Hidden Moon

3

Min stood in the doorway of my office, watching me sand a scrap of oak. It was from the side of a blanket chest we’d found in an apartment abandoned by a smuggling ring. They might have been Ukrainian; we never knew for sure. The place had been empty for weeks. The smugglers knew we were on their trail almost before we realized they existed. It hadn’t bothered me, missing a band of foreign crooks, but the Ministry wasn’t pleased. Everyone who worked on the case eventually found an unflattering note in his file. The gang had used an axe on the blanket chest and on the few other pieces of furniture in the apartment as well. It was their way of telling us to keep our distance. The chest deserved better. I salvaged what I could; no sense wasting completely good oak.

I could tell from the way he fidgeted that Min had something to say. He was waiting for me to acknowledge his presence. After a minute or two, he coughed, a sign of surrender. “Pardon me, Professor.” Min sometimes used mild sarcasm to cover a retreat. “If we’re not too busy, if we’re settled again in the office after our vacation, perhaps we could discuss police business.” He paused for dramatic effect, one last effort to recapture the offensive. “There’s been a bank robbery.”

For a moment the sound of the sandpaper scratched at the quiet afternoon. “ ‘We’ weren’t on a vacation,” I said at last. “ ‘We’ were on a delegation.” I turned the oak over a few times in my hand to check for rough spots before looking up to acknowledge his main point. “A bank what, did you say?”

“The central file must still have you listed as liaison. Why would they send an inspector on a delegation like that?”

“I just go where they tell me, Min.”

“Right. Remind me to check next time I’m near the file room.” He gave me a sly look. “Did you go out to any of those bars? Supposed to be some good places in Beijing.”

I nodded. “Supposed to be. Get yourself on a delegation sometime.”

Min shrugged. “The furthest I ever go is Nampo to deal with drunken sailors. Did I tell you about the one that got left by his captain, off one of those foreign ships?”

“Once or twice.”

“Out of curiosity, what is it you do on those trips? Your reports don’t say.”

“I sit a lot. Give advice.”

“You?”

“People always want to know where other people are. Sometimes they don’t even ask. They walk in, I point.”

“That’s it?”

“No. Occasionally it gets exciting. Someone needs something. I go and get it.”

“Fine.” Min walked over to my window, which looks onto the front gate and the street. “Don’t tell me what you do.” He turned and stared outside. “Nice view,” he said. He was gathering his thoughts, and I wasn’t expected to say anything. Finally, he turned back to me. “Someone robbed the bank. I think it’s called a ‘heist.’ ” He used an English term, something he rarely did, and then rubbed his broad forehead as he considered whether this was the right word. “Or maybe ‘feist.’ You don’t watch the movies? I thought they had them on all the damn TVs in those fancy hotels in Beijing.”

“I was hardly in the room. The delegation was always in meetings.”

“So it said in your report.”

I let that pass. “To tell the truth, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Have we ever had a bank robbery here? None that I can recall, at least, not since I’ve been in the Ministry.”

“A long time.”

“Too long.” I blew the sawdust off the oak and held it up to the light. Oak takes time getting smooth, especially a piece that has been axed into splinters. Even under the best circumstances, you have to be relaxed to tackle oak. If you also have to restore a sense of dignity to the wood, to coax it back to life, that takes even more concentration. If you’re not feeling patient, my grandfather would say, leave oak alone. I looked up again at Min. He didn’t look patient.

“There’s nothing in the training manual about bank robberies.” I pointed at the green-covered book on the floor behind me. It had been there when I came into the office years ago, and there had never been a reason to disturb it. “That means no standard procedures, no approved plan of operations. I wouldn’t know where to start.” I turned the piece of wood around a couple of more times in my hand and then tossed it into the out-box. “In fact”-I smiled because it was almost true-“I’m not even sure where the bank is.”

Some people might have frowned. Min’s expression didn’t change. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and began a familiar ritual, pacing in front of my desk. Since he became chief inspector two years ago, the rhythm never varied, spring or winter, sunshine or rain. Four steps up, a slow turn, a glance out my door into the empty hall, then four steps back. Two revolutions, never three, then he would speak. “Don’t play dumb, Inspector. The bank is in your district. You drive by every day, and you know it. The Ministry says this needs to be solved quickly or it will scare away foreign investors. Our job is to keep them safe and happy. If we become known as a country where bank robberies go unpunished, investment will dry up, the flow of good things to those for whom good things are required will slow, and the Ministry of People’s Security will be blamed.” He stopped pacing and gave me a meaningful look. “Obviously, the Minister’s head is on the line.”

“Aha, the main point.”

“No, Inspector. Not the main point.” He started moving again, but more slowly, more deliberately. If he resumed pacing, it usually meant the conversation would be extended. “The main point is…”

“Why don’t you sit down, Min?” I pointed to a chair.

This time he did frown, slightly. He didn’t like to sit in my office; he thought it broke the sense of hierarchy, what little we had. Frowning or not, at least he was standing still. “The main point,” he said, “is that I want the crime solved. Yes, I’ve been away on other business for the past week, but I’ve not been idle. I’ve been in meetings.” The silence was heavy. I let it sink, content to wait for Min to turn, look out the door, and then finish his thought. “Important meetings.”

“Bank robberies,” I said, “are rarely solved. Certainly not in meetings, however important.” The phrasing was delicate because there was no sense antagonizing Min over this point. He thought meetings were a key to the well-being of the office. To me they were a waste of time. We chalked it up to personal style, though I suspected it was something more, a character defect on his part.

“So! You are familiar with bank robberies. I thought you didn’t know what I was talking about. No movies, you said.”

“Not from movies, from television, which I watch at the Foreign Ministry to keep up on the foreign news. We have to go there since-just to remind you-all we have in this office is a radio. A radio with bad reception, to say nothing about the choice of programs.” I watched the complaint walk out the door, without Min even nodding in its direction. “From what I’ve seen, every civilized country has bank robberies. It helps the circulation of money, one theory goes. You never heard of Robin Hood? Or John Dillinger?”

“Why are you hanging around the Foreign Ministry? You have no business there these days.” Min sniffed the air suspiciously. “Do you?”

“Liaison.” It was the right response. The chief inspector likes to hear we are being modern, keeping up contacts with other departments, studying the latest international police techniques, learning the jargon. He grunted, so I continued. “The liaison officer has a TV in his office. Some ministries do actually supply equipment to their people.” I looked around my office to indicate where there was space for a television. “I don’t know what he watches most of the time, but you can hear him switching to the news when he thinks someone is coming down the hall.”

Min looked at me, then at my out-box, then turned without a word and walked back to his office. I closed my eyes. It was a wonderful spring day, the first Friday in an April of peace and calm; the air was fresh, the trees were budding, and I had nothing to do. My phone rang. It was Min. “Wake up and get in here. We need to talk.” He lowered his voice. “Who is this Di Lin Ger character?”