Jasmine

by Noboru Tsujihara

  Zhang shook his head.

  “Commercial transactions with China were so complex that native-born agents used to serve as middlemen with European and Japanese banks and trading companies. Foreign exchange, interpreting, brokerage. That’s what the compradors were, elite brokers. Having gotten started as commercial intermediaries, after the war my family ran its own trading company, called Central Commerce. At one time it ranked shoulder to shoulder with Mitsui, Mitsubishi, and Sumitomo. It was I who put the company out of business. Sold it off, I should say. Today it’s called…” Xu named a major trading and investing corporation.

  Zhang nodded. This family pedigree could only work to his advantage, he thought. “Cai Fang helped himself to seven hundred million yen in Japanese ODA,” he said pointedly.

  Xu beamed genially, the image of a good-natured old man. “That sort of thing does go on all the time on the mainland, doesn’t it? And in other countries as well, I suppose. If every single misappropriation were checked out, I daresay the whole ODA system would collapse. Plenty must go on below the surface, but all in all, it does serve a useful purpose.”

  Below the table, Zhang thrummed his fingers against his leg.

  “Anyway, thanks to my connections with the banking world, it often happens that I find out things that are none of my business.”

  Hello, what’s the old geezer getting at now? This thought came with fresh foreboding.

  “Your personal account in a certain branch of Seiwa Bank is connected to secret accounts in the Cayman Islands.”

  “What’s this all about, Mr Xu?” Zhang inquired, stunned, his face a blank.

  Xu’s forebears, as compradors, were well acquainted with the seamier side of financing. Xu Liping had walked away from that world – and yet the channels of information open to his father remained open to him as well. He had availed himself of them to run a check on Zhang Liang, and found out that he possessed two secret accounts, one with a commercial bank, the other with a Hyogo credit association. For a consul of the People’s Republic of China to open a secret account was by normal standards unthinkable. Moreover, substantial sums of money were being siphoned from those accounts to an offshore bank in the Cayman Islands, a well-known laundering site for illicit funds. Money flowed back from there, too. Where did it all come from? Broadly speaking, there were two sources. One was corporations owned by Japanese or by overseas Chinese; the other was an unauthorized bank.

  Chinese who were illegal residents of Japan and therefore unable to open accounts in a proper bank could use a flourishing unaccredited bank to send money to their relatives on the mainland. From the Kansai region alone, billions of yen were transferred illegally each year. The transfer fee came to roughly one per cent. Xu had determined that Zhang was receiving huge contributions from this source.

  Why so much money? The information Aki had supplied from Tokyo provided the answer. It all fitted in with Zhang’s setting up a private spy ring. With a private spy ring, Zhang could expand his reach beyond his usual responsibilities, collecting information about individuals and countries. He would become powerful, and feared,

  “Your affairs are an open secret. Let’s move to the bar, shall we?” said Xu, getting to his feet.

  With the sound of falling rain in his ears, Zhang accompanied him down a wood-floored passage, turned a couple of corners, and was shown into a dimly lit room with the blinds pulled. Instead of a bar, there was a low table and comfortable leather armchairs. A huge mahogany shelf held a variety of liquor bottles. They were the only guests. A waiter ambled over to them.

  “I’ll have an espresso,” Xu said.

  And his granddaughter can’t drink a drop of coffee: the thought popped into a corner of Zhang’s mind.

  “A brandy for my companion. I believe you have some Hennessy XO in stock – he’ll have that.” He turned to face Zhang. “Forgive me for ordering for you, but I understand you’re partial to brandy.”

  A glass of brandy was poured, and Zhang drank some of it. “Mr Xu. Allow me to call you Yue laoye, as a relative. It’s true, I do have secret accounts in a number of banks. But that’s to help me acquire more influence in the Party, through activities beneficial to the Party.”

  It was impossible to tell from Xu’s expression whether he was even listening.

  Then, holding his espresso demitasse near his nose, Xu spoke. “The Japanese police are watching your every move.”

  Zhang rose slightly out of his seat.

  “When do you leave for Beijing?” asked Xu.

