A Loyal Character Dancer

Chapter 27

They reached the hotel in the growing dusk.

From her room, Chief Inspector Chen made a phone call to Detective Yu. Aware of Inspector Rohn’s presence, Yu did not say much on the phone, except that there would be a new interview tape delivered to Chen.

Then she said she wanted to phone her supervisor.

He excused himself to smoke a cigarette in the corridor.

It was a short conversation. She came out before he finished the cigarette. Looking out at the ancient city in the dusk, she said that her boss suggested she return home. She did not seem eager to comply.

“We may make some progress tomorrow,” she said.

“Let’s hope so. Maybe the fortunetelling poem will do the trick. I’ll take a rest in my room. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“If anything happens, call me.” She remembered there was no phone in his room. “Or knock at my door.”

“I will.” He added, “Maybe we can take a walk this evening.”

He went to his room. When he turned on the light, to his surprise, he saw a man sitting there-to be more exact, taking a nap with his back resting against the headboard.

Little Zhou looked up with a start. “I’ve been waiting for you. Sorry I fell asleep in your room, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“You must have waited for a long time. What has brought you here, Little Zhou?”

“Something from Detective Yu. Marked to be delivered to you, ASAP.”

Since Qiao’s abduction, Chen had made a point of contacting Yu by cell phone, and in an emergency, through Little Zhou, whom Chen trusted.

“You didn’t have to come all this way,” Chen said. “I will be back at the bureau tomorrow. Nobody knows of your trip to Suzhou?” Chen asked.

“Nobody. Not even Party Secretary Li.”

“Thank you so much, Little Zhou. You are taking a great risk for me.”

“Don’t mention it, Chief Inspector Chen. I’m your man. Everybody knows that in the bureau. Let me drive you back tonight. It’s safer in Shanghai.”

“No, don’t worry. We have something to do here,” Chen said. “Let me talk to the hotel manager. There should be another room available. You can return to Shanghai tomorrow morning.”

“No, you don’t have to. If there’s nothing for me to do here, I’m leaving. But first I’ll go to the night market for some local products.”

“Good idea. Live river shrimps are a must. And Suzhou braised tofu too.” He wrote his cell phone number on a card for Little Zhou. “Both you and Lu can call me at this number.”

He walked out to the door with Little Zhou. “It’s a long drive back to Shanghai. Take care, Little Zhou.”

“Two hours. No sweat.”

Back in his room, he opened the envelope. It contained a cassette tape with a short introduction from Yu.

Chief Inspector Chen:

Following the interview with Zheng, I found Tong Jiaqing in a hair salon. Tong is a girl in her early twenties, charged with indecent practices on several occasions, though discharged soon afterward each time. The following is the interview with her in one of those private rooms. As you did in the national model worker case, I made an appointment at the salon.

Yu: So you are Tong Jiaqing.

Tong: That’s correct. Why do you ask that?

Yu: I am from the Shanghai Police Bureau. Take a look at my card.

Tong: What! A cop. I’ve done nothing wrong, Officer Yu. Since the

beginning of the new year, I’ve been working here as a law-abiding

hairdresser.

Yu: I know what you do. That’s not my business. As long as you

cooperate by answering my questions, I will not bring any trouble

down on you.

Tong: What questions?

Yu: Questions about Feng Dexiang.

Tong: Feng Dexiang? Um, he used to be one of my clients.

Yu: At this hair salon?

Tong: No, at the massage salon in the city of Fuzhou.

Yu: That’s where the police charged you several times. So did you

see him a lot there?

Tong: That was more than a year ago. He had some sort of small

business, trading fake jade bracelets or selling mud-covered crabs.

So for a while, about four or five months, he came to the salon

once or twice a week.

Yu: Give me the details of his visits.

Tong: Well, you can guess. Do I need to tell you the details? You’re

recording my statement. It will be used as evidence against me.

Yu: Not if you cooperate. You know Zheng Shiming, don’t you? He

gave me your address. I’m on a special assignment here. With

your past record, you know how easy it would be to put you back

in jail. No one will be able to procure your release this time.

