Chinese Whispers (The China Thrillers 6)

by Peter May

  ‘But Bill said you’d done autopsy work for us before.’

  ‘Special circumstances,’ Margaret said. ‘And, then, when the baby came, things changed.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Well, Li Yan and I are not married, for a start.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘But we do live together.’

  Lyang sat up, interested. ‘Yeah, I was going to ask you about that.’

  Margaret waggled a finger at her. ‘That’s just it, you don’t ask. At least, that’s the position the Ministry takes. They don’t ask, we don’t tell, they don’t know. Officially. That way we get away with it – as long as we don’t marry.’

  Lyang whistled softly. ‘And Li Yan wouldn’t think about giving up his job?’

  ‘I wouldn’t ask him,’ Margaret said. ‘It’s a part of him. It would be like asking him to cut off a leg.’ She sighed. ‘The upshot of it all, though, is that it’s no longer politic for him to request permission to use me for autopsies on special cases.’ She qualified herself. ‘On any cases.’

  ‘So you’re leading a life of leisure and pleasure as a mother and wife … well, almost wife?’

  Margaret laughed. ‘No, I think the word I think you’re looking for is vegetating.’

  ‘So what do you do all day?’

  ‘Oh, I stay home and look after our son. Do a bit of housework, a bit of cooking. I never know when Li Yan’ll be coming home or when he’ll be called out. I don’t have any friends in Beijing, so I never go anywhere …’ She shook her head in something close to despair. ‘You know, the kind of domestic bliss every American woman aspires to.’ She sat up and turned towards Lyang. It felt good to talk, to get some of this stuff off her chest. It had been a long time since there had been anyone other than Li to whom she could unburden herself. ‘It’s like I’ve stopped living, Lyang. Like my whole life’s been sucked into my baby, and my only future is to live it vicariously through him.’

  ‘Jesus, Margaret …’ Lyang had clearly picked up her husband’s slang. ‘You sound like you need a few bodies to cut up.’

  Margaret laughed out loud. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘That would probably be good therapy. You’ve no idea how much I miss the smell of an open intestine, or that slurping sound the brain makes when it plops out of the skull.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Lyang said. ‘I can see how you’d miss that.’

  The receptionists looked curiously at the two women lying back laughing on their reclining seats when they came in to take away the soak barrels. They returned a few moments later to dry off the two pairs of feet and place them on towels on each of the footrests. Margaret watched curiously as the two blind masseuses were led in to squat on stools at the end of each footrest. Lyang’s girl was very young, perhaps only nineteen or twenty. Her eyes were bizarrely pale, almost grey, and seemed fixed beneath beautifully slanted lids. Margaret’s masseuse was older, about thirty, and her dark eyes seemed to be constantly on the move, squinting to one side and then back again. Both were slightly built, wearing white cotton overalls, and when Margaret’s girl lathered her tiny hands with soft-scented cream and began working on Margaret’s feet, Margaret was astonished at the strength in them.

  ‘Of course, you know why Western men like Asian women,’ Lyang said, and Margaret could hear the mischief in her voice.

  ‘Why?’ she asked, without opening her eyes.

  ‘Because they have such small hands.’

  Margaret smiled and frowned at the same time. ‘And that’s attractive because … ?’

  ‘It makes their dicks seem bigger.’

  They laughed again, and saw the incomprehension on the faces of their masseuses. A foot massage was supposed to be relaxing, therapeutic, not funny. But Margaret was finding the whole experience therapeutic in other ways. ‘I guess that must be why I fell for Li Yan,’ she said.

  Lyang frowned, knowing there was a gag coming, but not seeing it. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he makes my hands look so small.’

  Their raucous laughter was inappropriate, and inordinately loud in the hushed atmosphere of the Jade Fingers Blind Massage Club. Margaret’s masseuse found a painful area on the sole of her foot and seemed to dig into it particularly hard with her thumb. Margaret gasped. But there was also an odd pleasure in the pain. She lay back then and succumbed to both the pain and the pleasure as her girl worked her way around her toes, down all the painful bumps in her arch, around the heel and back up the outside edge. She knew what all the muscles were, could picture them as the girl’s dextrous fingers sought them out, folded one over the other around the delicate bones of the foot. It was deliciously relaxing.

