The Firemaker (46 page)

How did one begin an investigation of a deputy procurator general without at least some proof? Who would authorise it? And who else might be involved? Not Chen, surely? But then, he had been so dismissive of the idea that Chao’s body had been deliberately destroyed, of the thought that Professor Xie might have been complicit in the incineration of blood and tissue samples. What was it they were so desperate to prevent him from discovering, and who stood to lose most from it?

Li knew he needed his uncle’s advice. Old Yifu would listen to everything he had to say without fear or favour. He would trust Li’s instincts but have a different perspective. His years of experience, of the police, of the justice system, his ability to calmly rationalise and sift through conflicting evidence, would be invaluable. More than ever before in his life, Li needed his uncle’s help now.

He drove past the Gate of Heavenly Peace, Mao’s portrait gazing down implacably upon the crowds in Tiananmen Square and his own mausoleum, a stern paternal figure remembered now with affection, his excesses and failures forgiven and forgotten. Past the gates of the Ministry of Public Security, and then right into the shady seclusion of Zhengyi Road. Immediately Li stood on the brakes, bringing his Jeep to a standstill. Near the foot of the road, outside the gates to the Ministry-provided police apartments where he lived with his uncle, were the blue and red flashing lights of several police vehicles and an ambulance. The road was blocked off, several uniformed officers milling on the sidewalk. Li felt a knot of nausea turn in his belly, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He jammed his foot on the accelerator and sent the Jeep careering down the street to screech to a halt behind the ambulance. The uniformed officers turned in surprise as he leapt out of the car. ‘What’s happened? he demanded.

‘There’s been a murder,’ said the senior officer.

Li looked up and saw all the lights on in his apartment, the shadows of figures moving around inside. He started running. ‘You can’t go up there.’ The officer tried to stop him, but Li pulled free.

‘I live there!’

There was no sign of the duty policeman as he ran to the front door of the apartment block. But inside, the ground-floor landing was swarming with uniformed officers. Li went up the stairs two at a time. Behind him he heard someone say, ‘That’s Li. Better radio up to the apartment.’

When he got to the second landing it, too, was full of uniformed officers. The door of his apartment stood wide open. Lights were on everywhere. Inside he could see more bodies in uniform and plainclothes, and forensics men in white gloves. He recognised most of the faces. They all stood looking at him, frozen as if in a still frame from a movie. The silence was eerie, broken only by the odd crackle of a walkie-talkie. Li pushed through the figures in uniform and into the apartment. Still no one spoke or moved. He passed down the hall, glancing into the living room. It was a shambles, furniture upturned, the television set smashed. Fear rose like bile in Li’s throat. He carried on down to the bathroom where there seemed to be the biggest concentration of plainclothes and forensics officers. Detective Wu, chewing almost manically on a piece of gum, stood in his way. He looked pale and shocked, and his eyes were full of incomprehension.

‘What’s happened, Wu?’ Li’s voice was husky, almost a whisper. He cleared his throat.

Wu said nothing. He simply stepped out of the way, and Li saw the red spray of blood across the while tiles, and the body of Old Yifu in the dry bed of the bath, impaled by his own ceremonial sword, driven with such force that it had passed right through him, through the plastic of the bath, and into the floorboards below. The shock brought tears immediately to Li’s eyes and he started to shake. He looked at Wu.

‘He put up a hell of a fight,’ Wu said.

Li wanted to scream. He wanted to smash his fist into faces and walls, lash out with his feet. He wanted to inflict maximum damage on everyone and everything within reach.
He put up a hell of a fight
. But it was Li’s fight, not Yifu’s. Why had they done this? What possible point could there be in killing his uncle? Wu shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’ve got a warrant for your arrest, Li. Issued by the Municipal Procuratorate.’

Li knew now that this was a dream. A nightmare from which he was certain to wake up. ‘A warrant?’ It didn’t even sound like his own voice.

‘For the murder of Li Li Peng.’

Li was almost incapable of taking in this new twist to the nightmare. ‘Lily?’ he heard himself say.

‘Got her head bashed in at her apartment,’ Wu said, almost as though it were the most natural thing in the world. ‘I’m afraid I’m also going to have to hold you on suspicion of the murder of your uncle and the duty police officer here at the apartments.’

Li looked at the body of his uncle, lifeless eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling, and then back at Wu. ‘You think
I
did this?’ His breathing was rapid now, and he felt in danger of losing control. He was holding on to reality by the merest thread. When was he going to wake up?

