A Loyal Character Dancer

by Qiu Xiaolong

  “If it’s a matter of a zoning problem, I can give them a call. Perhaps you may not know that I served as the acting director of Traffic Control last year.”

  “Really, Director Chen!”

  “Now about the gang-from Fujian.” Chen put down the cup and looked Gu in the eyes. “Does that ring a bell?”

  “A Fujian triad. I don’t know. Oh, now I remember something else. Someone came to me yesterday. Not from Fujian, but from Hong Kong. A certain Mr. Diao. And he asked me if I had hired anyone from Fujian. A woman in her mid-thirties, three or four months pregnant. That’s so unlikely. Most of the girls working here are under twenty-five, and we have more good-looking young women applying than we can hire, let alone a pregnant one.”

  “Did Mr. Diao give you any description of the woman he was looking for?”

  “Let me think.” Gu said. “Not particularly nice looking. Sallow, wrinkled, a lot of sadness in her eyes. A woman who looked like a Fujian farmer.”

  “Are you sure that Mr. Diao’s not a gangster?”

  “I don’t think so. He would have stated his organization and rank when he introduced himself.” Gu added, belatedly, “And he would not have come to me if he were a gangster.”

  “Your club is not a likely place to find such a woman. Mr. Diao must have known better.” Chen said. “Why did he come here?”

  “I don’t know. He must have been desperate, bumping everywhere like a headless fly.”

  “Do you know where he is staying?”

  “He did not leave his address or phone number. He said he might check back.”

  “If he does, find out where he can be found and give me a call.” Chen had written his cellular phone number on the back of his card. “Any time.”

  “I’ll do that, Chief Inspector Chen. Anything else?”

  “Well, another thing,” Chen said. Gu seemed to be quite cooperative now that he had played the bargaining chip of the parking lot. The chief inspector decided to push his luck a little further. “A body was discovered in Bund Park a few days ago. Possibly a triad killing. There were many ax wounds to the body. Have you heard anything about it?”

  “I think I read about it in the Xinming Evening Newspaper.”

  “The victim could have been murdered in a hotel room, or in a place like yours.”

  “You cannot be serious, Chief Inspector Chen.”

  “I’m not saying it happened here, General Manager Gu. I make no accusation. But you are well-informed and move in the right circles. The Dynasty is the number-one karaoke club in Shanghai,” Chen said, patting Gu’s shoulder. “Some clubs or other places stay open all night, and they do not do a proper business like yours. The victim was in his pajamas, having just had sex. You see, I’m giving you all the details, in confidence.”

  “I appreciate your trust, Chief Inspector Chen. I will try my best to find out for you.”

  “Thank you, General Manager Gu. As it is said, ‘Some people can never understand each other all their lives, not even when they are white-haired, but some do the moment they take off their hats.’” Chen rose to his feet. “I’m glad that we have met today. Now I have to leave. Please give me the bill.”

  “If you consider me a friend, don’t talk about payment. I cannot bear to lose face like that.”

  “Oh no, you cannot let him lose face, Chief Inspector Chen,” Catherine said.

  “Here are two VIP cards,” Gu said. “One for you, one for your beautiful American girlfriend. You must come back again.”

  “Of course we will.” Catherine smiled, taking Chen’s arm as they walked out.

  This was a carefully calculated message for Gu: Chief Inspector Chen had his weaknesses. She did not let go of his arm until they lost themselves in the crowd. They did not start talking until they got back to the car.

  The Flying Axes were looking for Wen, not only in the Fujian area, but elsewhere, desperately, “Bumping everywhere like a headless fly-” just as they were. By April twenty-fourth, however, failure to locate Wen would be a success for the gangsters.

  Chapter 15

  It was not until they came in sight of the hotel that he remembered, “Oh, the dinner I promised you. I’ve forgotten all about it, Inspector Rohn.”

  “It’s just five o’clock. I’m not hungry yet.”

  “What about Deda? It is close to the hotel. We can talk there.”