Tong: Don’t scare me. I was just one of the massage girls. At a

massage salon, you know, there’s basic service and full service. A

client pays fifty Yuan for basic, but four or five hundred Yuan for

full, not including the tip.

Yu: Now at the price of four or five hundred Yuan, Feng came once

or twice a week for half a year. That was a lot of money. You must

have some expertise. Feng had a small business, as you said. How

could he have afforded this?

Tong: I don’t know. Those people never tell you what they really

do. They only tell you what they want you to do. And then they do

whatever they like with their stinking money.

Yu: Did you know that Feng was married?

Tong: A massage girl does not ask such questions. But he told me

about it the first night.

Yu: What did he say about his marriage?

Tong: He said he had lost all interest in Wen. A piece of dead meat

in bed. No fresh taste or smell. No response. He got those dirty

videotapes from Taiwan, for her to do the same hot stuff as in the

tapes. She was unwilling, and he punished her.

Yu: A perverted bastard. What kind of punishment?

Tong: He bound her hands and feet, burned her breasts with a

candle, struck her body with a piece of firewood, and fucked her

like an animal. It’s the punishment she deserved, he said-

Yu: Why did he want to tell you all that?

Tong: Because he wanted to do the same things with me. You

know what? He used to be a butcher before he became the

commune head in the Cultural Revolution. When she bled and

screamed like a pig, that turned him on.

Yu: What had she done to deserve punishment?

Tong: He believed that she ruined his career. But for the scandal

with her, he could have stayed in power.

Yu: He raped her. How could he have blamed her?

Tong: That’s not the way he saw it. He called her the white tiger

star in his life.

Yu: Then why didn’t he divorce her?

Tong: I think I can guess. Whenever he made some money, he

squandered it in places like where I worked. So he wanted to keep

something in reserve. A home to go back to, a purse to snatch, a

body to abuse.

Yu: I see. You understand him well. When did you last see Feng?

Tong: About a year ago.

Yu: Did he tell you about his plans to go to the United States?

Tong: That’s no secret in Fujian. He promised to bring me over

when he got there.

Yu: What about his wife?

Tong: He called her trash. Good riddance. I did not believe him. He

made me that promise in exchange for free service.

Yu: So there was no change in his feeling toward his wife before

his departure?

Tong: No. None at all. It’s just because of her pregnancy-

Yu: Now wait a minute, Tong. You just said you have not seen him

for a year. How did you know that?

Tong: Well-I heard what other people say.

Yu: Who? Most of the men in his village are gone. You are not

telling me the truth, Tong. You are still in contact with Feng, aren’t

you?

Tong: No, I swear I have nothing to do with him now.

Yu: Let me tell you something. Zheng’s a much harder nut to crack,

but he cracked when he heard Superintendent Hong’s promise to

do whatever I wanted. So Zheng told me a lot, and about you too.

How once several people had a go at you together, Zheng said,

Feng, Blind Ma, Shorty Yin.

Tong: What! Zheng told you that, the thousand-ax-hacked rascal.

He was the fourth beast that night.

Yu: That alone would be enough to put you back behind the bars.

Group sex is forbidden absolutely. Now I’ll tell you what. I’m here

in plainclothes. No one knows anything about my visit. Why? I’m

working on a case directly under the central government.

Tong: No one knows anything about our talk?

Yu: No one. That’s why I arranged to have this talk in a private

room. I’ll pay you for the full service in front of other people. No

one will suspect anything.

Tong: Um, I’ll take your word, Officer Yu. I may have something for

you, but I did not know anything about Feng’s current situation

until last week. A gangster came to me.

Yu: A Flying Ax came to you! For what, Tong?

Tong: He asked me the same questions you have just asked.

Yu: What is his name?

Tong: Zhang Shan. He said he’s from Hong Kong, but he did not

fool me that easily. From Hong Kong indeed, like I’m from Japan.

That bastard had a face as thick as a rock wall.

Yu: How did you know? He did not have his residence permit

printed on his face.

