Shanghai Redemption (37 page)

“Somebody must have been anxious to quickly and permanently get him out of the way. With Liang in the limelight, his death had to be orchestrated as a disappearance, so that the real cause of his death wouldn't come to light for months, or years, if ever. It might have played out that way but for a crane accident at a faraway construction site.

“Now, Qian's death and Liang's might appear unrelated, but there was one thing the victims had in common. Both were threats to a person or persons in power. The murderers wanted them out of the way to make sure they couldn't speak out against them.

“Speak about what? About something in which the stakes were too high for the murderers to risk failure. Were there several important secrets to protect, or just one? I didn't have any clue initially.

“I came back to Shanghai two days ago to deliver a long-promised lecture. The car that the police bureau sent over to take me to the conference was practically destroyed in an explosion. I happened to have already left to take care of something else before the car arrived, but the driver, my former colleague Skinny Wang, was paralyzed in the incident.

“In the meantime, in the midst of my bumping about like a headless fly, I also heard about the death of an American in Sheshan. Intriguingly, I heard about it more than once, and from various sources. That death wasn't even a case for our squad. Nor for the bureau. But the topic came up repeatedly.”

She nodded contemplatively, picking up her glass but putting it down again without touching a drop.

“Have you heard of it?”

“Yes, different versions.”

“People talked about his connections to the top.”

This time, she didn't respond.

“Now, that death may have had nothing to do with me, with Qian, with Liang, or with the other cases we've been looking into,” Chen went on. “But then there was another missing person, a local policeman from Sheshan named Fei. At this moment, Fei's still listed as missing, but I got a call from Wuxi just about an hour ago. A body was found there, matching Fei's description. He was the first one in the hotel room where the American died. Later, he was joined there by Internal Security and another local cop. Fei and his colleague were told to turn the investigation over to Internal Security. The American was cremated the next day without an autopsy being performed. The cause of his death was announced as alcohol poisoning. The dead man, however, was known to be someone who didn't drink, according to the gossip in social media.

“Back in the hotel room, Fei had sensed this American's death was something more than merely gossip material. He moved fast, and he got the recordings from the hotel surveillance camera before Internal Security arrived. He didn't report this to the higher authorities immediately, for the people implicated by the hotel footage were untouchable. Before he could do anything, however, he found himself under suspicion and questioned about his actions at the crime scene. It could only mean more trouble, he knew, if he turned over the footage from the hotel surveillance camera. He'd seen too much, and had become too much of the threat to those involved in the murderous conspiracy resulting in the American's death. Fei was suddenly sent to Wuxi, where he went missing…”

“Yes, horrible things are happening, Chief Inspector Chen,” Wei said, “but I'm having a hard time following you. What's connection among all of these and, in particular, with my husband's death?”

“You're right. It's difficult to see the connections. That's why I didn't think of coming to you earlier. That's also why I'm telling you the story in this way. It's a long chain of related and interrelated links. Almost too long. All these diabolical actions weren't just about Liang, about me, or about any other victim. It's a particularly high-stakes political move at this crucial moment that is the hidden common denominator among all of them.”

“At this crucial moment?”

“The National Congress of the Communist Party of China is scheduled for the end of the year, when the members of the most powerful Politburo Standing Committee will be replaced by new people. Shanghai Party Secretary Lai is on the rapid rise and has a good chance to grab one of the top positions. But he has political rivals within the Forbidden City. So he can't afford to have anything go wrong at this moment. As luck would have it, things went wrong.”

“You mean Liang's … trouble?”

“That's part of it. Under normal circumstances, Liang might have gotten shuangguied and punished for the high-speed train contracts, and then the newspaper would have declared it another victory attributable to the Party's great determination to fight corruption. But what if Liang spilled his guts out about the other people involved in the scandal? You know what law firm Liang hired as the company's legal representative, don't you?”

