Peter May - The Runner

‘And the kids just took the stuff, without question?’ Li found it hard to believe.

Margaret shook her head. ‘They didn’t know. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen-year-old kids, taken from their homes, subjected to the most ferocious training regimes, and given little pink and blue pills every day which they were told were vitamins.’

‘But they were drugs?’

‘State-produced steroids. A substance called Oral-Turinabol, of which the active ingredient was chlordehydromethyl-testosterone. They also had something called Turinabol-Depot, which they injected into the muscle. It contained nandrolone.’

‘And did the athletes get caught?’ Li asked. ‘I mean, drug-tested, in competition?’

Margaret shook her head. ‘In the early days there was no simple urine test for testosterone. Then they discovered a test in the early eighties that could measure the levels of testosterone in the body against another naturally occurring hormone, epitestosterone. If the ratio of testosterone to epitestosterone was greater than six to one, they knew you’d been topping up your body’s natural production with additional testosterone. Of course, the whole corrupt machinery of the East German state went into hyperdrive to find a way round the new test.’

‘And did they?’

Margaret pulled a face. ‘It was very simple really. They started manufacturing artificial epitestosterone and giving that to their athletes in direct correlation to the amount of testosterone they were taking. That way the balance between the two was maintained, and so the drug-taking didn’t show up in urine tests.’

Li looked at her quizzically. ‘You seem to know a lot about this.’

She smiled. ‘I don’t know too much about drug-taking these days, but back in the nineties I came face to face with it on the autopsy table. A former East German swimmer, Gertrude Klimt, who emigrated to the United States.’ She could still see the pale, bloodless flesh of the young woman lying on her table. Short, blonde hair. Bold, aggressive, Aryan features. ‘She was still only in her early thirties. Died from tumours on the kidneys. Prosecutors in Berlin paid for me to go to Germany to give evidence in court proceedings against former East German coaches. A lot of former athletes were giving evidence. Some had tumours, some of the women had had children with horrific birth defects, one had even been pumped full of so much testosterone she had changed sex. Heidi had become Andreas. I gave evidence on behalf of poor Gertrude.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘You see, it all came out after the collapse of the Berlin Wall and the files of the secret police, the Stasi, became public. It turned out that a lot of those coaches and doctors were also members of the Stasi, with code names and everything. In those days, the athletes were the victims, and they finally got their revenge in the late nineties when the people who tricked them into taking steroids as children were convicted under the new, reunified Germany.’

Li shook his head in wonder. ‘I never knew anything about this.’

Margaret cocked an eyebrow. ‘Call me cynical, Li Yan, but I doubt very much if anyone in China heard much about it. And the Chinese were having their own drug-taking problems in the nineties, weren’t they? I seem to recall something like thirty-plus Chinese athletes testing positive at the world championships in the mid-nineties.’

Li shrugged, embarrassed by his country’s record in international competition. ‘Things have changed,’ he said.

‘Have they?’

He looked at her very directly. ‘I don’t think any country sees a virtue these days in winning by cheating.’

Margaret said, ‘Especially if they’re going to get caught.’ Her smile reflected her sarcasm. Then she thought for a moment. ‘What was going on downstairs between you and Cai?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know perfectly well what I mean, Li Yan. You were prodding him to see if he’d squeal.’ She mimicked, ‘ As National Supervisor of Coaching, I would have thought you might have some expertise in the subject . What was that all about?’

Li watched the women warming up on the track below for the sixty meters sprint. Three Chinese, three Americans. He sighed. ‘In the late nineties Cai coached a team of athletes from one of the western provinces. Several of them scored big successes. At home and abroad. Gold medals, world records. Then one by one they started turning up positive in dope tests. They were almost all discredited, and so was Cai.’

Margaret looked at him in amazement. ‘So you made him your Supervisor of Coaching?’

Li said, ‘He was in the wilderness for several years. Largely discredited. But he always claimed he had no idea his athletes were taking drugs, and there was never any proof against him. And there was no denying his talents.’ He sneaked a glance at her, embarrassed again. ‘I guess he must have friends in high places who believe those talents can’t be overlooked.’

The crack of the starting pistol cut across their conversation, and they turned to see six women flying from their blocks, legs and arms pumping for a few short moments of powerful intensity. Americans and Chinese covering the ground with astonishing speed. And these were no tiny, coy Asian women. They were as tall as the Americans, powerfully built, the muscles of their legs standing out like knots in wood. In just over seven seconds they had covered the sixty meters, and crossed the finish line to run up the ramp to bring themselves to a stop. The Americans had won, and Margaret let out a shriek of delight, only to become suddenly self-conscious as silent faces all around her turned to look. ‘Oops,’ she said under her breath.

Li lowered his forehead into his hand and closed his eyes. It was going to be a long night, he could tell.

Margaret stood in the foyer, drawing looks from competitors and officials alike. They all knew she wasn’t an athlete because of her distended belly. The security man on the door kept staring at her uncertainly, as if wondering whether or not she should really be here. But he never asked. She heard some familiar accents as a group of male American runners in track-suits, carrying sports bags, brushed past her. She felt a momentary pang of homesickness as she heard them laughing, and she watched them push out through glass doors into the streams of spectators making their way out of the stadium. It had been pretty much honours-even over the course of the evening. The Chinese were just ahead on points, so the crowd was going home happy. And Li was in the dressing rooms talking to athletes.

It was hot here, and airless, a sour smell of body odour and feet hanging in what air there was. She was beginning to feel a little faint and for a moment closed her eyes and became aware of herself swaying.

She felt a hand on her arm and a girl’s voice said, ‘Are you okay?’

Margaret opened her eyes, startled, and found herself looking into the concerned face of a young woman with an ugly purple birthmark covering most of one cheek. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

The girl was nervous. ‘My name Dai Lili. Everyone call me Lily.’ A smile flitted briefly across her face before a shadow darkened it again and she glanced quickly around.

‘Are you an athlete?’ Margaret asked. She had forgotten about her faintness.

‘Sure. I run in three thousand meter heats tomorrow. Hope to be in final day after.’ She hesitated. ‘You lady pathologist, yes? With Chinese policeman?’

Margaret was taken aback. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Everyone talking about it in dressing room. Supervising Coach Cai, he say no one to talk to you.’

Margaret felt her hackles rising. ‘Did he now?’ She looked at the girl. ‘But you’re talking to me.’