. Instead, they contacted a distant cousin whose family ran a Thai restaurant not far from the university, where Mae-Su could earn her own keep as a waitress and part-time cook. She at first resisted entering back into the dynamics of a Thai family business, but she submitted to the task as a small sacrifice for her education and her new life in the city of Paris. One afternoon while she was waiting tables, someone arrived who would change her life forever.

"Sawasdee kaap," the young Chinese man said in a charming voice. She was surprised to hear her native language coming from a customer, as the clientèle was almost exclusively European. He wore a black beret, well-worn blue jeans, sandals, and a black shirt with long billowy sleeves. The warm but penetrating eyes and the sensitive smile decorated by a wispy black moustache and goatee were what first commanded her attention. Then she noticed the long black hair flowing down his back and the tattoo of a Buddha on his left wrist. She felt embarrassed by her attraction and her inability to express even a simple response to his greeting.

He attempted to put her at ease by speaking in French. "Je voudrais une boteille du vin rouge, s'il vous plait, then added, Un bon Cabernet. Mae-Su felt her cheeks flush, and she struggled not to trip over herself or to spill the wine when she poured his glass. The next hour was a delightful torture for her while the man drank his wine and slowly consumed his food. His eyes never left her for a single moment. At last, she heard him say, Check-bin, kaap." He had been using French and Thai interchangeably for the whole time, which only enhanced her sense of complete distraction. When he paid the check, he looked directly into her eyes and asked what time she finished work.

Mae-Su blushed with anticipation. About ten this evening, she said nervously.

Excellent! I’d like to invite you to a small musical performance that my friends and I are putting on this evening. It begins at eleven and I'd be delighted if you can come. You needn't pay the entrance fee. Just tell the man at the door you are a friend of Chana-li. He wrote down the name and address of the club. You know the place?

She was familiar with the club, which was famous for featuring some of the best performing musicians in the city. Yes, I would like to come, but I had better ask my relatives first. There was hesitation in her voice but her intent was clear.

He laughed and said, Better you don't ask. Just come. I will be on stage, but I will be looking for you and I'll join you after the performance. By the way, you haven't told me your name.

I am Mae-Su.

My name is Chang-po but my friends call me Chana. I look forward to seeing you tonight. He rose from the table, flashed an enticing smile, and turned to leave.

Oh, I forgot to ask. What instrument do you play? she asked.

I play the flute, and at times a strange variety of ancient Chinese percussion instruments. Then he was gone.

Mae-Su heard her name being called from the kitchen. Her cousin elders, a couple in their sixties, admonished her sharply. You stay away from that Chinaman! He has a very bad reputation for charming young girls' clothes off and for being in trouble with the police. Keep away! You understand?

She nodded her consent and quickly left the kitchen, but to herself she thought, 'I wouldn't miss meeting this man for all the tea in China."

AN ILL-FATED ROMANCE

Throughout the remains of the summer and the colorful fall season that followed, Chana and Mae-Su were inseparable. Her mystery man never failed to surprise and delight her in a multitude of ways. He was both charming and sincere, and he was one of the very rare people she had known who could make her laugh. Not only was Chana her first love; he was her first lover, and he introduced her to the art with consummate skill and sensitivity. Mae-Su surrendered to him body, heart, and soul. He had awakened a passion within her that could not be quenched, and her classes each day of that autumn semester were a tortuous waiting for the fiery delights of the nights.

The year 1968 signaled an abrupt change for the youth of Paris, as it did for so many university students throughout Europe and America. Conservative political, economic, and social institutions were at first being challenged and then threatened by the revolutionary leftist elements and a host of other sympathetic student groups calling for an end to the old order. Whole societies became polarized between the Left and the Right, and the schism was reaching such extreme proportions that violent confrontations became inevitable. The anti-Vietnam war movement and the civil rights demonstrations in the United States fed fuel to the inflammatory atmosphere in Paris. Only a spark was needed for the conflagration to erupt.

Paris had been the center of revolutionary politics in Europe since the eighteenth century, and its inhabitants once again carried the bloody banner of the student-led revolt that sought to bring down the government of Charles De Gaulle. The spring semester was Chana's last as he prepared for his final examinations and his graduation from medical school at the Sorbonne. By day he studied intensively. By night he organized the student demonstrations against the government and forged the leftist activist cells into a united revolutionary front.

Mae-Su was drawn into the incendiary political atmosphere, persistently staying by her lover's side in the heat of the plotting for insurrection. Chana was a natural leader, and the only faction that disputed his authority was the radical Maoist party. When he completed his examinations at the end of April, he invited Mae-Su for a quiet celebration dinner far from the politically charged atmosphere of the student cafes.

