by Qiu Xiaolong
“There’re two phones in the village. One for the village committee, and the other at Mrs. Miao’s. Her husband has been in the United States for five or six years. What a lucky woman- to have a phone at home!”
“Thanks. We’ll use her phone.”
“You have to pay for it. Other folks use her phone too. For their people overseas. When people call home from abroad, they speak to Miao first.”
“Like the public phone service in Shanghai,” Yu said. “Do you think Wen used Miao’s phone too?”
“Yes, everybody in the village does.”
Yu turned to Zhao with a question in his eyes.
“Sorry,” Zhao said in embarrassment. “I did not know anything about it.”
Chapter 5
The gate had finally opened.
A group of first-class passengers emerged, most of them foreigners. Among them Chief Inspector Chen saw a young woman wearing a cream-colored blazer and matching pants. She was tall, slender, her blond hair fell to her shoulders, and she had blue eyes. He recognized her at once, though she looked slightly different from the image in the photograph, taken perhaps a few years earlier. She carried herself with grace, like a senior executive of a Shanghai joint venture.
“Inspector Catherine Rohn?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Chen Cao, chief inspector of the Shanghai Police Bureau. I’m here to greet you on behalf of your Chinese colleagues. We will be working together.”
“Chief Inspector Chen?” She added in Chinese, “Chen Tongzhi?”
“Oh yes, you speak Chinese.”
“No, not much.” She switched back into English. “I’m glad to have a partner who speaks English.”
“Welcome to Shanghai.”
“Thank you, Chief Inspector Chen.”
“Let’s get your luggage.”
There was a long line of people queuing up at customs, holding passports, forms, documents, and pens in their hands. The airport suddenly appeared overcrowded.
“Don’t worry about customs formalities,” he said. “You’re our distinguished American guest.”
He led her through another passage, nodding at several uniformed officers by a side door. One of them took a quick look at her passport, scribbled a few words on it, and waved her through.
They walked out with her luggage on a cart and pushed it into the designated taxi area in front of a huge billboard advertising Coca-Cola in Chinese. There were not many people waiting there.
“Let’s talk at your hotel, the Peace Hotel on the Bund. Sorry, we have to take a taxi instead of our bureau car. I sent it back because of the delay,” he said.
“Great. Here comes one.”
A small Xiali pulled up in front of them. He had intended to wait for a Dazhong, made by the joint venture of Shanghai Automobile and Volkswagen, which would be more roomy and comfortable, but she was already giving the hotel name in Chinese to the taxi driver.
There was practically no trunk space in a Xiali. With her suitcase in the front seat beside the driver, and a bag beside her in the backseat, he felt squeezed. She could hardly stretch her long legs. The air conditioning did not work. He rolled down the window, but it did not help much. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she slipped her jacket off. She was wearing a tank top. The bumpy ride brought her shoulder into occasional contact with his. Their proximity made him uncomfortable.
After they passed the Hongqiao area, traffic became congested. The taxi had to make frequent detours due to new construction underway. At the intersection of Yen’an and Jiangning roads, they came to a stop in heavy traffic.
“How long was your flight?” he asked, out of the need to say something.
“More than twenty-four hours.”
“Oh, it’s a long trip.”
“I had to change planes. From St. Louis to San Francisco, then to Tokyo, and finally to Shanghai.”
“ China ’s Oriental Airline flies directly from San Francisco to Shanghai.”
“Yes, it does, but my mother booked the ticket for me. Nothing but United Airlines for her. She insisted on it, for safety’s sake.”
“I see. Everything-” he left the sentence unfinished-Everything American is preferable. “Don’t you work in Washington?”
“Our headquarters is in D.C. but I am stationed in the St. Louis regional office. My parents also live there.”
“ St. Louis -the city where T. S. Eliot was born. And Washington University was founded by his grandfather.”
“Why, yes. There’s an Eliot Hall at the university, too. You amaze me, Chief Inspector Chen.”
“Well, I have translated some of Eliot’s poems,’ he said, not too surprised at her surprise. “Not all Chinese cops are like those in American movies, good for nothing but martial arts, broken English, and Gongbao chicken.”
“Those are just Hollywood stereotypes. I majored in Chinese studies, Chief Inspector Chen.”
“I was joking.” Why had he become so sensitive about the image of the Chinese police in her eyes, he wondered. Because of Party Secretary Li’s emphasis? He shrugged his shoulders, touching hers again. “Off the record, I’m quite good at cooking Gongbao chicken, too.”
“I would like to taste that.”
He changed the topic. “So what do you think of Shanghai? It’s your first time, right?”
“Yes, I’ve heard so much about this city. It’s like a dream come true. The streets, the buildings, the people, and even the traffic, all seem strangely familiar. Look,” she exclaimed as the car passed Xizhuang Road. “The Big World. I had a postcard of it.”
“Yes, it’s a well-known entertainment center. You can spend a day there, watching different local operas, not to mention karaoke, dance, acrobatics, and electronic games. And there’s a variety of Chinese food available in Yunnan Gourmet Street beside it. The street is lined with snack bars and restaurants.”
“Oh, I love Chinese food.”
