Peter May - The Firemaker

‘Qian,’ he said. ‘We’ve made an identification of our burn victim. His name is Chao Heng, graduated from the American University of Wisconsin in 1972 in…’ He glanced at the piece of paper in his hand, ‘… microbial genetics. Whatever that is. Let’s get an address and find out what we can about him ASAP. Okay?’

Qian almost sat to attention. ‘I’m on it already, boss.’ And he reached for a telephone. But he hesitated before dialling, watching, like everyone else in the room, as Li opened the door to his office. There were some stifled sniggers as he stopped in his tracks, confronted by the bizarre figure of an old man with long, wispy white hair and an equally long silver goatee. He was wearing what could only be described as black pyjamas and was sitting cross-legged on Li’s desk. Margaret peered round Li to see what the cause of the hilarity was.

‘What the hell…’ Li looked at the old man in consternation, aware now of some less restrained laughter behind him. Lily had come into the room and was staring open-mouthed at the old man.

‘Who is he?’ Margaret finally asked, perplexed by the bizarre nature of the scene unfolding before her.

‘No idea,’ Li said. And in Chinese to the old man, ‘Would you like to tell me what you are doing in my office?’

More laughter from the detectives’ room as the old man emerged from some deep contemplation and turned on Li a wizened and solemn face. ‘Bad feng shui ,’ he said. ‘Ve-ery bad feng shui .’

‘ Feng shui ?’ Margaret said, recognising the words. ‘I know what that is.’

Li turned to her in astonishment. ‘You do?’

‘Sure. It’s a current passion among middle-class Middle Americans with nothing better to do with their time. A girlfriend dragged me along to a class once. The balance of yin and yang and the flow of ch’i and all that kind of stuff. The spirituality of architecture and interior design.’ She paused. ‘So who’s this guy?’

‘Evidently, a feng shui man,’ said Li through gritted teeth.

‘And… he goes with the job, does he?’

Li glared at her, and was then distracted by more unrestrained laughter from his colleagues. He turned his glare on them, which muted their laughter a little, before turning back to the feng shui man. ‘What are you doing in my office?’ he repeated, although he already knew the answer.

His heart sank as the feng shui man confirmed, ‘Your Uncle Yifu asked me to fix your feng shui . He is very concerned about this place. And he is right to be. Ve-ery bad feng shui .’

Detective Wu brushed respectfully past Margaret with a solemn nod and appeared at Li’s shoulder. He pushed his dark glasses up on to his forehead. ‘Chief wants to see you, boss.’

‘What?’

‘As soon as you got back, he said. I think maybe he’s worried about your… feng shui .’ And he couldn’t keep his face straight any longer.

Li’s lips pressed together in a resolute line. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to Margaret, and pushed back out into the corridor.

At the far end he rapped on a door and walked into Chen’s office. Chen’s face clouded as he looked up from his desk. ‘Shut the door,’ he said tersely. ‘What is that man doing in your office?’

‘He’s a feng shui man,’ Li said hopelessly.

‘I know what he is.’ Chen was struggling to keep his voice down. ‘What is he doing here?’

Li sighed. ‘My Uncle Yifu sent him.’

Chen leaned back in his seat and groaned in frustration. ‘I suppose I should have guessed.’

‘I’m sorry, Chief, I had no idea…’

‘You know that the practice of feng shui is not approved of in official institutions. Just get rid of him. Now.’

‘Yes, Chief.’ Li turned to the door, but stopped, his hand still on the handle. He turned back. ‘By the way. The suicide in the park? It’s a murder.’

When he got back to the detectives’ office Margaret was engaged in what appeared to be animated conversation with the entire office, Lily acting as interpreter. Li closed his eyes for a moment and wished, fervently, that he was somewhere else. ‘Hey, boss,’ Wu said, ‘this is some smart lady. Lily’s been telling us how she figured out the identity of the body in the park.’

Margaret was sitting on one of the desks and swivelled towards the door. ‘This is a really nice bunch of guys you’ve got working for you, Deputy Section Chief Li.’

‘Li Yan,’ Li said. ‘My name’s Li Yan.’ And he felt the colour on his cheeks rise involuntarily, blushing to the roots of his hair. He wondered if his day could possibly get any worse, and hurried into his office. The feng shui man was standing in the centre of the room taking notes. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go,’ Li said.

The old man nodded sagely. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I shall need to give this much thought.’ He pointed towards the filing cabinet on the door wall. ‘This cabinet is no good here. It stops the door opening fully. The door must open one hundred eighty degrees. Negative ch’i collects in empty spaces behind doors, and you can’t see the whole room when you enter.’ He shook his head and turned to the window. ‘Window is jammed. Restricts the view. Will bring limited opportunities.’ He tapped the desk. ‘Are you left or right-handed?’

Li sighed. ‘Right-handed. Why?’

‘We have to move the desk. Light must not come from your writing side. And we need water in here and fresh plants.’ He pointed at dead plants in old pots on the sill. They had once belonged to Li’s predecessor, but since his death no one had watered them and so they, too, had died. ‘This is very bad feng shui . And we should think about the colour of the walls…’

Li took him gently by the arm. ‘I’m quite happy with the colour of the walls. But you really have to go now.’

‘Tomorrow I come back with the plan.’

‘Oh, I don’t think you need to worry about that. I’ll speak to my uncle tonight.’

‘Your uncle is my very good friend. I owe him many favours.’

‘I’m sure.’

The old man took a last look back as Li guided him out into the corridor. ‘Bad feng shui ,’ he said. ‘Ve-ery bad feng shui .’

Li turned back into the detectives’ room to find all of them, including Margaret, watching him with ill-concealed smiles.

‘Anyway,’ Margaret said, ‘I think it’s time you took me to lunch, don’t you?’

‘She just asked him to take her to lunch,’ Lily translated quickly for the rest of the room, and they all waited with intense interest to see what Li’s response would be. He was trapped. She had just performed a huge favour for his boss, and therefore indirectly for him. The etiquette of guanxi required him to return the favour. And lunch was a very small price to pay. Except that his colleagues were unlikely to let him forget it in a hurry. He fumbled to remove his fob watch from the small leather pouch looped on to his belt and glanced at the time.

‘I don’t have much time, and it’s a little late,’ he said lamely.

Lily whispered a translation. ‘Aw, come on, boss,’ Wu said. ‘The least you can do is buy the lady some lunch.’

Margaret didn’t need a translation. ‘Something fast. A burger would be fine.’

Li knew there was no way out of it, and a tiny mischievous thought formed itself in his mind. ‘Okay. I know a place.’

‘I tell the driver to bring car round.’ Lily started for the door.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Li said quickly. ‘I’ll take a pool car. We’ll meet you back here in an hour.’ He held the door open for Margaret.