Limit

by Frank Schätzing

  Chen, Jericho estimated, had come into the world sometime between 1966 and 1969: a time in which his name was about as common as caterpillars in salad. Hong-bing literally meant ‘Red Soldier’.

  Tu looked at the sun.

  ‘Hongbing has a daughter.’ The way he said it implied that this alone was worth telling the story for. His eyes lit up, then he got a grip of himself. ‘She’s very pretty and unfortunately very reckless too. Two days ago, she disappeared without a trace. Generally speaking she trusts me, and I’m tempted to say she trusts me even more than her father. Anyway, it’s not the first time she’s taken off for a while, but before she has always let someone know, so to speak. Him, me or at least one of her friends.’

  ‘And she forgot this time.’

  ‘Or she didn’t have a chance. Hongbing is worried out of his mind, and rightly so. Yoyo has a tendency to annoy the wrong people. Or, shall we say, the right ones.’

  Tu had outlined the problem in his own way. Jericho pursed his lips. It was clear what was expected of him. Besides that, the name Yoyo had unleashed something inside him.

  ‘And I’m supposed to look for the girl?’

  ‘You would be doing me a good turn if you met with Chen Hongbing.’ Cheerfully Tu spotted his ball and began to pace more briskly. ‘Only, of course, if you feel you’re able to.’

  ‘What exactly has she done?’ asked Jericho. ‘Yoyo, I mean.’

  Tu stepped over to the white object in the shortly cut grass, looked Jericho in the eyes and smiled. His look said that he wanted to get back to putting now. Jericho smiled back.

  ‘Tell your friend it would be an honour.’

  Tu nodded as if he had expected nothing less. He called Jericho xiongdi one more time and turned his undivided attention to the putter and ball.

  * * *

  The younger generation in China hardly played the game any more. Their tone of voice had become globalised. If someone wanted something from somebody, they generally came straight to the point without wasting any time. With Chen Hong-bing it was clearly a different matter. Everything about him marked him out as a representative of an older China, one in which there were a thousand ways of losing face. Jericho was indecisive for a moment, then had an idea of how he could salvage the situation for Chen. He leaned over, pulled a carpet knife from the toolbox next to the desk and began to briskly cut the chair free from the bubble wrap.

  Chen raised both hands in horror.

  ‘I beg you! This is so embarrassing for me—’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be.’ said Jericho cheerfully. ‘To be honest I was hoping for your help. There’s a second knife in the toolbox. What would you say to us joining forces and making this place a little more comfortable?’

  It was an ambush. At the same time he was offering Chen a way out of the self-inflicted mess. You help me, I’ll help you, then you’ll be contributing to my move, we’ll both be able to sit more comfortably and you can get the dust off your face. Quid pro quo.

  Chen seemed uncertain. He scratched his head, rattled himself to his feet, then fished the knife out of the box and took hold of the other chair. As he began to cut through the sticky-tape, he visibly relaxed.

  ‘I appreciate your gesture very much, Mr Jericho. Tian unfortunately didn’t have the opportunity to tell me that you were just moving in.’

  Which meant the idiot hadn’t mentioned it. Jericho shrugged his shoulders and pulled the cover off his armchair.

  ‘He didn’t know.’

  That was a lie too, but in that way they had both respected Tu and could turn their attention to more important matters. One after the other, they pushed the armchairs in front of the desk.

  ‘It doesn’t look so bad after all.’ Jericho grinned. ‘Now we just need something to refuel. What do you think? I could fetch us some coffee. There’s a patisserie downstairs, they do—’

  ‘No, don’t worry,’ Chen interrupted. ‘I’ll fetch them.’

  Ah yes. The game.

  ‘No, I couldn’t let you.’

  ‘Of course you can.’

  ‘No, it’s my pleasure. You’re my guest.’

  ‘And you’re receiving me unexpectedly. As I already said—’

  ‘It’s the least I can do for you. How do you like your coffee?’