  After a long period of silence, Lyang said to her, ‘What have you done about Li Jon?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘His nationality.’

  ‘Well, he’s both, of course. Chinese and American.’

  ‘You’ve registered him with the Embassy?’

  ‘Sure.’ It had been a complex procedure. Chinese and American laws were in conflict over the nationality of a child born to a Chinese-American couple. The Americans, the consul for American Citizen Services at the embassy had told Margaret, defined a child born to one American anywhere in the world as a US citizen at birth. The Chinese used the same legal premise for their citizens abroad, but allowed mixed citizenship couples, legally resident in China, to pick a citizenship for their kid after birth. Margaret had wanted to register Li Jon with the US embassy. Li was anxious for his son to remain Chinese. They had almost fallen out over it. In the end Margaret had persuaded Li that the Chinese were never going to deny his son nationality as long as they were there in China. But she wanted Li Jon properly registered as a US citizen so that there would never be a problem about them taking him to the US if they ever decided to go there. So she had gone to the embassy and had an interview with a sympathetic consul who set in motion a series of background checks on both Li and Margaret before finally issuing Li Jon with a Consular Report of Birth Abroad – which would effectively act as his passport for the first five years and make him officially a US citizen.

  ‘You got one of those Consular Report things?’ Lyang asked

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Yeah, Bill insisted we did that for Ling, too. So she’s a fully fledged stars and stripes citizen. It stuck in my craw a little to have to register her as a foreigner with the local police. It was expensive, too.’ A thought struck her. ‘Hey, how did you do that when you two aren’t … you know, married? Not even officially living together.’

  ‘We didn’t,’ Margaret said. ‘It was going to be too complicated. Officially, I still live in an apartment provided by the University of Public Security. That comes under the Western Beijing Police district. In reality, Li Yan and I share his police apartment in the Central Beijing Police district. We were just never going to be able to explain it.’

  ‘The endless complications of life in China,’ Lyang said. ‘You know, you and Li Yan should come over some night for a meal. We’ve got a lot in common, we four.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Margaret said. ‘It would be nice to get out for a change. Where do you live?’

  ‘Ah,’ Lyang said. ‘That was Bill’s only stipulation – that if we were going to live in China, it wasn’t going to be in some dilapidated apartment where the Government controls the heating. His first wife died in a road accident, and he had been rattling around on his own in their big town house in Boston. So when we got married he sold it, and we bought one of those fabulous new modern apartments near the Central Business District. You know, the ones built for foreigners. We’re in a complex called Music Home International. It’s silly, really, but the two apartment blocks have got like huge grand piano lids on their roofs.’ She seemed a little embarrassed. ‘You can’t miss them. But there’s a health club with a pool and tennis courts, and there’s a beautifully landscaped private garden which is going to be just great for Ling in the summer.’

  Margaret felt a t
winge of jealousy. Not that any of these things amounted to a lifestyle she aspired to, but they sounded a great deal more appealing than Li’s spartan police apartment with its tiny rooms and irregular heating. And the thought returned her to a reality from which she had escaped all too briefly into a world of laughter and freedom from maternal responsibility. She had forgotten what it was like to have a life of your own, and she wasn’t sure that a friendship with Lyang would be a good thing. It could be very unsettling.

  IV

  Li sat with Procurator Meng, Deputy Commissioner Cao, Deputy Minister Wei Peng and Director General Yan Bo in a stilted silence in the reception room where they had first gathered. They had come in one by one from their MERMER tests flushed and fatigued and oddly self-conscious. Conversation had been desultory, and none of them had talked about the test. They were all, with the exception of Li, smoking. In exasperation, he had eventually gone to the window to draw the blinds and open it. He stood now gazing west, beyond Yuyuantan Park where he had sometimes played chess with his uncle, towards the distinctive minaret-shaped TV tower catching the mid-afternoon sun. It felt like they had been there all day. In fact it had been little more than two hours. But Li was growing impatient now, anxious to get back to his investigation.

