by Andy Oakes
“I have been in my penthouse for too long. Communism has died and I did not even hear its whimper. This PLA, there is no need to extract money in such obscene ways. No need. The guiding policy for the PLA has been the ‘16 Character Policy’. Junmin jiehe, pingzhan jiehe, junpin youaizn, yinmin yangjun …”
Whispering the words, Piao.
“Integrate the military with the civilian; integrate war with peace; give priority to weaponry; make goods for civilians use and use the profits generated to maintain the military.”
Nodding, the tong zhi.
“Exactly. The fact that President Jiang Zemin has issued regulations on economic accountability and is pressuring the generals to disclose their interests, indicates that all is not well. But, for my part, we follow the ‘16 Character Policy’ to the letter. As a result we now have around 30,000 commercial units that I have developed for the PLA. Good, honest, solid businesses …”
Fingers running down a column of trenched figures.
“Poly Investment Holdings, Continental Mariner, these are listed on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange and are owned by the People’s Liberation Army General Staff Department. Hong Kong Macau International Holdings, HMH China Investments, these are owned by the GPD, the PLA’s General Political Department.”
Turning the page.
“China Poly, owned by the GSD, this alone has more than 100 subsidiaries, with assets totalling over 10 billion yuan. Last year it earned more that $500 million US Dollars.”
Unable, at first, to find the relevant entry.
“The PLA run over 500 hospitals. The Xinxing Group, owned by the PLA, employs 200,000 workers. Songliao Automobile is 53% controlled by the Shenyang Military Region. We have a majority interest in the stockbrokers, J&A. Last year it reported a profit of 711 million yuan. The PLA now controls China United Airlines, and Beijing’s five-star Palace Hotel. PLA businesses have joint profit-making ventures with the Canadian company, Shooting Star Technologies. With American companies, Baxter Healthcare, Exten Industries, SC & M International, General Electric Medical Systems, and many more.”
Fist banging the desk.
“Good businesses, legitimate businesses, which receive my blessing and full support. But whoring! ‘The olds’! The People’s Liberation Army does not want profits from such things. This princeling steals from the weakest, for his own pocket. Millions of yuan taken from the defence of our People’s Republic. It is here in his own records, in black and white.”
Finger stabbing down on data.
“Money that should go to our PLA for the defence of our people, falling into this tai zhi’s pocket as rain from heaven. I know his father, this princeling. A good comrade. A good servant of the people. I weep. I weep …”
Unable to speak. Leafing through to the last pages of FILE TWENTY. Filling his glass, the Big Man.
“This! What is this about, Senior Investigator? You have the face of the clock, Senior Investigator, but not the hands to indicate the time. There is a major conspiracy afoot here. Millions of dollars changing hands. But for what? I believe that you know, but you are not prepared to tell me, Senior Investigator. Or you, Deputy?”
No reply.
“You should be in the Peking Opera, Comrade Piao. You have a sense of the dramatic.”
“I work in the Homicide Squad, tong zhi. Only the dramatic reside in that continent.”
“True words. True words. I have seen much of death also. Too much. Far too much. It taints the soul. Poisons the tree of life.”
“ ‘Thousands upon thousands of martyrs have heroically laid down their lives for the people; let us hold their banner high and march ahead along the path crimson with their blood.’ ”
“Very good, the glorious words of the Great Helmsman, from his Selected Works, Vol. III. You understand the path and are a remarkable man, for a PSB, Senior Investigator Piao.”
Suddenly standing, Citizen One, removing his jacket, unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt, and almost as a solemn rite, slowly rolling up his sleeve. Colours, some age-dulled, some with the vibrancy of newly-inked additions. A tattoo from wrist to shoulder, a glorious tapestry of the smudged and the defined. A contract of guaranteed safety, in carefully crafted characters. At its primary hued heart, the characters for Mao himself, and every leader of the People’s Republic since. But the contract equally binding in the opposite direction?