  ‘How do you like yours?’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, but—’

  ‘Would you like nutmeg in yours?’

  That was the latest thing: nutmeg in coffee. It had allegedly saved Starbucks from bankruptcy last winter. The whole damn world had started drinking nutmeg coffee and swore that it tasted amazing. It reminded Jericho of the Sichuan Espresso craze which had rolled across the country a few years before, transforming the taste of Italian coffee into an Asian variant of Dante’s Inferno. Jericho had taken a little sip from the rim of a cup once, and even days later had still felt as though he could pull the skin from his lips.

  He gave in. ‘A normal cappuccino would be great. The patisserie is just downstairs on the left.’

  Chen nodded.

  And, suddenly, he was smiling too. The skin on his face stretched taut, making Jericho fear it might tear off, but it was a thoroughly lovely, friendly smile, and one which disappeared only once it reached the cracked wastelands beneath his eyes.

  * * *

  ‘Yoyo isn’t her real name,’ explained Chen, as they sat slurping coffee together. By now the air-conditioning was on and had created a reasonably bearable temperature. Chen’s posture suggested he thought the soft leather seat might throw him off at any second, but compared with the man who had skulked through the doorframe a quarter of an hour before, he made an almost normal impression.

  ‘So what is?’

  ‘Yuyun.’

  ‘Cloud of Jade.’ Jericho raised his eyebrows appreciatively. ‘A beautiful choice.’

  ‘Oh, I gave it a great deal of thought! I wanted it to be a light, fresh name, full of poetry, full of—’ Chen’s gaze clouded over and wandered off into the distance.

  ‘Harmony,’ completed Jericho.

  ‘Yes. Harmony.’

  ‘So why does she call herself Yoyo?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Chen sighed. ‘I know far too little about her, that’s the problem. Just because you have named someone, it doesn’t mean you know them. The label doesn’t define the content. And what are names anyway? Just rallying calls for the lost. And yet everyone hopes that their own child will be an exception, it’s like being anaesthetised. As if names could change anything. As if there has ever been any truth in a name!’ He took a noisy gulp of his coffee.

  ‘And Yoyo – Yuyun has disappeared?’

  ‘Let’s stick with Yoyo. Apart from me no one calls her Yuyun. Yes, I haven’t seen or spoken to her for two days now. Didn’t Tu Tian tell you about any of it?’

  ‘Only a little.’

  For some unknown reason this seemed to please Chen. Then Jericho realised. The way Tu had said it: I’m tempted to say that she trusts me more than her father. Whatever it was that bound Tu and Chen together, and however close this bond was – Yoyo’s preference came between them. And that’s why Chen had wanted the reassurance that, this time, not even Tu knew anything.

  ‘Well, we were supposed to meet up,’ he continued. ‘The day before yesterday, for lunch in Lianing Lu. I waited for over an hour, but she didn’t show. At first I thought it was because of an argument we’d had, that perhaps she was still angry, but then—’

  ‘You had an argument?’

  ‘We stayed out of each other’s way for a while after she confronted me with her reasons for moving out, ten days ago, out of the blue. She didn’t consider it necessary to seek my advice, nor did she want my help.’

  ‘You didn’t agree with her decision?’

  ‘It seemed too hasty to me, and I told her so. Very plainly! That there wasn’t the slightest reason for her to move out. That she was much better off with me than in that robber’s den she’s been hanging around in for years.
That she’s not doing herself any favour with those types of people – that it isn’t clever—’ Chen stared at the cup in his hand. They were silent for a while. Whole universes of dust emerged and disappeared in the sunlight. Jericho’s nose was itching, but he repressed the urge to sneeze. Instead, he tried to remember where he had read the name Yoyo Chen.

  ‘Yoyo has many talents,’ Chen continued softly. ‘Maybe I did hold her back too much. But I didn’t have a choice. She incurred the displeasure of prominent circles, and it was getting increasingly dangerous. They caught up with her five years ago – because she didn’t follow my advice.’

  ‘What did she do?’