Wu looked embarrassed. ‘To be honest, Li Yan, I don’t believe for one minute that you did it. Any of it. None of us do. But we have evidence, and there are procedures to be gone through.’

‘What evidence?’ His anger almost choked him. He was paralysed now, rooted to the spot.

Wu snapped his fingers in the direction of a forensics officer and was handed a plastic evidence bag containing Li’s fob watch, its leather pouch dark with the staining of blood. ‘It was found in Lily’s apartment beside her body.’

Li looked at it like a man possessed. ‘That was stolen from my desk this morning. When we were all in the meeting room, and Johnny Ren was in my office.’

‘We only have your word for it that it was Johnny Ren. We all just saw some guy. No one else recognised him. And why would he kill Lily?’

Li already knew the answer to that one. She had been witness to Margaret’s request for the blood tests. ‘Why would
I
kill Lily?’ He couldn’t believe he was having to ask the question.

‘She snitched to Public Security about the American pathologist spending the night at your apartment.’ Wu shrugged uneasily. ‘It’s what they’ll say.’

Li would have laughed if it hadn’t all been so grotesque. ‘So I killed her? Is that it? Because she got me in trouble with my boss?’

Wu held out his hand and was passed another clear plastic bag. It contained a bloody handkerchief. ‘You can see Lily’s name embroidered on the corner. I reckon we’ll find it’s her blood on it. It was found in your bedroom.’ And he held his hand up quickly to stop Li’s protests. ‘And before you say anything more, I’m as uncomfortable with all of this as you are. But I’m still going to have to take you in.’

‘Let me see the arrest warrant.’

‘What?’ Wu was taken aback.

Li held out his hand. ‘Just show me the warrant.’

Wu sighed and took it from his pocket. Li unfolded it and looked for the signature. ‘Deputy Procurator General Zeng.’ He looked at Wu and waved the warrant at him. ‘He’s your man. He’s setting me up.’

‘What?’ It was Wu’s turn to be incredulous, and Li saw immediately how ludicrous it sounded. He realised just how neatly he had been set up. They wanted him out of circulation. They were going to discredit him, and his investigation. They were going to tie up Section One in a scandal and a sordid murder investigation that was going to divert attention away from Chao Heng – even if, in the long run, Li was cleared. He looked around at the officers eyeing him as if he were a madman. He looked at his uncle and wanted to hold him, and tell him he was sorry, and ask for his forgiveness. He felt the tears spring to his eyes again, and he blinked them back. What was it Old Yifu had always told him?
Action is invariably better than inaction. Lead, do not be led
. He turned and pushed into his uncle’s bedroom. ‘What the hell are you doing, Li?’ Wu shouted after him.

The bottom drawer of the dresser was partially open, as if, perhaps, his uncle had tried in vain to reach his gun. Li had left it fully loaded. He had intended to replace the rounds in the box the previous night, but with Margaret in the apartment he had forgotten. The revolver was still there, wrapped in tissue in the old shoe box at the back. The cold metal fitted snugly in his hand.

Wu was right behind him. ‘Come on, Li. I’m taking you back to Section One.’

Li stood and turned, grasping Wu by the collar and pressing the barrel of the revolver into his temple. ‘I’m walking out of here, Wu. And you’re coming with me.’

‘Don’t be a damned fool, Li. You and I both know you’re not going to shoot me.’

But Li’s eyes had taken on a cold, dark intensity. He looked unwaveringly at Wu. ‘If you believe I’m capable of any of this, Detective … then you must believe I’m capable of blowing your head off. If you want to test me, go ahead.’

Wu thought about it for a very brief moment. ‘I take your point,’ he said.

‘So tell everyone to back off.’

‘You heard him. Get the hell out of here,’ Wu shouted immediately. No one moved. ‘Now!’

Slowly, uniformed, plainclothed and forensics officers backed out of the apartment on to the landing. Li turned Wu around, pushing the revolver into the back of his neck, and made him follow. They stopped at Li’s bedroom and he pulled Wu backwards towards the dresser. ‘Get my holster out of the top drawer,’ he said. Wu did as he was told. ‘Hang on to it.’

Out on the landing, police officers parted to let them pass. ‘Don’t anyone try anything,’ Wu said. ‘No heroes, please. I’ve got a wife and kid who want to see me again.’

‘Not what I’ve heard,’ Li said.

Wu smiled grimly. ‘Okay, so we’re separated. So I lied. That’s no reason to kill a man.’

Li pushed him down the stairs one step at a time. ‘According to you, I don’t need much of a reason.’

