Peter May - The Firemaker

She carried on up, and along the corridor to the office she had returned yesterday to Professors Tian, Bai and Dr Mu. Only Dr Mu was there. ‘Hi,’ Margaret said again. ‘Do you know where Bob is?’ Dr Mu looked at her as if she had two heads. Of course, Margaret remembered, she didn’t speak English. ‘B-o-b,’ she said again, slowly, with emphasis on both ‘b’s. It sounded ridiculous. ‘Forget it.’ She headed on down the corridor towards Professor Jiang’s office. She was about to knock on the door of the outer office when it opened and Veronica very nearly walked into her. ‘Oh, hi,’ Margaret said. ‘I’m looking for Bob.’

Veronica regarded her very coldly and said, ‘He taking lecture.’ And then she brushed past without another word.

Margaret was starting to get a bad feeling about this. The pain in her head was making it feel heavy, and the weight of it was beginning to make her neck ache. She sighed and went back downstairs and across campus to the lecture rooms. She found Bob tidying up his notes after class. He glanced up as she came in, then turned back to his notes. ‘I’m surprised you bothered turning up at all,’ he said, and looked pointedly at his watch. ‘I mean, you’re only two hours late for your lecture.’

‘Shit, I’m sorry, Bob. I slept in.’

‘Was that “I” singular or “we” plural?’

Margaret flushed. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Well, I’m assuming you didn’t go back to your hotel to sleep in after spending the night at Detective Li’s apartment. I mean, would it be fair to say that you both slept in? Together? At his place?’

Margaret’s initial embarrassment was turning very quickly to anger. How in God’s name did he know where she’d spent the night? ‘I think it would be fair to say that’s none of your business,’ she said.

He dropped his notes on the desk with a bang and turned to face her, eyes livid. ‘Well, I think it would be very un fair to say that. Considering I had to take your class at the last minute, and then spend the next half-hour in Professor Jiang’s office trying to make excuses for you.’

‘What — everyone knows where I spent the night?’

‘Yes. They do.’

‘How?’ She was incredulous.

‘Lily Peng.’

‘What? You mean that little bitch was spying on us?’

‘Don’t blame Lily,’ Bob said abruptly. ‘She’s only doing her job.’

‘Jesus Christ, what is it, a crime to spend the night at someone’s apartment in this country?’

‘Well, actually, yes it is,’ Bob said, knocking all the wind from her sails. ‘Everywhere you go in China, every time you change your address, it is a legal requirement to report to Public Security. For legal purposes, checking into a hotel is regarded as the same thing. You didn’t stay at your hotel last night. Technically you broke the law. Lily reported your whereabouts to Public Security, they reported to your danwei here at the university. Professor Jiang and everyone else in this department feels dishonoured by your conduct. They consider your behaviour to have been outrageous, and I agree.’

‘Fuck!’ Margaret stood with her hands on her hips, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. ‘This is unreal.’

‘No,’ Bob said angrily. ‘This is China. And it’s very real. I thought you’d read your briefing material from the OICJ.’

She couldn’t meet his eye. ‘I said I’d got it. I didn’t say I’d read it.’ She heard his gasp of frustration. ‘Look, I’m sorry, okay? I only came here to teach a few classes and get away from a lot of shit back home. I didn’t know I was going to have to take Big Brother along for the ride.’

‘It’s not Big Brother who keeps an eye on you here,’ Bob snapped. ‘It’s everyone. Your neighbour, your bellhop, the elevator man. The street committee, the census cop, the work unit. It’s a self-policing society. Of course, you’d know all that if…’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ she cut in. ‘If I’d read my briefing material.’

‘Well, I’m glad you can treat it so lightly. I can assure you the OICJ will not. They have spent a great many years building good relations here in China, and you could have ruined that in one night.’

‘One night of passion, right?’ she said bitterly. ‘I mean, that’s what you all think, isn’t it? Well, it might interest you to know that it wasn’t like that. Nothing happened. I slept in one room, he slept in another.’

‘I couldn’t care less,’ Bob said. ‘And if you think that’s the issue here, then you’re missing the point.’

‘And just what is the point, Bob?’ She was keeping her short temper on a tight leash.

‘The point is you are a guest who has abused the hospitality of your hosts.’ He stabbed his finger at her across the lecture room. ‘You’ve shown not the slightest interest in this country or its culture since you got here. I’d thought that helping out with Detective Li’s investigation would be a good bridge-builder. It’s been a goddamn disaster.’

He was clearly unaware of just how much she had contributed to that investigation. She wondered if it would make any difference if he knew, but concluded that in his present frame of mind it probably wouldn’t.

‘I suggest,’ he continued, ‘that for the next five weeks you stay well away from Deputy Section Chief Li and his investigation. And you’d also be well advised to stay out of Professor Jiang’s way. It was all I could do to dissuade him from putting you on the first plane home.’

‘Oh, was it?’ said Margaret. ‘Well, I’ll tell you what. You needn’t have bothered. I’ll be booking a seat on it myself.’ She tossed her notes in his direction and they fluttered gently down through the still air. ‘I quit.’

Further details had come in from Hong Kong. The man who had repeatedly driven his fist into Li’s face in the dark and wet the night before, the man whose face now stared up at him from the fax on his desk, was known as Johnny Ren. He had a long record of juvenile offences from the age of twelve, ranging from theft to rape and assault. A nice kid, Li thought. He was now thirty and hadn’t been arrested for more than eight years. The Hong Kong police, however, did not believe he had suddenly seen the error of his ways. Their information suggested he had been taken under the wing of a Triad gang operating out of Kowloon, and they suspected his involvement in at least half a dozen gang killings in the early nineties. Intelligence from underworld sources led them to believe that he was now operating as a freelance ‘mechanic’, or hit-man. But they had no evidence to back this up. His legitimate income came from a chain of restaurants in which he was a partner. He lived well, had an expensive apartment near the racecourse on Hong Kong Island, and kept a boat at the marina. He drove a Mercedes Sports and owned a Toyota Landcruiser. He wore Versace suits and smoked American cigarettes. Li didn’t need to be told which brand. Someone in the Hong Kong police had done their homework on Johnny Ren. But he wasn’t home right now, and nobody had seen him for several weeks.

There was a knock at Li’s door, and Qian looked in. ‘Everyone’s here, boss.’

‘Did you get all that stuff copied?’

‘Yeah. It’s being handed out in the meeting room now.’

‘Good. Be right there.’ Li gathered his papers and stood up. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, and saw Johnny Ren’s face as it had been last night in the park. It was burned into his brain. A face contorted by anger and intent, leaning over him, only inches away, the smell of his rank smoker’s breath in Li’s nostrils. Whatever cool, professional control Johnny Ren had learned over the years had eluded him in the park. He had been going to kill Li. He had been going to drive his fist into the detective’s face again and again until the bone splintered and gave way and the soft brain behind it turned to mush. Li had seen it in his eyes. Johnny Ren had made a mistake and Li was going to die for it.