She kept her head hanging low, muttering an inaudible word, her chin involuntarily quivering. Beside her, the bronze pendulum in a mahogany antique clock went on swinging, measuring the seconds in perpetual tranquility.

“Coincidentally or not, Liang's company and the Heavenly World were both represented by the Kaitai law firm,” he resumed after a pause. “But perhaps most significantly here, the dead American, Daniel Martin, was also connected to the law firm. For some reason still beyond me, he posed such a threat that he had to be removed—or at least, so it seemed to Lai, or the people close to him.

“Now, there's one thing I've learned during all my years as a cop. Murderers are capable of seeing something that makes sense only to their twisted and paranoid imagination. So what would paranoid people in power do? For one thing, anything or anyone that might be in their way would have to go. That's why I was removed from my position. But that wasn't enough: they were worried that I would still try to find out what was going on. For that reason, they put together an elaborate setup at the nightclub, one that would result in my complete disgrace. Then there was the explosion of the police bureau car. I'll accept the consequences of my choices as a cop, but I can't bear to see an innocent victim caught in the crossfire.”

“An innocent victim? You mean…” She didn't finish her sentence.

“After the revelation of Liang's death, you could have reacted in any number of ways.” He added after a deliberate pause, “Detective Yu told me you nearly collapsed when you recognized the tattoo on his body.”

“He told you that?”

“These kinds of details are important to a cop. But how might his killers interpret your reaction? In their minds, Liang might have confided in you, and you might try to do something with that knowledge. So what would people like that do? Such people live by Cao Cao's statement, ‘I would let down all the people, rather than have any of them let me down.' Furthermore, they see themselves as representing the Party, so they feel that whatever they do is politically justified. As the red song goes, ‘Only the Communist Party can save and rule China.'

“So I'm here now trying to help you—and to be honest, trying to help myself too.”

“Are you saying that you can't even help yourself, Chief Inspector Chen?”

“No, I can't. We have to find a way out, and we will. Not just for ourselves. You have to think of Liang, and I have to consider all of the victims,” he said in earnest. “Now, let me show you something. Yesterday in Wuxi, I came across the video that Fei took from the hotel surveillance camera. This is the reason for Fei's disappearance. Kai was caught on tape entering the hotel room with the American, and leaving around the estimated time of his death.”

He produced the flash drive, and continued on without immediately putting it in his laptop. She stared at him without saying anything.

“In the meantime, I also came across these e-mails, some of which I just got a couple of hours ago. I have reason to believe they directly concern you,” he said. He turned on his laptop and opened the e-mail messages Melong had obtained for him. “You should take a look for yourself.”

“Now?”

But she moved over, kneeled beside him, started reading.

Not long after, she leapt to her feet shakily, shuddering. Chen reached out a hand to support her.

“I've come to the conclusion,” he went on, “that you most likely will be the next target. Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, a surveillance camera will be installed here, as indicated in the e-mails. Twenty-four hours. But there are worse scenarios than surveillance that I'm worried about.”

“But why should I be worried? An ill-fated woman like me, it's all destined,” she said, with a hysterical note in her suddenly husky voice. “The black widow of a white tiger.”

It was Chen's turn to be astounded. That phrase again.

“And blue dragon and white tiger indeed!” she went on. “He believes that he is a dragon, meant to eventually take the throne.”

In Chinese slang, “white tiger” was sometimes an obscene expression used to describe a woman without pubic hair. There was also a superstitious belief that such a woman brings bad luck to her man. Chen wasn't sure what was meant by “blue dragon.” In ancient China, an emperor was believed to be a dragon incarnate. But whatever the correct interpretation was, a “blue dragon” was believed to be able to mate with a “white tiger” without worrying about any bad luck.

But she used the present tense in her last sentence. So she couldn't be referring to Liang. And that last part—“eventually take the throne…” It began to hazily dawn on him.

“Thank you for telling me all this,” she said, making a visible effort to pull herself together. “Now, please tell me what I should do.”