  He turned as the door behind him opened and Commissioner Zhu, the last of them to be tested, breezed in from the computer room. He was actually smiling and, like the others before him, faintly flushed. ‘Charming woman,’ he said, adjusting his frameless spectacles on the bridge of his nose.

  ‘Quit dreaming, Commissioner,’ his deputy said. Cao was draped languidly on his chair watching his boss with knowing eyes, smoke seeping from the corners of his mouth. ‘It’s your backing she’s after, not your body.’ And Li realised that she had probably been doing a number on them all, each of them convinced that her warmth and touch and eye contact meant that they had struck some special chord with her. Li smiled to himself. Whatever it was she had, or did, it worked. And as he glanced around the other faces in the room, he knew that the same thought was also going through their minds.

  The door opened and Professor Pan came in briskly, clutching a sheaf of papers. The moment she entered the room, Li knew that something was wrong. Her whole demeanour had altered unmistakably. There was a droop in her shoulders, her face seemed pale suddenly, and drawn. She was still smiling, but the smile was fixed and false, and she seemed reluctant to make eye contact with any of them. ‘Gentlemen, I am so sorry to keep you,’ she said. Her eyes flickered briefly around the room, and Li saw something strange in them. Something like confusion. All the confidence in them had vanished, and yet she was working hard at maintaining the facade. He wondered if something had gone terribly wrong with the tests. If she was going to fail to identify the three ‘criminals’. But then she said, ‘The tests are quite conclusive. Commissioner Zhu, Procurator Meng, Section Chief Li. I think my findings would be sufficient to convict you all of murder in a court of law.’

  There was a spontaneous burst of applause, and Li looked around his fellow guinea-pigs. If any of them was aware of the change in Miss Pan it did not show.

  ‘Congratulations, Professor,’ Procurator General Meng said. ‘I think we are all very impressed.’

  And Li wondered for a moment if it was all just some kind of sophisticated parlour trick. If it was, it was a very good one. ‘How do we know you weren’t aware all along which of us was briefed?’ he asked.

  She swung wounded eyes on him, and he saw the hurt in them. But before she had a chance to speak, Deputy Cao said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Li. If the thing didn’t work, she knows we’d find out soon enough.’ And although she said nothing, Pan held Li’s eyes for longer than she had to, and he saw something else in them. Something confounding. Something like fear and a plea for help.

  ‘I think,’ the Deputy Minister said, ‘I can speak for everyone here when I say that I believe you can count on our backing for your project.’ He looked around, as if defying anyone to contradict him.

  Pan tore her eyes away from Li’s and forced the smile back to her lips. ‘That’s very gratifying, Deputy Minister Wei. I’m very grateful to you all for your patience. I know it’s been a long afternoon for you.’

  ‘Not at all, Professor,’ Commissioner Zhu said. ‘I think we’ve all enjoyed the experience. A welcome break from the routine of the office.’

  She nodded, glancing at her watch. ‘Well, I don’t want to keep you any longer, gentlemen. Thank you so much for coming.’ She made a tiny bow, and turned and hurried out of the room. Li saw the smile wiping itself from her face as she disappeared through the door.

  * * *

  ‘Well, how did it go?’ Bill Hart pressed him eagerly as they went down the stairs together.

  ‘Oh, I think she’ll get her funding okay,’ Li said.

  Hart grinned. ‘I never doubted it. What did you think?’

  Li had to acknowledge, ‘I was very impressed. If MERMER is as reliable as that in the field, then it could revolutionise criminal investigation.’

  ‘Of course, it has to be used very carefully,’ Hart said. ‘I mean, think about it. You’re the investigating officer. You make a detailed examination of the crime scene, so now you carry the same information in your brain as the killer. Can we always be sure we’ll know which is which, who is who?’

  Li nodded. ‘A fair point. And I suppose an investigating officer would have to be very careful that he didn’t accidentally provide a suspect with information that might read like guilty knowledge in a MERMER test.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Hart said. ‘If this thing really is going to work in the field, then the rules of engagement are going to have to be very tightly defined, and applied. Otherwise it could be open to abuse.’

  ‘Like corrupt officers deliberately contaminating a suspect’s mind with information from a crime scene so that it will show up on a MERMER?’

  Hart smiled knowingly. ‘Not that an officer in the People’s Republic would dream of doing such a thing.’