The taxi turned into the Bund. In the play of the neon lights, the color of her eyes seemed not to be exactly blue. He saw a greenish tinge. Azure, he thought. It was not just the color. He was reminded of an ancient line: The change from the azure sea into the blue mulberry field, a reference to the vicissitudes of the world, which came to have a melancholy connotation-about the experience of the irrecoverable.
To their left, concrete, granite, and marble buildings stretched along the Bund. Then the legendary Hong Kong-Shanghai Bank came into view, still guarded by the bronze lions which had witnessed numerous changes in its ownership. Next to it, the big clock on the top of the neoclassical Custom House chimed the hour.
“The building with the marble facade and pyramid-shaped tower at the corner of Nanjing Road is the Peace Hotel, originally the Cathay Hotel, whose owner made millions from the opium trade. After 1949, the city government changed its name. Despite its age, it maintains its rank as one of the finest hotels in Shanghai…”
The taxi pulled up in front of the hotel before he finished his speech. That might be as well. He had a feeling that she had been listening to him with tolerant amusement. A uniformed porter strode over, holding the door for the American. The red-capped-and-red-clad employee must have taken Chen for her interpreter and showered all his attention upon her. Chen observed this with wry humor as he helped to put the luggage on a hotel cart.
In the lobby, he heard fragments of jazz. A band composed of old men was playing in a bar at the end of the hall, pumping out old standards for a nostalgic audience. The band was so popular that it was mentioned in the newspapers as one of the Bund’s attractions.
She asked about the dining room. The porter pointed to a glass door farther down the corridor, saying the dining room would remain open until three in the morning, and that there were bars nearby that stayed in business even later.
“We could have a meal now,” he said.
“No, thanks. I ate on the plane. I’ll probably stay awake until two or three o’clock tonight. Jet lag.”
They took the e
levator to the seventh floor. Her room was 708. As she slid in the plastic card, light flooded over a large room furnished with dark wood furniture inlaid with ivory. The room was decorated in Art Deco style; posters of actors and actresses of the twenties contributed to the period feeling. The only modern items were a color TV, a small refrigerator beside the dresser, and a coffee maker on the corner table.
“It’s nine o’clock,” Chen said, glancing at his watch. “After the long journey, you must be tired, Inspector Rohn.”
“No, I’m not, but I would like to wash up a little.”
“I’ll smoke a cigarette in the lobby and return in twenty minutes.”
“No, you don’t have to leave. Just sit down for a minute,” she said, gesturing toward the couch. As she headed to the bathroom with a bag, she handed a magazine to him. “I read it on the plane.”
It was a copy of Entertainment Weekly with several American movie stars on the cover, but he did not open it. First, he checked the room for bugs. Then he moved to the window. Once he had wandered along the Bund with his schoolmates, wondering, looking up at the Peace Hotel. To look down from its windows had been beyond his wildest dreams.
But the view of Bund Park pulled him back to the present. He had not done anything about the homicide case yet. Farther to the north, buses and trolley buses rumbled across the bridge at frequent intervals. Nearby bars and restaurants displayed neon signs that flashed incessantly. Some stayed open all night. So there would have been hardly any possibility that people could climb into the park without being noticed, just as he had initially surmised.
He turned to make a pot of coffee. The talk he would have to have soon with this American partner would be difficult. He decided to call the bureau first. Qian was still there, dutifully waiting by the phone. Perhaps he had misjudged Qian.
“Detective Yu has just phoned in with an important lead.”
“What is it?”
“According to one of Wen’s neighbors, Wen received a phone call from her husband shortly before she disappeared on the night of April fifth.”
“That’s something,” Chen said. “How did her neighbor know?”
“Wen did not have a phone at home. The conversation took place in her neighbor’s home, but her neighbor knew nothing about the contents of that call.”
“Anything else?”
“No. Detective Yu said he would try to call again.”
“If he phones in soon, tell him to try me at the Peace Hotel. Room 708.”
Now he had something concrete to discuss with Inspector Rohn, Chen thought with relief, putting down the receiver as she came out of the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel. She was dressed now in blue jeans and a white cotton blouse.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No, thanks. Not tonight,” she said. “Do you know when Wen will be ready to depart for the United States?”
“Well, I have some news for you, but it’s not good, I’m afraid.”
“Something wrong?”
“Wen Liping has disappeared.”
“Disappeared! How is that possible, Chief Inspector Chen?” She stared at him for a second before she added sharply, “Killed or kidnapped?”
“I don’t think she has been killed. That would have done nobody any good. We cannot rule out the kidnapping possibility. The local police have started their investigation but so far, there’s no evidence supporting that hypothesis. All we know is that she got a phone call from her husband on the night of April fifth and disappeared shortly afterward. Her disappearance might have been caused by that phone call.”
“Feng is allowed to call home once a week, but not to say anything that might jeopardize the case. A record is kept of the calls he makes; I hope his conversation was taped, but it may not have been. He’s anxious for his wife to join him. Why would he say anything to cause her disappearance?”
“You had better check on his calls on April fifth. We would certainly like to know exactly what was said.”
