Peter May - Chinese Whispers

‘What?’

‘You give incorrect address. Misleading to police. Present visa expire Saturday. You must make arrangement to leave country before then.’

* * *

The taxi ride back to the apartment passed in a blur of unreality. The city rose up above her, towering over her on all sides, traffic squeezing in from every direction to choke her taxi’s progress south on the Third Ring Road. She felt mocked, betrayed, robbed. It seemed inconceivable to her that within three days she would have to leave, possibly never to return. This was her home. It was where she had made her life, conceived and given birth to her child. It was where the man she loved had his home, where he worked. It was his country. How could they forbid her to share it with him? She only thanked God that she’d had the foresight to register Li Jon with the American Embassy to obtain his Consular Report of Birth Abroad. If the worst came to the worst, and she really did have to leave, she would at least be able to take him with her.

But somewhere, deep down, she couldn’t believe it would come to that. Li wouldn’t let it. He must be able to do something. He was a senior officer of Public Security, he must have some kind of influence he could bring to bear. It just didn’t seem possible that she would actually have to go.

By the time her taxi was turning into Zhengyi Road, she had persuaded herself that it would all get sorted out. Li would find some way to fix things. But still, she looked at the street she knew so well with different eyes, for somewhere behind them there lurked still the fear that the life that was so familiar to her now would soon be taken away. It left her feeling empty and sick, and she fought to hold on to the optimism she had been trying so hard to build on the ride home.

The taxi dropped her at the roadside outside the ministry compound, and she wheeled Li Jon in his buggy past the armed guard, towards the pink and white apartment block that she had come to regard as home — for better or worse. There was a black and white police patrol car parked outside the main entrance. It was not unusual to see police vehicles within the compound, but as she approached it she saw two uniformed officers sitting inside, and Margaret began to feel distinctly apprehensive.

She walked past as if it wasn’t there, keeping her eyes fixed ahead of her, and turned into the path leading to the main door of the block. She heard car doors opening behind her and then slamming shut. A voice called, ‘Mizz Cambo.’ She was almost at the steps, and wanted just to run up them and disappear inside, shutting the door behind her, closing out the world. She just knew that this was something she didn’t want to hear. She stopped and turned.

‘Yes?’

The two officers approached her, faces impassive, unsmiling. ‘Mizz Magret Cambo?’

‘I just said I was, didn’t I?’

‘You come with us.’ The officer put out a hand and fingers like steel closed around her upper arm.

Margaret pulled herself free indignantly. ‘What for?’

‘You undah arrest, lady. Fail to give change of address to PSB.’

‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous!’ Margaret’s words made her feel braver than she felt. ‘Do you know who the father of my child is?’

‘Formah Section Chief Li Yan.’

‘Former …’ Margaret’s voice tailed away, and she felt her world falling in around her.

‘Chief Li disgraced officah. He put cult of personality above duty to country.’ It sounded like a mantra that had been put out in a memo. ‘You come with us.’ And he took her arm again. This time she did not resist. There seemed no point. Powerful currents had her in their grip and were sweeping her away on an uncertain tide. This must be what drowning felt like, she thought. As you were dragged down through the water you knew there was no way back, and you released the breath you had been so desperately holding, succumbing to the water that rushed to replace it in your lungs, slipping into the state of unconsciousness that cradled you before death.

Li had spent most of the last hour just driving aimlessly through the city, letting the traffic flow carry him where it would. He had driven a couple of times around Tiananmen Square, then turned north up Nanchang Street, flanked on one side by the Forbidden City and Zhongnanhai on the other. Trees on either sidewalk grew across it to intermesh and create a tunnel shading it from the late season sunshine. People were going about their everyday lives, cycling to and from work, shopping, walking, chatting idly on corners or on benches, playing chess, flying kites. It seemed wrong, somehow, that their world kept turning as it always did, while his had turned to dust under his feet. His inertia, his inability to decide his next move, was building a frustration in him that was threatening to explode. He beeped his horn fiercely at a cyclist who turned out of the Xihuamen intersection and Li accelerated past him into Beichang Street. There was nowhere else for him to go but Section One. Even if he was impotent to do anything, to be in any way pro-active, Qian and Wu were not. They were still actively involved in both the Ripper case and the Lynn Pan murder. They could still make a difference. He had to talk to them.

Another fifteen minutes found him on Dongzhimen, heading east, past all the red lanterns hanging from the trees, past street vendors steaming huge trays of dumplings in preparation for the lunch trade that was already starting to gather pace. Men and women in suits streamed out of office blocks and shops and into restaurants, wrapped in warm coats against the cold of the wind, wearing sunglasses to protect them from the blinding autumn sun. Li saw Mei Yuan on her corner as he turned into Hepinglidong Street. He remembered her wet face and red eyes and her distress while Li Jon was still missing. In their own distress, both he and Margaret had not fully appreciated the hell that Mei Yuan must have gone through, believing it all to be her fault. He could see that her eyes were still swollen and red as she served a queue of customers. She did not see him as he turned north, and then west into Beixinqiao Santiao to park in the street outside section headquarters.

He had already reached the top floor and was striding towards his office when the duty officer caught up with him. ‘Chief,’ he called twice, before Li stopped and turned.

The duty officer was a man in his fifties, in charge of security, administration and firearms. ‘Yes, Tao?’ Li said, although in his heart he knew what was coming.

Tao was red-faced and embarrassed, breathless from having run up the stairs after Li. ‘I’m sorry, Chief Li,’ he said, and he genuinely was. ‘But I’m afraid I can no longer allow you access to the building.’

He took a half-step back, almost as if he was anticipating an explosion. Li was angry, and frustrated, but he knew that Tao was only doing his job. He said, ‘I just need to get some stuff from the office.’

Tao seemed almost ashamed. ‘Afraid I can’t let you do that, Chief. You can’t touch anything in here. And I’m afraid I’m instructed to ask you to return any files or documents that you may have taken home with you.’

‘In the name of the sky, Tao, I’ve got personal stuff in there.’ He jerked his thumb towards his office, and became aware for the first time that a group of detectives was gathered in the doorway to the detectives’ room. He saw a grim-faced Wu amongst them.

‘I’m sorry, Chief.’ Tao cleared his throat and held out his hand, ‘And I’m afraid I have to ask you for the keys to your car.’

Li stared at him. They really were stripping him of everything. No office, no car, no job. No way to fight back. He put his hand in his pocket and took out his car keys and slapped them into Tao’s outstretched palm.