  ‘Nor any in the United States,’ said Li.

  ‘God forbid.’ Hart threw up his hands in mock horror, and they shared a grin. Then Hart’s smile faded. ‘I guess if Lynn gets her funding, then there’s a good chance mine will get cancelled.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Shit, Li Yan, Margaret was right. Compared with something like MERMER the polygraph’s a dinosaur. And in untrained hands it’s just about useless. She put her finger on it when she said it’s the operator who’s the real lie detector. And it takes a lot of training and a lot of experience to be good at it.’ He sighed. ‘Your bosses at the Ministry are less than convinced by it. I think they see it as not much more than a very expensive psychological rubber hose with which to beat a suspect.’ He laughed. ‘Hell, a real rubber hose is a lot cheaper and probably just as effective.’

  ‘And just as inadmissible in court as a polygraph,’ Li said. ‘So what’ll happen if your funding gets cancelled?’

  ‘I’m going to have to go back to the States to look for work.’

  ‘And would Lyang be happy to do that?’

  Hart pulled a face. ‘I haven’t told her yet, Li Yan. I figure there’s no point in worrying about it until it happens.’ He paused. ‘But, no, she wouldn’t be happy.’

  They came down the final flight of steps into the entrance lobby. Hart shook Li’s hand. ‘Thanks for coming,’ he said. ‘And, hey, listen, why don’t you bring Margaret round for dinner some night? I get the feeling that she and Lyang might get on pretty well.’

  ‘I’ll mention it to her,’ Li said.

  ‘Well, what about tonight?’

  Li shrugged apologetically. ‘I’ve got an appointment I can’t get out of.’ There was a hint of embarrassment in his smile.

  Hart remembered suddenly. ‘Of course, it’s your award thing tonight at the Great Hall. I read about that in the paper the other day. You must be very proud.’

  Li forced a smile. ‘Sure,’ he said.
<
br />   As he pushed out through the swing door Hart called after him, ‘Don’t forget to ask Margaret about dinner?’

  Li waved a hand and was gone, out into the cold afternoon air. He pulled up his coat collar and turned south towards Fuxingmenwai Avenue. A car horn blasting from across the street drew his attention, and he looked round as a large black Ministry limo made a u-turn and drew in at the kerb alongside him. A door opened, and as he leaned down, he saw Commissioner Zhu and Deputy Cao sitting in the back seat. ‘Get in, Li,’ the Commissioner told him. Li slipped into the front passenger seat beside the uniformed driver. ‘Do you have a car with you?’ asked the Commissioner. Li shook his head.

  ‘In the name of the sky, Li, you didn’t come on your bicycle?’ Deputy Cao regarded him with something akin to contempt.

  ‘No, I didn’t, Deputy Cao,’ Li said.

  The Commissioner tapped the driver on the shoulder. ‘Section One,’ he said. And to Li, ‘We’ll give you a lift back, and you can brief us on the Beijing Ripper.’ Li’s surprise must have been evident in his face, because it made the Commissioner smile. A smug smile, Li thought. ‘Don’t be so shocked, Li. There isn’t much goes on in your Section that I don’t get to hear about.’

  ‘Why didn’t you mention it upstairs?’ Deputy Cao asked.

  ‘I didn’t think it was appropriate. Not in front of the Deputy Minister and the Procurator General,’ Li said.

  ‘So tell us,’ the Commissioner said, ‘what makes you think these killings are a copycat of the Jack the Ripper murders?’

  Li pulled the book from his pocket and handed it into the back of the car. ‘Just published in China. A translation from the English original. It details all the killings attributed to the Ripper. The killings here in Beijing are like a carbon copy, even down to the smallest detail.’

  ‘Like?’ demanded Deputy Cao.

  ‘Like the contents of her purse being arranged around the feet of victim number three … the removal of her uterus and parts of her vagina and bladder. Like the missing left kidney and the womb in victim number four. And dozens of other small details, even down to the number of stab wounds in victim number one.’ The Commissioner was still examining the Ripper book. Li went on, ‘Then there’s the fact that our murderer only kills on the weekends, and that all the victims have been found within the same square mile of the city.’