by Qiu Xiaolong
“You’ve done a lot. It’s just that the situation is so complicated at the moment,” Li said. “Of course, that does not mean we cannot do anything. We have to proceed carefully. I will discuss it with some people.”
“Yes, we are always discussing,” Chen said, “but Wu’s applying for a visa to the United States at the very moment.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes,” Chen said. “Wu will get away while we are still discussing and discussing.”
“No he won’t if he is guilty, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen,” Li said slowly. “But there’s something else I want to talk to you about first. It’s about your new assignment.”
“Another assignment?”
“There was an emergency meeting yesterday at the city government hall. About the traffic problem in Shanghai. Traffic, as Comrade Deng Xiaoping has pointed out, is one of the everyday concerns for our people. Now that more people have cars, with new construction going on everywhere and roads being blocked, the traffic situation is becoming a serious problem. Comrade Jia Wei, Director of the Shanghai Metropolitan Traffic Control Office, has been sick for a long time. We have to have someone young and energetic to fill such a position. So I recommended you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, all the people agreed with me. You’ve been appointed temporary acting director of Shanghai Metropolitan Traffic Control. It’s an important position. You will have several hundred people under your command.”
Chen was confounded. It was a promotion, to all appearances. And to a position far beyond a chief inspector’s level. Normally, a cadre of tenth rank would be chosen for such a post. According to an old Chinese saying, his promotion to the position was like a carp jumping over a dragon gate. And it would also be highly lucrative. The latest fashion was for people to drive their own cars, to show their wealth, success, and social status. With more vehicles adding to traffic congestion, the city government had set up strict regulations about issuing vehicle licenses. As a result, license applicants had to pay a considerable “back door” amount in addition to the regular fee. Since most of the private car owners were upstarts, they were willing to pay to get their hands on the wheel. Bribery to traffic control officers had become an open secret.
“I’m so overwhelmed,” Chen said, trying to gain time by resorting to political clichés. “I’m too young for such a position of heavy responsibility. And I have no experience—none whatever in the field.”
“In the nineties, we are getting experience every day. Besides, why shouldn’t we use our young cadres?”
“But I am still working on the Guan case—I am still the head of the special case group—aren’t I ?”
“Let me repeat it one more time: No one says that you have been suspended from your job here. The case is not closed—I give you my word as an old Bolshevik with thirty years in the Party. This is an emergency posting, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.”
Could it be a trap? It would be much easier to connect him with malfeasance in the new position. Or could it be a demotion in the disguise of promotion? Such a tactic was well known in China’s politics. The new job was a temporary one, and after a while he could be justifiably relieved of it, and then of his chief inspectorship at the same time.
Anything was possible.
Outside the window, traffic was heavy along the Fuzhou Road, where a white car came rushing through the intersection recklessly.
A decision flashed through his mind. “You are right, Comrade Party Secretary,” Chen said. “As long as it is the Party’s decision, I accept it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Li said, apparently pleased. “You are going to do a great job there.”
“I will do my best, but I want to ask for something—a free hand. No Commissar Zhang or anybody like him. I need the authorization to do whatever I think necessary. Of course, I’ll report to you, Comrade Party Secretary Li.”
“You’re fully authorized, Comrade Director Chen,” Li said. “You don’t have to go out of your way to report to me.”
“When shall I start?”
“Immediately,” Li said. “As a matter of fact, the people there are waiting for you.”
“Immediately, then.”
As he stood up, ready to walk out of the office, Party Secretary Li added casually, “By the way, you got a phone call from Beijing yesterday. It was a young woman, judging by her voice.”
“She dialed your number?”
“No, she somehow had access to our bureau’s direct line, so it came to my attention. It was during the lunch break. We could not find you, and then I had to attend the meeting at the city hall. Well, her message is ‘Don’t worry. Things are going to change. I’ll contact you again. Ling.’ Her phone number is 987-5324. If you want to call back, you can use our direct line.”
“No, thanks,” he said. “I think I know what this is about.”
Chen knew the number, but he did not want to call back. Not in the company of Party Secretary Li. The Party Secretary was always politically sensitive. Ling’s access to the bureau’s direct line would have spoken for itself. And the phone number in Beijing, too.
She had made another effort to help—in her way.
So how could he be upset with her?
Whatever she did was done for his sake—and at cost to herself.
“So don’t worry,” Party Secretary Li said as Chief Inspector Chen left his office.
Chief Inspector Chen did not even have time to worry.
Downstairs, he saw a black Volkswagen waiting for him at the driveway. The driver, Little Zhou, was all smiles. Party Secretary Li was not just being dramatic about the urgency of the assignment.
