My orders are to be followed. When I say that a man must be guarded, I speak for the state and for the Party. I must be obeyed. You listen to stupid rumors like old women, and you behave as donkeys. I am still the deputy minister, and I still command here.” Wang Bin burst into the attic cell. In a pregnant moment, much was said between the two brothers, but no words were spoken. David Wang looked up at his brother quizzically. “It is not what it seems,” Wang Bin said finally. “I will explain later … and apologize. Now we must go quickly. Here, put on these, there is a chill.” The deputy minister handed his brother a well-cut gray Mao suit with a mourner’s band pinned to the sleeve of the jacket, and a pair of vigorously polished black shoes, one-half size too small. “Please, hurry, David. We must go.” Befuddled, unspeaking, David Wang dressed and followed his younger brother into the night. Wang Bin walked briskly. He had but thirteen hours left.   “What do you mean you can’t drive?”
