Peter May - The Runner

Li had waited until he and Sun were away from the house before he called in the exhumation team on his cellphone. They would need pickaxes to break the ground, he had told them, perhaps even a pneumatic drill. And he warned them to bring screens to place around the grave. He did not want to subject the parents to more grief than he was already causing them. And lights, for it would be dark.

Margaret had agreed to do the autopsy. But he had deliberately refrained from telling her too much. He did not want in any way to influence her findings.

He turned in at the entrance to the Chinese Skating Association, and showed his Public Security ID to the man on the gate, who ventured reluctantly from his glass cubicle wrapped in a thick coat, hood pulled tight around a face that was red with the cold. He waved them through. Li steered north past the competition hall and the training gym and parked in front of the Shouti Hotel where the American athletes were staying.

They walked the rest of the way to the stadium, joining the streams of people heading in excited expectation to watch the athletics, and crossing an ornamental bridge over a narrow stream whose still water filled the air around it with the perfume of raw sewage.

The stadium was a huge oval, with upper terraces leading to the eighteen thousand seats which ringed the interior track. At various times, the floor space was flooded and frozen to create an ice rink, and in front of the competitors’ entrance, there was a massive silver representation of a speed-skater. In the vast subterranean space beneath the stadium, thousands of shoppers still thronged a popular market selling clothes and fancy goods.

‘We’re not really just coming here to watch the athletics, are we?’ Margaret asked as they approached a large ornamental wall carved with the figures of ice-skaters and the five inter-linked rings of the Olympics.

Li dragged himself away from his thoughts. ‘I want to talk to some of the athletes,’ he said. ‘And their coach.’ Qian had downloaded some biographical information for him on Chinese athletics’ recently appointed Supervisor of Coaching, a position created with new powers over even the national team coach. It had made interesting reading.

Supervisor Cai Xin was a tall, lean man with short, grey hair and square, steel-rimmed glasses. Li had expected to find him in a tracksuit and trainers. Instead, he wore a dark business suit with polished black shoes, a white shirt and red tie. He seemed distracted, and less than pleased to see Li and Margaret. With field events under way, and the first track event in less than an hour he did not consider this a convenient time to conduct an interview with the police, and told them as much. Li apologised and introduced Margaret. Cai, although displeased, remained polite. His English was immaculate, and he spoke it, unbidden, in deference to the American doctor. He led them down a long, brightly lit corridor beneath the main stand, and into a private room with leather settees and a large television set, and panoramic windows with a view on to the track. The stadium was vast, rows of seats rising up on either side into a cavernous roof space criss-crossed with tubular supports. The pole vault, the men’s long-jump and the men’s shot-put were already in progress. Competitors and officials milled around the area inside the six-lane track. The bleachers were about two-thirds filled, and people were still streaming in. Occasional bursts of applause punctuated the hubbub of people and competition that filled the hall.

Cai told them to sit, but remained standing himself, patrolling the window, keeping a constant, distracted eye on proceedings beyond it. ‘How can I help you?’ he asked.

‘I want to talk to some of your athletes,’ Li told him. ‘In particular, members of the men’s sprint relay team. But, in general, anyone who knew the three sprinters who died in last month’s car crash.’

Cai looked at him sharply, his distraction suddenly gone, his focus very clear. ‘Why?’

‘I have reason to believe their deaths might not have been accidental.’ Li watched his reaction very carefully, and could have sworn that the colour rose very slightly on his cheeks.

Cai was clearly searching for a response, but in the end nothing came.

Li said, ‘And at some time I would like to speak to colleagues of Jia Jing, his coach, others in his weight class. I thought protocol demanded that I should speak to the Supervisor of Coaching first. You know Jia was found dead last night?’

Cai remained silent for a moment or two longer. Then he said, quietly, ‘I understood it was a heart attack.’

‘It was.’

‘Then what’s the connection?’

‘I don’t know that there is one.’

Cai regarded him thoughtfully. ‘We seem to be losing most of our best medal hopes,’ he said at length. ‘But, really, I don’t think I want you speaking to any of my athletes when they are just about to engage in competition with the United States. I don’t believe my superiors, or yours, would be particularly happy if we were to upset our competitors and lose to the Americans.’ He made a tiny nod of acknowledgement towards Margaret. ‘With all due respect.’

‘With all due respect,’ Li said, ‘I won’t speak to anyone until after they have competed. Do we have any of the sprint events tonight?’

Cai said grudgingly, ‘The men’s and women’s sixty meters, the four hundred and the eight hundred.’

‘Then I’ll be able to speak to some of them later,’ Li said.

Cai glanced at his watch. ‘Is that all?’

‘Actually, no,’ Li said. ‘I’d like you to tell me what you know about doping.’

Cai’s face clouded, and a frown gathered around his eyes. His demeanour conveyed both defensiveness and suspicion. ‘Why are you asking me?’

‘Because as National Supervisor of Coaching, I would have thought you might have some expertise in the subject,’ Li said evenly. ‘Even if only to ensure that none of our athletes is taking drugs.’

‘That’s impossible,’ Cai said defiantly.

‘Why?’

‘Because we have so many competitors, in so many disciplines, and there are so many different drugs.’

‘So tell me about some of them.’

Cai sighed deeply. ‘There are five main categories of drugs, Section Chief. Stimulants, narcotics, anabolic agents, diuretics, and peptide hormones.’ He appeared to think this was sufficient.

Li said, ‘That doesn’t tell me much. What are the more commonly used substances?’

Cai glanced at his watch again. ‘Anabolic steroids,’ he said. ‘Mostly testosterone and its derivatives, including clostebol and nandrolone. They increase muscle strength by encouraging new muscle growth.’

Margaret spoke, almost for the first time. ‘And bone mass,’ she said. ‘They stimulate the muscle and bone cells to make new protein.’

Cai nodded. ‘They help the athlete to train harder and longer. But usually an athlete stops taking them at least a month in advance of competition, because they are so easily detectable. They’re used mainly by swimmers and sprinters.’

‘And weightlifters?’ Li asked.

Cai flicked him a look. ‘Yes,’ he confirmed. ‘Although generally human growth hormone would be the drug of choice for weightlifters. Being a naturally produced hormone, it is very difficult to detect. It is excellent for building muscle and muscle strength, and allows the user to take shorter breaks between workouts.’

Margaret said, ‘And it can cause heart and thyroid disease.’ Li looked at her and raised an eyebrow. She went on, ‘As well as acromegaly.’

‘What’s that?’ Li asked.

Cai said, ‘Enlargement and thickening of the hands and the face.’