A Loyal Character Dancer - [Chief Inspector Chen Cao 02]

by Qiu Xiaolong

  So his thought about one aspect of the case was reconfirmed. The body could not have been left there before the closing time. Park security would have easily noticed anyone hiding behind the bushes, even at night.

  “A romantic image?” she asked, noticing his abstraction.

  “Oh no, I’m not thinking about poetry.” He did not want her to associate this romantic scene with a corpse.

  * * * *

  Chapter 18

  T

  hey left the park.

  People stood in a line along the bank, shoulder to shoulder, talking to each other without regard for those standing next to them. After a few steps, Catherine noticed a young couple vacating a small space by the embankment wall.

  “I would like to stand here for a while.” She added, mischievously, “Stuck on the wall like a snail, to use your simile.”

  “Whatever our distinguished guest prefers,” Chen said. “Perhaps more like a brick in the wall. A brick in the socialist wall. As a metaphor, that was more popular during the socialist education movement.”

  They stood there, leaning on the railing. To their left, the park gleamed like a “night-brightening pearl,” a phrase she had read in a Chinese legend.

  “How do you find time for literary pursuits in your present job?” she asked.

  “Politics aside, I like my job because, in a way, it helps my writing. It gives me a different perspective.”

  “What perspective?”

  “In my college days, to write a poem meant such a lot to me, it seemed there was nothing else worth doing. Now I doubt that. In China’s transitional period, there are many things more important to the people, at least of more immediate, practical value.”

  “You put it defensively, as if you had to keep on convincing yourself,” she said.

  “You may be right,” he said. He took a white paper fan out of his pants pocket. “How much I’ve changed since then.”

  “Changed into a chief inspector. A rising star in the Shanghai Police Bureau, I believe.” She saw that there were lines in brush calligraphy on the folding fan. “Can I have a look?”

  “Sure.”

  She took the fan. There was a couplet on it. The writing was difficult to read in the flickering illumination provided by the ever-changing neon lights.

  Drunk. I whipped a precious horse; / I do not want to weigh down a beauty with passion.

  “Your lines, Chief Inspector Chen?”

  “No, Daifu’s. A confessional Chinese poet, like Robert Lowell.”

  “Why the parallel between a horse and a beauty?”

  “A friend of mine copied the couplet for me.”

  “Why those two lines?” She waved the fan lightly.

  “His favorite couplet, perhaps.”

  “Or a message for you.”

  He laughed.

  The ringing of his phone took them by surprise.

  “What’s up, Uncle Yu?” he said, one hand cupped over the phone. He then took her by the elbow, and they began to walk as he listened.

  She understood why he had to resume their stroll. Wedged between people along the wall, confidential conversation was out of the question. And the use of a cell phone was still rare and attracted attention. They encountered covetous glances from the milling crowd.

  There was no change of expression as he listened. He spoke little. At the end of the conversation, he said. “Thank you. It is very important, Uncle Yu.”

  “What’s up?” she said.

  “It was Old Hunter. Something about Gu,” he said, turning off the phone. “I asked him to keep an eye on the karaoke owner. He has been tapping Gu’s telephone lines. It seems Gu is an honorary member of the Blue. He made several phone calls after we left the Dynasty. A couple of them were about a missing Fujianese. A man. Gu used a nickname.”

  “A missing Fujianese,” she repeated. “Did he mention Wen?”

  “No. The Fujianese seemed to have a mission, but they were speaking in triad code. Old Hunter needs to do some research tonight.”

  “Gu knew something he didn’t tell us,” she said.

  “Gu spoke of a visitor from Hong Kong, not from Fujian. So why look for a missing Fujianese—”

  For the first time, they were talking like partners, without guarding their words or thoughts from one another, when a white-haired peddler approached them, displaying something in his hand.

  “A family heirloom. It brings good fortune to young couples. Believe me. I’m seventy years old. The state-run factory I used to work for went bankrupt last month. I cannot get a single penny of my pension, or I would not sell it for anything.”

  It was a Qilin-shaped green jade charm on a red silk string.

  “In Chinese culture,” she said, looking up at Chen, “jade is supposed to bring luck to its owner, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that, but it doesn’t seem to have brought luck to him.”

  “The red silk string is very pretty.”

  In the moonlight, the jade shone deep green against her white palm.

  “How much?” Chen asked the peddler.

  “Five hundred Yuan.”

  “Not too expensive,” she whispered to him in English.

  “Fifty Yuan.” Chen took the charm from her hand and put it back in the peddler’s.

  “Come on, young man. Nothing is too expensive for your beautiful American girlfriend.”