  Deda was a two-story restaurant on the corner of Nanjing and Sichuan Road. Its European-style front formed a sharp contrast to the Central Market beside it.

  “During the Cultural Revolution, it was called Workers, Peasants, and Soldiers Restaurant,” Chief Inspector Chen said. “Now it has changed back to the original name, Deda, meaning ‘Great German’.”

  There were quite a number of young people on the first floor, smoking, talking, stirring desires or memories into their coffee cups. He led her to the second floor, where food was served. They chose a table by a window overlooking Nanjing Road. She ordered a glass of white wine, and he, coffee and a wedge of lemon pie. At his recommendation, she also had a Deda special, a piece of chestnut cream cake.

  “You have a reason for everything, Chief Inspector Chen. You were like a fish swimming in triad waters-at the Dynasty.”

  “It takes time to crack a hard nut like Gu. Time is what we cannot afford. So I tried a different approach.”

  “Your performance was impressive, making friends, and exchanging favors.”

  “I’ll let you in on a secret. One of my favorite genres is the kung fu novel.”

  “Like the Western in American literature. People know it’s a fantasy, but they still enjoy it.”

  “You might say that the present-day triad world is a poor imitation of the more glamorized one in the kung fu novels. Of course there are differences but they share values. For one, yiqi. An ethical code of brotherhood, of loyalty, with emphasis on the obligation to reciprocate favors.”

  “Is yiqi so important in China because the legal system is flawed?”

  “You could say that,” he said, impressed by her acute observation. “But yiqi is not necessarily negative. My father was a Confucian scholar. And I still remember an old saying he taught me. ‘If somebody helps you with a drop of water, you should repay him by digging a spring for him’.”

  “You have made a special study,” she said, taking another small sip of wine.

  “Gu is a shrewd businessman. Yiqi does not come out of nowhere. If he sees some future benefit, he is more likely to cooperate. It would not hurt him to talk a little-in a private room-to a chief inspector. That little is all I need.”

  “Oh, Gu has more than that I think,” she said. “Mr. Diao, the Hong Kong visitor, may have not left his phone number, but Gu can find him. It really depends on how much he wants his parking lot.”

  “You are right. I’ll have a talk with my former secretary at Traffic Control.”

  “The visitor could be a Flying Ax. They may have a branch in Hong Kong.”

  “As far as I know, the gang does not have a branch in Hong Kong. And a Fujian accent would be hard to cover up. Besides, I don’t see why a visitor should try to conceal his identity from Gu.”

  “Why not, Chief Inspector Chen?”

  “There’s a gang rule-’declaring the mountain door.’ One has to make clear his organization background and rank so others will deal with him.”

  “That’s a point,” she said, nodding. “But if he’s not a Flying Ax, who is he?”

  “I don’t have the answer.”

  “You mentioned the other case to Gu, the body in Bund Park, with all the ax wounds. Could there be some connection between that killing and Wen’s disappearance?”

  “It’s probably a coincidence. A lot of gangs use axes.”

  “Don’t the triads use guns at all?”

  “Some do, but in gang fights, they prefer knives and axes. There is very strict gun control in China.”

  “Yes, your government refused my request to carry a gun.”

>   The waiter came to their table with a dessert cart.

  “In the tradition of kung fu novels,” he resumed as soon as they were left alone, “it is necessary to apologize by making a banquet. This is no banquet, but I am sincere in making my apologies.”

  “What are you apologizing for?” She was surprised.

  “Inspector Rohn, I want you to know that I’m sorry about my overreaction in Qingpu. I should not have associated my defense of my government’s birth-control policy with the issue of illegal immigration to the U.S. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “Let’s put it behind us. You pushed your defense too far, and I went overboard, too. We’re both to blame,” she said. The fact was that after their argument she trusted him more. He had lost his composure; he had not been acting. “But you did a great job with Gu this afternoon. This may be important.”

