Remember. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
them inspiring. They were his heroes. He especially admired Nicky Wells. She was what his mother called a real trouper. He thought she was pretty neat. He wasn’t married yet, or seriously dating anybody special, but when the time came for him to settle down, he hoped he would find a woman like Nicky. There was something warm and reassuring about her, and she didn’t put men down.
He had been part of Nicky’s crew for just over a year, and he had seen a lot, learned a lot, working with her and the guys. He was twenty-seven and had been in the television business for only five years, and he knew he was green in some respects. But Nicky had been helpful and very nice to him right from the beginning, had treated him like a seasoned veteran. She was a stickler about punctuality and many other things as well, and a perfectionist, and sometimes she could blow her stack. But she was a real pro, and he’d do just about anything for her. He wished she could find a good guy. There were times when she looked sad, and her eyes held a strange, distant expression as if she were remembering something awful or painful. And there was some sort of mystery in her past. It was about a man she’d been going with before he had joined her team. Arch and Jimmy were pretty close-mouthed about it, though, and he didn’t like to ask too many questions. Still, it was a shame she was alone. What a waste of a lovely woman -
‘Luke! Luke!’
The sound engineer opened his eyes, sat up with a jolt on hearing his name being called. He looked down. At the base of the monument people were milling about, as they usually were, since this spot was command headquarters for the student movement. The foreign press corps tended to congregate in the area and there was always a great deal of activity.
Luke spotted his buddy Tony Marsden immediately. Tony was beckoning to him.
Luke waved back, and stood up. ‘I’ll go and see what Tony wants,’ he said to Clee. ‘Maybe he knows something we don’t, has some new information. I won’t be long.’
‘Take your time, Luke, I ain’t going nowhere.’ Not for a day or two at least, Clee added under his breath. He knew he would be leaving China soon, though. The end was in sight. He sat gazing down into the square, his elbows on his knees, his head propped in his hands. His face settled into morose lines; he felt sad for the kids - so idealistic, so innocent, so very brave. When he had first come to Beijing almost six weeks ago they had been full of excitement. And hope. They had spoken stirring words about liberty and democracy, and had sung their songs, played their guitars. Their guitars were still tonight. Soon their voices would be still. He shuddered slightly and goose flesh sprang up on his skin. He hated to think of their fate. He realized they were in grave danger, although he had not voiced this to Nicky or anyone else. He did not have to; they all knew that time was running out for the students.
Suddenly, Clee saw Nicky walking through the square towards the monument. Like Changan Avenue, Tiananmen was extremely well illuminated with numerous tall street lamps, each one topped with branches of lights, about nine altogether and shaded in white opaque glass. The square was so bright it was almost like daylight and everyone was visible; it was even possible to read a book quite comfortably.
A smile touched his eyes at the sight of Nicky, and he clambered down off the ledge and dodged through the crowd, hurrying forward to meet her.
Nicky spotted him and waved.
He raised his hand in greeting, and a moment later he was drawing to a standstill in front of her, smiling broadly. ‘I knew you’d be out here before long,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘I had to be here, Clee. My instinct tells me the situation is about to blow.’
‘Wide open,’ he confirmed, then took her arm, guided her away from the monument. ‘Do you mind if we walk around for a bit? I need to stretch my legs, I’ve been sitting on that ledge for about an hour.’
‘No, of course I don’t mind, that’s what I’d like to do, and perhaps we’ll see Yoyo. He’s usually with Chai Ling and some of the other student leaders. He might know something new.’
‘And he’s constantly in touch with the Flying Tigers. I’ve noticed several of them whizzing around on their bikes in the last hour,’ Clee remarked, referring to a motorcycle brigade of young entrepreneurs who had also been dubbed ‘Paul Reveres’ by the American press. They roared all over Beijing, carrying messages, monitoring troop movements and the actions of the police, and in general acting as look-outs for the students.
‘Yoyo’s probably in the tent encampment. Shall we head over there?’ she suggested.
‘You got it.’
‘Where’s Luke? Arch said he was with you.’
‘He was, but he just went off with that guy from the BBC, Tony Marsden. They’re somewhere around. Do you need him?’
‘No, I just wondered, that’s all. And talking of the BBC, have you seen Kate Adie this evening?’
‘She’s probably somewhere in the crowd. There are a helluva lot of foreign press out tonight - trouble in the wind.’
Nicky looked at him swiftly. ‘I think the crackdown’s almost upon us, don’t you?’
‘Yes. The students and the government have reached an impasse, something’s got to give. It’ll have to be the students, I’m afraid, and we’re going to see a lot of force thrown against them.’
Nicky shivered despite the warmth of the evening. ‘That’s an awful prospect, but I have to agree. Where’s your camera?’
‘Strapped to my shoulder under my jacket. My buddies from Magnum and the Associated Press are doing exactly the same thing. As are most of the photographers. It’s the only way to fly.’
‘Clee …’
‘Yes, Nick?’ He glanced at her questioningly.
‘It’s going to get very dangerous out here … real soon.’
‘I’m damned sure of it. And before you say it, yes, I’ll be careful.’ A faint smile played around his mouth. ‘As careful as you are.’
‘I don’t take unnecessary chances, even though Arch seems to think I do. I try to minimize the odds against me.’
‘That’s another thing we have in common,’ Clee said.
‘What’s the other?’
‘We both have nerves of steel.’
‘I suppose we do,’ she agreed, laughing. ‘We have to have in this business. Just as we have to have a sixth sense for danger.’
Clee nodded but did not say anything else, and they walked on in companionable silence for a few minutes. As they came to the tent encampment, Nicky turned to him. ‘You know this place has really taken on a life of its own, what with the tents and the buses. It’s like a small town, and -’
‘A shanty town,’ Clee cut in.
‘You’re right, and I hope to God it doesn’t smell tonight.’
‘I’m sure it won’t, they’ve probably removed the garbage by now. In any case, there’s a nice breeze blowing up.’
‘The other day when I came looking for Yoyo it was very … malodorous. That’s the only word for it. The stench was disgusting, awful, rotting food, unwashed bodies, heaven knows what else, and I felt nauseous the entire time I was in here.’
Nicky sniffed as they entered the encampment and walked past several buses where some of the students lived. The air was fresh, and the area looked as if it had been recently swept and cleaned up. It was perfectly clean; there was no trash in sight.
Nicky was constantly surprised when she saw the neat lines of olive-green tents, waterproof and commodious, which had been sent from Hong Kong. They were very orderly, arranged in horizontal patterns with almost military precision, and lettered signs hung over each group, the signs identifying where the different contingents had come from. There were delegations of students from almost every university in every province