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  “Put it off a week.”

  If he did that, Zhang reflected, Cai would have ample time to sneak out of the country. Over his dead body.

  Xu continued: “This man Cai Fang may indeed be a traitor to the Party and his country. He may well be contributing to a separatist movement. What would be the formal charge against him – high treason? The penalty for that is death. It exists in Japanese law as well – the crime of subverting the state – a law that would probably never be applied, but there it is. Consider this, consul. Although the Japanese police may be watching you, you needn’t worry; there’s no law here against espionage. What’s trickier is the Chinese side. The secret accounts exist, you say, for the sake of the Party – is that how the Party would see it?”

  Zhang raised the large brandy glass to his face. It clouded with his breath. Let’s hear his terms. I might not be able to beat him, but I’ll hold out for all I can. “Why so interested in helping Cai Fang? He’s got nothing to do with you. You have nothing to gain.”

  “Never mind. You personally have nothing to lose. Just give him time to choose: punishment or flight. Either way, you’re certain to bring him down and then take his place. All the more reason why you should close that Cayman account. How much do you need, by the way?”

  Xu’s manner was bland, but there was a hardness in his look. When it came down to it, this man could be bought off, of that Zhang was certain. The Cayman account violated Party regulations, as he himself was aware. Knowing when to back off was an important tool for any diplomat.

  “Fair enough,” said Zhang.

  Xu removed his monocle. The look in his eye was milder now. “While you’re at it,” he said, “why not give Li Xing her freedom?”

  Zhang slowly shook his head, lips tight, eyes jumpy.

  Xu persisted. “Consul, you’re getting what you want. Isn’t it asking too much to want my granddaughter as well?”

  “The Cai Fang business is in a separate category altogether from what to do about Li Yan,” Zhang said with deliberation. He was digging in his heels, using his wife’s assumed name to her grandfather’s face. He’d be damned if he’d let her go. Turn her over to some Japanese? Hell no.

  Well, well, thought Xu in surprise, pulling on a fleshy earlobe. He’s fonder of her than we thought.

  For a brief spell, there was a certain rapport between the two men. Inside, Xu was smiling in a bemused way. His great-grandfather used to call it smiling on a cloud of opium smoke. Xu remembered admiring the aptness of the expression.

  “Yes, and it’s precisely because the two are in different categories that you’re being greedy. Settle for one. You’ll get the thing that’s most important to you.”

  “The other is important to me, too,” Zhang said adamantly.

  “I know. But it’s not possible… Is there something wrong with your left hand, consul?”

  Without realizing it, Zhang had been keeping one hand deep in his pocket. “No, it’s just a habit,” he said, and laid his hand on his knee.

  “And here I thought maybe you were holding a gun.” As he said this, Xu’s voice, hitherto low and solemn, lightened. “What do you intend to do about your ties to the underground bank?” he said. In a quieter voice, his tone still light, he added, “There’s no way you can defend that to the Party, you know. So tell me: how much money do you need to break your ties with that underground bank?” As he probed, there was a distinct mena
ce in his look.

  The two men drew their heads together and talked over the sum necessary to deal with the Cayman account and the unofficial bank.

  Later, on his way back to Osaka in the chauffeur-driven car that Xu had provided for him, passing through neighbourhoods ravaged by earthquake and fire, Zhang told himself: That was a compromise, not a defeat. Yes, I’m fond of my wife, but what I really care about is the Party.

  Having seen Zhang off, Xu Liping got into his own car, Chen at the wheel. Just as they turned onto Sanroku Road, the rain changed to snow. Snowflakes danced in the candlelight leaking from tents set up for evacuees. The sight put him in mind of the steppes, galloping horses. Zhang probably wouldn’t admit defeat. No matter. Their next encounter would be something to look forward to.

  He arrived home just after Li Xing had bathed her grandmother and tucked her in bed. Aki was out on the balcony having a smoke. Seeing that Xu was back, he opened the terrace door to return to the living room, bringing in with him the sound of the river and a swirl of snow, which died when he closed the door.

  The three of them gathered around the oval rosewood table.

