by Peter May
‘I am in the middle of a murder investigation.’
‘Ah,’ she said again.
‘And my father arrived from Sichuan.’ He was aware of her eyes flickering briefly away from her hotplate in his direction and then back again. She knew that relations between them were difficult.
‘And how is he?’
‘Oh,’ Li said airily, ‘much the same as usual. Nothing wrong with him that a touch of murder wouldn’t cure.’
Mei Yuan smiled. ‘I hope that’s not the investigation you are conducting.’
‘I wish,’ Li said. ‘It would be an easy one to break. Only one suspect, with both motive and opportunity.’ Flippancy was an easy way to hide your emotions, but he knew she wasn’t fooled.
She finished his jian bing and handed it to him wrapped in brown paper. She said, ‘When the dark seeks to equal the light there is certain to be conflict.’
He met her eyes and felt as if she were looking right into his soul. And he was discomfited by it. Because he knew that all she could have seen there would be dark thoughts, resentment and guilt.
‘You have read the teachings of Lao Tzu in the Tao Te Ching,’ she said. It was not a question. She knew this because she had given him the book, the Taoist Bible — although Taoism was a philosophy rather than a religion. He nodded. ‘Then you know that the Tao teaches, be good to people who are good. To those who are not good be also good. Thus goodness is achieved.’
Li bit into his jian bing and felt its soft, savoury hotness suffuse his mouth with its flavour. He said, ‘You certainly achieved goodness with this, Mei Yuan.’ He was not about to swap Taoist philosophy with her at eight o’clock in the morning.
She smiled at him with the indulgence of a mother. ‘And did you achieve a solution to my riddle?’
‘Ah,’ he said, and filled his mouth with more jian bing.
Her black eyes twinkled. ‘Why do I feel an excuse coming on?’
‘I haven’t had time,’ he said lamely. ‘And, anyway, I couldn’t remember what age you said the young woman was.’
‘I didn’t.’
He frowned. ‘You didn’t?’
‘It is the key, Li Yan. Find it, and you will open the door to enlightenment.’
‘Is that also the philosophy of the Tao?’
‘No, it is the philosophy of Mei Yuan.’
He laughed, and tossed some coins into her tin. ‘I will see you tomorrow night,’ he said.
As he turned to head back to the Jeep, she said, ‘Your young friend came yesterday.’ He stopped, and she drew a book out from her bag. ‘He brought me this.’
It was a copy of the Scott Fitzgerald classic, The Great Gatsby. ‘You haven’t read it, have you?’ Li asked.
‘No,’ Mei Yuan replied. ‘But neither has anyone else.’ She paused. ‘He said his friend gave it to him to lend to me.’ She ran her finger along the spine. ‘But this is a brand new book, never opened.’
Li smiled. ‘He means well.’
‘Yes,’ Mei Yuan said. ‘But he lies too easily. Tell him if he wants to give me a book, I will be happy to accept it. But I would prefer his honesty.’
* * *
Li stopped at the door of the detectives’ office. ‘Where’s Sun?’
‘He’s out, Chief,’ Wu said.
Li glanced at the TV, which was flickering away in the corner with the sound turned down. ‘And so is Deputy Section Chief Tao, I guess.’
Wu grinned and nodded. ‘All the swimming finals this morning, the athletics this afternoon.’
‘How are we doing?’
Wu shrugged. ‘Could be better. They’re ahead on points, but there’s some big races still to come. Do you want me to keep you up to date?’
‘I think I can live without it.’ Li glanced over at Qian’s desk. The detective was concentrating on typing up a report, two fingers stabbing clumsily at his computer keyboard. He had never quite got comfortable with the technology. ‘Qian?’ He looked up. ‘I want you to look into a burglary for me. It’s probably being handled by the local public security bureau. An American photographer called Jon Macken. He had a studio down on Xidan. It was broken into the night before last.’
Qian frowned. ‘What interest do we have in it, Chief?’
