“Those buildings and houses are remnants of the era of European imperialism in China. At the time of this neighborhood’s construction, Shanghai was divided into zones of French, British, and American control. Concessions, as they were called. Many European powers, with their advanced weapons and militaries, forced the Imperial Qing Dynasty—which was weak at the time—into signing what we refer to as the Unequal Treaties, granting to foreign powers these so-called concessions of territory, or even outright colonies, to force China into trade with the West. Forcing foreign laws, even religions, on Chinese citizens who lived in these places. It was a part of what Chinese call our Century of Humiliation. Can you imagine what such a surrender of sovereignty would do to a nation’s psyche?”
“I don’t imagine Americans would be very happy about it if the situation were reversed,” Zhang said.
“Indeed,” she said. “Britain, France, Germany, Portugal, Belgium, Italy, Russia, Japan, and even the United States. All these countries had their occupied territories. The Shanghai French Concession was established in 1849, and existed until the Vichy French government handed it over to China’s pro-Japanese wartime occupation puppet government in 1943.”
“I’d like to think the world has grown up a bit since then,” Severin said. “But I may be kidding myself.”
To that point, Yu Lin’s face had borne no hint of feeling, and her passionless contribution to the conversation had been delivered as if it were a speech she’d read from notecards many hundreds of times. Something oft repeated to busloads of tourists. Something used to demonstrate a knowledge that might favorably impress a potential employer. Severin smiled inwardly as it crossed his mind that he could be talking to an android.
“So my acquaintances have told us that you do a lot of work for the U.S. Consulate,” Severin said.
“That is correct. I am acknowledged by your consulate as an expert English interpreter, and I have been vetted to handle sensitive and proprietary material.”
“And one of your jobs involves providing your services as an interpreter to antidumping investigation teams from the U.S. Department of Commerce?”
“Yes,” she said, as a look of confusion and concern appeared on her previously expressionless face.
“We have a small confession to make,” Severin said.
“Confession?”
“We aren’t tour operators.”
Lin rose to leave. Severin and Zhang followed. “Ms. Lin, let us explain ourselves,” he said as they emerged from the dark coffee house back onto the street. They followed her at a comfortable distance so that she’d know they had no intention of apprehending or restraining her. “There’s nothing to be at all worried about.”
“No.”
“It’s just that we’ve been hired by the family of one of the Commerce investigators you worked with to find out anything we can about the circumstances surrounding her disappearance. The family just wants to know what happened to their little girl.”
At this, she glanced back at them for a brief look. And when she did, they could see the conflict, the regret, the genuine sadness in her eyes.
“Kristin,” she said quietly.
“Yes. Kristin Powell.”
“She was very nice person,” Lin said, dropping the article ‘a’ in her distress. “I like her very much.”
“She had a kind heart,” Zhang said for effect.
“I should not talk to you,” she said, still walking, though not as briskly. Then she stopped. She was looking through the windows of some sort of shop front. She glanced up and down the street, then opened the door of the shop. “Come in here,” she said, disappearing through the dark doorway.
Severin and Zhang followed her in. It was some sort of foot massage or pedicure shop, inadequately lit with bare fluorescent tubes. A row of five massive massage chairs ran down one side of the narrow, low-ceilinged room. It smelled of nail polish. A single customer sat in a chair with her feet soaking in a shallow glass tank of water. As he looked closer, Severin could see innumerable tiny fish swimming around the woman’s feet. They appeared to be biting at her toes. Severin elbowed Zhang, gesturing toward the fish.
“The fish exfoliate your feet,” Zhang said.
“Now I’ve seen everything,” he muttered as Lin exchanged a quick word with the receptionist—the only other person in the room for the moment.
“It’s okay,” Lin said.
“What is?” Severin asked.
“She does not speak English. Neither of them do,” she said, taking up position just inside the shop window, behind a lace curtain, in a spot from which she could watch the street. “I like Kristin very much. I try to help you. But quick. Then I go,” she said, her eyes never leaving the street.
“What are you worried about?”
“If somebody see me, or know I talk to you, it could jeopardize my work for the consulate.”
“Why would the consulate care if you talked with us?”
“After your State Department people talk to me, another man order me never to discuss the matter again.”
“Someone at the consulate told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if anybody asks, you can just tell them we were tour operators after all,” Zhang offered.
“Periodically, they check such things. Double-check. Sometimes they have people follow me. Because of the sensitivity of my work for U.S. Department of Commerce. Because of the sensitive information I see.”
“I understand,” Severin said. “We can be very brief.” She didn’t say anything, so he pressed on. “The person who ordered you not to discuss the case—was he your regular contact for contract work?”
“No. Not him. I don’t know who the man was. I never see him before.”
“An American?” Zhang asked.
“Yes.”
“From the State Department?” Severin asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. The State Department men came earlier.”
“Did this man say why you couldn’t discuss the case?”
“No.”
“Do you have any idea why anyone would order you not to discuss it?”
“I don’t know.”