“You need not fear. I will keep my half of the bargain. I will keep to the shining path and do my duty.”
Suddenly, once more under the red banner. Once more side by side with the heroes of the revolution.
“Show me all that there is to show me, Comrade Investigator. You need not fear. You have come to the right citizen. I am Citizen One.”
In response Piao handing him a set of crisp monochrome prints from a file, and heading for the video recorder.
*
Thirty minutes …
Tears traversing wrinkles. The Big Man handing the woman comrade a tissue. A nod of her head and a look toward Citizen One.
“For what, these terrible deaths of such young women and these brutal murders of your fellow comrade officers in the PSB?”
Piao, at the window, staring into the night.
“And these dollars, millions of dollars? What do they buy?”
Turning, the Senior Investigator and dropping a cotton pouch into the old comrade’s hand.
“Oryza sativa. Rice, Comrade Citizen One. The promise of a very special rice.”
“Rice! No, no, Senior Investigator, this cannot be. Rice may cause indigestion, but nothing such as this. Never such as this.”
A nod. The Big Man pulling several reports from an envelope. Dropping them onto the table in front of the tong zhi.
“Comrade Citizen One, it is called Golden Rice. Something that held so much promise, like the Great Leap Forward, but in reality was an empty vessel. Although the initial results were promising, when the scientists working on the project informed Comrade Qi of their negative findings, he at first attempted to suppress their report. Then he insisted that they doctor it and put their signature to it. They refused. He offered them money, when that did not work he made threats against their daughters. When that did not work he murdered their daughters.”
“And this rice, this Golden Rice; you can produce evidence that Qi suppressed their reports? Doctored their reports?”
“The evidence is in front of you, Citizen Comrade One.”
“And still Qi continued to take millions of dollars from countries that are our neighbours on the false promise of this rice?”
“The evidence of that is in his own accounts, tong zhi.”
“Yes. Yes, the figures that I saw with my own eyes. Of course. Then you have completed the circle of evidence, Senior Investigator Piao.”
His knuckles tapping the reports in front of him.
“That I should grow so old as to see such as this. Me, one who survived the perils of the Long March!”
Shaking his head again. Minutes before he spoke.
“To bring into the light that which you have shown me is our clear duty, but it would be naïve and irresponsible not first to consider the consequences.”
“I do not care about …”
“Consequence, Senior Investigator? You should. I can see that I may need to save you from yourself.”
Through the window an airplane scraping the sable sky. A flight leaving Pudong International. Leaving for somewhere new, silver, shiny bright.
“What you have discovered could cause enormous damage to China’s reputation within the international community, should it be released. We are no longer an island, our fortune is bound to others, and others to ours. As well as economic consequences there could be political fall-out from these revelations, Senior Investigator. Such revelations could, among other things, jeopardise our hosting the Olympics.”
Piao sensing that the words he wished to say would be inappropriate.
“There is an art in this, Senior Investiga
tor. One has to weigh issues against issues, and consequences against consequences. So much to lose in revealing what it is that you have discovered. But on the other hand so much to lose in allowing these princeling free rein.”
And almost under his breath.
“A plague on us these tai zis. A plague that will eventually destroy our People’s Republic.”
A deep inhalation, a decision made.
“Sometimes, even when in the deepest of fevers and with the patient at his weakest, it is necessary to take drastic action. to take a knife and bleed the patient. And in that painful bleeding, a life saved. That was what our Cultural Revolution was, a curative blood-letting.”
Citizen One’s hand pointing to the electric horizon of the city.
“But see, the patient survived. Perhaps we will have our own Cultural Revolution, Senior Investigator. On a much smaller scale you understand.”
Laughing the tong zhi.
“And you, Senior Investigator? What of you?”
“I am a solution that became a problem.”
“A dangerous role to achieve, Senior Investigator.”
“I excel at achieving such dangerous roles, Comrade Citizen One.”
The tong zhi, his hand on Piao’s shoulder.
“You have done well, Senior Investigator. You have done well and you will be rewarded. This will earn you and your Deputy medals.”
