Hidden Moon

Chapter Two

My head was heavy, but I lifted it anyway. The darkness of the room made me instantly alert. Somewhere, just beyond where I could see, the man in the brown suit was watching.

“Welcome back, Inspector. I saw a movie once in the West; the actress said, ‘We’ve got to stop meeting like this,’ and everyone in the theater laughed. I didn’t find it funny then, but I think I see the point.” He took one of his measured steps forward and clicked on the lamp. The tips of his shoes shone. “In all the world, you and I must meet to talk again. Here. I find that depressing, actually.” He jangled some coins in his pocket. “Let’s begin.”

“What if you and I have nothing to say to each other?”

The club nuzzled against my neck, pressing my head to the side.

“Last time was only a warning, Inspector. This time you might be crippled.”

I tried a more positive tack. “You said you had decided I was the wrong man.”

“That was then.”

“Does my ministry know I’m here?”

“Why should it matter?”

“So, they don’t know.”

“No, actually, we don’t ring up employers, although I know of a few instances where next of kin were notified. Or lovers.”

“Why am I here?”

“Good, straight to the point. I was getting there myself. What is this with you and the British? First in Prague, now here, in your own capital?”

“I already told you about Prague. Check the files; that’s why people keep them, isn’t it? The Scotsman was dropped in my lap by the Ministry. I never saw him before, I had nothing to do with his showing up, and I’ll be happier than anyone when he leaves.”

“Perhaps, Inspector. That isn’t what this file says, however.” A paper appeared out of the gloom, then disappeared again.

“It could be wrong; some files are less reliable than others. I should know.”

“We’ll see.” He paused, and I heard pages being ruffled. I would have thought that he had the file marked exactly where he wanted the questioning to go, but he must have lost his place. “Let’s spend a moment on your professional life.” Another page or two turned; they sounded like dry leaves.

I thought of Yang and licked my lips. “How about another glass of water?” I needed a moment to lock all the doors to my memory.

“No, no water, Inspector, until we finish. Then you can have as much as you want.” I didn’t like the way he said that. There was a low laugh from behind me. I didn’t like that, either.

“Alright, what do you want to know?”

“The file says you come from a troubled office. Your former chief inspector was a good friend of yours. He died under suspicious circumstances, is that right?”

“You know exactly how he died, but I wasn’t there, so I can’t add anything.”

“He was shot by Military Security. Not a deserving end for a loyal Ministry of People’s Security official, would you say?”

“I told you, I wasn’t there.” I didn’t want to talk about Pak.

“It must have made you bitter. Thoughts of revenge ever cross your mind?”

“You want me to say yes? Will that make it easier?”

The club tapped on the floor a couple of times behind me, but otherwise it was quiet.

Finally, the man in brown crumpled a piece of paper and threw it between us. “We’ll leave Pak alone for a moment, Inspector. Let’s start with a clean sheet. Your new chief inspector, Min. Just between us, would you say he is competent at what he does?”

“I don’t rate his competence. He rates mine. We get along pretty well; he gives orders, I follow them.”

“Much of the time I suppose you do, though some might disagree. But I’m not really interested in the particulars of your ministry’s operations. I’m interested in people. Do people interest you, Inspector?”

Here we go, I thought. I knew what was coming next.

“Your colleague, Yang. He is an interesting case, I’d say. The sort of person who attracts the attention of anyone concerned about security. The poor man was practically paralyzed with grief when he lost his family. Yet he was kept on in the capital. His transfer orders out to the countryside were revised; by whom and for what reason was a mystery. Who do you think did that?”

“I was as surprised as everyone else. But he’s getting better.” I remembered what I had told Min. “It just takes a little time, that’s all.” That was the extent of my wiggle; if the subject of the Blue Paper came up, I had no idea what I was going to say.

“You often entertain women in your apartment?”

“Entertain who?” Having the subject changed so abruptly was a surprise. I thought for sure he would want to dig some more about Yang. “No. The old lady who guards the building would find out, and then I’d be in trouble. Everyone would talk.”

“Even foreign women?”

“None, of no description. Who is peddling this stuff?”

“Not even from Kazakhstan?”

I sat back in the chair and closed my eyes. “This is a waste of time, you realize that.”

The club hit my right arm, just below the shoulder. It made my fingers ache, then my wrist, then the pain shot up the back of my head. I took a breath and exhaled slowly.

The man in the brown suit moved forward into the light so I could almost see his face. His mouth was contorted. “Damn you, Inspector, just answer my questions, just do that.” He worked to gain his composure, shook his head, then stepped back into the darkness.

“What did you discover up at the shrine?” His voice had returned to normal, but there was an edge to it that hadn’t been there before. He was interested in the shrine.

“Not much. You spend your days following me around?”

The club tapped the floor, but the man in the brown suit held up his hand. “How old is that shrine?”

“How should I know?”

“Let me put it another way. When was it last reconstructed?”

“Not long ago.” That was what had been bothering me about the place. It was too new.

“When?”

“Recently.”

“What makes you think so?”

“The lumber.”

“Go on.”

“The boards were warped, they weren’t dried long enough, and they weren’t milled. The Japanese had mills, older lumber came from better trees, and there was time to season it.”

“Conclusion.”

“I’m going to say this carefully, because I haven’t had a chance to think about it. Alright with you?”

“Go ahead.”

“There aren’t a lot of mills around these days, for whatever reason. And most lumber isn’t seasoned; the logs are cut up and the wood is used before anyone has a chance to give it a look.”

“Conclusion.”

“Could have been a few years ago, but I’d say more recently.”

There was a silence. The man in the brown suit shifted his feet, a sign that the questioning was going to take a new direction.

“What do you know about Kazakhstan, Inspector?”

“Nothing. No, really, nothing. I hadn’t even thought about it until a few weeks ago. Of course, you mentioned those trees.”

“Did you know that Trotsky was exiled there?”

“Is that a fact?”

I didn’t even feel the club, not then. Maybe I heard the swish it made, but probably not. That might just be part of a broken memory. I couldn’t tell. I don’t remember any more questions. Or how I got back to my own room.