That was an unexpected turn. She leaned forward, grasping the chair arm with one hand, the other adjusting her silk robe embroidered with a soaring dragon.

“Tell me what you know about what was going on with Liang,” he said.

 

TWENTY-NINE

A SHROUD OF SILENCE
fell over the living room.

The moonlight streamed through the flapping curtains and landed on her face, which was bleached of color, yet infinitely touching.

“I appreciate your telling me about this, Chief Inspector Chen,” Wei said, finally. She picked up the Suzhou opera CD with the profile of Qian on the cover. “Your story is so unbelievable that no one would have tried to make up something like that. I believe every word of it. There was actually a catch in your voice when you declared yourself responsible for her death.

“You're worried about me, I understand. An ill-fated woman like me, though, is beyond worrying about. I'm going to tell you all I know, but do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to do something for Liang, just as you are trying to do for the other victims. Years ago, I also tried to do my best for him, but it all went terribly wrong. Did you read Kai's e-mail joking about the ‘the black widow of a white tiger'? That really clinched it. Lai must have told her everything in bed, in an ecstasy of cloud rolling into rain.”

“Lai?”

“He must have been told about her murderous plan. After all, they're the archetypal couple of a red prince and a red princess. What he's said to me means nothing.”

There was something incomprehensibly confusing yet alarming in her words. Chen had a difficult time following the beginning of her revelation. Picking up his glass, he waited for her to go on.

“There has been a lot of gossip about me and Liang. What I'm telling you, though, is the truth. Like your story, mine has to be told from the beginning. As you said, only when all of the background is revealed can things come to light.”

“That's right, Wei. I'm all ears.”

“You're a writer, and someday you may write about us. If so, I hope you do Liang justice, at least in the part about our marriage. Believe it or not, Lai once told me you're a good poet, but you're just too bookish to be a politician. I remember that because my grandfather was a very bookish man. I grew up with him in a Jiangsu village, and he taught me how to read and write.”

“I wish I could write like in my college days,” he said, “but please go on.”

“After high school graduation, I failed to pass the college entrance exam. In the Jiangsu countryside, girls usually marry young. I was just seventeen when I married someone in the same village in a sort of arranged marriage. He was really good for nothing—gambling, drinking, hanging out with his wine-and-meat buddies during the day and beating me up at night. Soon lurid stories started to spread about me being a white tiger. Imagine him joking with other rascals, sharing the most intimate detail about my body, and blaming his bad luck at the mahjong table on me. White tiger! You know what it means, don't you?”

He nodded.

“Then he died in a tractor accident. He was barely twenty at the time. His family all blamed me—a white tiger—for bringing the worst luck on him. I could no longer stay in the village, where people constantly pointed their fingers at me. So I came to Shanghai on my own.

“As a provincial girl without any skills or connections in a new city, I ended up working as a foot-washing girl. You know how things are like in a job like that. I spent my days bent over a stool, holding men's feet in my lap, wiping the cracked skin on a worn-out towel, and pouring out dreams with the dirty foot-washing water. Day after day after day.… My life was a long black tunnel with no light at the end! After a couple of years, Liang came to the salon one evening. He came the next day, then quite regularly, and always to me exclusively. At first I took him for just another Big Buck customer who took a fancy to my service. With his company, and his official position, Liang could have easily targeted someone younger and prettier, not a pathetic widow from the countryside. One of the well-to-do clients had made an ernai out of one of the other girls at the salon, and most of us would have jumped at such an opportunity. Instead of treating me like trash, Liang showered affection on me, and to my astonishment, he then proposed. I told him about my disastrous marriage, along with being a white tiger, but he was determined. He said he didn't care about the superstitions, and a week later, he came back to the salon, dragged me into a private room, and showed me the tattoo on his lower belly. It was a blue dragon interwoven with my name, and he declared, ‘Now I'm a blue dragon. We don't have to worry.' That's another superstitious belief, as you may know. It's said that only a man who is a blue dragon can sleep with a white tiger without being harmed.”