“We already have medals, tong zhi.”
“Then what would you wish of me, Senior Investigator? An old tong zhi who has obviously lived for too long.”
“Information, Citizen One. Information …”
“Ah, Senior Investigator. Politician’s gold, yes? What information?”
“Colonel Qi, I wish knowledge of his time as a student while in London. Something occurred there that has sculpted his life to its will. As the Long March sculpted your honourable decades.”
A nod.
“I have names taken from the princeling’s mobile telephone data that need to be examined. Names that Qi is sending large amounts of money to, as you saw, Citizen One. Names that span the world. We need intelligence on these, tong zhi.”
“I have well established contacts. This information will be yours.”
“Thank you, tong zhi. There is also a Russian by the name of Kanatjan Pasechnik. I wish information about him also. Our own contacts, our own guan-xi have failed us.”
“Never to be trusted, Russians. Wolves in a bear’s clothing. We shall see what business Colonel Qi has with a Russian. You shall get what you require, Comrade Senior Investigator.”
“Thank you, Citizen One. I had almost despaired of …”
A hand raised, stilling Piao’s words.
“What, Comrade Senior Investigator? The lack of integrity on the part of your superiors and amongst the high cadre? A loss of the shining path from the eyes of the politicians that command you?”
A nod and a single word from Piao that could beckon for any citizen, lao gai’s embrace.
“Yes.”
“I still follow the Great Helmsman’s shining path, Senior Investigator. Although such a journey is now not fashionable.”
The Big Man helping the woman comrade to her feet.
“Perhaps you should have more faith, PSB. Yes, more faith. There are still some left who do not bow to the contents of a wallet.”
The tong zhi, papers, reports, into a folder.
Smiling at the septuagenarian female comrade linked to his arm; in his eyes, still a pretty twenty year old.
“We will apologise to our security officers for causing so much concern. We will say that we went for a walk. A long walk. It was a beautiful night. So many bright stars. How we both love to look at the stars. You are of course aware, Senior Investigator, that there is not another country in the world that has such a canopy of bright stars. Surely, if there is a God then he must be a good communist comrade.”
Moving into the corridor smelling of foreign cigarettes and red rose soap.
“One day from now, Senior Investigator. The Hongqiao bird market. Madam Lee’s Songbird Emporium, midday.”
Smiling, as his arm slipped around the female comrade’s waist.
“One day from now and you will have your politician’s gold.”
Chapter 48
THE HONGQIAO BIRD AND FLOWER MARKET, THE HONGQIAO ROAD.
As if heaven had fallen to earth, the market wound like a garland through the Hongqiao Road. One end tethered to two hundred stalls of birds that once flew, but were now caged: hummingbirds, canaries, finches and the more exotic songbirds. The other end of the market, as a rainbow pinned to earth at 1778 Hongqiao Road by the Gubei flower market, with its 20,000 square metres of blooms. Every colour to soothe the soul and paint the mood.
And in amongst the songbirds’ sad laments, the children’s animated chatter, the tourists’ whoops and hollers, harsher things; as the hard stone set at the heart of each lychee’s soft, giving flesh. A spit, a slap of hands to black market deals. A canary pecking the feathers from another canary’s head. Harsher things. Flight feathers pulled with tweezers from a hummingbird’s glistening wings. An argument, fierce and hot, over a price set, a deal broken. Harsher things. A squeal cutting through the midday, as a Mandarin duck is parted from its life. Over age trodden cobble stones, as dull as old fen coins, flower petals and a generous spatter of blood.
