Don't Cry Tai Lake

by Qiu Xiaolong

  “The restructuring plan, among the other things—”

  Huang’s cell phone suddenly rang with a different tone. It was a text message from the head of the special team. Huang showed the message to Chen.

  “Jiang will be sent to prison tomorrow, officially charged as the murderer in Liu’s case. Who’s the man interviewing at the chemical company with you? Internal Security asked. ”

  “Good timing,” Huang said with a grin. He didn’t write a response to the text. “Don’t worry, Chief. We’ll beat them this time. I’ll bring my notebook along with me and follow all the points you raised at the crime scene.”

  “When you’re there with your team, try to leave me out of the picture. It’s your investigation, not mine. ”

  “But how can I do that?” Huang said, shaking his head. “They’ve already raised the question.”

  “Try your best, Huang.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  CHIEF INSPECTOR CHEN WOKE up with a lingering hangover.

  He sat up, pressing a finger to his temple as he looked out the window. The lake appeared to be still enveloped in mist. Occasionally, a lonely bird could be heard chirping among the trees.

  Instead of waiting for breakfast to be delivered to his room, Chen got up and brewed himself a pot of strong black coffee. The previous day had been very hectic, he recalled as he took a slow sip at the fresh coffee.

  Shortly after their parting at the bamboo groove, Huang returned to the villa with a couple of local police officers to get Mi off his hands. Instead of rushing straight to the chemical company, Huang phoned his team and had them hold Fu at the office. With Fu unable to return to his apartment, Huang searched it thoroughly even before he obtained a warrant. Huang’s surprise move really helped Chen, as Mi had been wailing, crying, and screaming there, her face streaked with tears and mucus, but not saying anything useful. Chen heaved a sigh of relief when she was lead away in handcuffs.

  But his peace was short-lived. The chief inspector was soon swamped by phone calls from the Wuxi Police Bureau, Internal Security, the Wuxi city government, and the local journalists. Not all of them seeemed pleased at the surprising turn of the investigation.

  There was only one thing the calls had in common. Everyone complained that Chief Inspector Chen should have contacted them earlier, despite his assurances that all he wanted was a quiet vacation in Wuxi.

  Chen’s assurances didn’t sound convincing, not even to himself. After all, the arrest was made at his villa, so he felt obliged to provide some explanations here and there. And that was turning into a terrible headache.

  To his surprise, Wanyi, one of the top Party cadres in Wuxi, called him at the center. Wanyi was effusive about Chen’s connection to Comrade Secretary Zhao and outlined a plan to entertain Chen in two days on behalf of the city government. Chen had to stall him by claiming to be waiting on some instructions from Comrade Secretary Zhao.

  He had hardly finished speaking with Wanyi when Director Qiao burst in. His host insisted on dragging him to a celebration dinner, despite knowing little about the latest developments. Chen agreed readily, taking it as an acceptable excuse to turn off his cell phone. The people at the center had been so helpful that it was the least he could do to acknowledge it. Besides, there was nothing else for him to do. The Wuxi police took over the work, and while he was inundated with official phone calls, the one call he really wanted was the one he didn’t expect to get. Shanshan had kept her phone turned off.

  It turned out to be an enjoyable meal. For once, he let himself go and behaved like a tourist—eating, drinking, and relishing the moment. He realized it was probably the tail end of his vacation here. Qiao and his colleagues vied with one another as they toasted him at the banquet. Once again, the center was in the headlines, at least locally, for which they were grateful.

  As a result, it was quite late at night when he returned to his room, with unsteady steps and the unmistakable onslaught of a coming headache. There was still no message from Shanshan when he checked the phone for the last time before going to bed.

  Now, suffering a terrible hangover the next morning, squinting his eyes in the glaring light, he thought there wasn’t anything he could really complain about. He reminded himself, gulping strong black coffee, that it would be another busy day. He couldn’t afford to relax and recuperate like a real high-ranking cadre.

  He turned on his cell phone and checked his messages. Still nothing from Shanshan, though plenty from local cadres and several from Huang. But he decided not to return Huang’s call just yet. The sergeant was busy working on the remaining details of the case with his colleagues, and Chen, as he had said to so many, was on vacation.

  He had just finished his first cup of coffee when the doorbell rang. The unexpected visitor standing in the doorway was Tian Zhonghua, a heavily built man in his early fifties with gray eyebrows and a sturdy jaw. He was the head of the Wuxi Police Bureau, and Chen had met him before at conferences.

  “You should have told us about your vacation here, Chen,” Tian said, stepping in to the foyer without waiting for an invitation. “How could you have come here and investigated a case with Sergeant Huang in secret?”

  “Oh no, don’t be upset with me, Superintendent Tian. Huang is a friend of Detective Yu’s. That’s why we got together. I came here on a vacation that was pushed onto me, and I had nothing to do here. So I couldn’t help talking to him about the case. The credit for bringing it to a successful conclusion is really all his.”

  Huang might not have been able to take all the credit himself, so Chen decided not to say anything unnecessary.

