Qiu Xiaolong - Shanghai Redemption

Around one thirty, Chen got to the intersection at new Western Huaihai and Wulumuqi Roads. White Cloud’s new hair salon was there.

He looked over his shoulder, slipped in through the front door of a packed Starbucks, then out the side door, making sure he wasn’t being followed before he turned onto a side street. Then he zigzagged along alleys and side streets, slowly making his way back to the original intersection. Chen took another look around the area near the hair salon before walking inside.

White Cloud was there, surrounded by several girls. She was standing bare-legged in a short white uniform dress, just like the others. Still, there was something that made her stand out as the proprietor. Possibly her ankle tassel sandals added a necessary distinguishing touch.

“Welcome,” a hostess said.

White Cloud turned around. She was opening her mouth in recognition when he made a point of saying formally, like a new customer, “I’d like to have my hair cut, madam.”

“I’ll take him,” White Cloud said to other girls. To him, she asked, “It’s your first time here, right?”

“Yes, a friend of mine recommended your salon.”

“You won’t be disappointed with the service.”

It reminded him of something the cat girls in the Heavenly World had said. If there was something dubious about this salon, he didn’t know. And he didn’t really care.

“Please follow me,” she said, leading him to a sort of a private room in the back. It was a secluded hair-washing area, furnished with a sink, a reclining chair, a swivel stool, and a blue velvet-covered couch against the wall. She locked the door after her.

“I just heard something about your change in position. I called you at the police bureau, and the people who answered wanted me to leave my name and number. It sounded strange, so I hung up without telling them anything.”

“You did the right thing,” he said. “It’s a complicated story. The long and short of it is, I’m in trouble. The position I’ve been assigned at Shanghai Legal Reform Committee is just a smokescreen.”

“But you’ve been doing an excellent job, and the people of Shanghai all know that.”

“It’s not just that I’ve been moved out of the police department. Last night, I nearly fell into what I think may have been a trap set for me at the Heavenly World.”

“The Heavenly World?” she exclaimed. “Yes, I remember something about a book launch party. But a trap?”

He proceeded to tell her what had happened last night, making no attempt to play down the seriousness of the situation.

“But for the call from my mother,” he concluded, “I might have been finished there and then.”

“Thank Buddha,” she said, patting her chest involuntarily like a little girl. “It was a setup, no question about it. The water is so deep there.”

“Too deep. I don’t even know who’s giving the orders behind the scenes.”

“What can I do for you, Chief Inspector Chen?”

The directness of her question perplexed him. There was no hesitation whatsoever in her voice.

“Anything for you,” she repeated emphatically.

“First, I need to learn more about the club. Last night’s raid might have nothing to do with me. If it does, though, I have to find out who is behind the Heavenly World. But I know almost nothing about the nightclub-”

He stopped himself. His words carried unpleasant implications about her associations in that circle, past and the present. But there was no avoiding it: that insider knowledge was the reason he was here.

“I’ll do my best to find out. I have my connections, and perhaps they can tell me something about what was going on last night.” After a short pause, she added pensively, “But I’m worried about you.”

Once again, he was surprised by her stealing the initiative, saying what was difficult for him to say.

“Thank you, White Cloud,” he said. “But you have to be careful. Don’t share a single word about our talk today. Not even to Mr. Gu.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“Yes, but not like I’ve talked with you. For the sake of caution,” he said, producing a cell phone for her, “keep this. If anything comes up, I’ll call you at this phone. If you have to call me, better use a public phone.”

“Got it.”

“Let me know anything you find out,” he added, “or anything people are talking about at the Heavenly World.”

“Don’t worry, Chen. Will you come back here again soon?”

“Not anytime soon, or I wouldn’t be able to pass myself off as a customer, right?” He tried to work a humorous touch into his words. “I’m going to Suzhou for a few days. I’m too easy a target here. But I’ll travel back and forth between the two cities.”

“Too easy a target-you’re scaring me, Chen,” she said. She paused and then produced a business card from her purse.

The card was a simple, elegant one, black and white. It had only her name with a red seal chop hand-printed beside and a cell phone number beneath it. She scribbled several words on the back. “That’s my home address. Drop by any time you like. You don’t have to call ahead.”

“Bingjiang-the one in Pudong? In Lujiazui?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

He’d heard of the apartment complex. It was one of the most expensive in the city and a symbol of wealth and status. Not long ago, he’d seen people at a temple burning offerings that bore the name of the subdivision-an indication of affluence for the dead. She’d been doing well, and having an apartment there was yet another indication of just how well.

“It has a nice view of the river-and the Bund across it. You like the Bund, I know.”

“Thanks. I’ll come to see you.”

He was about to get up, her business card in his hand, when she put a hand on his shoulder, smiling.

“I have to wash your hair first, Director Chen.”

“What?”

“You just said that we have to be careful, didn’t you? Now you’ve come to my salon and stayed for a long time. You can’t leave without having anything done to your hair. What will the others think?”

She had a point. He had no choice but to lie down on the specially designed recliner, his head sticking out over the sink.

She leaned over him, lathering his hair luxuriously, her fingernails scratching his scalp, her bosom almost touching his face. He caught a glimpse of her cleavage through the opening of her low-cut uniform.

“Relax. You’re a first-time customer here. I’m doing my best, so you will come back.”

Subconsciously, he had been aware of her feelings for him, and that was the reason-at least, one of the reasons-that he had come here. He was banking on that.

He let his head be buried in lather. Bubbles of shame. Still, it was very comfortable with her fingers moving in his hair, and he closed his eyes as his highly strung nerves began to relax.

He almost fell asleep, with the water gurgling overhead, as if out of a gargoyle’s mouth somewhere far away, like in a blurred dream.

OLD HUNTER WAS WORKING part-time for Zhang Zhang’s Consulting and Investigating Agency more out of boredom than anything else. It was mostly a one-man operation-the owner, manager, chief investigator, consultant, and whatnot were all one man: Zhang Zhang. Zhang Zhang, however, had declared that he needed Old Hunter, a retired cop with a lot of experience and a lot of connections-not just his own connections, but his son’s as well. Old Hunter’s son was Detective Yu Guangming of the Shanghai Police Bureau, the longtime partner of Chief Inspector Chen.

Old Hunter was only supposed to come in a couple of days a week, and those days were flexible depending upon his availability. There wasn’t much work to do, but during slow times he enjoyed talking to Zhang Zhang, spinning tales about various investigations from his long career with the police. True to his other nickname-Suzhou Opera Singer-he indulged in long, drawn-out narratives full of tantalizing details and digressions, to his audience of one.