*
Madam Lee, an old broiler chicken that thought that she was still a songbird, advanced on Citizen One with lips triple coated in scarlet lipstick to give him a kiss. A tale told of a life sadder than this current existence, as she plucked flight feathers from a lovebird’s wings. Another tale told, to much laughter, as she bound with tape the beaks of two unhappy-eyed parrots. Only when the laughter had died and her attentions turned to a toucan cowering in the corner of its rusty cage, did she point the way with a scarlet triple coated fingernail. Citizen One leading through a double glass-beaded curtain and into a small room beyond … its smell of menopausal women, over-brewed xunhuacha and bird feathers. At the centre of the dark room, candle lit, a large samovar of Russian origin, ornately fluted, original nickel plate worn back to its brass body. Around the samovar, a circle of leather, gold-embossed cushions. Citizen One seating himself, pulling a candle closer and pouring himself tea, his every action speaking of him having been in this place many times before. Piao and the Big Man following him. Their actions more stilted, as they juggled cups that would not hold even enough liquid to wash out an eye, let alone quench the thirst of a mouth that tasted of bird’s feathers.
From a file Citizen One pulling a sheath of precisely folded papers and spreading them out on a cushion with his hand.
“I am a comrade who keeps his promises.”
His hand moving over the pages until they were perfectly smooth.
“In this, and in what you have shown me, Investigators, we will all need to have complete trust in each other.”
Noisily drinking his tea.
“First, data from foreign intelligence services: the SIS. BND, German Intelligence, the CIA, Centro Nacional De Intelligencia of Spain, the French, DRM, Direction du Renseignement Militaire …”
The distaste showing as he spoke.
“Your Qi, he has many contacts with very unsavoury characters. Muslim extremists, suspected terrorists. Some he met at university while in England. All were members of Al-Muhajiroun, a radical Muslim faction. Fanatics. Many of them, it is known, have been to Afghanistan and have trained at terrorist training camps, or have studied under radical clerics in the madras’s of Pakistan. Such people are a great concern to our friends in the west, a great concern.”
Only now that Piao’s eyes were growing accustomed to the candlelight, aware that they were being watched. From high shelves on three of the room’s walls, birds of every description, stuffed and mounted. Dead eyes of yellow-aged glass beads looking down.
“Nazeer Ahmed Hanjour. Nazeer apparently means, ‘the one who warns’. He became close to
Qi at university and is credited with introducing him to Islam. Hanjour passed him on to a radical cleric at a mosque in London. He took a special interest in Qi. Educated him. Abdul Waddani, another cleric. The Americans are seeking his extradition on charges relating to terrorism. Saadat Al-Sharif, our colonel’s closest friend while in London. He is being tracked by the British SIS. Sa’d Al-Qadi. The German authorities have him under constant surveillance. Implicated in funding terrorist acts.”
Citizen One placing the papers on Piao’s lap.
“And another twenty-seven of them. A great concern that a Chinese national should have such ‘friends’. Especially one as well connected as Qi, who has access to military hardware and specialist resources.”
More papers from the file.
“As for the other name that you gave to me, the Russian dog. Kanatjan Pasechnik, a nasty piece of work. A thick file on him within every intelligence agency in Europe. A bio-weapons scientist who was a leading light with the Russian company BIOPREPARAT, a civilian ‘front’ organisation for their biological weapons programme. He was developing new strains of smallpox, as well as genetically splicing one virus into another. A not dissimilar technique to the one which would have been used on your transgenic crop, Golden Rice, Senior Investigator.”
A concerned nod of the head as he turned more pages.
“Since the break-up of the Soviet Union and the programme ending, he has been un-employed. But it is believed that some regimes in the Middle East were courting him. unfortunately, I think that our princeling has beaten them to it.”
“I do not like the sound of this, tong zhi.”
Two notes in the file, both saying the same thing. One from Qi’s danwei. Another from the Luxingshe. Personal requests from the princeling, on behalf of the People’s Liberation Army, for a Russian national to be allowed into the People’s Republic on a special visa, for the purpose of ‘scientific research for the benefit of the PLA and the Chinese people’. The Russian national’s name … Sergei Popov.
“Alias, Kanatjan Pasechnik, yes, tong zhi?”
“Yes, I believe so. Our princeling must have brought him in to our People’s Republic to work on the Golden Rice programme.”