  “I understand, Chief Inspector Chen, but Internal Security doesn’t. They are certain that I was aware of your investigation all along.”

  “Sorry, Tian. I apologize for that. But please tell me about the latest developments in the case.”

  “We’ve arrested them. It’s only a matter of time before Fu and Mi make a full confession.”

  “What about Jiang?”

  “He’s been cleared of the murder charge, but the blackmail charge is going to stick—it has to. Internal Security has made a point of it. He hadn’t been officially charged in the murder case, but it was known to a lot of people that he had been taken into custody. If we let him get away scot-free, he’ll surely blab to the Western media about being persecuted because of his fight for the environment,” Tian said, then added, as if in afterthought, “Of course, he did blackmail some people, and he should be punished for it.”

  “Frankly, I don’t think the statements made against him are that reliable. They were made by people looking to protect their own business interests. That should be taken into consideration.”

  “As the head of the Wuxi police, I looked into it. Yes, it’s his word against theirs. However, some of them did pay him a large amount as a consulting fee. We have evidence of those payments, which he doesn’t deny. So we are justified in drawing the conclusion that these were acts of blackmail. Remember, apart from the money he got for the articles he sold to the Western media, he had no other income for several years. A monetary motive is often the most common, compelling motive.

  “Besides, there’s no denying that Jiang is an inveterate troublemaker. Chinese people should be able to tell the difference between what’s appropriate to discuss with the proper insiders and what one can discuss with outsiders. But not so with him. With no real qualifications as an environmentalist, he hues and cries in an irresponsible way, all for the benefit of the Western media and for himself. What’s the point of all that muckraking? According to one American newspaper, some politicians have even mentioned him as a possible candidate for a Nobel prize. For what? The answer is self-evident, you see. This all comes at the expense of our government’s image. This will be a necessary lesson for him.”

  “But the problems he exposed are nonetheless real problems that we can’t afford to ignore, Superintendent Tian.”

  “We’re taking care of the problems, Comrade Ch
ief Inspector Chen. China’s economic reform is achieving unprecedented success, but it may take some time to solve the problems that arise in its wake. Ask people here in Wuxi whether their lives have improved in the last twenty years, and I don’t think you’ll have to wait long for an answer.”

  It would be useless to argue further with Tian. Tian had a much higher cadre rank than his and Chen had just claimed he was only here on vacation. He had no right whatsoever to question the way the local police were handling the case. They then steered the conversation away from the political factors behind the murder case, as if having reached a tacit understanding. What cannot be said must pass over in silence.

  Not long after Tian left, Chen received a phone call from Sergeant Huang.

  “I’ve called you many times since yesterday, Chief, but your cell phone was turned off.”

  “Sorry, I was overwhelmed by official phone calls so I turned it off. Anyway, the investigation is now up to you and your colleagues.” He went on in spite of himself, “How are things going with Fu and Mi?”

  “Mi remains hysterical, but she’s slowly giving in. Don’t worry about it,” Huang said with a reassuring chuckle. “My colleagues are working on Fu, and I’m at his apartment again, this time with an official search warrant. I did a thorough job yesterday, but I didn’t find a copy of the restructuring plan.”

  “He might have destroyed it,” Chen said after a pause, “But I think there may be something else there.”

  “What?”

  “For what happened at Liu’s place that night, there’re two possible explanations. One is that Fu had planned to murder Liu all along. But the other is that he made up his mind when he got there. If the murder was unpremeditated, then the perpetrator picked up something at the apartment to use as the murder weapon and took it with him afterward.”

  “The missing murder weapon? Yes, you talked about some possible items when we were at the crime scene. Let me check my notebook—”

  “After our discussion at the crime scene,” Chen went on without waiting for him to check, “I examined the picture of Liu and his son that was taken last summer. There are nine statuettes in the background. That statuette is an annual award given at the end of the year, but in the pictures taken by your colleagues last week, there are still only nine statuettes. It might mean that Liu didn’t get one for the last year. But I talked to his son Wenliang the day before yesterday, and he mentioned that there should be ten statuettes because the company had won the award ten years in a row. Several months after their picture was taken, Liu told Wenliang specifically about winning another statuette.”

  “Ah, it’s in the notebook. Nine of them,” Huang said, checking through his notes. “So one statuette is definitely missing, and they are really heavy—”

  “But Fu could have dumped it somewhere else. We can’t rule out that possibility, Huang.”

  “I’ll start all over again. The statuette is taller than a beer bottle. His room isn’t large, practically a dorm room—” said Huang, then he paused and suddenly switched topics. “Oh, I almost forgot. Shanshan contacted me for help, Chief. She asked for permission to see Jiang before he is sent to prison. It is against regulations, but she says that she knows you.”

  “She does and of course, you may help her. What harm would it cause? You can make arrangements for her, can’t you?”

  “So you think it would be okay?” Huang asked, not even trying to conceal the surprise in his voice.

  “It’s not really my concern. It’s up to the Wuxi Police Bureau, but I don’t see any reason why she shouldn’t be allowed to visit him.”

