Shanghai Redemption

SEVENTEEN

IT WAS GOING TO be another busy day, Yu thought, when he woke up.

It was still quite early when he heard Peiqin slip out of the room lightfootedly. Her long-standing morning routine was to get to the food market before six a.m., and then back home to prepare the breakfast for the family. Lately, though, she hadn’t been getting up that early, what with Qinqin staying at his college dorm during the week, and her going to bed later, after staying up surfing the Internet.

The moment she closed the door, he sat up and reached for the case files. Taking out a pack of cigarettes, he hesitated, but then lit one. He started reading over the files yet again.

About six twenty, Peiqin came back with a basketful of vegetables, fish, and a live chicken.

“Is someone coming for dinner?” he asked, quickly moving the ashtray out of sight.

“No, it’s for Chen’s mother. She’s checking out of hospital today. So I’m cooking something for her.”

“That’s a good idea. How is she doing? You didn’t tell me much about how she’s coping.”

“There’s nothing really wrong with her, but she was badly scared. She’s a frail old woman, and the doctor is concerned. He’s not sure her heart could stand that kind of shock again.”

“That worries me too. Whoever is after Chen will not let him go so easily.”

“Then whatever happens next, no one can tell,” she said, taking a plastic container out of the basket. “Oh, I almost forget. I also bought soy milk for you, fresh from the market. Drink it. And the earthen oven cake too. Eat it while it’s still hot.”

He took a bite of the cake. “Another question. You’ve been spending a lot of time online. Have you found anything special?”

“About your boss?”

“Or anything related to Chen, even remotely related.”

“Well, I haven’t seen much about the police department, but there seems to be a lot of chatter about Red Prince Lai and his campaign of red revolutionary songs,” she said, perching herself at the edge of the bed and breathing into the cup of soy milk in her hand. “You know I’m not interested in politics, but those red songs give me goosebumps. I remember how, during the Cultural Revolution, I trembled, along with my black parents, the moment those red songs started blaring from the street loudspeakers. Are we really going back to those days?”

“I doubt it. I don’t think people are interested in going back to those years.”

“But Lai is on the rise. He’s the head of the red princelings. With his ever-increasing band of followers, it seems that he’s on his way to the very top. There are rumors and stories about power struggles in the Forbidden City,” she went on, sipping at her soy milk. “For instance, there’s an article online about Lai’s son, and with it is a picture of him, clearly drunk, standing with the American ambassador’s daughter. The caption on the photo is, ‘A red prince of the third generation.’ The article seems to reveal a lot about his behavior at college, an expensive American Ivy League college, and how he’s spending money like water. As for how they can afford to send him to such an expensive university, Lai has told contradictory stories. On one occasion, Lai said his son was able to enroll because he was awarded a scholarship, and on another, he declared that they were able to pay the expensive tuition with his wife’s savings, money she earned as a most brilliant lawyer. Even though she publicly resigned, she’s rumored to be still in control of the law firm. She was initially nicknamed ‘the First Lawyer,’ and now that she’s resigned from her firm, they call her ‘the First Lady.’”

“The First Lady-” Yu cut in. He’d heard that before, but referring to her that way publicly was taboo in China’s politics. That title was reserved for the wife of the Party’s general secretary, the number one. “But what does all that have to do with Chen?”

“It’s about making sure all the prince’s men are lined up behind him. That’s an absolute necessity in China’s politics. Is Chen one of Lai’s men? Hardly, and if he’s not, how can Lai allow Chen to remain in such a crucial position? He can’t. He can’t afford anyone who isn’t completely loyal. The Party congress scheduled for the end of the year is Lai’s big opportunity, and there’s not even the slightest chance he’ll risk letting anyone spoil that for him.”

Peiqin knew what she was talking about. However, it was one thing to remove Chen from his crucial position in the police department, and it was another to go after him relentlessly, determined to publicly destroy him. Events were coming to a crucial juncture, with the Party congress coming up, and such a move against Chen could backfire. Chen had been a popular chief inspector, having conducted a number of high profile anticorruption investigations.

“There’s also one post about your new position,” she said. “It’s in relation to your investigation of the Liang case.”

“What about it?”

“Commenters have proposed a lot of different interpretations, speculating about what really happened to Liang. Generally, they believe that Liang was caught off guard but that he had been preparing for his exit, securing a passport or even several of them, a long time ago. So as soon as the Internet started buzzing about him, posting evidence of his corruption, he fled.”

“But there’s no record of him leaving the country.”

“He could have sneaked out under another name, with a false passport, or he could be in hiding somewhere in the country. With all the money that he’s hoarded away, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to lie low for a while and then, when the time is right, stage a comeback.”

“You’re right, Peiqin,” he said, finishing the cake. “But I think I have to leave early this morning. There are so many pending cases that the squad is investigating.”

“You go ahead. After I finish preparing the dishes for Chen’s mother, I’ll go see her at the hospital, and then I’ll leave for the restaurant around noon.”

Yu didn’t explain what he was going to be working on that day. Yesterday, Party Secretary Li had initiated another talk with him, asking questions about the squad’s work, focusing on the progress of the Liang case. Li seemed anxious for Yu to declare it a “cold case.” In other words, a case that wasn’t yet resolved, but one on which there was no more productive work to be done.

Yu called Xiao Yang, a young officer in the squad, telling him that he had to take care of something and would be in later. After hanging up, he headed to the subway entrance near Huangpi Road.

Liang’s company was located on West Nanjing Road. According to the company profile, there wasn’t a factory or workshop at that location. In the Shanghai dialect, such a company was sometimes called a briefcase company, meaning all of its assets could be put into a briefcase.

