A Death in China

YOU ARE REQUIRED TO APPEAR BEFORE THE DISCIPLINARY COMMISSION OF THE PARTY.

It gave a time and a date: tomorrow.

He had been expecting it. And it might have come sooner. Once again, it seemed, those idiots in Peking were determined to wrestle long-suffering China back into the Middle Ages. A few months before, such a summons would have paralyzed Wang Bin with terror-as it was intended to do. But he had foreseen it this time, and he was ready. Now there was just fleeting irritation at the dreadful cost to the nation and his own comfort. Let them writhe, he thought. Let them devour their own entrails if they wish. Comrade Deputy Minister Wang Bin would never again collect night soil.

This new peace of mind had its price, of course: an odious alliance with the American art dealer Harold Broom. His name had come to Wang Bin from an underground buyer in Hong Kong. Broom had been highly recommended, not for his taste-he had none-but for his resourcefulness. It was a trait that Wang Bin had come to appreciate, though he could not help but despise Broom for his crude arrogance.

Their short relationship had been curt, clandestine and efficient. So far. A visa problem smoothed over. A travel permit expedited. Quiet favors.

Yet there were watchers everywhere, Wang Bin well knew. He doubted that the Disciplinary Commission had learned the truth about Harold Broom, but such news would not shock him. He was ready for anything.

By the time the aide returned to confirm the travel arrangements, Wang Bin had already decided.

"We will take the first one and the fourth one," he said, pointing to the smallest of the four vases.

"Yes, Comrade Deputy Minister. But the comrade director of the museum will be very upset. They are among the best pieces."

"Tell him they are for permanent display in a place of honor in Peking."

"Still, he will not like it."

"Tell him it is for the good of the people. The Revolution demands it."

"Very well, Comrade Deputy Minister. But he is a hard man. He will want a receipt."

A hard man who thinks a receipt will protect him.

"A receipt," said Wang Bin. "By all means. Have the director prepare a receipt and I will sign it."