A Killing Air

by Nigel Price

  “I certainly hope so,” Harry replied.

  She led the way to the bus. It stood in a row of identical buses, all steel grey and glass. Some writing in Chinese characters was splattered along the sides. Harry presumed it was the name of the company.

  They climbed aboard, showing their tickets to an attendant as they did so. Each ticket was studied as if the uniformed girl had never seen such a thing before. She clipped them and handed them back.

  Their seats were halfway down the aisle. Lisa slung her pack onto the overhead rack then slipped into the window seat, shuffling like a chicken preparing to roost. Harry put his holdall up beside her pack and sat down next to her. He saw that she was holding a large brown paper bag. She saw his expression. “Lunch,” she explained. She opened the bag to show an array of sandwiches, each wrapped in its own polythene sheath.

  “Egg, chicken, ham …” she began, and rambled on until she had detailed the entire contents.

  “And you’re going to eat all that?”

  She laughed. “It’s for both of us.”

  He felt momentarily stupid, not having thought about provisions. Some ex-soldier he was. Whatever had happened to all the old skills? He sincerely hoped they would come back to him if needed.

  Departure time came and the bus left promptly. It travelled several hundred yards then stopped in a queue of solid traffic. Lisa looked at it and sighed. “Welcome to Beijing.”

  “How far before we get onto the highway?” Harry asked.

  “Not far, but if the traffic’s bad it can take a long time just to go a couple of miles.”

  “Best break out the sandwiches then.”

  They munched their way through the food as the coach inched towards the edge of the city. Further along the bus someone opened a window. Everyone nearby screamed at him to shut it as gusts of petrol and diesel fumes surged inside, together with several other less easily identifiable smells. The hapless passenger muttered some retort, stuck his head out and threw up. Relieved, he pulled his head back in, closed the window and carried on with his lunch.

  At last they reached the highway, turned onto it, pulled out into fast-moving traffic, and the journey was properly under way. The coach gathered speed, the driver ignoring the appalling visibility.

  “Do you know how to get to Mrs Yan’s village?” Harry asked, trying to distract himself from the absence of any braking distance between the coach and the speeding truck in front.

  Lisa nodded. Her mouth was full but it didn’t stop her from answering. “It is not far outside Chengde. Perhaps a couple of hours in a taxi. Or we can rent a car. Hans said that might be the best idea. His friend can help us. Maybe he will lend us his. Or drive us there.”

  “Who is this friend?”

  “Herbert Zhu.”

  “Herbert?”

  “Yes, why? Is that funny?”

  “Not at all,” Harry said. “Herbert’s a fine name. And what does Herbert do?”

  “He is a lawyer. He takes on cases that make him very unpopular.”

  “Great. Just the man we need. It will be like travelling with a sign round our necks, advertising what we’re up to. Surely he’s monitored by the local police? Do we really need him?”

  “Yes. He has contacts that will be useful. Even the police have to be careful sometimes. Even here.”

  Harry wasn’t convinced.

  “If there is some pollution issue, something to do with the water, or a factory or anything like that, it will be local knowledge. The authorities will be making all the right noises about it to keep the public happy.”

  “They didn’t do a very good job keeping Mrs Yan happy,” Harry remarked.

  “Which is why we are going there. Herbert will be very useful.”

  “Have you met him before?”

  “No,” Lisa replied. “But he is a friend of Hans, so I trust him.”

  “Why couldn’t Hans just ring up his friend and run it past him over the phone?”

  Lisa stared at him as if he was stupid. “Our phones and emails are all monitored. So are yours in the hotels. They know everything. If Hans had done that, we would find out nothing. They would have covered up everything long before we got there. Actually, we wouldn’t even be allowed to travel. Not so soon before the National Congress.”

  “What could they do? They couldn’t lock you all up,” Harry said.