“We understand that Kristin’s husband, Wesley, arrived as everyone was preparing to depart the hotel in Yinzhen,” Zhang said.
“Yes. I do not like him.”
“Why not?”
“His face. I could see that he was not a kind person. Not kind to Kristin.”
“Did he make any comments or gestures you perceived as indicating that he was a danger to Kristin or Bill Keen?”
“No. I was in my room packing when he arrive. I only see him for a few minutes while we wait in lobby for the vehicles. But I do not like his face.”
“Did you overhear anything he said? Anything at all?” Severin asked.
“No. He was whispering to Kristin when I come down to lobby. His face was angry as he whispered. Then we got in the vehicles and depart for Qingdao Airport. Bill Keen, Kristin and her husband were in van with Mr. Holloman. I ride in sedan with YSP company people. Once we depart hotel, I never talk to them again.”
“But you saw them. You saw them in the van.”
“The van was behind us on the road as we leave Yinzhen. Then it disappear, so we pull over to wait a few minutes. Then it pass us and we follow it to the main highway.”
“Where did you pull over?”
“Maybe 5 kilometers from Yinzhen. Small road between farm fields, somewhere between Yinzhen and the national express road. I am not sure where. It was getting dark.”
“Could you see them in the van as they passed? Are you sure they were still in the van?”
“Too dark.”
“What about the van driver? Anything odd about the behavior of YSP’s van driver?” Zhang asked.
“I don’t remember paying attention to him. He loaded everyone’s bags. After that, I don’t know.”
“Anything on previous days, like when he was drivi
ng the team back and forth from the hotel to YSP’s factory?”
“No. He was quiet. I didn’t pay attention to him.”
“Did you catch his name?”
“I heard them call him Fang.”
“Fang what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Xu. Fang Xu. Yes.”
“Did anyone put off even the slightest hint of antipathy toward Kristin or Bill? The YSP company people? Anyone?” Severin asked.
“Antipathy?”
“Hostility or dislike.”
“The YSP people were upset over how the investigation had gone. But I could not tell if their feelings were directed at Bill and Kristin or just at the situation.”
“Did they seem worried that the confusion over the dates of their records would have a negative impact on Commerce’s findings?”
“Dates of their records?”
“The YSP attorney, Mr. Holloman, told us there was a lot of confusion. That it took a lot of time to sort out. Something about the ledger books being accidentally labeled with the wrong months.”
She turned to face them. “Accidentally? I am not sure what you mean.”
“Well, what do you mean? Why were the YSP people upset?”
“I mean they were upset about the way the investigation ended. Upset that Keen ended the procedures prematurely because of the closet.”
Severin shot Zhang a perplexed look. “The closet?”
She glanced out at the street again, scanning with frightened eyes. “I told your investigators. From State Department.” Severin and Zhang stood speechless, so she went on. “On the examination tour of the factory. Bill and I were with YSP owner examining factory while Kristin stayed in office with YSP accountant and Mr. Holloman to keep reviewing records. We split up to save time. So Bill turns corner in factory and sees woman he never see before emerge from a door carrying what looks like one of the ledger books they had been examining. She looks surprised and nervous. She walks away into factory, but Bill catches door before it close. He look inside. It’s a closet full of cardboard boxes. On top of one box is ledger book labeled for one of same months Commerce team was examining. But original ledger books were already supposed to be in conference room for the Commerce team to inspect. This ledger book look exactly the same. Bill come out of the closet and walk over to me on other side of hallway and told me to go get Kristin and Mr. Holloman. But as he talk, somebody close the door to closet. Bill runs back to door and door is locked. He has me ask YSP people to unlock door. They apologize and say they didn’t know he wanted to go in closet or they would not have closed door, so now they must go find key. So Bill and I walk back to conference room where he tells Holloman that he must have immediate access to that closet or he will terminate investigation. Holloman ask him to calm down and says he will make all YSP personnel look for key.” The pace of Lin’s speech quickened the further she got into her story. “Bill says we will all wait by closet until key is found. But as we leave conference room and go into factory, we find door to hallway in which closet is located is now locked too. No window. No way to get in or see in to where closet is. Five minutes later, YSP owner comes with both keys and opens hallway door, then closet door. Bill goes into closet and starts to pull leger books out of boxes, but then realizes they are not for the same months that we are there to audit. They are from previous years. But Bill believes he previously saw one ledger book for one of exact same months he was auditing.”
“He was sure?”
“He was at first. But then when he began to doubt himself, he told Holloman that he wants to see woman who came out of closet so he could ask her about it face-to-face. But YSP people say they don’t know who he means. That no woman works in company offices. Bill says that is not true, and that if woman does not show up in conference room in five minutes, investigation is terminated. Five minutes go by. No woman comes. Bill ends investigation and says they will report what happened when they return to Washington, D.C.”
“Did Holloman seem worried when Bill first returned to the conference room and said he wanted in the closet?” Zhang asked.