  ‘Do? She completely ignored my warnings.’

  ‘Yes, I know. But that’s not a crime. Why was she arrested?’

  Chen blinked distrustfully.

  ‘I didn’t say that in so many words.’

  Jericho frowned. He leaned over, put the tips of his fingers together and looked Chen directly in the eyes.

  ‘Listen to me. I don’t want to push you by any means. But we won’t get anywhere like this. You wouldn’t be here just to say that the Party is giving Yoyo a lifetime achievement award, so let’s speak plainly. What did she do?’

  ‘She—’ Chen seemed to be looking for a way of formulating it which wouldn’t require definitions like ‘criticism of the regime’.

  ‘May I voice an assumption?’

  Chen hesitated. Then he nodded.

  ‘Yoyo is a dissident.’ Jericho knew this to be the case. But where on earth had he read her name? ‘She criticises the system, probably on the internet, and has been doing so for years. It drew attention on a number of occasions, but until yesterday she always got off lightly. Now something may have happened. And you’re worried that Yoyo may have been imprisoned.’

  ‘She said I was the last person who could reproach her for it,’ whispered Chen. ‘But I was only trying to protect her. We argued about it, many, many times, and she shouted at me. She said it was pointless, that I don’t let anyone get close to me, not even my own daughter, and how I of all people— She said I was a total hypocrite.’

  Jericho waited. Chen’s expression hardened.

  ‘But I didn’t mean to bother you with these stories,’ he concluded. ‘The main thing is that there hasn’t been any sign of life from her in two days.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s less serious than you think. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s son or daughter has disappeared after an argument. They lie low with friends, play dead for a while, just to teach their parents a lesson.’

  Chen shook his head. ‘Not Yoyo. She would never use an argument as cause to do something like that.’

  ‘You said yourself that you don’t know your daughter well enough—’

  ‘Well, in this respect I know her very well. We are similar in many ways. Yoyo hates that kind of childish nonsense.’

  ‘Have you checked with the authorities?’

  Chen balled his hands into fists. His knuckles bulged, white, but his face remained expressionless. Jericho knew they were getting closer to the crux of the matter, the real reason why Tu had sent his friend here.

  ‘You have checked, haven’t you?’

  ‘No, I haven’t!’ Chen seemed to chew the words before spitting them out. ‘I can’t! I can’t check with the authorities without risking putting them on Yoyo’s trail.’

  ‘So it’s not certain that Yoyo has been arrested?’

  ‘Last time I was left in the dark for weeks as to which police station she was in. But the fact that she had been arrested at all, well, I found that out just a few hours after it happened. I should mention that I have managed to build up a few important contacts over the years. There are people who are willing to use their influence for Yoyo and me.’

  ‘Like Tu Tian.’

  ‘Yes, and others too. That’s the only reason I knew that Yoyo had been arrested back then. I asked these – friends, but they claimed not to know Yoyo’s location. It wouldn’t surprise me if she has given the authorities new reasons to hunt her down, but perhaps they haven’t even noticed.’

  ‘You mean that perhaps Yoyo just got scared and decided to lie low for a while?’

  Chen kneaded his fingers. To Jericho, he looked like a taut bowstring. Then he sighed.

  ‘If I go to the police,’ he said, ‘I could end up sowing mistrust into a field of ignorance. Yoyo would become a target again, whether she’s done anything wrong or not. Any reason would be enough for them. Yoyo avoided provoking them for a while, and it seemed to me that she’d learned her lesson and made her peace with the past, but—’ He looked at Jericho with his weary, intensely dark eyes. This time he didn’t blink. ‘You understand my dilemma, Mr Jericho?’

  Jericho looked at him in silence. He leaned back and thought. As long as Chen continued circling the issue like a wolf around a fire, they wouldn’t make any progress. So far his guest was only dropping hints. Jericho doubted Chen was even aware he was doing it. He had internalised the sidestepping in such a way that he probably thought he was walking in a straight line.