  Again she gave him her ‘you’re an idiot’ look. “Of course they could. They lock up hundreds of people before every Congress. Lawyers, journalists, all sorts. I’m amazed Hans is still free to go about his business.”

  Harry thought of something. “Emails sent from the hotels are monitored?”

  “Of course.”

  “How on earth do they do that? How many hotels, and how many foreign guests, and …”

  She shook her head smiling. “The security services have bottomless pockets. They can employ as many people as they need for the job. There aren’t that many hotels that foreigners stay at. Emails sent from them go through a small number of servers. Actually it’s not difficult at all. They know everything you say, whether you speak to your office or email them.”

  Harry was well aware that most western social media sites were blocked in China, replaced with more easily monitored local variants. He also knew the pressures brought to bear on big players like Google and Yahoo to snap them into line. The message was clear. ‘Obey our rules or you don’t operate in China.’ And China was a market which no one could ignore. The next superpower.

  Over the years he had seen one global player after another moving in and setting up shop. There were always teething problems but it was in everyone’s interests for the cooperation to succeed. China needed the western know-how that it had missed during the second half of the twentieth century. Western companies needed a slice of the ever-growing Chinese market. The two shadow-boxed around the ring, western interests squaring off against an ingrained Chinese suspicion of outside interference. Each taking all they could from the other, without surrendering to the opposing culture and values.

  The coach roared on, heading north. Then something unexpected happened. The sky came back. One minute Harry was staring forlornly out of the filthy window, taking in the dullest scenery, the horizon a close-kept secret. The next, like an aeroplane climbing out of dark cloud, the coach burst into the light. It was not exactly sunlight and blue sky, but the next best thing. An absence of the thick belt of muck he had been breathing since landing in Beijing in the lead-up to the conference.

  His back straightened, as did all those around him. People stirred and pointed out the spectacle to each other. Then even the horizon came home. And there, way up ahead, it rolled up and down announcing the approach of the hills. Beyond the hills, mountains. And there, somewhere amongst them, Chengde, their destination.

  Harry had lost track of their progress. He estimated that they had been travelling for about two hours so were perhaps half way. Possibly a bit further. He would have consulted Lisa except that she had fallen asleep some time before. Her head had first lolled against the window then against his shoulder. Being the softer of the two options, his shoulder remained its home. Harry looked at the crown of her head. He caught the faint scent of some kind of hair oil. It was nice.

  The coach was slowing down, pulling over to the side of the road where a bus stop displayed a short queue of passengers intending to board either this bus or some other. Sure enough, only a couple of them stepped forward. The bus rumbled to a halt with a great outburst of air from the hot brakes. The door at the front hissed open. A woman with a baby got on with a kerfuffle of limbs and cloths and snot and hair and wailing. Seated passengers shouted advice or insults. Harry couldn’t tell the difference. His Mandarin caught a few words here and there. ‘Back ‘Empty.’ ‘Milk.’ ‘Ticket.’ ‘Speed.’ To Harry’s consternation, for a moment the new arrival seemed to be considering a seat opposite him. The baby in her arms lolled dangerously close to his face. It peered into his eyes, noted h
is odd features and let out an enormous wail from the depths of its troubled soul.

  Lisa woke up. She let rip at the woman with an outpouring of something or other. Whatever she had said, it did the trick. The woman returned to take a seat nearer the front. As she did so she edged past one of the other new passengers. There was some pushing and shoving and more swearing. The man raised a hand as if to cuff the woman. She gave him a faceful of invective from point blank range. He thought better of his assault as other passengers seemed to take the woman’s side. Behind him, his companion spoke quietly to him. The two men were together.

  Confrontation avoided, the woman took her seat, the infant secure in her arms. She glared after the two men who continued on their way down the aisle. They edged past Harry. Each carried a large holdall. They were big men, tall and lean. The woman made one final noise and was silent, finally settling. Harry smiled to himself, bemused by the whole escapade. He looked up at the two passing men. One of them looked back at him. The man had a swollen eye, a fresh bruise ripening nicely into a real shiner. His colleague had a large round dark patch splashed across his cheek and jaw.