The restaurant balcony overlooking the River Seine was a perfectly romantic setting. They were seated at a table graced by roses, candlelight, and champagne, and Vivaldi's Four Seasons Suite played in the background. Sensing that their romance was being endangered by forces beyond her control, Mae-Su felt an immense sadness filling her heart. Chana's words solemnly confirmed her fears.

Mae-Su, tomorrow I will be going underground. Do you know what this means?

She nodded her head and then said quietly, Chana, I will go with you.

His expression gave her the answer she had already anticipated. "Mae-Su, this is not your fight, it is not your country, and it is not even your continent. You belong to the future of your family and to the future of Thailand. You may even be able to make a difference there, but not here. I have already explained to you that I have no country I can call my own, so I have nothing to lose.

You know that students are being beaten up whenever they walk the streets at night in small groups. The cafes where they meet are being smashed and closed down by the gendarmes. Soon the barricades will be thrown up in the streets, and there will be bloody confrontations between the students and the police. If De Gaulle calls out the army, many will die. I need you to promise me something. His eyes were searching hers while he held her arms in a firm grip.

Mae-Su was in tears, knowing what he would ask. "If it had not been for the intercession of my major professor, my student visa would have been canceled months ago. My application for advanced studies in medicine has been rejected on political grounds. I am under constant surveillance by the police. Any day now I will receive my notification to leave the country.

Mae-Su, we cannot be seen together in public anymore. Your association with me is well known, which already puts you under suspicion and at risk with the authorities. I want you to promise to avoid any political involvement and to distance yourself from anyone who would attract the attention of the secret police. You must dedicate yourself to your studies and to the completion of your degree. Two more years is not long. Then we can marry and live together in Thailand. I have good connections there with certain influential people. Until then, I will arrange for us to meet outside of Paris whenever I can. I'll get word to you when and where, but you must avoid being followed. Do you understand?

She was paralyzed with grief, but she managed to promise. Finally she said, Two years! And I am never to know when we meet again, or even if you are safe! How can this be? My place is with you, whatever the risk!

Chana experienced a sudden rush of feeling, and he almost lost his composure. The moment passed, and his gravity and authority returned. I will not be caught, of this you can be sure. The two of us together increases the risk that we may both find ourselves in a jail for political prisoners. Take courage, my love. It is much to ask of you, I know, but there is one thing more.

Mae-Su was near her emotional limits, and her body began to tremble. Chana recognized her childlike sense of panic. He stood from the chair and gently helped her to her feet. The dinner was over, and the champagne bottle lay still half-full in the ice bucket. He tossed a roll of francs on the table and guided her out of the restaurant and down the stone stairway to the riverside.

The light of the full moon, at times obscured by passing clouds, reflected intermittently on the water. I want you to have this and you must wear it always. He withdrew from his shoulder bag an emerald green mala. The amulet of Amitabha is very ancient and carries the protection of the Buddhas. It was given to me by my father's dearest friend before he escaped from China and went to England. Guard it well, my love, and may it reunite us under more fortuitous circumstances.

Mae-Su had to catch her breath when he placed the precious beads and locket in her hands. As she marveled at it, the moon burst through the clouds, adding a mystical atmosphere to the magical moment. She broke out of the spell with an emotional protest. Oh no, Chana, but I cannot! It is you who needs this protection so much more than me!

He gave her a reassuring look and slipped the mala over her head. Don't worry. I have another talisman that has been charged to my keep. It helps me retain a certain cloak of invisibility whenever the need arises. She smiled at these words, remembering that Chana was an accomplished magician who had put on many street performances in Paris.

They embraced for some time before he made his last request, and her heart was chilled when he voiced it. We have a theater performance to enact at Le Club Marat late tomorrow evening. It will be our only performance of this one-act play, so we must give it our very best and most convincing efforts. He proceeded to explain the details of the lovers' quarrel they were to stage, ending with her slapping his face with all of her strength.

"Mais non, non, non! Chana, you cannot ask me to do this! I cannot and will not!"

Mae-Su, the secret police will be watching. We must prove to them we are breaking up the relationship permanently. If we fail to thoroughly convince them, we won't be able to meet again, and they will hound you without mercy concerning my whereabouts. We must set ourselves free of them once and for all!

She was oblivious to the agents who were trailing them on the walk back to her apartment house, but Chana was very well aware of their scrutiny. He took care not to hold her hand or to embrace her. Her sobs and tears provided an unrehearsed background to the scene to be held the following evening. Chana did not look at her or say goodnight; instead, he walked away with a hopeless shrug of the shoulders, throwing up his hands in a gesture of futility. Two hours later he returned to her flat, where they made love for the last time before he fled the country.