Li said. ‘None that I know of. Just take a look at it for me, would you?’
‘Sure.’
He was about to go when Qian stopped him. ‘Chief, I left a note on your desk.’ He hesitated, and Li had the distinct impression that everyone in the room was listening, even though they appeared still to be working. ‘Commissioner Hu Yisheng’s office called. The Commissioner wants to see you straight away.’ Several heads lifted to see his reaction. Now he knew they’d been listening. And why.
II
The noise of diggers and demolition resounded in the narrow Dong Jiaminxiang Lane. A couple of bicycle repair men sat huddled against the cold in the weak winter sunshine opposite the back entrance to the headquarters of the Beijing Municipal Police. The stone arch which had once led to the rear compound had been demolished, and the entrance was blocked by heavy machinery, a digger, a crane.
Li picked his way past them to the red-brick building which still housed the headquarters of the Criminal Investigation Department, although for how much longer he did not know. The building looked shabby, covered in the dust of demolition, windows smeared and opaque. Most of the sections had long since moved to other premises around the city, and the original CID HQ across the way — once the home of the American Citibank — was now a police museum.
Even in the outer office of the divisional head of CID, Li could hear the insistent rasp of a pneumatic drill and the revving of engines as machines moved earth and concrete in preparation for whatever new development was being planned. Commissioner Hu’s secretary called him to let him know that Li was there, and after a moment he emerged from his office pulling on his jacket. He nodded toward Li. ‘Section Chief.’ And then told his secretary, ‘Can’t think with all this goddamn noise. If anyone’s looking for me, we’ll be next door.’
They swung past the workmen crowding the old entrance, and Li followed the Commissioner up the steps of the museum, between tall columns, and through its high, arched entrance. Inside, they were confronted by an elaborately carved totem pole dedicated to the ‘soul of the police’, a bizarre-looking monument whose centrepiece was the crest of the Ministry of Public Security. But here, in this old marble building, the work of the demolition men outside was a distant rumble and there was a sense of peace.
‘I used to have my office on the top floor,’ the Commissioner said, and they climbed several floors, past exhibits which illustrated the history of the police and fire departments, gruesome murders and horrific fires. The top floor was a celebration of the modern force, mannequins modelling the new uniforms, an electronic shooting range where you could pit your wits against video baddies. But it was dominated by a huge curved stone wall, twenty feet high, carved with cubist-like representations of the features of policemen past. Eyes, noses, mouths, hands. This was the Martyrs’ Wall, a monument to all the police officers of Beijing who had died on active duty since the creation of the People’s Republic in 1949. There were strategically placed flowers to commemorate the dead, and a large book, on a glass dais, which named all of the fifty-nine officers who had so far gone to join their ancestors.
A group of uniformed policemen was being given an official tour, and a young female officer wearing a headset which amplified her voice across the top floor, was describing the history and purpose of the monument. When she saw the Commissioner, she cut short her speech, and the group moved discreetly away to try their luck on the electronic range. Li stood staring up at the wall. It was the first time he had visited the museum.
‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ Commissioner Hu said.
Li looked at him. He was a short man with an impressively large head, and Li wondered if maybe he had modelled for some of the faces on the wall. His hair was greyer than the
last time Li had seen him, and the first lines were beginning to etch themselves on an otherwise smooth face. ‘Unusual,’ Li said diplomatically.
‘You know your uncle is listed among the Martyrs?’
Li was shocked. It was the first he had heard of it. ‘But he did not die on active duty,’ he said. ‘He was retired.’
‘He was murdered by the subject of an active investigation. And in light of his outstanding record as a police officer, it was decided that his name should be included in the roll of honour.’
Oddly, Li found this unexpectedly comforting. His uncle had not passed into the unsung annals of history, to be forgotten with the death of living memory. He had been given immortality of a kind, a place among heroes, which is what he had been.
