Forbidden City by William Bell Page A

ordered all students and others to clear Tian An Men Square or face the consequences. Their presence is illegal. All demonstrations are illegal. It is also illegal to spread rumours. And,” Lao Xu added, looking directly into Eddie’s eyes, “foreign correspondents are forbidden to report on anything to do with the students’ presence in Tian An Men Square. If they disobey, measures will be taken.”
    I knew what martial law meant. It meant that all laws were suspended, even the constitution, and the government made policy directly, using the military tocarry it out. Martial law meant soldiers on the street corners with guns, searches of persons and houses without any kind of warrant — by soldiers, not police. It meant curfews. And fear mixed with excitement.
    Which is what I was starting to feel.
    But a couple of things I didn’t understand. “What’s this stuff about rumours?” I asked Lao Xu.
    “It means —”
    Eddie cut him off. “Remember what I told you about how the government here controls and manages the news, Alex?” I nodded, a little put out that he was answering for Lao Xu. “Well, the government will now tell more lies to the people than ever and withhold more information than ever. If people start circulating the truth, they are accused of spreading rumours and arrested. It’s a way of controlling information.”
    I looked at Lao Xu. He sat there with a glum look on his face and nodded without saying anything.
    “What will happen now?” I asked.
    In unison, Eddie and Lao Xu shrugged.
    “Lao Xu, can you still work for Dad and Eddie?” I wanted to know. “I mean, won’t this make things more difficult for you?”
    Lao Xu smiled. “I can continue,” he answered, “for the time being, because I have not yet been told anything different by my leader.”
    I stood at the office window looking at the crowds streaming along Chang An Avenue. Martial law, I thought. That’s what Zhao must have meant when he said, “It’s too late.”

Last night, after Lao Xu left, Eddie and Dad had a long discussion about the martial law restriction on journalists. For one thing they had to decide whether or not they would continue to send reports about the demonstrations to Canada. That part was pretty short. Eddie said he wasn’t about to pass up what could be the biggest story of the decade and maybe the biggest story in China since Liberation in1949. “It could even lead to a book,” he added.
    I knew what Dad’s decision would be. Don’t forget, this is the guy who held up thousands of cars on the Gardiner Expressway in rush hour so he could get the capture of some bank robbers on tape.
    “Besides,” Dad added, “I think these kids over here have been peaceful and sensible in this demonstration. No one has been hurt. All they seem to want is for the government to listen to them. We have an obligation to get their story out of the country. If that means breaking martial law, so what? After all, what can the government do to us? Send us home? If we don’t cover this we might as well be at home anyway.”
    So that was that. They talked longer about Lao Xu. Dad was worried that if they kept covering the story they’d put Lao Xu in a difficult position — the position of a Chinese helping foreigners to break Chinese law. Lao Xu could go to prison for that.
    Eddie nodded all the way through Dad’s speech, puffing on the stove. “Yep. I agree. But we should let Lao Xu decide what he wants to do.”
    This afternoon Eddie got a phone call telling him that the People’s Liberation Army had sent plain clothes men into the radio and TV stations and into the offices of all the newspapers published in Beijing. The PLA , in other words, had taken over the Beijing media. It began to look like Eddie was right about information control.

The satellite feed to North America and Europe has been shut down by the government. TV pictures can’t be sent out of China directly.
    Dad was angry. His bright blue eyes