  “Well, but for your strained ankle, we would not have visited Mr. Ma, and then we would not have learned of Gu. It’s really serendipitous, a chain of coincidences.”

  “And if Mr. Ma hadn’t had a copy of Dr. Zhivago on his shelf years ago, and become a doctor because of it, or even earlier, if you hadn’t wandered into his bookstore for your comic book… it may be a very long chain indeed,” she said.

  In spite of their reconciliation, she did not invite him to her hotel. They shook hands outside the cafe, standing on the sidewalk, still filled with illegally parked bikes.

  He remained there for a minute, watching her walk across traffic-jammed Sichuan Road. Her black purse swung against her side, her long hair brushed her shoulders. As her slender figure reemerged from the waves of bikes, she appeared to be far away.

  There was no accident this time.

  He heaved a sigh of relief.

  He phoned Meiling at the Shanghai Metropolitan Traffic Control Office.

  “What’s up, Director Chen.”

  “Don’t call me that, Meiling. I only served as acting director when Director Wei was in hospital.”

  Director Wei had returned, but he remained in unstable health. People had been talking about Chen’s moving back to the position. It was a suggestion he meant to resist.

  “I still think of you as my boss,” Meiling insisted. “What can I do for you today?”

  “There is a karaoke club called Dynasty, on Shanxi Road. Our traffic control people have approached its owner, Gu Haiguang, about a zoning issue with respect to the parking lot there. If it is a borderline case, can we make a special study of it?”

  “No problem, if that’s what you want.”

  “There’s no hurry. Before we do anything, I want you to contact Gu, telling him I have talked to you, and that Traffic Control will be giving the matter special consideration. Don’t promise immediate approval or anything else.”

  “I see. I will ask Director Wei to give him a call. He has a high opinion of you.”

  “No, don’t go out of your way, Meiling. If you can phone him tomorrow, that should be more than enough.”

  “I will do it the first thing tomorrow morning. Whatever you want us to decide, that’s what Mr. Gu will get.”

  “I’ll also need the help of Old Hunter for a few days.” He added, “I’m working on an important case. I have to depend on the people I can trust, like you and Old Hunter.”

  “I’m glad you put me together with him. As our advisor, he does not have to report here every day. He may choose to conduct a special field study somewhere for a week. I’ll tell Director Wei.”

  “Thank you, Meiling. I really owe you. When I’ve finished the job on my hands I’ll take you to the Dynasty for a karaoke evening. I’ve got a VIP card.”

  “Whenever you have time, Director Chen. Take care.”

  Chen’s next phone call was to Old Hunter. “I have to ask another favor of you, Uncle Yu. I need you to keep a close watch on the Dynasty Karaoke Club on Shanxi Road. The owner’s name is Gu Haiguang. Tap his telephone twenty-four hours a day. Dig into his background. But try to get it done without the bureau’s knowledge.”

  “You never know what connections a Mr. Big Bucks may have inside the bureau,” Old Hunter said. “You are right to be careful. This is a job for an old hunter. I still have a good nose, and ears too. But what about my traffic control responsibility?”

  “I’ve talked to Meiling. You do not have to report there next week.”

  “Great. I will station myself in front of the club all day and send someone in as a customer-hold on, I have a better idea. I can get in myself. Some old people go there to kill time listening to old songs. No need for a private room or anything. I’ll have someone else, Yang Guozhuang, another retired cop, do the telephone line tapping. He worked for many years in Tibet before his retirement. I helped him get his residence permit so he could move back into the city. As a rightist in 1957, he really suffered a lot. And you know what-just because of an entry in his diary.”

  “Thank you, Uncle Yu.” Chen knew he’d better cut the old man short, or he would digress into a long tale about Yang’s suffering during the antirightist movement. “If you need to have a private room, pay for it. Don’t worry about the expense. We can draw on the special fund.”

  “Is Gu connected with the secret societies?”

  “Connected, yes. You will have to watch out.”

  “So, is this about the body in the park or the other case?”

