Bamboo and blood

2

Winter was never busy. In bad weather, people stayed off the streets if they could. The worse the weather, the more they stayed indoors, even if they had no heat. We may have been the only ones in the city who were glad when it snowed heavily. Fewer people outside, less chance for trouble-everybody knew it. Anything that happened on the street pretty quickly got thrown our way. But if something went wrong in an apartment, it was rare for us to be called. Even if people phoned, Pak's inclination was to tell them to settle it themselves. Have the neighborhood committee deal with it, he'd say and hang up. The neighborhood committees liked that sort of thing; it bolstered their sense of importance and gave them another reason to meddle. Occasionally, one of them would write a nice note to the Ministry pointing out Pak's "good judgment." The note would be put in his file, and that would keep the Ministry off his neck for a few months. That was fine by me. If the Ministry was off his neck, it was easier for him to keep them off mine.

Just to keep a hand in things, I'd walk through my sector a couple of times a week in winter, even on icy days. Mornings, there would often be a street gang out clearing sidewalks. At least a couple of people would be working; the rest liked to loll around and chatter. The girls fixed their scarves when they saw me. The boldest ones sang out, "?lo, Inspector, it must be quiet in your office today." In years past, their eyes would sparkle. Their cheeks ruddy with cold, they would whisper among themselves for a moment, and then one of them, the boldest, would walk up and say, "We've got tea across the way. Stop by and we'll bring it down to you." She'd wave toward an apartment house on the corner. "Or you can wait inside," something that always brought more laughter.

"No. Thank you, but no," I'd say. "These sidewalks need more work, don't you think?"

And one of the men, sweating with exertion, would look up and shout, "What are you girls doing there? Get your shovels working, why don't you, instead of standing around bothering the police. Let him go about his business, you hear?" He'd nod to me and then go back to chipping the ice. None of them would pay any attention to him.

But this winter things were different. The work gangs were smaller, and nobody spoke when I walked by. Sometimes, one or two would follow me with dull eyes, too weak or dispirited to move their heads. I had the feeling I was moving past ghosts.

On rare occasions, I drove over to the university. I didn't like being there. Schools belonged to another security unit, not even to the Ministry, and in those days it made me nervous to be on someone else's territory. But Pak had worked out an understanding to let us peek in from time to time. When Pak needed an understanding, he could usually get it. We should have access to the campus, he'd say, just to keep an eye on things. Just in case the situation started drifting toward some unknown event, a potential trigger. No one would talk about it openly, and the Ministry wouldn't put anything on paper, but we all knew what was happening, and we all knew that the students might get in front.

"I don't think I should be over there," I said to Pak.

"Don't worry so much. It's all arranged, just keep a low profile. If anyone asks, you're thinking of going back to school, technical training, something." Especially now, when classes were held only sporadically, with so many teachers too weak or tired to lecture, and the students too hungry to concentrate, Pak was keen on our keeping up good contacts on campus. I dodged as best I could, but I always ended up going.

"Get to school and check in with the ears, Inspector."

"Busy day, Pak, not sure when I can make it. Send someone else, why don't you?"

"All you're doing is staring at the molding on the ceiling. You're not going to paint it, so leave it be. I need you over at the campus. You're good at it; you give off the right vibrations. Students don't clam up when they see you coming."

"Yes they do. If looks could kill, I'd be scattered to the winds by now. They hate our guts, and you know it. Things haven't calmed down from when they chased that SSD fool off of the campus."

"Served him right, trying to break into a student meeting like that. Don't worry. As long as you stay in the shadows, they won't bother you and we can keep away from Tiananmen. Just check in with that kid you have on a string."

"She's not on a string. Why don't I do it off campus somewhere?"

"The whole idea, Inspector, is to show the flag."

"In the shadows?"

"You don't have to wave the flag, Inspector, just unfurl it a little. Stroll around, sit on a bench, rattle a doorknob, let them know you're there."