Хеннинг Манкелль - The Man from Beijing

‘Weapons?’

‘Partly But first and foremost helping to train their staff, teach them close combat, and also the art of keeping watch on people.’

‘Something we’re expert at.’

‘Do I detect hidden criticism in what you just said?’

‘Of course not,’ said Ma Li in surprise.

‘You know I’ve always maintained the importance of our country protecting itself from the enemy within just as much as from the one without. Many countries in the West would like nothing better than to see Zimbabwe collapse into bloody chaos. England has never accepted totally that the country liberated itself in 1980. Mugabe is surrounded by enemies. It would be stupid of him not to demand that his security service should operate at the very top end of its ability.’

And he’s not stupid, I suppose?’

‘Robert Mugabe is bright enough to realise that he must resist all attempts from the former colonial power to kick the legs from beneath the ruling party. If Zimbabwe falls, there are many other countries that could go down the same road.’

Hong Qiu accompanied Ma Li to the door and watched her disappear along the paved path meandering through the luxuriant greenery.

Right next to Hong Qiu’s bungalow was a jacaranda tree. She gazed at its light blue blossoms, and tried to think of something to compare the colour with, but in vain. She picked up a flower that had fallen to the ground. She placed it between the pages of her diary in order to press and preserve it. She took her diary with her wherever she went, but seldom got round to writing in it.

She was just about to settle down on the veranda and study a report on the political opposition in Zimbabwe when there was a knock on the door. Standing outside was one of the Chinese tour guides, a middle-aged man by the name of Shu Fu. Hong Qiu had noticed earlier he seemed scared stiff that something would go wrong with the arrangements. He seemed to be highly unsuitable as a guide on a big venture like this one, especially because his English was far from satisfactory.

‘Mrs Hong,’ said Shu Fu. ‘There’s been a change of plan. The minister of trade wants to visit a neighbouring country, Mozambique, and he wants you to be one of the party that accompanies him.’

‘Why?’

Hong Qiu’s surprise was genuine. She had never been in close contact with the minister of trade, Ke, and indeed had barely done more than shake hands with him before leaving for Harare.

‘The trade minister has just asked me to inform you that you will be travelling with him. There will be a small delegation.’

‘When shall we be leaving? And where to?’

Shu Fu wiped the sweat from his brow, then flung out his arms. He pointed to his watch. ‘I am unable to tell you any more details. The cars will be leaving for the airport in forty-five minutes. No delay will be tolerated. Everyone involved is requested to take light baggage only and to be prepared for an overnight stay. But it’s possible that you will return as soon as this evening.’

‘Where are we going? What’s the point?’

‘Minister of Trade Ke will explain that.’

‘But surely you can tell me the name of the town we’re headed for?’

‘To the city of Beira on the Indian Ocean. According to the information I have the flight will be less than an hour.’

Hong Qiu had no opportunity to ask any more questions. Shu Fu hurried back to the path.

Hong Qiu stood motionless in the doorway. There is only one explanation, she thought. Ya Ru wants me to be there. He is obviously one of those going with Ke. And he wants me there as well.

She remembered something she had heard during the flight to Africa. President Kaunda of Zambia had demanded that the national airline Zambia Airways should invest in one of the world’s biggest passenger jets at that time, a Boeing 747. There was no market to justify such a large aircraft flying regularly between Lusaka and London. But it soon transpired that President Kaunda’s real aim was to use the 747 on his regular journeys to and from other countries. Not because he wanted to travel in luxury but to have enough space for the opposition, or those in his government and among the top military leaders that he didn’t trust. He crammed his aircraft full of those who were prepared to plot against him or even to engineer a coup d’état while he was out of the country.

Was Ya Ru trying something similar? Did he want to have his sister close by so that he could keep tabs on her?

Hong Qiu thought about the twig that had snapped in the darkness outside her bungalow. It could hardly have been Ya Ru standing out there in the shadows. More likely somebody he had sent to spy on her.

As Hong Qiu didn’t want to oppose Ke, she packed the smaller of her two suitcases and prepared for the journey. A few minutes before departure she went to the front desk. There was no sign of either Ke or Ya Ru. On the other hand, she thought she had caught sight of Ya Ru’s bodyguard Liu Xan, though she wasn’t sure. Shu Fu escorted her to one of the waiting limousines. Also in her car were two men she knew worked in the Ministry of Agriculture in Beijing.

The airport was only a few miles outside Harare. The three cars in the convoy drove very fast with a motorcycle escort. Hong Qiu noticed that there were police officers at every street corner, holding up other traffic. They drove straight in through the airport gates and without further ado boarded a waiting Zimbabwe air force jet. Hong Qiu boarded through the rear entrance and noted that there was a screen separating the front half of the cabin. She assumed that this was Mugabe’s private aeroplane, which he had lent the Chinese delegation. After only a few minutes of waiting, the plane took off. Sitting next to Hong Qiu was one of Ke’s female secretaries.

‘Where are we going?’ Hong Qiu asked when they had reached cruising altitude and the pilot announced the journey would be fifty minutes.

‘To the Zambezi Valley,’ said the woman by her side.

Her tone made it obvious to Hong Qiu that there was no point in asking any more questions. She would eventually find out what was involved in this sudden trip.

Or was it really so sudden? It occurred to her that not even this was something she could be sure of. Perhaps it was all part of a plan that she knew nothing about?

When the aircraft prepared for descent, it swung out over the sea. Hong Qiu could see the blue-green water glittering down below and little fishing boats with simple triangular sails bobbing up and down on the waves. Beira was glistening white in the sunlight. Encircling the concrete centre of the city were endless shanty towns, possibly slums.

The heat hit her as she stepped out of the plane. She saw Ke walking towards the first of the waiting cars, which was not a black limousine but a white Land Cruiser with Mozambican flags on the hood. She watched Ya Ru get into the same car. He didn’t turn round to look for her. But he knows I’m here, Hong Qiu thought.

They headed north-west. Together with Hong Qiu in the car were the same two men from the Ministry of Agriculture. They were poring over small topographic maps, carefully checking them against the countryside they could see through the car windows. Hong Qiu still felt as uncomfortable as she had when Shu Fu first appeared outside her door and announced a change of plan. It was as if she had been forced into something that her experience and intuition warned her about, all alarm bells ringing. Ya Ru wants to have me here, she thought. But what arguments did he present to Ke that resulted in my sitting and bumping along in a Japanese car whipping up thick clouds of red soil? In China the soil is yellow; here it’s red, but it blows around just as easily and gets into your eyes and every pore.