  “Take it or leave it,” Chen said, taking Catherine’s hand as if to walk away. “It looks like plastic.”

  “Take a close look, young man,” the old man said with an air of indignation. “Feel it. You can tell the difference. So cool to your touch, right?”

  “Fine, eighty.”

  “One hundred fifty. I can give you a five-hundred-Yuan receipt from a state-run store.”

  “One hundred. Forget about the receipt.”

  “Deal!”

  He handed over a bill to the peddler.

  She listened to their bargaining with interest. ‘Ask for a price as high as the sky, but bargain it down to the earth,’ she thought, recalling another old Chinese saying. In an increasingly materialistic society, bargaining existed everywhere.

  “I cannot help marveling at you, Chief Inspector Chen,” she said as the old man started shuffling away with the money in his hand. “You haggled like—like anything but a romantic poet.”

  “I don’t think it’s plastic,” he said. “Maybe it’s some sort of hard stone without real value.”

  “Jade, I’m positive.”

  “For you.” He put the charm in her hand, imitating the old man’s tone. “For a beautiful American friend.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  They walked through the night breeze.

  The Peace Hotel came in sight, sooner than she had expected.

  She turned to him by the gate. “Let me buy you a drink in the hotel.”

  “Thanks, but I cannot come in. I have to call Detective Yu.”

  “It’s been a lovely night. Thank you.”

  “The pleasure has been mine.”

  She took the jade charm out of her pocket. “Would you put it on for me?”

  She swung around, without waiting for an answer from him.

  They were in front of the hotel, with the red-capped-and-clad doorman standing at the gate, smiling respectfully as always.

  She could feel the soft tendrils of her hair stirring with his breath as his fingers clasped the red string round her neck, lingering for a second at her nape.

  * * * *

  Chapter 19

  W

  aking in the early morning with a slight suggestion of headache, Chen rubbed his eyes as he read the latest news about the go tournament between China and Japan reported in the previous evening’s newspaper. This was an escapist indulgence he had not permitted himself for several days.

  That morning, he thought he had an excuse. This was the final round between the two countries’ champions. The Japanese was said to be a Zen master as well�
�capable of remaining detached in an intense game. Paradoxical. A go player, by definition, must be intent on winning a game, just as a cop must solve a case. And the outcome of the game was represented as politically symbolic, like the case on his hands. The ringing of the telephone, however, interrupted any further thought about the battle on the game board. It was Party Secretary Li.

  “Come to my office, Chief Inspector Chen.”

  “Anything new about Wen’s case?”

  “We’ll talk when you get here.”

  “I’ll come as soon as I have breakfast.”

  It was early, not yet seven thirty. It must be urgent. Normally, Li would not arrive at his office until after nine thirty.

  Chen opened his small refrigerator. There was only half a steamed bun from the bureau canteen, two or three days old, and hard as a rock. He put it in a bowl of hot water. There was little left of his month’s salary. Not all the expenses he incurred in Inspector Rohn’s company could be reimbursed. Like the purchase of the jade trinket. To maintain the image of a Chinese policeman, he had to pay a price.

  The telephone rang again. This time, it was Minister Huang in Beijing. The minister, who had never before called him at home, seemed very concerned about the progress of the Wen case.

  “It is a special case,” Huang said, “important to the relationship between the two countries. A successful cooperation with the Americans will help to lessen tension, you know, after the Tiananmen incident.”

  “I understand, Minister Huang. We’re doing our best, but it is difficult to find someone within such a short time frame.”

  “The Americans understand you’re doing a conscientious job. They are just anxious for a breakthrough. They have called us several times.”

  Chen hesitated as to whether he should share his suspicions with the minister, especially about the gang’s ties to the Fujian police. He decided not to. Not directly at least. The politics behind this connection might be complicated. It would make the investigation more difficult if the minister chose to back the local police.

  “Detective Yu is having a hard time in Fujian. The local police have given him no leads at all. They seem to have too many things on their hands. Yu cannot deal with those gangsters single-handedly. And I cannot dictate orders from thousands of miles away.”

  “Of course you can. You have full authority, Chief Inspector Chen. I myself will give Superintendent Hong a call. Whatever political decisions you have to make, the ministry is firmly behind you.”

  “Thank you, Minister Huang.” So far he had not had to make any political decisions. Nor did he know what the minister meant by this phrase.

  “Police work entails a hell of a lot of problems. It takes a most capable man to do the job well. There are not many young officers like you nowadays.” Huang concluded emphatically, “The Party counts on you, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.”