  Harry smiled on, taking his eyes away and casting an interested gaze at something else. Anything else. Anything but the two men who had beaten Mrs Yan Yajun of Chengde.

  Fourteen

  There are times when caution can be thrown to the wind. Those are bold times, brave times. Times of bravado and derring-do. This was not such a time. Harry felt his blood run cold. The hair on the back of his neck prickled to attention. He widened the plant of his feet in case he would need to spring into action. The men had passed behind him. He forced himself to keep his gaze directed ahead. He didn’t think the man had recognised him but he couldn’t be sure. One thing was certain. If he looked round and met the man’s stare again, the penny would drop. They would be on to him.

  Lisa was rummaging in her lunch bag, inspecting the remnants. Should he tell her? Harry looked at her. She caught his glance and smiled. “Sandwich?” she asked brightly.

  He shook his head. “No thanks.” His mind was fighting back to the underpass, the night before last. How good had the lighting been? Had the two men managed to get a clear look at him then? He doubted it. It had been dark and he had waded in full blast. So how was it that he had recognised them? Was he even right? Yes. He felt it in his bones. Partly it was his old training coming back. Out on patrol in Afghanistan, attention to detail had been vital. Noticing the little things. Anything untoward. There it had meant the difference between life and death.

  The two attackers from the underpass might be vicious thugs, but they were no more than that. Whatever their training might have been, it had been rudimentary. And Harry had always had an excellent memory for a face. Names were another matter, but with faces he was as good as it gets.

  “How much longer before we’re there?” he asked.

  Lisa looked at her watch. Harry noticed the dial’s face was Mickey Mouse. One thickly gloved hand pointed to the Two, the other – forefinger held aloft as if noting some fine distinction – edged towards Twelve. “Another hour? Perhaps an hour and a half,” she replied. She saw his expression and self-consciously tugged down her cuff. Mickey Mouse was gone.

  Harry was desperate to share his knowledge. He set his jaw and stared stonily ahead. The mountains were being pushed up out of the horizon. It was as if someone had watered them and they were growing. Like shark’s teeth, new ones were popping into view the closer the coach approached. Row upon row of them. All bright and fresh even beneath a cloudy sky.

  Eventually, after another hour the temptation became too great. Harry was overpowered by it. Pretending to be following the line of a passing attraction somewhere out of the window, he rotated at the waist and turned. The two men were sitting three rows behind him on the opposite side of the bus. They were both asleep, heads lolling together.

  He nudged Lisa sharply in the ribs. “It’s them,” he hissed.

  She sat up. She had been dozing too. “What?”

  “The men,” he said urgently. “The ones from the underpass.”

  “Where?”

  He checked they were still asleep and then pointed them out to her. She stared hard. Harry could feel her whole body go rigid. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty much. As much as I can be. Short of asking them.”

  She looked at him to check he wasn’t seriously intending to do so. “What do we do?”

  “Absolutely bloody nothing,” he whispered. “Assuming they’re going to Chengde, we can see if anyone meets them there. Where they go.”

  “You mean we follow them?”

  “Why not?” He couldn’t think of anything else. It wouldn’t be easy. A westerner with a Chinese girl would hardly be unobtrusive.

  A thought occurred to Lisa. “Why are they going to Chengde?”

  “Goodness knows. Could be anything. Must be related to her though. Too much of a coincidence.”

  Lisa had gone pale. “They could be following us.”

  “Don’t think so. If they wanted to do that they’d hardly board the bus and walk right past me. They wouldn’t risk being recognised. I don’t think they know who I am. Look at them.” He checked again. Heads lolling, fast asleep. “They’re off guard.”

  She agreed. “Then it is Mrs Yan. They’re going where we’re going. For some reason.”