Tong: I could not give him any information, so he demanded free

full service or he would cut my face. Do you think a Hong Kong

man would stoop so low? A totally rotten thousand-year-egg.

Yu: Did he tell you anything about Feng?

Tong: In bed, he gave me no rest for half a night. Afterward, he

mumbled something about Feng and his wife.

Yu: That may be important. What did he say?

Tong: The organization is really pissed off. They are leaving no

stone unturned to dig up his wife.

Yu: What if they find her?

Tong: That depends on Feng.

Yu: What does that mean?

Tong: He did not explain. They will probably hold her hostage.

Imprison her in a dungeon. Torture her. Anything you can

imagine. If Feng does not cooperate, they will impose the Eighteen

Axes, I guess.

Yu: Eighteen Axes?

Tong: Hack her with eighteen blows of an ax. The worst form of

the triad’s punishment. As a warning to others.

Yu: Now there are only two weeks before the trial. What will they

do if they do not find her by then?

Tong: I don’t know, but I think they are really worried about

something. I have no idea what it is. They won’t stop until they get

hold of her. At any cost, Zhang said.

Yu: At any cost. I see. Anything else?

Tong: That’s all, Officer Yu. A bastard like him does not want to talk

much when he is satiated. I did not want to appear interested in

Feng. I did not know you would come today.

Yu: Well, if what you have told me is true, you probably won’t hear

from me again. But if it is not, and I find out, you know what will

happen.

Tong: It’s nothing but the truth.

Chief Inspector Chen pushed the off button and lit a cigarette.

He was depressed. He had been involved with more sordid cases, but something troubled him about this one. Sitting, resting his head against the hard headboard, he seemed to see exotic patterns of light and shadow dancing on the opposite wall, like a devil-mask dancer in a movie.

He did not like his job.

It more than shocked him that Wen’s life had been so horrible. Now he saw why she had not applied for the passport in January. Why should she want to join such a husband? That immediately led to another question. What had brought about her change of mind? For a once-high-spirited girl, “the prettiest leftist,” wearing the proud armband of the Red Guard, how could she have chosen to live the rest of her life like a piece of stale meat on a cutting stump, to be carved and cut by a butcher of a husband?

The tape presented a more disturbing question. Again, here was a Hong Kong visitor, rather than a local thug. Tong’s judgment was questionable. There’s nothing too low for a gangster, whether from Hong Kong or Fujian. But why should the Flying Axes have sent a Hong Kong gangster to approach Tong, a salon girl in Fujian?

What’s more, what was the “something” that would bother the gangsters, and make them stop at nothing to find Wen.

Tong might not be a reliable informant. Nevertheless, Chen was struck with an ominous premonition.

Something might be terribly wrong with his earlier hypothesis. He only knew that he was at a critical juncture. One move amiss, and the whole game would be irrecoverably lost.

In a game of go, he would change his position by leaving that battle for the time being, to focus on another, or to start a new one. Tactical repositioning. After all, he might stage a comeback when the situation changed. So one possible option was for him to close the investigation. Give up.

From Party Secretary Li’s point of view, Chief Inspector Chen had already done his job well enough. And Catherine Rohn’s supervisor also wanted her to return.

As for Wen Liping, ironic as it might appear, he had to acknowledge that wherever she was, it would probably not be much worse than in Feng’s company.

Party Secretary Li was right about one thing. Inspector Rohn’s safety was a matter of top priority, for which Chen felt immensely responsible. The gangster had said at any cost-that made him shudder. If anything happened to her, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Not merely because of politics.

He had sensed her sympathy earlier in the day. Particularly by his father’s grave. No one else had ever accompanied him there. The gesture had a meaning for him. He realized that despite their differences Inspector Rohn had come to mean more to him than a temporary partner.

But it was absurd of him to be contemplating such things with his investigation bogged down in a mire of unanswered questions, inexplicable complications, unpredictable hazards, and with Wen Liping still missing.

Could he really quit now, with what he saw as the national interest at stake, and risk Feng failing to testify against Jia? With the possibility of “eighteen axes” looming for Wen-a pregnant woman, helpless, with no money or job?