  “I understand. Whatever the Party wants me to do, I will do, even if I have to go through mountains of knives and seas of fire.” He thought of two Tang dynasty lines. Beholden to your making a general of me on the stage of gold, / flourishing the Jade Dragon sword, I’ll fight for you to the end. The old minister had not only recommended him for the job, but also called him at home, personally, to discuss the case. “I won’t let you down, Minister Huang.”

  As he put down the receiver, however, Chief Inspector Chen felt far from flourishing the Jade Dragon sword.

  Minister Huang should have called Party Secretary Li. The phrase “a hell of a lot of problems” did not sound reassuring at all. The old minister had left something unsaid. Chen had an ominous feeling. If Minister Huang had purposely left Li out of the loop, what implication did that have for his own career?

  Twenty minutes late, he stepped into Party Secretary Li’s office, not at all detached, unlike the Japanese go player described in the Xinming newspaper.

  “I will be having meetings all day,” Li said, breathing over a cup of hot soybean soup. “I want to have a talk with you now.”

  Chief Inspector Chen started by briefing him on their interview with Qiao, the pregnant woman from Guangxi.

  “You have put in a lot of hard work, Chief Inspector Chen, but the subjects of your interviews were not that well chosen.”

  “Why do you say that, Party Secretary Li?”

  “It’s okay to let Inspector Rohn come along as you interview some of Wen’s relatives, but taking her with you to see Qiao, the pregnant Guangxi woman, was not a good decision. The Americans always raise a hue and cry about our birth control policy.”

  Chen decided not to mention their meeting with Gu for the time being. Indecent business, triad connections, police protection—all this would not present an ideal picture of socialist China.

  “I did not know it would turn out like that,” he said. “I argued with Inspector Rohn about our birth control policy.”

  “You stood up for our principles, I have no doubt about that,” Li said slowly, taking up the glass swan ashtray, which shone like a crystal ball in a fortuneteller’s hand. “Do you know what happened after your visit to the Guangxi woman?”

  “What?”

  “She was abducted by a group of unknown men. Two or three hours after your visit. She was later found lying unconscious in a wood not too far away. No one knew who had left her there. Though not beaten or abused, she suffered a miscarriage. She was rushed to the local hospital.”

  “Is her life in danger?”

  “No, but she bled too much, so the doctor had to operate on her. She won’t be able to have another child.”

  Chen cursed under his breath. “Is there any clue to the kidnappers?”

  “They were not locals. They came in a jeep, claiming the woman was a fugitive from the south. So no one tried to stop them.”

  “They must have mistaken her for Wen and let her go when they found out the truth.”

  “That’s possible.”

  “That’s outrageous! Kidnapping a pregnant woman in broad daylight, and in Qingpu, Shanghai.” Chen’s thoughts moved in a frantic swirl. They must have been followed from the start and all the way to Qingpu. There was no question about it now. The motorcycle accident. The broken stair step. The food poisoning. And now the abduction of Qiao. “Only two or three hours after our visit! Those gangsters must have gotten a tip from some insider here. There is a leak at the bureau.”

  “Well, I don’t think it will hurt to be careful.”

  “They have declared war on us. And then there is the body in Bund Park. For the Shanghai Police Bureau it’s a big slap in our face! We have to do something, Party Secretary Li.”

  “We will do something. It’s a matter of time. It’s also a matter of priorities. At this moment, the safety of Inspector Rohn has to be our top concern. If we try to crack down on the triads now, they may retaliate.”

  “So are we to do nothing but wait until they strike again?”

  Li did not answer his question. “In the course of this investigation, some accidental encounter with those gangsters is possible. They are capable of anything. If something happens to Inspector Rohn, it will be a hell of a responsibility for us.”

  “A hell of a responsibility,” he muttered, thinking of “a hell of a lot of problems” mentioned earlier by Minister Huang. “We are cops, aren’t we?”

  “You don’t have to look at it that way, Chief Inspector Chen.”

  “In what way then, Party Secretary Li?”

  “Detective Yu has been conducting the investigation in Fujian. If you think it necessary, you can decide someone else is needed there, too.” Li said. “As for your interviews here, I wonder whether they can really lead to anything. Inspector Rohn does not have to participate in them. All you need to do is to keep her informed of any new developments. I don’t think those gangsters will attempt anything against her if she takes a leisurely walk along the Bund.”

  “But they must believe Wen may be hiding here. Or they would not have abducted Qiao in Qingpu.”

&nbs
p; “If any new leads turn up here, Qian can take care of them. You don’t have to go out of your way. As long as she knows our people are doing their best, it will be good enough—politically. “

  “I have done some thinking about the case—politically— Party Secretary Li. For one thing, the relationship between China and America has been strained since the summer of 1989. If we succeed in delivering Wen to the U.S. Marshals, it will be a meaningful gesture.”