The scene they created in the club the following night was convincing. Chana left alone immediately after and went into hiding. Two nights later, Mae-Su was awakened at one in the morning by a loud rapping on her door. Open up. Police! She threw on a robe and let them in. 'It's just as Chana said,' she thought. They had rehearsed this scene as well, and she took some comfort in knowing exactly what to say.

The police inspector and his two aides were even more rude and offensive than she had anticipated. Sitting in her chair with dirty boots propped on her desk, the inspector held out a copy of a Chinese passport. We have cause to believe that you are the whore of this man, Chang-po Trangh. We demand that you tell us where he is hiding. He is wanted for espionage and for inciting riots against the government. If you don't provide us this information, you may not be able to recognize your face in the mirror by tomorrow morning.

Intimidated and frightened, she stared at the passport copy in front of her eyes. Then she noticed the name appearing next to the photo of her lover. His name is not Chang-po! It is Chana-li!

The police inspector relished in the expression of shock on her face. He has many names, and no doubt many lovers as well. And you have been fool enough to trust this snake?

Shaking off her moment of confusion, she attempted to calm herself by resuming the plan that Chana had prearranged. She angrily explained she had discovered his other love affairs already. They had had many fights recently. Two nights ago, she had given him a choice to either abandon these other women and his political activities or to leave the relationship for good. He began to ridicule her in front of their friends at the Club Marat. She had lost her temper and struck him. I love him and hate him still! she cried, But there is one thing I am certain about. I never want to see that lying bastard's face again, and I no longer care where he is or who is sleeping with. If you catch him, maybe he will get what he deserves!

The police pretended not to believe her and began to ransack her apartment. They found the packet of recent love letters that supported her story, and they discovered the shredded photos of the lovers in the waste bin. Before walking out the door, the inspector told her she could expect to be called to the police precinct headquarters within the next few days for further questioning. She never got such a summons, and after ten long weeks, the secret police dropped their surveillance of her movements. The plan had worked, but during this time she had heard not a word from Chana.

* * * * *

Chana's political idealism and activism faded as the revolutionary movements throughout Europe were crushed by the powers of the state. He was a fugitive on the run, and he moved alone. Thomas, his closest friend at the university, served as his communications link with Mae-Su. Meeting in obscure guesthouses in Belgium and Holland, the lovers spent fleeting weekends together once each month for almost two years.

Paris was no longer a magical atmosphere for Mae-Su. She mechanically applied herself to her studies in international business, and she only came to life when she boarded the train for her next tryst with Chana. She was ecstatic when she met him at a quaint hotel on the Rhine River just south of Cologne, Germany. Chana, I have finished my classes! I only have to complete my thesis. We are free to go back to Thailand this summer!

Chana concealed his concerns, preferring to enjoy the precious little time they had remaining. He surprised her as well as the guests in the hotel lobby when he picked her up and carried her in his arms to their room upstairs. Three hours later, he guided her down to the river. It was springtime, and the new foliage and flowers were bursting with color. "Zwei bier, bitte," he told the waiter as they took their seats on the terrace outside the cafe.

Mae-Su was reluctant to dampen the afterglow of their lovemaking, but her anxiety about their precarious future intruded. Chana, I have some bad news. Our friend Thomas can no longer relay your messages to me about our rendezvous points. He has just left Paris to join a Catholic seminary where he will prepare himself to enter the priesthood. I think he was too embarrassed to tell you himself.

Chana recoiled in shock. Surely this is a joke! He was my right-hand man in the student revolutionary front! He paused for some moments while a shadow crossed his face. It's okay. His services will no longer be necessary anyway. Mae-Su braced herself for ill tidings.

Mae-Su, something has come up unexpectedly. I've just received word from an old friend of my father, the man I told you about who gave me the mala. I am to meet him in London this next week. He has important news for me and may be able to provide some assistance. I've heard nothing from my family since Chairman Mao initiated the Cultural Revolution in China. I told you my father was a professor at Beijing University. I fear the worst has happened to him and the rest of my family. You know from the news reports that the intelligentsia has been subjected to public ridicule, beatings, and imprisonment by the Red Guards. My family may have been shipped to the rural areas to do forced labor. I must go find my parents and my younger brother and sister. Perhaps I can discover a way to get them out of the country.

Mae-Su's optimism was shattered as fate had once more placed obstacles in the way of their relationship. Again she acquiesced, this