Qiu Xiaolong - Don't cry Tai lake

Chen briefed Zhao about the facts of the case before he made his plea.

“Jiang has been cleared of the murder charge, but he’ll still be convicted. Now, I’ve witnessed firsthand the disastrous damage caused by pollution. An environmental activist should not be punished for his efforts to solve this problem.”

“I’m pleased to learn that you are concerned about environmental issues, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen,” Zhao said, his voice distinct over the line from Beijing. “We aren’t going to leave a polluted lake to our children. And our economy should definitely follow a pattern of sustainable development. I cannot agree more with all of this. There will be a politburo meeting here next week. I’m retired, but I’m still going to attend the meeting and raise this issue. Turn your report in to me as soon as possible. I may use some of the figures in it.

“As for Jiang, it’s not up to me to look into a specific case, as you know. For an emerging cadre like you, it’s necessary to keep a larger picture in mind-it’s not just about one case, or about one person. You’ve done a good job as a capable police inspector, and as a conscientious Party member too, but you also have to keep the perspective of the local authorities in mind. Their worries may not be totally unjustified.”

“But-”

“No but, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen. You have a lot of work waiting for you back in Shanghai. A retired old Party member, I, too, have my responsibilities.”

That was an unmistakable signal that their talk had ended. And also that Chen’s vacation in Wuxi was at an end.

In the distance, he heard the cries of a wild goose flying alone across the lake.

There was no point in his staying at the center any longer. He had done what he could, and he now had to finish the report for Comrade Secretary Zhao. Still, there were things for him to wrap up here.

He had to see Shanshan before leaving. She’d been avoiding him since that night, but he was going to say good-bye to her and tell her that he would come back. What else he could say? He didn’t know. He hadn’t yet revealed that he was a cop-one that worked in the system and for the system-but she probably had guessed as much.

He went back to the bedroom, where he stood with his hand on the frame of the window overlooking the lake. There was a lone sail drifting across the lake, moving past an islet enclosed in something like white duckweed. He looked at his watch and made up his mind.

There wasn’t much for him to pack, and in less than fifteen minutes, he was ready. He then took another look at the empty room, finished the herbal medicine in the tiny thermos bottle, and left carrying his small piece of luggage.

At the front desk, he returned the key to the same receptionist who had greeted him on the day he arrived. Now she was smiling up at him with admiration in her eyes, when Director Qiao hurried over.

“No, you can’t leave so soon, Chief Inspector Chen,” Qiao said, with sincerity etched on his face. “It’s only been a week.”

“I really appreciate all that you’ve done for me here, Director Qiao. But I have to leave and-between you and me-I’ll tell you why. I have to finish a report that Comrade Secretary Zhao needs for an important meeting in Beijing. The center is a fantastic place, but with all the buzz about the murder, I can’t concentrate on my report anymore.”

“I understand, but at least let’s have a farewell banquet-”

They were interrupted by a young boy approaching them nervously, holding an envelope in his hands.

“Are you Mr. Chen?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Here’s a letter for you. Confidential. You need to sign the special delivery receipt for me.”

It was a new sort of business in Chinese cities. Instead of sending things through the post office, people used a service for intra-city delivery. With one phone call, a letter or package would be delivered in a couple of hours. The only equipment the business needed was a bicycle or a motorcycle. Chen had no idea who would have arranged for such a special delivery to him.

“Thank you.” He signed his name on a form and took the letter, then turned back to Qiao without opening it. “I’ll come back as soon as I can, Director Qiao. Let me take a rain check on your invitation.”

“Then let the center’s car take you to the station.”

“That I gratefully accept, Director Qiao.”

He walked out of the center’s office and a shiny black limousine was waiting for him outside. The limousine driver, a short, middle-aged man with a receding hairline, said in a respectful tone, “Railway station, sir?”

“No, let’s go to the Wuxi Police Station.”

Twenty minutes later, the limousine drove up to the Wuxi Police Bureau, which was located at the center of the city. It was a sprawling concrete complex with a shining vertical sign in the front of the main building and a gray iron gate on the side. Two armed cops guarded the entrance.

“Do you want to drive in?” the driver asked, glancing first at the gate and then over his shoulder.

“No, I’ll get out here. Right here-not in front of the bureau, please.”

“Whatever you say,” the driver said without trying to conceal the puzzled look on his face.

“You may go back to the center,” Chen said. “I’ll take a taxi to the railway station when I’m done here.”

“There’re several trains to Shanghai today,” the driver said good-naturedly. “Don’t worry about getting a ticket. You can buy one at the train station easily-even just five minutes before the train leaves.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that.”

It wasn’t yet noon. Chen looked around for a place to sit. Across the street, he caught sight of a teahouse, which didn’t exactly face the bureau but did command a good view of it. It was one of the new fashionable Hong Kong-style establishments, serving tea, as well as other drinks and snacks, with several plastic tables outside and a large pink umbrella sporting a Budweiser logo. It almost looked like an open cafe. He chose a table behind a willow tree.

Thinking that the local cops might frequent the place, Chen put on a pair of sunglasses. Hopefully no one would recognize him except perhaps Huang.

For a change, he had black tea, with a wedge of lemon placed on the edge of the cup. Sipping at the tea, he noticed a grocery store not far from the bureau. It was a mid-sized store that supposedly stayed open for twenty hours, where customers were constantly moving in and out, around a flowering pear tree standing near the entrance. Chen leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs.

He had made the decision to come here on the spur of the moment. With Comrade Secretary Zhao pushing for Chen’s report and Shanshan refusing to accept his calls, this would probably be the only opportunity for him to see her before he left for Shanghai that afternoon.

She wanted to say good-bye to Jiang, a natural gesture to someone in trouble given her generous personality. Chen thought he understood, and if anything, it made him think even more highly of her.

Looking around, he prayed that he could get hold of her before she met with Jiang. Chief Inspector Chen wasn’t going to do anything to prevent the meeting. He simply wanted to tell her that he had to leave, and that he would come back.

His cell phone vibrated. He snatched it out and answered it. It was from Sergeant Huang.

“I’ve called you a couple of times, Chief, but you were always on your phone.”

“Sorry, I had a call from Beijing,” he said, realizing that he must have been too engrossed in his talk with Zhang to notice the incoming call.

“We had a real breakthrough after I spoke with you, Chief, and it’s all due to our conversation. The moment I put down the phone, I started searching Fu’s place all over again. You know what? The missing statuette was there, sitting on the top shelf in the midst of some other awards and statuettes, staring me right in the eyes.”