“Hard to say. He was agitated, certainly, because Bill’s demand was very threatening. Later, after we return to conference room to wait for woman Bill saw, I had to use restroom, so I miss part of conversation. But when I return, Mr. Holloman is frustrated, telling Bill that YSP had been cooperating, that Bill was mistaken, and that he would sue Commerce Department for unreasonable termination of investigation and would win in court. Maybe Bill make accusations while I am in restroom. I do not know. YSP officials were very upset and were in animated discussion with Holloman through company’s interpreter.” As she said this, her eyes seemed to lock on someone walking outside.
“Could you hear what was said?”
“No, they went out into hall,” she said, backing away from the window as if retreating from a predator. “That’s all I know.”
Another customer opened the door to the shop, letting in the bright outside light. Lin slipped out as the door closed, refusing to meet Severin or Zhang’s eyes.
“Let her go,” Severin said. They turned their attention back to the tank of skin-eating fish and watched for a moment.
“Funny,” Zhang said.
“What is?”
“The name of that suspect van driver. Fang.”
“Creepy, right? Like a vampire.”
“No, dumb-ass. It translates to honest. Virtuous.”
“Ah. Well, you can’t judge a book by its cover. Honest Xu. I love y’all’s names.”
*****
“So what do we make of all that?” Zhang asked as they took their time strolling back through the French Concession neighborhood to their hotel.
“Sounds like YSP was up to no good. Had a second set of books. Maybe the records they showed Bill and Kristin were fakes.”
“But maybe not. It sounded like Bill wasn’t 100 percent certain. Maybe he was wrong about the date of the ledger book he found in the closet.”
“And wrong about seeing a female emerge from the closet? I don’t think so. Plus, it’s fishy that YSP claimed it didn’t have any female employees. It’s even more fishy that all these doors suddenly closed and locked and that the company people took a long time to get them open again—probably just enough time for them to clear out any accounting records that might indicate fraud. No. YSP was definitely bullshitting them.”
“Wouldn’t it be awfully hard to pull off creating a complete second set of books? I mean, if the Commerce team was performing an investigative audit, YSP would have needed fake invoices, raw materials purchase receipts, bills of lading, and so forth. Full fake accounting records.”
“All you need is a printer and some forms,” Severin said.
“A lot of forms.”
“Everyone has told us that fraud schemes are common in this arena. So if the records were fake, I’d guess the prices on the real invoices for YSP’s U.S. sales were much, much lower than the prices they declared to U.S. Customs or reported to Commerce. For that matter, they were probably undercutting their competition. I imagine that’s how they doubled their U.S. sales volume last year.”
“So on paper, YSP looked like it was playing by the rules. But in reality, it was selling its sorghum into the U.S. at anticompetitive low prices? Issuing a second set of invoices or something?”
“Exactly. I’d also guess that Keen’s termination of the investigation is probably what prompted his mysterious, wave-making email to Danielson. I wish we knew what the hell he told her.”
“Why would Holloman keep this from us?”
“He did say it was a bad day. He said there was a lot of confusion over the ledger books.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t come out and tell us that Keen ended the investigation early, did he?”
“Maybe he took advantage of the Commerce team’s disappearance to let the whole thing just go away.”
“Or maybe he killed them.”
“For the sake of a minor client?
A sorghum syrup processor in rural China that paid him a grand total of $35,000 when he’s probably pulling down at least half a million a year as a partner in a big D.C. law firm? Anything is possible, I suppose. But it seems improbable.”
“Well then, maybe someone from the company killed them. There was a lot more at stake for them, right?”
“That makes a little bit more sense. But still … .”
“And what’s the story with the mystery man ordering Ms. Lin to not speak with anyone about the case?”
“Now that is an excellent question. A troubling question.”
“And?”
Severin shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s a blank space in the story.”
“So now what?” Zhang asked.
“I suppose we go to Yinzhen. Maybe try to track down that van driver.”
“Maybe he killed them.”
“Maybe, indeed. Maybe on orders from the company, or maybe just for himself.”
TWENTY
The next morning, they woke relatively early to give Zhang plenty of time to figure out transportation. They learned it was roughly six hours driving time from Shanghai, up through the coastal province of Jiangsu, to Yinzhen. In the alternative, they could spend two hours getting to the far side of town and through security to an airplane, fly almost another two hours to Qingdao, negotiate for another car, and then drive an hour and a half from Qingdao to Yinzhen. They decided to drive the whole trip. It would probably take a hair longer, but would be less of a hassle.
Following the advice of the concierge, Zhang hired a regular Shanghai taxi to take them anywhere they wanted to go for $150 a day. As in the cell phone store, it took forever for Zhang to negotiate what should have been a very simple arrangement with the driver. At one point, with the driver looking on eagerly after making his latest argument, Zhang turned to Severin to complain that the Shanghainese loved to haggle, and that the negotiation was beginning to feel like a Monty Python sketch. When the deal was finally struck, all the cab driver had to do was disconnect the taxi light from the roof of his vehicle to avoid being ticketed for working in a city where he wasn’t licensed, and they were on their way.
Chasing the Monkey King Page 19
