Charles Cumming - Typhoon

Professor WangKaixuan emerged from the still waters of the South China Sea shortly before dawn onThursday 10 April 1997. Exhausted by the long crossing, he lay for some time inthe shallows, his ears tuned to the silence, his eyes scanning the beach. Itwas 5:52 a.m. By his calculations the sun would begin to rise over Dapeng Bayin less than fifteen minutes. From that point on he would run the greater riskof being spotted by a passing patrol. Keeping his body low against the slickblack rocks, he began to crawl towards the sanctuary of trees and shrubs on thefar side of the beach.

Hewas wearing only a pair of shorts and a thin cotton T-shirt. All of his worldlypossessions were otherwise contained in a small black rucksack attached to themakeshift raft which he dragged behind him on a length of twine attached to hisleg. The plastic containers that had floated the raft clattered and bounced onthe rocks as Wang inched inshore. The noise of this was too much; he shouldhave prepared for it. Twenty metres short of the trees he stopped and turned. Sandhad begun to stick to his damp, salt-stiffened fingers and he was aware thathis breathing was hard and strained. Two hours earlier, in the half-light ofeastern Shenzhen, Wang had attached a cheap kitchen knife to his calf using astretch of waterproof tape. It took all of his strength now to tear the knifefree and to sever the twine so that the raft was no longer attached to hisbody.

Kuai dian ,he told himself. Hurry. Wang cut the rucksackfree and tried to sling it across his shoulders. It felt as though he had beendrugged or beaten and a grim sense memory of the prison in Urumqi crept up onhim like the rising sun. The rucksack was so heavy and his arms so tired fromthe swim that he felt he would have to rest.

Jia you .

Keep going .

Hestumbled to his feet and tried to rush the last few metres to the trees, butthe rucksack tipped on his back and Wang fell almost immediately, fearing aninjury to his knee or ankle, something that would hamper him on the long walksouth across the hills. Imagine that, after everything I have been through:a tendon sends me back to China. But he found that he could move withoutdiscomfort to the nearest of the trees, where he sank to the ground, sending aflock of startled birds clattering into the sky.

Itwas six o'clock. Wang looked back across the narrow stretch of water and felt atremor of elation which numbed, for an instant, his near-constant dread ofcapture. He reached out and felt for the bark of the tree, for the sand at hisfeet. This place is freedom, he told himself. This shore isEngland. Starling Inlet was less than two kilometres wide, but in thedarkness the tide must have pulled him west towards Sha Tau Kok, or even eastinto the open waters of Dapeng. Why else had it taken him so long to swimacross? The professor was fit for a man of his age and he had swum well; attimes it was as if his desire to succeed had pulled him through the water likea rope. Wiping seawater from the neck of the rucksack he removed several sealsof waterproof tape and withdrew a tightly bound plastic bag. A few minuteslater he had discarded his T-shirt and shorts and dressed himself in damp bluejeans, a black cotton shirt and dark sweater. On his feet he wore grey socksand the counterfeit tennis shoes from the market in Guangzhou.

Now I look like a typical Hong Kong Chinese. Now if they stop me I cansay that I am out here watching for birds.

Wangremoved the binoculars from his rucksack and the small, poorly bound volume onegrets posted to him from Beijing three weeks earlier. The back of his throatwas sour with the salt and pollutants of the sea and he drank greedily from abottle of water, swallowing hard in an effort to remove them. Then he loopedthe binoculars around his neck, placed the water bottle back in the rucksackand waited for the sun.