Peter May: The Runner

A knock on his door brought him sharply back from his tobacco reveries and he tipped forward again in his chair. ‘Come in.’

Sun Xi stepped in from the corridor. ‘They told me you were in. Do you have a minute, Chief?’ He was a young man, not yet thirty, who had recently transferred to Beijing from Canton where he had a brilliant record of crime-solving and arrests. As Li had once been, he was now the youngest detective in Section One, which specialised in solving Beijing’s most serious crimes. And like Li before him, he had already tied up an impressive number of cases in just a few short months in the section. He reminded Li very much of himself at the same age, although Sun was more extrovert than Li had ever been, quick to smile, and even quicker with his one-liners. Li had immediately spotted his potential and taken him under his wing. Sun dressed smartly, his white shirts always neatly pressed, pleated slacks folding on to polished black shoes. His hair was cut short above the ears, but grew longer on top, parted in the centre and falling down either side of his forehead above thick dark eyebrows and black, mischievous eyes. He was a good-looking young man, and all the girls in the office were anxious to catch his eye. But he was already spoken for.

‘Pull up a chair,’ Li said, glad of the diversion. And as Sun slipped into the seat opposite, he asked, ‘How’s Wen settling in?’

Sun shrugged. ‘You know how it is, Chief,’ he said. ‘Provincial girl in the big city. It’s blowing her mind. And the little one’s started kicking hell out of her.’ Like Li, Sun was anticipating fatherhood in a little over a month. Unlike Li, Sun had already been allocated a married officer’s apartment in Zhengyi Road, and his wife had just arrived from Canton.

‘Has she sorted out her antenatal arrangements yet?’

‘You’re kidding! You know what women are like, she’s still unpacking. I’ll need a whole other apartment just to hang her clothes.’

Li smiled. Although he saw Sun as being like a younger version of himself, they had married very different women. Margaret’s wardrobe could only be described as spartan. She detested shopping. He said, ‘Margaret’s been going to the antenatal classes at the maternity hospital for several months. Maybe she could give Wen some advice on where to go, who to see.’

‘I’m sure Wen would appreciate that,’ Sun said.

Li said, ‘I’ll speak to her.’ Then he sat back. ‘So what’s on your mind?’

Sun took out a pack of cigarettes. ‘Is it okay?’

‘Sure,’ Li said reluctantly, and he watched enviously as Sun lit up and pulled a lungful of smoke out of his cigarette.

‘I got called out to a suspicious death earlier this evening, Chief. Not long after you left. At the natatorium at Qinghua University.’ He grinned. ‘That’s a swimming pool to you and me.’ He pulled again on his cigarette and his smile faded. ‘Apparent suicide. Champion swimmer. He was supposed to take part in a training session at the pool with the national squad ahead of tomorrow’s two-nation challenge with the Americans.’ He paused and looked at Li. ‘Do you follow sport?’

Li shook his head. ‘Not really.’

‘Well they got this challenge thing this week with the US. Two days of swimming events up at Olympic Green, and three days of indoor track and field at the Capital Stadium. First ever between China and America.’

Li had been aware of it. Vaguely. There had been a considerable build-up to the event in the media, but he hadn’t paid much attention.

‘Anyway,’ Sun said, ‘this guy’s been breaking world records, expected to beat the Americans hands down. Only he turns up for tonight’s training session half an hour before the rest of them. The security man on the door claims he never even saw him go in. The place is empty, the coach hasn’t arrived. The swimmer goes into the locker room and drinks half a bottle of brandy for Dutch courage before he undresses and hangs all his stuff neatly in his locker. Then he takes a five-meter length of rope and goes up to the pool wearing nothing but his birthday suit. He climbs to the highest diving platform, ten meters up. Ties one end of the rope to the rail, loops the other round his neck and jumps off. Five meters of rope, ten-meter drop.’ Sun made a cracking sound with his tongue at the back of his mouth. ‘Neck snaps, clean as you like. Dead in an instant.’

Li felt an icy sensation spreading in his stomach. Random pieces of information, like digital bytes on a computer disk, suddenly began forming unexpected sequences in his head. He said, ‘Weren’t there three members of the national athletics team killed in a car crash in Xuanwu District last month?’ He had seen a report of it in The People’s Daily .

Sun was surprised. ‘Yeh…that’s right. Members of the spring relay team.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t see the connection.’

Li held up a hand, his brain sifting and cataloguing the information it had absorbed on a daily basis and filed under Of No Apparent Importance But Worth Retaining. Maybe . He found what he was searching for. ‘There was a cyclist…I can’t remember his name…He came second or third in the Tour de France last summer. Best ever performance by a Chinese. Drowned in a freak swimming accident a couple of weeks ago.’

Sun nodded, frowning again, the connections beginning to make themselves.

‘And I’ve just come from a house where a weightlifter collapsed and died tonight during the act of sexual intercourse. A heart attack. Apparently.’ Had it not been for this bizarre event, it was possible Li would never even have been aware that there might be connections to be made.

Sun chuckled. ‘So you figure the Americans are bumping off our top athletes so they’ll get more medals?’

But Li wasn’t smiling. ‘I’m not figuring anything,’ he said. ‘I’m laying some facts on the table. Perhaps we should look at them.’ The words of his Uncle Yifu came back to him. Knowing ignorance is strength. Ignoring knowledge is weakness . He paused. ‘You said apparent suicide.’

Sun leaned into the light of Li’s desk lamp, cigarette smoke wreathed around his head. ‘I don’t think it was, Chief.’

The ringing of Li’s telephone crashed into the room like an uninvited guest. Li snatched the receiver irritably. ‘ Wei ?’

‘Section Chief, this is Procurator General Meng Yongji.’ Li’s lungs seized mid-breath. The Procurator General was the highest ranking law officer in Beijing, and Li was not accustomed to taking calls from him. It was the Procurator General’s office which decided whether or not to prosecute a case in the courts, and in some cases would take over an investigation completely. It was a moment before Li could draw in enough air to say, ‘Yes, Procurator General.’

‘I received a call several minutes ago from the executive assistant to the Minister of Public Security.’ Meng did not sound too pleased about it and Li glanced at his watch. It was nearly ten-thirty, and there was a good chance Meng had been in his bed when he took the call. ‘It seems the Minister would like to speak to you, Section Chief. In his home. Tonight. There is a car on its way to pick you up.’

Li understood now why Meng sounded unhappy. Protocol demanded that any request from the Minister should be passed down through a superior officer. But, in effect, the Procurator General had been woken from his sleep to pass on a simple message, and he clearly did not relish the role of message boy. He heard Meng breathing stertorously through his nostrils on the other end of the line. ‘What have you been up to, Li?’

‘Nothing, Procurator General. Not that I know of.’

A snort. ‘I’d appreciate being kept informed.’ A click and the line went dead.