“Good news!”
“I don’t know,” Chen said.
“Well, I know. We’re off to your new office,” Little Zhou said. “Party Secretary Li has just told me.”
The traffic was terrible. Chen thought about it, and about his new position, as the car crawled along Yen’an Road. It took them almost an hour to reach the Square Mansion, located at the People’s Square.
“What a location! And you’ll have a car exclusively for yourself, and a driver, too,” Little Zhou said, reaching out of the window before he drove away. “Don’t forget us.”
His new office was a multi-room suite in the Square Mansion in the center of Shanghai. The city government itself was located in the same building, together with a number of important organizations. Such an impressive office site was probably chosen to convince people of the serious attention being paid to traffic congestion by the city authorities, Chen reflected.
“Welcome, Director Chen.” A young girl wearing a pair of silver-rimmed glasses was waiting for him. “I am Meiling, your secretary.”
So he had a personal secretary working for him at a reception area in front of his spacious office. Meiling lost no time showing him the ropes. “The office is not just a department under the Shanghai police bureau. It’s under the joint leadership of the city government and the bureau,” Meiling said. “Even the mayor himself calls in here from time to time.”
“I see,” he said. “So there is a lot of work.”
“Yes, we’ve been terribly busy. Our old director was rushed to the hospital, and we have not had any preparation for your arrival.”
“Neither have I. As a matter of fact, I knew nothing about my appointment until a couple of hours ago.”
“Our old director has been sick for several months,” Meiling said apologetically, “There’s a backlog of work.”
So there was all the routine work he would have to familiarize himself with—documents to read, officers to meet, reports to review, and calls to make. Several papers were already waiting his signature.
Following Meiling, he made a tour of his office suite. There were several computers in each room, forming a network for metropolitan traffic control. In spite of the evening computer courses he had taken, he would require two or three weeks to become familiar with the system. A director’s res
ponsibilities consisted not only of dispatching traffic police officers, but also maintaining close cooperation with the public transportation bureau, the construction bureau, and the city government.
After the tour, Chen felt even more disoriented. Earlier in the morning, he had been ready to quit, believing that his career coming to an end. Now he was sitting at an impressive desk, the tall window behind him overlooking the People’s Square, with the afternoon sunlight shining on his brass director’s plaque.
But he did not have the time to ponder this unexpected change. Meiling handed him a copy of the department newsletter. “The latest issue, just delivered to us.”
It was an edition focusing on traffic violation cases. Most of the offenders were quite young. Yet they might be seriously punished, for the report’s tone sounded politically serious. Some might even get ten or fifteen years.
He leaned back in his swivel chair, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated, watching Meiling arrange the papers neatly in a pile on the desk. His first secretary. It was wonderful to have one. He was intrigued by the difference produced by a female presence in the office.
He settled down to the work.
The day turned out to be much longer than he had expected. He told Meiling to go home at six. By the time he himself was able to leave his office, it was already past eight.
Little Zhou’s guess was right. Chen had a car for himself, and a driver, too, who had called his office asking when he would be needed. He declined the offer; as the director of the Shanghai Traffic Control Office, he felt obliged to learn the situation firsthand.
With my horse galloping jubilantly in the spring wind,
I see the flowers all over Luoyang in one day.
The decision to take the bus home instead of his car cost him another hour. The bus came to a stop in bumper-to-bumper traffic at Henan Road. The weather was hot, and the passengers cursed the stuffy air loudly. He, too, grew inexplicably exasperated—involved in the collective angst of the city. Still, it was an ethical necessity for him, he believed, to experience the traffic ordeal as one of the ordinary Shanghai people.
It was not until he had reached his apartment, and lit a cigarette, that he was able to look back at the day’s events. He should have been elated by the unexpected promotion, but its very unexpectedness was disturbing to him. Why should he, of all people, have been chosen to fill such an important position?
A man, once bitten by a snake, would be nervous all his life at the shadow of a straw rope.
Yet it did not appear to be a trap. He thought about the last remark by Party Secretary Li as he left Li’s office, about Ling’s long distance call from Beijing. Was his promotion just due to her family? That was what he dreaded.
* * * *
Chapter 38
C
hief Inspector Chen—”Director Chen”—lost no time in exercising his new authority, as he sat in the leather swivel chair against a wall plastered with street and transport maps, looking down at the people moving about in the People’s Square.
One of the first few instructions he had dictated to Meiling was to summon Old Hunter to the office. As the old man had been working as a temporary traffic patrol officer, it was not difficult for Meiling to page him. Old Hunter arrived at the office, as Meiling was ready to leave. Chen asked her to stay, saying, “Don’t go, Meiling. Please get me the regulations regarding an adviser’s position for our department. Compensation, as well as the other benefits.”