The cigarette burned his fingers.

He was seized with an urge. To forget those contradictory thoughts, about Wen, about politics, about himself. He longed for an evening at the Cold Mountains Temple, by the Maple River, with the moon rising, the crow calling, the frosty sky enfolding, the riverside maples swaying, the fishing lights glittering, and the arrival of a guest boat at the stroke of midnight… To lose himself in the world of Tang poetry, for however brief a moment.

As he stepped out of his room, he saw the light still on in Catherine’s. But he continued down the stairs to the front desk. There he picked up the phone, then hesitated. Several; people were standing around idly. Not far away, another group of people sat in front of a color TV. He put down the receiver and walked into the street.

The city of Suzhou seemed not to have changed much in spite of China’s Open Door Policy. Here and there, new apartment buildings appeared amidst old-styled houses, but he failed to find a public phone booth. Walking, he came to the arch of an ancient white stone bridge. He crossed, coming unexpectedly into a brightly lit thoroughfare with a variety of shops. It was like a juxtaposition of different times.

At one corner of the thoroughfare, he saw a post office open. In its spacious hall several people waited by a row of phone booths with glass doors, above each of which a strip showed the relevant city name and phone number. A middle-aged woman looked up, pushed open the door, and picked up the phone inside.

He started to fill out a request form to call Gu. Once more he hesitated. He’d better not reveal his whereabouts to someone like Gu. So he put down Mr. Ma’s phone number. Gu might I have contacted the old doctor.

After ten minutes, the number he had requested showed up on the screen. He stepped into the booth, closed the door behind him, and picked up the phone.

“It’s me, Chen Cao, Mr. Ma. Has Gu contacted you?”

“Yes, he did. I called the bureau. They told me you were in Hangzhou.”

“What did Gu tell you?”

“Gu seemed to be really concerned about you, saying that some people, powerful people, are opposing you.”

“Who are they?”

“I asked him, but he did not tell me. Instead he asked me whether I had heard anything about a Hong Kong triad called Green Bamboo.”

“Green Bamboo?”

“Yes. I asked several people about them this afternoon. It’s an international organization with its headquarters in Hong Kong.”

“Anything about its activity in Shanghai?”

“No, nothing so far. I will keep asking. You take care, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“I will. You too, Mr. Ma.”

As he left the post office, his steps were dragging. Various things appeared to be entangled like bamboo roots under the ground. The Green Bamboo. Chief Inspector Chen had not even heard of them until now.

And he lost his way in the unfamiliar city. After having made a few wrong turns, he came to the Bausu Pagoda Garden. He bought an entrance ticket, though it was too late for him to go into the pagoda.

Strolling aimlessly in the garden, in the hope that some ideas might come to him, he saw a young girl reading on a wooden bench. No more than eighteen or nineteen, she sat quietly with a book in one hand, a pen in the other, and a newspaper spread on the bench. Her lips touched the shining top of the pen, and the bow on her pony tail fluttered like a butterfly on a breath of air. This scene reminded him of his days in Bund Park, years earlier.

What could she be reading there? A poetry collection? He took a step toward the bench before he realized how deluded he was. He saw the title of book: Market Strategy. For years, the stock markets had been closed, but now “stock madness” was sweeping the country, even this corner of the ancient garden.

He climbed a small hill and stood on top of it for several minutes. Not far away, he seemed to hear the murmur of a cascade. He glimpsed, in the distance, a faint flickering light. On this April night, the stars appeared high, bright, whispering to him through memories…

Such stars, but not that night, long ago, lost,

For whom I stand tonight, against the wind and frost.

But tonight it was not as bad as in Huang Chongzhe’s lines, not as cold. He whistled, trying to pull himself out of his mood. He was not meant to be a poet. Nor was he cut out to be an overseas Chinese making a “grave-sweeping” trip with an American girlfriend-as those old women had imagined. Nor a tourist, wandering about in the city of Suzhou at leisure.

He was a police officer, incognito, conducting an investigation, unable to make a decision until after the next day’s interview.