  Xu spoke slowly, looking back and forth from one to the other. “It’s all taken care of. Xingxing, you’re free.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief, her cheeks colouring.

  “I won’t go into detail, but trust me, from now on he won’t be able to make a move.”

  Xu said no more, and reached for the evening edition of the Kobe Shimbun. Based in Sannomiya, the newspaper had gone out of production after the earthquake, its main building on the verge of collapse, but today an evening edition had come out.

  From across the newspaper came Aki’s voice: “Actually, could we have a little more detail?”

  Xu put the paper down. “He was getting illegal money.”

  “Illegal, how?”

  “Via an unauthorized bank.”

  “That was unwise. And that’s where the money for his Y Agency came from?”

  He nodded.

  Aki continued, “So you bailed him out of a crisis. That was quite a trade-off. I mean, one could say you’ve become his sponsor, that you’re the power behind him now.”

  “Correct. An ironic twist of fate.”

  “That it certainly is.”

  A brief silence reigned. From far below came the sound of a motorcycle starting up the hill.

  Ironic as hell, thought Aki. He swallowed the things he wanted to say, taking advantage of the silence to look out the window and try a slightly different view.

  Zhang must be relieved that in exchange for one concession, the business of the Cayman account and the underground bank would be taken care of. Must be feeling elated, triumphant. But what did he think of the fact that Xu now had him by the balls?

  As Aki shifted his attention away from the window, his eyes met the old man’s, looking at him as if to say, Now do you understand?

  “When will you be going to Beijing?” asked Xu.

  “I talked it over with Cai Fang earlier this evening, and the visa will come through tomorrow, in Tokyo. I’ll be in Beijing the day after tomorrow.”

  “Good. Zhang was planning to leave for Beijing then, too. I persuaded him to put it off for a week. All things being equal, he’ll no doubt go far in the Party. I’ve removed every obstacle to his success. So be it. He’ll never be a top leader, but he’ll get to play with the big boys. Be in the winners’ circle. Whereas we people are perennial losers. That’s the fate of the overseas Chinese. Incidentally, do you know the significance of the character qiao in huaqiao – referring to Chinese who live abroad? The underlying meaning is ‘transient.’”

  As he spoke, Xu looked at the pair seated in front of him; first one, then the other, then both together. He thought, So I played Cupid. He wasn’t at all averse to the idea. Buteven these two will have to face the problem of living alone together. Because no couple can ever live in isolation from the world.

  “Xingxing,” he said, “how was your grandmother today?”

  “Fine. She ate well, and even sang a song.”

  “What song was that?”

  “Something Japanese I’d never heard before.” She turned to Aki for help.

  “It was ‘Sado Love Story,’ by Hibari Misora. Xingxing sang one for us, too.”

  “What did she sing?”

  “‘Song of the Yellow River Boatmen.’”

  “I’d like to hear it.”

  “Not tonight,” said Li Xing. “Some other time, okay?”

  “All right, then. Some other time.”

  The motorcycle stopped in front of the building. Shortly afterwards, Chen slipped into the room. After taking Xu home from Soshuen, he’d gone out on relief work with the motorbike brigade, and was back early.

  “Welcome home,” said Xu. “Come sit down.”

  Diffidently, he joined them.

  “How did it go?”

  “There’s some nasty people out there,” he complained. “They seem to think it’s all a science fiction movie or something. They go to houses that have collapsed, with people still alive in them, and just fool around, never offering to help. Junior high and high school kids. I yelled at them, told them to quit doing it, but they just looked the other way. Wouldn’t lend a hand. Made me so mad, I grabbed a couple of ’em and tried to shake some sense into ’em.”

  Everyone was silent.

  “Laoye,” Li Xing said, “I’ve decided to go help out at the Kobe Chinese School. The principal came by while you were out. The school is serving as an evacuation centre, and it’s full of people now, hundreds of them, not just Chinese but Japanese and Vietnamese and all sorts of people, huddled together. Because it’s not an official evacuation centre, they don’t have enough helpers or food. I asked him to let me do something, and he begged me to come.”