“They are all in the cabinet,” Meiling said. “I’ll find them.”
“Congratulations. Chief Inspector Chen—oh no, Director Chen,” Old Hunter said as he examined the impressive office furniture. “Everybody says you are doing a wonderful job.”
“Thank you, Comrade Old Yu. It’s my second day here. As a new hand, I need your valuable help.”
“I’ll do whatever I can. Director Chen.”
“You’ve worked as a traffic officer. So one of the problems you must have noticed, I believe, is the problem of traffic accidents. These accidents cause not only casualties, but also serious traffic jams.”
“That’s true,” Old Hunter said, casting a curious glance at Meiling, who was kneeling on the floor, busily searching in the drawer of the tall file cabinet.
“I believe it is partially because more and more people are driving around without a license.”
“You’re right. Driving has become a fashion. Everybody wants to have his hands on the wheel. Driving school is way too expensive, and takes a long time, so some people go without a license.”
“Yes, this is really dangerous.”
“Exactly. Those young people—quite a number of them— seem to believe they’re born drivers. Totally irresponsible.”
“That is why I want you to do something—a sort of experiment. Choose one particular area, station yourself there, and look out for those licenseless drivers. If you have a hunch, stop the car for a checkup. Don’t just give a violator a ticket, take him into custody—no matter who he may be.”
“Good idea,” Old Hunter said. “As that old saying goes, you have to use a strong drug for a desperate disease.”
“And report to me directly.”
“That’s fine. Like son, like father. Where are you going to put me?”
“What about Jingan District? As for a particular street, you pick one. My suggestion is to start with Henshan Road.”
“Oh, Henshan Road—yes.” Old Hunter’s eyes sparkled. “I see, Chief Inspector Chen—no, Director Chen.”
“It’s an important task,” Chen said earnestly. “Only a veteran like you would be up to it. So I’d like to appoint you as our special adviser. You will have a couple of police officers under your command.”
“No, you don’t have to create a position for me, Director Chen. I will do my best anyway.”
“Meiling,” Chen said, turning to his secretary, “when you find the compensation regulation, send Adviser Yu the money in accordance with it.”
“I’ve already got it,” Meiling said, “A check can be cut right away.”
“That’s great. Thank you.”
“No,” Old Hunter protested in embarrassment. “I’d rather be a volunteer.”
“No, you will be paid, and you will have your men, too. That’s your authority. I just want to emphasize one point: Do whatever you are supposed to—no matter whose car it may be—with a white plate or not.”
“Got you, Comrade Director Chen.”
Chen believed he had made himself clear to Old Hunter—in Meiling’s presence.
Old Hunter should be able to detain whoever drove the white Lexus—at least for one day. If anything went wrong, Old Hunter was no more than a traffic police officer carrying out his responsibilities. So there was one thing Chen was now able to do about Guan’s’ case.
The result came faster than he had expected.
On Thursday, he attended a field meeting in the morning. The mayor inspected the project connecting the banks of the Huangpu River by the Yangpu Bridge. Once it was completed, the bridge would also alleviate the traffic congestion in the area. Chen had to be there too, mixing with a group of cadres, walking back and forth along the bridge.
When he returned to the office, Meiling pointed her finger at his closed office door with a slightly puzzled expression on her face. Approaching, he could hear a high-pitched voice inside his office. “It’s no good denying it, Guo Qiang!”
“It’s Old Comrade Yu talking with somebody in there,” Meiling said in a subdued voice. “He wanted to bring the man into your office. For an important case, he said. He’s our adviser. So I had to let them in.”
“You did the right thing,” he assured her.
They overheard Old Hunter saying, “Why are you trying so hard to save someone else’s ass, you sucker? You know our Party’s policy, don’t you?”
“Comrade Adviser Yu is right.” Chen opened the door upon a sight he had foreseen: Old Hunter stood like a Suzhou opera singer talking dra
matically to a man slumped in the chair.
The man was in his early forties, lanky, narrow-shouldered, with a suggestion of a hunchback. The photo of the stranger on top of Guan flashed through Chief Inspector Chen’s mind. This was the man.
“Ah, Director Chen,” Old Hunter said, “you’re back just in time. This S.O.B. has not spilled the beans yet.”
“He is—”
“Guo Qiang. He was driving a white Lexus—without a license.”
“Guo Qiang,” Chen said. “You know why you are here today?” Chen said.
“I don’t know,” Guo said. “Driving without a license is a minor offense. Just give me a ticket. You’ve no right to keep me here.”