Peter May - The Killing Room

Margaret confined herself to a quick nod, not trusting herself to open her mouth again.

But if Mr Cui had remained understanding, Director Hu was not so forgiving. He said pointedly, ‘It seems, Dr Campbell, that developments regarding the bodies at Pudong are unlikely now to require your extended attention.’

‘And why is that?’ she asked levelly.

‘You were at the press conference, I believe,’ said the Director.

‘In my experience,’ Margaret said, ‘there is often a big gap between the truth and what the press is told.’

The Director leaned forward and placed his chin very carefully on his interlocked fists. ‘Meaning?’

‘The body I examined tonight, albeit briefly, was not that of a corpse subjected to student practice or medical research.’

Director Hu tensed visibly. Much as he would doubtless have liked to put Margaret on the first plane back to the States, he was a prisoner of his own high-profile decision to bring her in. ‘Then how did she die?’ he asked.

‘I should be able to tell you that after the autopsy.’ She was aware of the looks that flashed quickly between the Director, the Commissioner and the Procurator General. If they had harboured hopes of this thing going away quickly and easily, this ill-mannered American was clearly intent on dashing them. What had started out, perhaps, as a celebration banquet, had very quickly turned sour. And it did not last much longer.

Half-hearted toasts were drunk, glasses raised in thanks to the host, and then Director Hu stood up, signalling that the meal was over. His guests immediately stood also, and began making their farewells. Margaret stood isolated near the door and watched as the Director took Li to one side. Mei-Ling approached her, a smile playing mischievously about her lips. ‘Well done,’ she said in a stage whisper. ‘You have just made an enemy of the second most powerful man in Shanghai.’

Li was cursing himself for having trusted Margaret in this situation. He had smelled the vodka on her breath when they picked her up at the hotel. He had watched her empty all the toasting glasses, and consume several beers. Alcohol always lowered her already limited levels of self-restraint.

He felt the grip of the Director’s short, thick fingers on his arm as he steered him away from the table. ‘That Meiguoren …’ he almost spat out the Chinese word for American, ‘… had better not embarrass us, Li.’

Li said, ‘You told me you wanted the truth, Director Hu. I believe she will give us that.’

Director Hu glared at Li, no doubt regretting the haste in appointing him and his agreeing to the involvement of the American. ‘A word of advice, Deputy Section Chief. Marry a dog, stay with a dog; marry a rooster, stay with a rooster. You should choose your friends carefully.’

*

As their taxi drew away from the kerb, Margaret caught a fleeting glimpse, like a smear on the window, of Mei-Ling’s unhappiness. Li had turned down her offer of a lift back to the hotel and told her he and Margaret would take a taxi. And so Mei-Ling had been left standing on the sidewalk in the rain with the Procurator General and the Commissioner of Police. The Director’s entourage had already departed. But it was of small comfort to Margaret. She could almost reach out and touch Li’s anger. It seemed that working together always brought them into conflict.

As soon as they were on their own in the back of the taxi, Li said, ‘What the hell were you playing at?’

Margaret immediately felt her hackles rise. ‘I was expressing my mind. Where I come from that’s not a crime.’

‘Well, where I come from, it is extremely bad manners to show disrespect to your host and his guests by being rude to them. But then, I should have known — Americans are not renowned for their sensitivity.’

‘And the Chinese are famous for their intolerance towards other people’s ideas. But I suppose that’s what comes of running a one-party state. The powers that be aren’t used to being questioned. And they don’t like it when they are.’ The irony of their fight was not lost on Margaret. Thirty-six hours earlier she had been defending China to David in Chicago.

Li held up his hand and through gritted teeth said, ‘Do not start, Margaret. Please do not start.’

She sat back and folded her arms across her chest, clenching her jaws to fight back the impulse to give voice to all the thoughts going through her head. They sat in silence for several minutes as their car left behind the lights of Yunnan Nan Road, and headed east towards the river.

Finally Li said, ‘And your performance at the mortuary this afternoon is going to make things very difficult as far as working with Dr Lan is concerned. You know how important mianzi is to the Chinese. Mei-Ling says he was acutely embarrassed.’

‘Oh, does she? And what else does Mei-Ling say?’

‘She thinks maybe you are not the right person to work on such a highly sensitive case.’

‘Oh, and what about your loss of face? After all, you’re the one who brought me in.’

‘You are the one who is causing me to lose face,’ Li said angrily.

‘And that’s what all this is about, isn’t it?’ Margaret snapped back. ‘Face! Everybody’s face, or the loss of it. It’s all you goddamn people seem to care about.’ And she wondered what on earth had possessed her to come back ‘And, of course, you and Mei-Ling will have discussed all this during your intimate little rides to and from your hotel this evening. Did she come in and hold your hand while you changed?’

Li sighed theatrically and turned to stare out of the window. ‘Do not be so ridiculous!’

‘Oh, so I’m ridiculous now. Not only am I an embarrassment who causes you to lose face, but I’m ridiculous as well. And I suppose it would be equally ridiculous of me to imagine that there might be anything going on between you and Mei-Ling.’

‘What?’ Li looked at her incredulously. ‘That is not even worthy of a response.’ And part of him was gripped by an acute sense of guilt at the feelings that Mei-Ling had aroused in him the night before. He looked quickly away again.

‘You mean you’re not even going to deny it? Two attractive people thrown together on a stressful job in a strange city? It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.’

‘You are being unreasonable and paranoid,’ he said.

‘So the count’s up to four, now. Not only am I embarrassing and ridiculous, but I’m also unreasonable and paranoid. I don’t know why the hell you ever wanted me to work on this case.’

He turned angrily on her, ‘Neither do I.’

It was like a slap full in the face. Margaret felt it stinging. Li knew he had gone too far, but it was too late to take anything back. Light from a shop front caught her hair as they passed it, and he wanted to reach out and touch it. He remembered how they had been together, remembered the first time they had made love in a cold railway carriage in the north. Her arrogance had always infuriated him, and her vulnerability always drawn him. Each emotion fought with the other in him now as he sat there in the taxi beside her. But he could not bring himself to bridge the gap of their argument, to hold out the olive branch that would lead to reconciliation and the feel of her skin on his in a warm bed in the Peace Hotel.

Margaret had gone cold inside. She was determined not to cry, determined not to show him how much he had hurt her. All she had wanted from the moment she arrived was to hold him, and have him hold her. To make love and lie in his arms and forget, at least for a time, all the things that stood in the way of their relationship.

The taxi pulled up outside the Peace Hotel, and a bellboy in red uniform and carrying a black umbrella, stepped out of the shelter of the canopy to open her door. She swung her legs out, then turned back towards Li. She said quietly, ‘I wish I’d never come back.’