“I will find out what I can, but what are you going to do, Chief Inspector Chen?”
“The Fujian police are looking for her. Checking all the hotels and buses there. No leads yet. It is important to find her as soon as possible, we understand. A special group has been formed. I’m in charge of it. My partner, Detective Yu, went to Fujian last night. In fact, I got the tip about this phone call just five minutes ago. He will keep us informed with respect to developments there.”
Catherine Rohn’s response was quick. “For several months, Wen has been applying for a passport so she can join her husband. Suddenly, she disappears. A pregnant woman could not have gone far on foot, and you have no information about her taking a bus or a train, right? So she’s still in Fujian, or someone has abducted her. You’re the head of the special case group, yet you’re here in Shanghai -with me. Why?”
“When more information reaches us, we will decide what steps to take. In the meantime, I’m going to conduct the investigation here. Wen is an educated youth from Shanghai who left for Fujian twenty years ago. She may have come back to this city.”
“Do you have any other leads?”
“Not at present. I’ll talk with Detective Yu and other people tonight,” he said, trying to produce a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Inspector Rohn. Wen wants to join her husband, so she will have to get in touch with him.”
“You are assuming that she is able to do so. No, Feng cannot reveal his whereabouts. Not even his phone number. Or he will be kicked out of the witness protection program. That is the rule. There’s no way she can get in touch with him directly. All she can do is telephone a bureau number and leave a message to be passed on.”
“Feng may know where she is hiding. Or if she has been kidnapped, the kidnappers must contact Feng. So I have a suggestion for you. Call your office and put your people on the alert for any phone calls Feng gets or makes. Perhaps we can trace her that way.”
“That’s possible, but you know how crucial time is. We cannot be like that farmer in the Chinese proverb, who waits for a rabbit to knock itself out against the old tree.”
“Your knowledge of Chinese culture is impressive, Inspector Rohn. Yes, we are pressed for time. Our government understands it well, or I would not be here with you today.”
“If your government had cooperated effectively earlier, I would not be here with you, Chief Inspector Chen.”
“What do you mean?”
“I cannot understand why it took so long for Wen to get her passport. She started the application process in January. Now it is mid-April. In fact, she should have been in the United States long since.”
“January?” He did not have that date in mind. “I do not know too much about the process, Inspector Rohn. In fact, I did not get the assignment until yesterday afternoon. I’ll look into it and give you an answer. Now I must leave so I can talk to Detective Yu when he calls me at my home.”
“You can call him from here.”
“He arrived in Fujian this morning and started working at once with the local police. He has not checked into a hotel yet. That’s why I have to wait at home for his call.” Chen stood up. “Oh, I have something else for you. Some information about the Fengs. Perhaps the part about Feng is not new to you, but Wen’s dossier may be worth reading. I have translated some of it into English.”
“Thank you, Chief Inspector Chen.”
“I’ll return tomorrow morning. I hope you sleep well your first night in Shanghai, Inspector Rohn.”
In spite of the awkwardness of their conversation, which he had anticipated, she walked him down the crimson-carpeted corridor to the elevator.
“Don’t stay up too late. We will have a lot to do tomorrow, Inspector Rohn.”
She tucked a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. “Good night, Chief Inspector Chen.”
Chapter 6
Catherine could not fall asleep despite her travel fatigue and the hands of a cloisonné clock on the nightstand indicating t
he beginning of a new day.
Finally, she threw off the sheet, got up, and walked to the window. The lights of the Bund surged up to greet her.
Shanghai. The Bund. The Huangpu River. The Peace Hotel… It was a pleasant surprise that the Shanghai Police Bureau had chosen this hotel for her. She was not in the mood, however, to marvel at the scene spread out beneath her. Her mission in China had totally changed.
Originally, it was to have been simple. To accompany Wen to the local offices for a passport, to fill out the visa forms at the American Consulate, and to escort her onto the airplane at her earliest convenience. According to Ed Spencer, her supervisor in Washington, all she was to do was to apply a touch of pressure when needed, to make the U.S. Marshals’ presence felt, so the Chinese would expedite the matter. Ed joked about buying lunch for her in D.C. this weekend. Even allowing for minor delays, it should have taken her four or five days at most. Now she did not know how long she would have to stay in Shanghai.
Was the report of Wen’s sudden disappearance simply a lie? It was possible. The Chinese had not been enthusiastic about Wen joining her husband in the United States. If Jia Xinzhi, the head of the smuggling ring, was convicted, that might make international headlines. The sordid details of this notorious business would not improve the image of the Chinese government abroad. Involvement of local law enforcement officials in the human smuggling trade had been suspected. In such a well-policed country, how could smugglers have succeeded in transporting thousands of people out of the country without the notice of the authorities? According to one report she had read on the plane, hundreds of illegal immigrants had traveled on military trucks from Fuzhou to a seaport for embarkation. To cover up their complicity, the Chinese authorities might be trying to prevent the witness’s wife from leaving the country, so as to forestall the trial. First the inexplicable delay, now Wen’s even more inexplicable disappearance. Was this a last-minute effort of the Chinese to wriggle out of the deal they had made? If this was the case, her mission would be impossible.