  “Both, perhaps,” Chen said, ending the call. Catherine Rohn might be right. Before he was able to do some more thinking along these lines, the phone rang again.

  This time, it was Party Secretary Li.

  Chapter 16

  Catherine returned to her hotel alone.

  Slipping off her shoes, she rubbed her ankle for several seconds before she walked to the window. Along the river, vessels moved against the eastern shore, shining under the inflamed clouds. Below her, people hurried along the Bund, in one direction or another, looking straight ahead. Chief Inspector Chen might be among them, walking toward the hotel with his briefcase.

  Turning from the window, she stared at the thick dossier on her desk. That she looked forward to his company, she assured herself, was entirely professional. She wanted to discuss the new direction for the investigation after their visit to the Dynasty Karaoke Club. There was something else suspicious about the Hong Kong visitor.

  She also wanted to show Chen that her attitude was free from Western prejudices and that, in spite of their differences, they had their common goal. Stories of forced abortion were not new to her, unfortunately. She knew he was a Chinese cop, working within the system.

  Wen was probably no longer in Fujian. The Flying Axes must have reached a similar conclusion. So what could she do in Shanghai, working with Chief Inspector Chen? He had invoked yiqi with Gu. She hoped this approach would succeed, and quickly.

  She started to dash off a few words on a pad, crossed them out, and was thinking hard, when the fax machine began to emit a roll of paper. It was from Washington.

  The cover page bore only one line: Information about Chen, from the CIA.

  Chief Inspector Chen Cao is an emerging Party cadre, touted as a successor to Superintendent Zhao or Party Secretary Li of the Shanghai Police Bureau. It is said that last year Chen was on the top candidate list for the position of Shanghai Propaganda Minister. He also served as the acting director of Shanghai Traffic Control and attended the Seminar of the Central Party Institute. The last event is seen as an unmistakable sign of his further promotion within the Party system. As one of the “liberal reformists” within the Party, Chen enjoys a connection with powerful people at a higher level.

  As for his professional performance, he has recently been in charge of several politically important cases, including the national model worker investigation last year, and a recent one concerning the vice mayor of Beijing.

  Chen majored in English literature in college in the late seventies, but for some unknown reason, he was assigned to the police. Chen is on the invitation list of the U.S. News Age
ncy as a writer.

  In his mid-thirties, Chen remains a bachelor. He has his own apartment in a good location. Like other emerging cadres, he keeps a low profile in his personal life, but it is alleged that the father of his (ex?) girlfriend, Ling, is a leading politburo member.

  Catherine put the fax into her file. She made a cup of coffee for herself.

  An enigmatic man. She was intrigued by the part about his relationship with a politburo member’s daughter. One of the High Cadres’ Children. She had read about that prestigious group, privileged by their family connections, corrupt, powerful. Were they still seeing each other? The CIA data was vague. She wondered whether a spoiled HCC would make a good wife for him. If he married an HCC, would he turn into one?

  Catherine caught herself. Chief Inspector Chen was just a temporary partner in China. It was the CIA’s business to be concerned with his life, not hers. The information about Chen was irrelevant now; what she needed was a clue to Wen’s whereabouts, which she did not have.

  She was jolted by the ringing of her phone. It was Chen. There was traffic noise in the background.

  “Where are you, Chief Inspector Chen?”

  “On my way home. I had a call from Party Secretary Li. He invites you to a Beijing Opera performance this evening.”

  “Does Mr. Li want to discuss the Wen case with me?”

  “I’m not sure about that. The invitation is to demonstrate our bureau’s attention to the case, and to you, our distinguished American guest.”

  “Isn’t it enough to assign you to me?” she said.

  “Well, in China, Li’s invitation gives more face.”

  “Giving face-I’ve heard only about losing face.”

  “If you are a somebody, you give face by making a friendly gesture.”

  “I see, like your visit to Gu. So I have no choice?”

  “Well, if you say no, Party Secretary Li will lose face. The bureau will, too-including me.”