Peter May - The Firemaker

Margaret didn’t. She used the same reasoning Li had earlier to dismiss her initial idea. ‘If he was, they didn’t do a very good job. He’d need to have been really fried for us not to be able to get blood or tissue samples to test for it. Anyway, you never routinely test for AIDS during autopsy, not without a reason. And they left his medicines in the bathroom cabinet. Bit of a giveaway. But more than any of that, why would they? Why would anyone have any interest in trying to hide the fact that Chao Heng had AIDS?’

He couldn’t think of one. He replayed what she had just said and frowned. ‘Why do you say “they”, when we are pretty sure the killer was acting alone?’

‘Because he was a hired gun, right? I mean, we’ve agreed on that, haven’t we? So he had nothing personal against any of his victims. It was someone else who wanted them dead. “They.” It would help a lot if we knew why.’

It was one of the fundamental differences, Li thought, between the American approach and the Chinese approach. The Americans placed more stress on motive. The Chinese preferred to build the evidence, piece by tiny piece, until the accumulation of it was overwhelmingly conclusive. The ‘why’ was not the key to the answer, but the answer itself. Perhaps by working together they could combine the virtues of both systems.

They criss-crossed the lobby, re-examined the lamp over the door, and retraced the killer’s footsteps to his car, where Li’s Jeep was now parked. Looking up, Margaret could see that the trees along the farther edge of the sidewalk would have blotted out the light from the streetlamps, and with the lamp over the door out of action, the killer would have been able to carry Chao across the fifteen feet to his vehicle in deep shadow. ‘Can we go to the park?’ she asked. ‘Follow this guy’s spoor all the way to where he set poor old Chao on fire?’

‘Are you beginning to have sympathy for Chao Heng?’ he asked, surprised.

Margaret shrugged her shoulders. ‘He probably wasn’t a very nice man, Li Yan. But he was dying of AIDS, and someone burned him alive. Maybe that was a little more than he deserved.’ She paused. ‘Are you going to take me to the park?’

‘Okay.’ He got into the Jeep in time to hear his call sign on the police radio. He checked in, and as Margaret climbed into the passenger side was frowning at the message he was receiving in response.

‘We’ve got to go back to headquarters,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘The Chief wants to see me. Urgently.’

‘What for?’

He frowned. ‘I don’t know. They wouldn’t say.’

The atmosphere on the top floor of Section One was thick with tension and cigarette smoke. Margaret had noticed Lily’s driver, Shimei, sitting in the BMW in the street outside. Lily was ensconced in a corner of the detectives’ room waiting for her, something smug in her smile.

Li hadn’t even noticed her. He was more aware of the atmosphere when he stepped into the detectives’ office. It was uneasy, and anxious, and filled with expectation. Detectives lifted grim expressions from their desks to greet him. ‘What the hell’s up?’ he said

Wu said, ‘The Needle and some fancy lawyer are with the Chief.’ He allowed a moment for this to sink in. ‘Chief wants to see you straight away.’

Li was impassive. He nodded and went out into the corridor and straight down to Chen’s office. Margaret looked to Lily for illumination. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Deputy Section Chief Li in bi-ig trouble,’ she said happily. ‘I come pick you up. Been waiting very long time.’

‘Yeah, well, you can just wait a little longer,’ Margaret snapped at her.

The Needle and his lawyer sat in soft seats by the window. The lawyer was young, perhaps thirty, one of the new breed of legal eagles cashing in on recent changes in the justice system allowing accused persons legal representation at an earlier stage in proceedings. He was confident and cocky, wearing a sharp suit and an expensive haircut. The Needle eyed Li with a slow-burning hatred. Chen sat behind his desk, his face grey and severe.

Li gave The Needle and his lawyer a friendly nod. ‘You wanted to see me, Chief?’

‘Serious allegations, Li, have been made against you by this gentleman and his legal representative,’ Chen said gravely. He did not invite Li to sit.

Li raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘What allegations are those?’

The lawyer said, ‘That you coerced my client into accompanying you to the Beijing Workers’ Stadium. That you put a single round in the barrel of a revolver, placed that revolver against my client’s head and repeatedly pulled the trigger until he told you what you wanted to know.’

Li laughed. ‘You’re kidding me. A revolver ?’ He looked at Chen. ‘You know we haven’t used revolvers since the year dot, Chief. We use semi-automatic pistols that are only issued to officers on your specific authority.’ Chen visibly relaxed. ‘And what possible information could I coerce from him that as a concerned citizen he wouldn’t be perfectly willing to volunteer?’

‘You bastard!’ The Needle hissed, and his lawyer placed a restraining hand on his arm.

‘You did go to the Workers’ Stadium, though?’ Chen asked.

‘Sure. But there was nothing coercive about it. I went to the Hard Rock Café and asked him if I could have a word. Must have been two hundred witnesses in the place saw him walk out with me of his own free will. We went to the stadium for some privacy, because he wasn’t too keen on being seen in public talking to a cop.’ He turned towards The Needle. ‘Something about street cred, you said, wasn’t it?’

The Needle glared back at him. His lawyer said, ‘There was a witness.’

Li frowned. ‘A witness?’ Then, ‘Oh, you mean “observer”. Dr Campbell is an American pathologist helping us with a case.’

‘Where is she, Li?’ Chen demanded.

‘In the office.’ For the first time, he seemed uneasy. A close inspection of his veneer of confidence might have shown hairline cracks. Chen picked up the phone and asked for Margaret to be brought in. They waited in tense silence. There was a knock at the door and Margaret made a tentative entrance. She saw The Needle and immediately felt sick.

Chen said, ‘Does everyone here speak English?’ The Needle’s lawyer nodded. Chen turned to Margaret. ‘I am very sorry, Dr Campbell, to drag you into this. But these gentlemen here have made a very serious allegation about the conduct of Deputy Section Chief Li. You might be in a position to help us clarify the matter.’

Margaret felt the colour rising on her face. She glanced at Li. But he was steadfastly avoiding her eye. ‘Of course,’ she said.

‘Do you know this gentleman?’ Chen said, indicating The Needle.

‘Sure. Deputy Section Chief Li spoke to him this morning.’

‘Where?’

‘We met him at the Hard Rock Café and…’ Her hesitation was almost imperceptible, but she felt as if it lasted minutes. ‘… drove to some stadium or other.’ She glanced again at Li, but his face was giving nothing away.

‘And what happened?’

‘We went inside.’

‘And?’

‘I don’t know. They were speaking in Chinese. I didn’t know what they were saying.’ Until now everything she had said was true.

Chen took a deep breath. ‘It is alleged that Li put a revolver, armed with a single bullet, to this man’s head and repeatedly pulled the trigger. Is this the case?’

Again, her hesitation seemed to last a lifetime. ‘Not that I saw,’ she said finally. After all, it was partially true. She had turned away, hadn’t she?

There was a long silence. Margaret could hear distant voices on another floor, a far-off rumble of traffic and horns from Dongzhimennei Street. The Needle glanced at his lawyer. His English had not been up to the exchange. But his lawyer sat stiffly, lips tightly pursed. Chen leaned across the desk towards The Needle and said, ‘Get the fuck out of here before I charge you with making false allegations against the police.’