‘Hey, come on, Li,’ Wu said. ‘I’m just doing my job. You’d do the same. You know you would. I mean, I don’t believe any of this is going to stand up. But you’re not doing yourself any favours.’

‘Well, I sure as hell can’t rely on you to do me any.’ And he shoved the barrel harder into the base of Wu’s skull.

‘Okay, okay,’ Wu said. ‘Have it your way.’

They passed silent, watching officers on the ground floor as they went through the front doors and out into the hot night, Wu telling everyone quietly and repeatedly to stay calm. The uniformed officers in the street looked on in amazement as Li pushed Wu towards his Jeep. ‘All right boys,’ Wu said. ‘Nothing tricksy, now. We’re going to let him go, all right?’

Li grabbed his holster and shoved Wu away, still pointing the revolver at him, and opened the door of the Jeep. He leaned in and started the engine. He looked very directly at Wu. ‘I didn’t do this.’

Wu raised his hands. ‘Hey, I’m not arguing. Just go.’

Li jumped in, threw the revolver and holster on to the passenger seat, banged the gears into reverse, and the Jeep screamed backwards up the street, smoke rising from the wheels in white clouds. A small road cut across the parkland that divided the street down its centre. He passed it, crashed into first gear and spun the Jeep across the road on to the opposite carriageway, and then north towards the bright lights of East Chang’an Avenue. The only thing he could see were the lifeless eyes of Old Yifu staring at the ceiling.
He put up a hell of a fight
, Wu had said. Li could picture it. The old man would not have given his life cheaply. Li’s tears for his uncle flowed now without restraint.

And then, with a sudden jolt, he realised that if they had killed Lily just because she had witnessed Margaret’s request for the blood tests, then they would have to kill Margaret, too.

III

Margaret’s taxi dropped her in Tiantandong Road outside the east gate to the Temple of Heaven. But there was nothing heavenly about Tiantandong Road. It was a wide road in the process of redevelopment, with no streetlights. Piles of rubble and litter lined the sidewalk. Traffic rumbled distantly beyond a deserted cycle lane. Rows of grim apartment blocks opposite cast pale light across the tarmac. In the distance, exotic new buildings based on traditional Chinese designs were floodlit and stood out against the night sky. Another world. Beyond the railings, the park lay in brooding darkness.

In spite of the heat, Margaret shivered. The area was deserted. She felt vulnerable and was already regretting her decision to come. There was no sign of McCord. She walked to the gate and peered through the bars. There was a moon tonight, and as her eyes grew accustomed to its light she saw, beyond a second gate, a long line of cypress trees in an avenue leading towards a distant three-domed temple. The touch of a hot lizard hand on her arm made her squeal with fright. She turned, heart pounding, to find McCord at her elbow. ‘Jesus Christ! Did you have to sneak up on me like that?’

‘Shhh.’ He put his finger to his lips. ‘Come on.’ He pushed the gate and it swung open. ‘Quickly.’ She saw the perspiration beading his forehead, smelled the alcohol sour on his breath, could almost touch his fear. He looked back, frightened eyes darting left and right, as he pushed the gate shut behind them. He started scurrying towards the inner gate. She hurried after him.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Into the park. If we haven’t been followed we’ll be safe there.’

The small gate by the ticket booth was not locked. He held it open for her, and led her quickly away from the light along the avenue of cypresses. As their pupils dilated, shadows grew out of the wash of moonlight that lay across the park, and the lights of the city receded into the distance. ‘For heaven’s sake, McCord, whatever you’ve got to tell me you can tell me now.’

‘When we get to the corridor,’ he whispered breathlessly. ‘It’s safer there.’

The corridor was a long, cobbled passageway raised on stone slabs. It dog-legged for several hundred metres towards the distant temple. A steeply pitched tiled roof ran its length, resting on maroon pillars and an understructure of intricately patterned blue, green and yellow beams. Margaret and McCord passed under a brick gate with a pale green roof, through the shadow of a large tree, and up a broad sweep of steps to its east end. McCord seemed relieved. It was dark here, he said, and safe. Through the pillars they could see the park around them in the moonlight, and anyone who might approach. But still he was unable to stay in one place and say his piece. He was driven, nervous and restless, almost on the verge of hysteria, it seemed to Margaret. He continued to walk agitatedly along the corridor, past long lines of shuttered and padlocked counters from which vendors sold cheap mementos to tourists during the day. But his pace had slowed now and he seemed more thoughtful, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jacket. He glanced nervously in her direction as she kept pace with him along the corridor. He sensed that her patience was wearing thin. ‘I need your help,’ he said eventually, as if he had had to summon the courage to ask.