  The coach roared on. The road had been climbing gently for some time in vast great curls as it started into the hills, heading up towards the city that a Qing emperor had established as his imperial summer residence over three hundred years before. Lisa looked out at the countryside. “It is beautiful here.”

  Harry followed her gaze. It was certainly a big improvement on Beijing. Not far to the north lay Mongolia and the wastes of the Gobi desert. Winter had the hemisphere in its grip. Rain was rare at this time of year and for the most part the landscape clung to life through dry barren months. But when it did come, it could blow in with a vengeance. It was hard to tell which way this particular sky intended to go. From the look of it Harry felt a storm might be on the way. It was like trying to suss out a big, still dog. Waggy tail or exploding attack?

  The two of them sat there stiffly. Their previous ease had evaporated. Instead they expected sudden shouts and cries and alarms. Nothing happened. The men slept on. An hour later the coach started through suburbs. Chengde. They were like suburbs anywhere else in China. The bus station too was wholly unremarkable, though neither Harry nor Lisa was interested in sight-seeing any longer. Disembarkation was going to be tricky.

  The bus pulled into a parking bay next to a row of identical buses. The door hissed open and the public address system distorted the driver’s announcement into unintelligible gobbledegook. Harry assumed it was along the lines of ‘thank you for travelling with blah, blah coaches, now get off.’ Which is exactly what everyone did. All at once and in competition with everyone else.

  He reached up and passed down Lisa’s pack, then grabbed his holdall and together they fought their way off the bus. The two men had already beaten their way outside and were heading off across the acres of concrete parking space. Lisa watched them go.

  “Do we follow?” Reluctance dripped from the question.

  “Come on.” Harry helped her slip her arms through the pack’s straps, picked up his holdall and led the way after them. With so many people disembarking, it was easier than he’d feared to conceal themselves in the crowd. The men were striding ahead, making for a taxi rank, oblivious to Harry and Lisa.

  “What do we do?” Lisa asked. “We can hardly hop in a taxi and say follow that cab. The drivers are all friends. Ours would think it was a huge joke and radio his buddy all about it.”

  Harry didn’t have to answer. “They’re not going for a cab,” he said. “Look.” On the far side of the taxi rank, a minivan was parked at the kerb. The sliding side door was open. Other men lounged around it. They hailed the two who waved back. “Seems they’ve already got a ride.�
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  On top of the van was a rack of blue and red lights. Police.

  “Now that’s interesting.” Lisa was thoughtful. She and Harry stopped and watched. There was a general sloppy shaking of hands. Job well done? Bad luck? Harry tried to guess the line the greetings might be taking. The men all squeezed into the van. The side door slammed shut. Blue smoke belched from the exhaust. Off it went, pulling out into traffic and away.

  “So they’re local police,” Lisa observed. “Not Beijing. Interesting.”

  “Why?”

  “A local affair. They tracked Mrs Yan to the big city to stop her doing what they knew she was going to try and do. And they succeeded.”

  “A local scandal then,” Harry said.

  “Maybe.”

  With their immediate objective removed from the scene, they stood taking in their surroundings. “What now?” Harry asked. “Hotel?”

  “Let’s make contact with Herbert first.” Lisa took out a slip of paper. She led the way to the taxi rank and showed the address on the paper to the driver. He grunted and jerked a thumb towards the back seat. They got in.

  The drive was a short one. Five blocks away from the bus station the car pulled up outside a dilapidated block of flats. Washing festooned the balconies all the way to the top. Children playing in the dirt outside stopped and gaped at the big westerner getting out of the taxi. Harry tried a winning smile. The smallest of the children giggled, covering its mouth with one mud-encrusted hand. The others simply stared back, enrapt.

  Lisa waggled her fingers at them. Then, “Boo!” They ran off shrieking.

  There was a lift but a sign stuck to the half-open doors told them it was out of order. “What floor’s he on?” Harry asked warily. He could feel Murphy’s Law clicking into action.