The Commissioner was watching him closely. He said, ‘There are two matters I want to discuss with you, Section Chief.’ He glanced across the floor to make sure they would not be overheard, and lowered his voice. ‘I received a call last night from the Procurator General regarding the official report into the death of the weightlifter, Jia Jing. It had been drawn to his attention that the report was not entirely accurate.’ Li opened his mouth to speak, but the Commissioner held up a hand to stop him. ‘His enquiries on the subject revealed this to be true. He also discovered that since you attended the incident you must have known this to be the case. And yet you signed off the report as being an accurate representation of events. The Procurator General is furious. And frankly, Section Chief, so am I.’
Li said, ‘And who was it who drew the Procurator General’s attention to this alleged inaccuracy?’
‘I don’t think that’s the point.’
‘I think it’s very much the point.’
The Commissioner took Li firmly by the arm and steered him closer to the wall. His voice reduced itself to an angry hiss. ‘Don’t play games with me, Li. I think you know very well who it was. Loyalty is not something you inherit with the job. You have to earn it. And I am hearing that all is far from well between you and another senior member of your section.’
‘If I’d been Section Chief at the time of his appointment, he would never have got the job.’
The Commissioner glared at him. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Li. The decision would not have been yours to make.’ He let go of Li’s arm and took a deep breath. Although Li towered over him, he was still a solid and imposing figure in his black dress uniform, with its three shining silver stars on each lapel. ‘Are you going to tell me why this report was doctored?’ Even his use of the word ‘doctored’ rang a bell for Li.
Li said quietly, ‘Perhaps you should ask the Minister, Commissioner.’
Hu narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you telling me the Minister asked you to alter an official report?’ Li nodded. ‘And do you think for one minute he would admit to that?’
And Li saw for the first time just what kind of trouble he could be in. He said, ‘One or two minor facts were omitted purely to save embarrassment for the people involved. That’s all. Nothing that materially affected the case.’
‘The fact that the Chinese weightlifting champion was screwing the wife of a senior member of BOCOG is hardly a minor omission, Section Chief.’
‘The Minister—’
Hu cut him off. ‘The Minister will not back you up or bail you out on this, Li. Take my word for it. In the current climate, he has far too much to lose. Everyone from the lowliest officer to the Minister himself must be seen to be beyond reproach. Don’t forget that his former Vice-Minister was sentenced to death for his misdemeanours.’
Li protested, ‘Li Jizhou took nearly half a million dollars in bribes from a gang of smugglers! Saving a few blushes over a marital indiscretion is hardly in the same league.’ But he was kicking himself. He knew he should never have agreed to it.
The Commissioner glared at him angrily. ‘You’re a fool, Li. Fortunately, it’s not too late to do something about it. Get the officer concerned to issue a full and accurate report, and we will redefine the current report as “interim” and withdraw it.’
Li knew there was no way around it. When the revised report found its way into circulation, scandal was inevitable. And given the high profile of Jia himself, there was a good chance it was going to find its way into the media as well. All he could think about were Jia’s parents, the sad old couple he had encountered on the doorstep of their son’s apartment. He said, ‘The current investigation into the death of Jia and several other leading athletes looks like turning into a murder investigation, Commissioner.’
The Commissioner was clearly shocked. ‘I thought he died of a heart attack.’
‘He did. But in common with all the others, he was suffering from what we think was a virally induced heart condition that would certainly have killed him, if fate had not delivered the blow first. At least one of those others was murdered — the swimmer Sui Mingshan. And three others who supposedly died in a car accident were dead before the car crashed.’
The Commissioner looked at him thoughtfully. ‘And your point is?’
‘That Jia looks certain to become attached to a murder inquiry that is going to shake Chinese athletics to the core, Commissioner. Bad enough with the Beijing Olympics looming on the horizon. How much worse if there is a link between Jia and a high-ranking member of the Beijing Organising Committee of the Olympic Games?’
The Commissioner took a long moment to consider his point. At length he said, ‘Take no action for the moment, Section Chief. I will speak to the Procurator General. And others. And I will let you know my decision.’ He paused. ‘But just don’t think you’ve got away with anything. Do you understand?’