But to his surprise, when he got there, the company had a large, luxuriously decorated office in a tall building next to Henglong Center, another new landmark in Shanghai. The office was partitioned into a large number of cubicles, but there were only five or six people there. The phones, however, were ringing constantly. The office manager, a man named Jun, received Yu with an ill-concealed mixture of indifference and impatience.

“Your people have already been here. What more can I possibly tell you? We’re more anxious than anybody to learn what’s happened to Liang. His wife, Wei, is worried sick.”

“You’ve heard nothing new?”

“Nothing. But in the meantime, we have to keep the business going, and it’s been very difficult. So please find him as soon as possible. He’s not shuangguied, is he?”

Shuanggui-“double gui” or “twin designations”-was something beyond the legal system. A corrupt Party official might be detained for inter-Party interrogation at a specific place (the first gui), for a specific time (the second gui), before going through any legal procedure. It was done to protect the interests of the Party. This way, whatever details the corrupt official might spill wouldn’t come out in the media. If a Party official wasn’t shuangguied, then it might mean he wasn’t in serious trouble.

Yu ignored Jun’s question and instead asked, “How long have you worked here, Manager Jun?”

“More than three years.”

“So you would be able to answer the questions being raised on the Internet about your company’s incredibly lucrative deals from the government?”

“You’re asking the wrong person, Comrade Detective Yu. I work under his wife, and I’m only responsible for PR. The boss didn’t share any confidential details about the company’s business transactions.” Jun went on after a pause, “You know we supply parts for the new high-speed trains, don’t you? For a country with such a huge population, the importance of the high-speed rail can’t be exaggerated. In less than ten years, we’ve already surpassed the rail systems of America and the more advanced European countries. The safety, as well as the quality, of our products is not just critically important, it’s a political priority.”

Jun’s answer sounded like glib propaganda, an echo from an article in the People’s Daily.

“But your company only supplies chairs and tables for the new trains.”

“Nonetheless, they are integral part of those trains. The designs were studied and restudied, and our products meet all the quality requirements. Everything has to be the best, a point that has been made again and again, and everything we did was legitimate. You can’t pay attention to irresponsible hearsay on the Internet,” Jun said, raising his voice. “If you have any more questions, you have go through our representatives, the Kaitai law firm. Our bid to supply parts for the high-speed rail project was arranged through them.”

Jun handed him a business card.

“Their offices are nearby, in Commerce City. It’s just a block away, on Nanjing Road.”

Yu took the card, surprised at the hostility in Jun’s voice. So far it was still a missing person case, but given all the evidence posted about the company’s practices on the Internet, there was no reason for a PR manager to be this uncooperative.

There was also something strange in the way Jun had referred him the law firm. It was as if he thought he was playing a trump card.

Afterward, Yu made his way to Kaitai LLC in the Shanghai Commerce City, one of the top office buildings in the city. To his amazement, the law firm occupied nearly half a floor, and an impressive sign outside the suite indicated that it had branch offices in Beijing and Hong Kong.

A partner in the law firm named Dai received Yu in an office that overlooked West Nanjing Road. Dai was seated at a large mahogany desk, with a laptop next to a desktop computer, and what looked like a tablet as well. On the white wall behind him, there was an impressive array of pictures of Party officials and business tycoons. Some of the people in the pictures were foreigners, including a president of a European country. Yu recognized only a few of them.

Dai turned out to be far more polite than Jun, but also far more guarded.

“The city government people came to us about Liang and his business transactions. We were told not to discuss the sensitive details with anybody else. Besides, Liang is neither charged nor shuangguied. He’s simply disappeared. We’re not obliged to say anything.” Dai added with a smile, “Of course, if you have some general questions, I’ll try my best to help.”

“I understand. In last several years, Liang landed a number of enormously lucrative deals with the government, but his company didn’t have any special expertise or experience, compared to other companies-”

“That’s something I can’t discuss,” Dai said, cutting Yu off. “It was due to the reputation of the company, I suppose. Liang has always delivered on time and met the required specifications.”

“Also because of his connections, I would say.”

“Yes, his connections,” Dai said, leaning back in his chair. “For a successful businessman today, that’s not really surprising.”

“Liang’s company was selected, from all the competing companies, as the designated supplier for the high-speed train, and your law firm prepared all the documents for the bidding process. According to one post on the Internet, however, the company created a special memory drive for which they charged the Railway Ministry more than ten thousand yuan. It was discovered to be nothing more than an ordinary flash drive wrapped in a plastic shell-a flash drive that sells for only twenty yuan in any supermarket.”

“That decision was made by the Railway Ministry in Beijing. I’m not a technology professional, so I can’t tell you anything about it,” Dai said. “We helped them submit their bid, and all the necessary specifications were included and verified. Everything was legitimately done.”

“But if everything was legitimate, why did he flee?”

“That’s a question for the police, not us. As far as I can see, Liang simply panicked. The storm of accusations on the Internet was terrifying. It was like a lynch mob. His privacy was invaded, his personal life put out on display, and all his company’s secrets paraded before the public. Nobody could possibly withstand the pressure.”

It was clear that this conversation was going nowhere. Sighing inaudibly, Yu wondered whether Chen could have done any better.

“But there is one thing I can tell you. The company uses a well-known American accounting firm to audit its books. If you’re interested, talk to the accounting firm directly.”

Dai sat up in his leather swivel chair, his fingers touching a framed picture on the desk. It was a photo of a strikingly attractive woman.

“Our law firm has come a long way,” Dai said. “You might have seen pictures of our special advisor Kai in the newspapers. She no longer works in the office, but she founded it single-handedly.”