  ‘I don’t want to press you too much, Mr Chen – but could it be that you might be the wrong person to contact the authorities when it comes to dissident activities?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I’m just voicing my suspicion that Yoyo isn’t only being hunted down for her own actions.’

  ‘I understand.’ Chen stared at him. ‘You’re right, not everything in my past is to Yoyo’s advantage. But regardless of that, I’d be doing her a disservice if I went to the police. Can we leave it at that for now?’

  Jericho nodded. ‘You know the focus of my work?’ he asked. ‘Did Tu Tian put you in the picture?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My hunting ground is the internet. I imagine he recommended me because Yoyo has become active online.’

  ‘He thinks a great deal of you. He says you’re the best.’

  ‘I’m honoured. Do you have a photo of Yoyo?’

  ‘Oh, I have more than that! I have films.’ He reached into his jacket and pulled out a mobile phone. It was an older model, one that wasn’t compatible with 3D projection. Chen turned his attention to it with his now familiar blinking, pressed a few buttons in succession, but nothing happened.

  ‘May I offer my assistance?’ Jericho suggested.

  ‘Yoyo gave it to me, but I hardly ever use it.’ A trace of embarrassment crossed Chen’s face. He handed the device to Jericho. ‘I know, it’s laughable. Ask me something about cars. Old cars, vintage. I know all the models, but these things here—’

  These things, thought Jericho, are already vintage too, in case you didn’t realise.

  ‘You’re interested in cars?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m an expert! Historical Beauty, in Beijing Donglu. Haven’t you been? I manage the Technical Customer Service department. You must do me the honour of a visit; we had a silver Rolls-Royce Corniche in last month, with wood and red leather seats, a splendid specimen. It came from Germany, sold by an old man. Do you like cars?’

  ‘They have their uses.’

  ‘May I ask what you drive?’

  ‘A Toyota.’

  ‘Hybrid?’

  ‘Fuel cell.’ Jericho turned the mobile over in his hand and glanced at the connection points. With an adapter he could have projected the contents onto his new holowall, but it wasn’t being delivered until the evening. He clicked through to the folder. ‘May I?’

  ‘Please. There are only three films on it, all of Yoyo.’

  Jericho pointed the device at the wall opposite and activated the integrated beamer. He focused the picture to the size of a standard flat screen so there would be enough clarity despite the penetrating sunlight, and started the first recording.

  Tu Tian had been right.

  No, he hadn’t done her justice! Yoyo wasn’t just pretty, she was extraordinarily beautiful. During his time in London Jericho had familiarised himself with the most differing
of theories about the existence of beauty: facial symmetry, the shaping of particular features like the eyes or lips, proportioning of bone structure, the amount of childlike characteristics. Studies like these were used in the psychological fight against crime, and they were also used as the basis of tracking down people disguising themselves with virtual personalities. Modern studies concluded that perfect feminine beauty was defined by large, round eyes and a high, lightly curved forehead, while the nose had to be slender and the chin small but clearly defined. If you processed women’s faces in a morphing program and added a certain percentage of childlike features, the rate of approval from male viewers soared spontaneously. Full lips trumped narrow ones, eyes which were too close lost against those set at a certain distance. The perfect Venus had high cheekbones, narrow, dark brows, long lashes, glossy hair and an even hairline.

  Yoyo was all of this – and yet none of it.

  Chen had filmed her during a performance in some badly lit club, flanked by musicians who might or might not have been male. Nowadays, young men cultivated an increasingly androgynous style and wore their hair down to their belts. For anyone who wanted to be someone in the Mando-prog scene, the only other option was to shave their hair off and wear a skull cap. Short hair was out of the question. They could equally have been avatars, leaning over their guitars and bass: holographic simulations, even though that would have been hugely expensive. Only very successful musicians could afford avatars, like the American rapper Eminem who, now over fifty years of age and wanting to relive his heyday, had recently projected numerous versions of himself onto the stage, which played the instruments, danced, and unfortunately displayed much more agility than the master himself.