  “I’ve thought about it, Chief. He’s being transferred tomorrow. I may have the police car pull up outside the bureau briefly while I go to buy a pack of cigarettes at a grocery nearby. She can walk over to the car and talk to him through the window for a couple of minutes. I think that’s about all I can do.”

  “That’s good,” Chen said. He knew why Huang tried to ask permission, and he could picture the puzzled look on the young cop’s face.

  “Well—”

  “When, Huang?”

  “What?

  “Her meeting with him?”

  “Around noon, that’s the time the police car will leave the bureau.”

  “Help her, Huang. Do it as a favor to me—”

  The cell phone then indicated another call coming in. “Sorry, I’ve got another phone call. I’ll call you back,” he said before he found out the call was from Comrade Secretary Zhao in Beijing.

  “You haven’t really relaxed during your vacation, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.”

  “You know me, Comrade Secretary Zhao. Being a cop may be my lot in life, but I have truly enjoyed this vacation at the center.”

  “Some people have complained to me about your having conducted a secret investigation while in Wuxi. I told them that you don’t have to let everybody know what you’re doing, and in fact, that you were doing some research there, per my instructions.”

  Once again, Zhao was being supportive, for which Chen was grateful. It might be a good opportunity, he thought, to speak to the influential Party leader about the environmental issues.

  “Yes, I wanted to talk to you about something. I’ve followed your instructions, and kept my eyes open for any problems in China’s great reform. The cadre center is located by the celebrated Tai Lake, which is now terribly polluted. I focused my research on issues of the environment. It seems to me that the problem isn’t just about one particular lake, or one specific company. Pollution is so widespread that it’s a problem all over China. To some extent, it’s affecting the core of China’s development with GDP-centered economic growth coming at the expense of the environment. It can’t go on like this, Comrade Secretary Zhao. Our economy should have a sustainable development.”

  He then launched into a detailed account of his research, making good use of what he had learned—mainly from Shanshan—in the last few days. Zhao listened without interruption. Toward the end of his report, Chen added cautiously, “In the course of my research, I happened to look into a case related to environmental issues—”

  “I knew you would come to that, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen. Go ahead, but you don’t have to give me all the details. I’m not a cop.”

  Chen briefed Zhao about the facts of the case before he made his plea.

  “Jiang has been cleared of the murder charge, but he’ll still be convicted. Now, I’ve witnessed firsthand the disastrous damage caused by pollution. An environmental activist should not be punished for his efforts to solve this problem.”

  “I’m pleased to learn that you are concerned about environmental issues, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen,” Zhao said, his voice distinct over the line from Beijing. “We aren’t going to leave a polluted lake to our children. And our economy should definitely follow a pattern of sustainable development. I cannot agree more with all of this. There will be a politburo meeting here next week. I’m retired, but I’m still going to attend the meeting and raise this issue. Turn your report in to me as soon as possible. I may use some of the figures in it.

  “As for Jiang, it’s not up to me to look into a specific case, as you know. For an emerging cadre like you, it’s necessary to keep a larger picture in mind—it’s not just about one case, or about one person. You’ve done a good job as a capable police inspector, and as a conscientious Party member too, but you also have to keep the perspective of the local authorities in mind. Their worries may not be totally unjustified.”

  “But—”

  “No but, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen. You have a lot of work waiting for you back in Shanghai. A retired old Party member, I, too, have my responsibilities.”

  That was an unmistakable signal that their talk had ended. And also that Chen’s vacation in Wuxi was at an end.

  In the distance, he heard the cries of a wild goose flying alone across the lake.

  There was no point in his staying at the center any longer. He had do
ne what he could, and he now had to finish the report for Comrade Secretary Zhao. Still, there were things for him to wrap up here.

  He had to see Shanshan before leaving. She’d been avoiding him since that night, but he was going to say good-bye to her and tell her that he would come back. What else he could say? He didn’t know. He hadn’t yet revealed that he was a cop—one that worked in the system and for the system—but she probably had guessed as much.

  He went back to the bedroom, where he stood with his hand on the frame of the window overlooking the lake. There was a lone sail drifting across the lake, moving past an islet enclosed in something like white duckweed. He looked at his watch and made up his mind.

  There wasn’t much for him to pack, and in less than fifteen minutes, he was ready. He then took another look at the empty room, finished the herbal medicine in the tiny thermos bottle, and left carrying his small piece of luggage.

  At the front desk, he returned the key to the same receptionist who had greeted him on the day he arrived. Now she was smiling up at him with admiration in her eyes, when Director Qiao hurried over.

  “No, you can’t leave so soon, Chief Inspector Chen,” Qiao said, with sincerity etched on his face. “It’s only been a week.”

  “I really appreciate all that you’ve done for me here, Director Qiao. But I have to leave and—between you and me—I’ll tell you why. I have to finish a report that Comrade Secretary Zhao needs for an important meeting in Beijing. The center is a fantastic place, but with all the buzz about the murder, I can’t concentrate on my report anymore.”

  “I understand, but at least let’s have a farewell banquet—”