Li nodded and felt the scrutiny of the Commissioner’s probing eyes trying to decipher what lay behind Li’s consciously blank expression. ‘You said two things, Commissioner.’
‘What?’
‘You wanted to speak to me about two things.’
‘Ah…yes.’ And for the first time Commissioner Hu avoided his eyes. ‘It is a matter I had intended to raise with you this week anyway.’
‘To tell me I had been allocated a married officer’s apartment?’
Anger flashed quickly in Hu’s eyes and he snapped, ‘You know perfectly well there’s no question of you getting an apartment!’
Li felt the resentment that had been simmering inside him for weeks now start bubbling to the surface. If the Commissioner thought Li was going to make this easy for him, he was mistaken. ‘Really? That’s the first time anybody has ever conveyed that particular piece of information to me. So I don’t know how I would know it, perfectly well, or otherwise.’
For a moment he thought the Commissioner was going to strike him. ‘You sonofabitch, you really are hell-bent on putting an end to your career, aren’t you?’
‘I wasn’t aware I had much of a choice, Commissioner.’
‘My office asked you several weeks ago,’ the Commissioner said in a very controlled way, ‘for information about your intention to marry the American pathologist, Margaret Campbell. That information has not been forthcoming.’
‘That information,’ Li replied evenly, ‘was provided in full detail when I made my application for married accommodation. Nothing has changed.’
‘So you’re still intent on marrying her?’
‘Next week.’
The Commissioner took a very deep breath and raised his eyes towards the faces gazing down on them from the Martyrs’ Wall. ‘You really are a fool, Li, aren’t you? You know that it is Public Security policy that none of its officers may marry a foreign national.’ He sighed his frustration. ‘In the name of the sky, why do you have to marry her? We’ve turned a blind eye to your relationship up until now.’
‘Because I love her, and she’s carrying my baby. And I’m not going to creep around at night making clandestine visits to see my lover and my child. If marrying her is such a threat to national security, I’d have thought conducting an illicit affair was an even greater one. And if you’re prepared to turn a
blind eye to that, then aren’t you just being hypocritical?’
The Commissioner shook his head in despair. ‘I don’t know what your uncle would have thought of you.’
‘My uncle always told me to be true to myself. He used to say, the universe is ruled by letting things take their course. It cannot be ruled by interfering.’
‘And there is nothing I can say that will change your mind?’ Li shook his head. ‘Then I will expect your resignation on my desk by next week.’
‘No.’
The Commissioner looked at Li in astonishment. ‘What do you mean, no?’
‘I mean I am not going to resign, Commissioner. If you are going to insist on enforcing this policy, then you are going to have to remove me from my post.’
The Commissioner narrowed his eyes. ‘You really are a stubborn…arrogant…bastard, Li.’ His raised voice caused heads to turn in their direction from the shooting range. He quickly lowered it again. ‘If you insist on following this course, then believe me, I will strip you of your commission and I will remove you from the force. You will lose your apartment, and your pension, all medical rights and rights to social security. And who will employ a disgraced former police officer?’ He paused to let his words sink in. ‘Have you really thought this through?’
Li stood rock still, keeping his emotions on a tight rein. In many ways he hadn’t thought it through at all. His application for a position with Beijing Security had been a half-hearted attempt to face up to the realities of his situation. But, in truth, he had been burying his head in the sand and hoping that somehow it would all go away.
‘For heaven’s sake, Li, you are the youngest Section Chief in the history of the department. You are one of the most highly regarded police officers in China. What kind of woman is it who would ask a man to give all that up for the sake of a wedding ring?’
‘Margaret hasn’t asked me to give up anything,’ Li said, quick to her defence.
‘What do you mean? She must know what’ll happen if you marry her.’ Li said nothing, and the Commissioner’s eyes widened. ‘Are you telling me you haven’t told her? That she doesn’t know?’