  “A very good idea. By all means, you should go,”

  Aki had been idly mulling over Chen’s angry episode, and now he remembered something from what seemed like a lifetime ago. “Chen,” he said, “A day or two after you left Shanghai, your father came to see me. We met right in front of my hotel.”

  Chen couldn’t conceal his agitation. For several seconds his eyes swam; then he hung his head.

  “Since you’ve lost your Anli, this will sound a bit rough, but I’ll tell you your father’s exact words: ‘If you ever come across that rascal in Japan, I want you to give him what-for.’ He said it with tears in his eyes.”

  Chen’s shoulders shook.

  “But I can’t do that. And I’m sure your father really hoped and prayed you’d be safe.” Aki’s own voice choked up. In his mind’s eye he could see Chen’s father, his back bending lower and lower.

  “Oh, I forgot,” Xu cleared his throat, as if to clear the air. “I’ve got something nice for everybody.” He disappeared into the hallway. From there he called out to Chen, asking him to boil some water. In no time he reappeared, bearing a small package wrapped in tinfoil. “Yesterday Mr Shi came over.”

  “Shi Ying, you mean, from Teite?”

  “Yes, that’s right. The restaurant was destroyed. He’s giving up the business. Tor Road is all but wiped out, he said. A great pity.”

  Aki thought of the time he and his sister had eaten striped mullet there. Teite was gone, as she was. Xu’s voice overlapped with his thoughts.

  “This is a very special jasmine tea, something he got hold of just recently, he said. Not for sale in Beijing or Fuzhou, either. He wouldn’t say how he got it. I tried it. I’ll hold off telling you what I thought. Let me just give you some.”

  Chen brought in a pot of hot water.

  “Did you know that the English word ‘tea’ comes from the dialect spoken around the port of Amoy?” As he spoke, Xu added one pinch of tea leaves, then another, to the rather large, reddish-brown teapot. Already, Aki and Li Xing began to feel their pulses strangely quickening. The size of the leaves, their colour and curl, were all signs of a fine flavour. “In the making of jasmine
tea they speak of ‘three scentings, one handful,’ or ‘five scentings, one handful.’ The number of scentings is the number of times the scent of the blossom is transferred to the tea leaves.”

  The air filled with the distinct, unmistakable aroma of Yin Dan’s tea.

  “One handful’ means that at the very end, a bit of blossom is mixed in with the leaves, but this tea is unusual in that no petals are in it at all. And as far as I can tell, this isn’t just three or five scentings, but seven! I’ve never seen such tea in all my life. It’s unheard of.”

  He poured a cupful for each of them. Li Xing inhaled the fragrance deeply, laid a hand on her heart, and looked at Aki. He nodded. They each read their own thought in the other’s eyes: Yin Dan is alive.

  It’s as if he steered us here, thought Aki.

  Li Xing, too, was thinking, It’s this tea that led me here.

  They went on looking at each other, almost as if seeing each other for the first time.

  34

  The snowfall that had begun in Kobe continued at Narita Airport, and kept up all the way to Beijing. Aki set his watch back one hour and alighted at five o’clock in the afternoon at Beijing Airport. He passed through Customs and stepped out into the arrivals lobby, where he was surprised to see Cai Fang standing beyond the gate. Aki had reserved a room at the Beijing Hotel, and was going to contact him as soon as he checked in. It was their first meeting in six years. Just as Li Xing had said, he was twice as big as before. That and the unexpectedness of being met filled Aki with a surge of affection for the man.

  After a handshake, Cai said, “Good to see you. Don’t stop here; we’ll talk as we go. Walls have ears and screens have eyes. It’s snowing in Shanxi, too. Twenty-eight below zero. Did you bring warm clothes?”

  “Yes.”

  They got in a taxi. When Cai lumbered in, his weight made the vehicle list to starboard. The driver muttered, would the passenger please move closer to the middle of the seat, and Cai sheepishly complied. “Beijing Station,” he directed. In Aki’s ear he murmured, “We’re taking the night train tonight, okay?” Aki nodded.