Qiu Xiaolong - Death of a Red Heroine

“Who?”

“You don’t need me to tell you. You know-or you will know.”

It would be useless to ask Li any more about it.

“I give you my word,” Li promised. “Justice will be done. You will be completely occupied with the conference. We’ll keep you informed.”

“Thank you, Comrade Party Secretary Li,” Chen said, “for everything.”

For Chief Inspector Chen’s future, Party Secretary Li’s analysis made sense-if Chen still longed for such a future. Chen left the conference room without further protest.

He could not find Dr. Xia, who was perhaps not too eager to fill out those Party application forms after all. His search for Yu met with no success either. In his own cubicle, he found a short note saying, “I’m working with the Internal Security people now. I’ll keep my mouth shut, as you have suggested, and my eyes open. Yu.”

A detective could not be too cautious with Internal Security.

Later, as Chief Inspector Chen was leaving, Sergeant Liao approached him in the corridor, “Congratulations! What a wonderful job.”

“Thank you.”

Liao added in a whisper, “We’ll make sure that Miss Wang’s application for a passport is properly processed.”

“Miss Wang, oh-” Chen had hardly thought of her during the last few days. But other people had. Because of him. This same Liao, who had called him “a busybody who cannot take care of his own business,” was offering to take care of hers-assuming it was still his.

Now that he was back in the Party’s favor, Wang would get her passport. Sergeant Liao was such a snob.

“Thank you,” he said, shaking Sergeant Liao’s hand energetically.

But Wang already seemed to be as far away as the woman referred to by Li Shangyin: Master Liu regrets that Mount Peng is too far away/And I, thousands of times farther away from the mountains.

In the ancient Chinese legend. Master Liu, a young man of the Han dynasty, ventured onto Mount Peng, where he had a wonderful time with a beautiful woman. When he returned to his village, it had changed beyond his recognition. A hundred years had passed. He never found his way back into the mountains. So the couplet was frequently read as contrition over an irrecoverable loss.

I t was the fourth day of the National Police Cadre Conference.

The Guoji Hotel, located at the intersection betwen Nanjing Road and Huanghe Road, overlooking the central area of the city, had been the highest building in Shanghai for many years.

Chief Inspector Chen had been provided with a luxurious suite on the twenty-second floor. Looking out of the window to the east, in the first gray light of the morning, he could see the building of the First Department Store joining various stores on Nanjing Road in a colorful parade towards the Bund. But he was in no mood to enjoy the spectacular view. He hurried to put on his clothes. The last few days had been so hectic for him. Not only was he a representative of the Shanghai Police Bureau, he also had to serve as a conference host, coordinating all kinds of activities. Most of the representatives were superintendents or Party secretaries from other cities. He had to build his connections with them. For himself as well as for the bureau.

As a result, he had hardly had any time to think about the progress of the case. Still, the first thing he did that morning, as he had for the past few days, was to sneak out of the hotel to a public phone booth across the street. He had asked Yu not to phone him in his room except for an emergency. With Internal Security working in the background, they had to be extremely cautious.

At their agreed-upon time, he dialed Yu’s number. “How are things going?” he asked.

“Positive. Tell you what, even Director Yao Liangxia, that Marxist Old Woman, called our office. She declared that the Party Discipline Committee stood behind us firmly.”

“Was anything said by Party Secretary Li?”

“Last night, a telephone conference was held between the Bureau Party Committee and the mayor. Only Party Secretary Li and Superintendent Zhao were present. Closed-door discussion, of course. Politics, I imagine.”

“Li will not say a single word about those meetings, I understand. Is there any news from other sources?”

“Well, Wang Feng has also contacted us, saying they are going to run a front-page story in the Wenhui Daily tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Wu’s on trial today! Haven’t you heard, Chief Inspector Chen?”

“What!” he said. “No, I haven’t.

“That’s surprising,” Yu said. “I thought they would have informed you immediately.”

“Will you appear in court?”

“Yes, I will be there, but Internal Security will run the show.”

“How are you getting along with the Internal Security people?”

“Fine. I think they’re serious. They’re gathering all the documents.” Yu then added. “Except they haven’t really double-checked some evidence and witnesses.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take Comrade Yang, the one at the gas station, for instance. I suggested that they call him in for identification, and then use him as a witness in court. But they said that it would not be necessary.”

“So what do you think the result will be?”

“Wu will be punished. No question about that. Or it does not make sense to have all the fanfare going on,” Yu said. “But the trial could last for days.”

“Death sentence?”

“With reprieve, I bet, with the old man still in the hospital. But not anything less than that. People will not consent.”

“Yes, I think that’s most likely,” he said. “What else has Wang told you?”

“Wang wanted me to convey her congratulations to you. And Old Hunter, too-a salute from an old Bolshevik. Old Bolshevik- that’s his word. I haven’t heard him say it in years.”

“He’s an old Bolshevik indeed. Tell him I’ll treat him at the Mid-Lake Teahouse. I owe him a big one.”

“Don’t worry about that. He’s talking about treating you. The old man does not know what to do with his adviser’s allowance.”

“He absolutely deserves it after his thirty years in the force,” Chen said, “not to mention his contribution to the case.”

“And Peiqin is preparing another meal. A better one, that much I can promise you. We have just got some Yunnan ham. Genuine stuff.” Detective Yu, who should have been years beyond such overexcitement at concluding a case, kept rambling on. “What a shame. You are missing all the fun here.”

“Yes, you are right,” Chen said. “I’ve been so busy with the conference. I’ve almost forgotten that I’m in charge of the case.”

Putting down the phone, he hurried back to the hotel. He had a presentation to make in the morning, and a group discussion to attend in the afternoon. In the evening, Minister Wen was scheduled to make an important concluding speech. Soon he was overwhelmed by the conference details.

During the lunch break, he tried to make another call to inquire about the trial but in the lobby he was stopped by Superintendent Fu, of the Beijing Police Bureau, who talked to him for half an hour. Then another director came up to him. And he had no break at all during dinner, as he had to toast all the invitees, table after table. After dinner, Minister Wen, who seemed to be especially well-disposed toward him, sought him out. Finally, after the long speeches, well after nine o’clock, Chen stole out of the hotel to another phone booth on Huanpi Road. Yu was not at home.

Then he dialed Overseas Chinese Lu. Wang Feng had called him. “She’s so happy for you,” Lu said. “That much I could tell. Even in her tone. A really nice girl!”

“Yes, she is,” Chen said.