Shanghai Redemption Read online

As Chen was lost in thought, his pen in hand and notebook in front of him, a young hotel attendant came over. She was dressed in an indigo period uniform, possibly that of the May Fourth movement. She placed a teacup on the table near him and a bamboo-covered hot water bottle on the ground.

  “Are you writing a poem, sir?” she asked, speaking in a soft voice, her long black queue swaying at her back.

  It was almost a scene from a classical Chinese painting: a poet enjoying the tranquil landscape of a picturesque garden, musing on something while a young, smiling, pretty maid stood in service.

  “Well, I’m thinking about it, but not a single word has come up yet. Somehow, the garden seems smaller?”

  “The Lion Garden is just a five-minute walk away,” she said, not responding to his question. “It’s larger and fairly quiet too.”

  “Thanks. I might go there. But for the moment, let me sit here in peace for a while. If I need anything else, I’ll let you know.”

  “I understand. Enjoy.”

  He watched her retreating figure, struck with a sense of déjà vu, recalling the lines by Yan Shu, a poet in the eleventh century.

  A new poem over a cup of wine, / the last year’s weather, the unchanged pavilion. / The sun is setting in the west— / how many times? / Helpless that flowers fall. / Swallows return, seemingly known. / I wander along the sweet-scented trail / in the small garden, alone.

  Then his reverie was cut short by a wave of panic. Was he being watched even here—perhaps by this pretty young attendant, who was now looking back in his direction?

  Since that night at the Heavenly World, he’d started to react to nearly every situation with paranoia. He took a deep breath and tried to reassure himself.

  He gazed into the cup of the tea, the leaves rising to the surface, then sinking reluctantly, with an occasional ripple.

  One thought returned yet again. His enemy wasn’t going to stop after just one failed attempt to entrap him. His attempt at calming himself was shattered.

  Then his cell phone buzzed. It was Old Hunter, who jumped right in.

  “I’ve just been to see your favorite chef in her restaurant.”

  “Chef?” Chen didn’t know what Old Hunter was talking about—the old man wouldn’t have called him to talk about chefs.

  “She talked to me about some new developments in the office,” Old Hunter went on. “The computer was taken away overnight, and everything in the office was turned upside down. Her husband protested, but he almost got fired as a result.”

  Chen got it. The restaurant Old Hunter was talking about was a coded reference to Peiqin’s cooking, and thus to information from Peiqin and Yu: the office was his own at the Shanghai Police Bureau, from which the computer apparently had been taken away, possibly as part of a thorough search. That was mean. When Chen had been told he was being promoted out of the police department, Party Secretary Li had assured him that there was no rush for him to start packing up his office. Chen had planned to go back there in a couple of days to start cleaning it out, though he hadn’t left anything really important in the office or on the computer. What infuriated him, however, was learning that Detective Yu was at risk because of his relationship to the now ex–chief inspector. Chen thanked Old Hunter for his call and quickly hung up.

  Chen then pulled out his regular cell phone and dialed Party Secretary Li. It wasn’t a call he’d rehearsed, but it was one he’d thought about.

  The call might be recorded, which was what he wanted.

  “Director Chen,” Li started cordially, “how are you getting along in that new position of yours?”

  “I haven’t started yet. I’m in Suzhou at the moment.”

  “In Suzhou again?”

  Chen didn’t remember telling Li anything about his first trip to Suzhou, but that wasn’t something to worry about now.

  “I’m currently having my father’s grave renovated and restored. It looks terrible, practically in ruins. My mother has been complaining about it, and she’s right, it’s long overdue.”

  “As we all know, you are a filial son. Do whatever you need to do in Suzhou, and if your mother needs any help while you’re away from Shanghai, I’ll see what the bureau can do.”

  “Thank you, Party Secretary Li. This morning, as I was standing at his grave, I couldn’t help thinking about what my father said to me long ago. As a Confucian scholar, he always wanted me to pursue an academic career. For years, though, I thought I’d been doing a good job, in my own way.”

  “You’ve been doing an excellent job. There’s no question about it.”

  “No, I don’t think so. Things are so complicated in China. What appears to be the right thing may turn out to be wrong. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. So I can’t help but doubt my ability to fulfill any official position, including this new one at the Legal Reform Committee. This might be an opportunity for me to think it over.”

  Li didn’t respond immediately, so Chen plowed ahead.

  “So that’s what I am planning to do. While I’m supervising the restoration of my father’s grave in Suzhou, I’ll spend some time reading and studying before I’ll decide if I’m qualified for this new assignment. If I decide that I’m not, I’ll try doing something entirely different. In college, I dreamed of a career as a poet. Perhaps that’s what I’m meant to be, instead of a chief inspector.” Without waiting for a response, he then added, “In the meantime, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about recent events. Particularly about what happened that night at the Heavenly World.”

  “What happened at the Heavenly World? I’m totally confused, Director Chen. I haven’t heard a single word about it.”

  Chen couldn’t see Li’s expression, so it was impossible to tell whether he was lying or not. Li should have been briefed by the Sex Crimes Squad about the raid, but Chen gave him a brief account about that night nonetheless.

  “In Suzhou, I’ve been listening to Suzhou opera,” Chen said, seemingly shifting the topic. “There are so many wonderful proverbs in it. For one, ‘You’d better not chase the desperate foe too hard.’ And for another, ‘The cornered dog can jump over the wall.’”

  “You’re really into the proverbs, Comrade Director Chen.”

  “Some of the investigations I’ve conducted involved people higher up, and I, being too bookish, might have made things difficult for them. So now it’s payback time. I’m not complaining, far from it. The Party has always emphasized the importance of acting in the interest of things larger than oneself, but what good is it, if one drops dead because of it?”

  “You should take a break, whether in Suzhou or back here in Shanghai. After all these years, when you’ve worked so hard—”

  “Party Secretary Li, what this sudden promotion really means, both you and I know only too well. At one point, you were my mentor in politics. So I want to consult you about what I’m going to do now.”

  “No, don’t say that, Director Chen. I’ve never been your mentor. By no means,” Li said in haste. “We’ve worked together, but—”

  Apparently Li was only too aware that their conversation might be taped and was anxious to separate himself from Chen.

  “I mean it, Party Secretary Li,” Chen insisted, taking a perverse delight in Li’s embarrassment. “Thanks to your showing me the ropes at the bureau, I’ve been able to become first a chief inspector of the Shanghai Police Bureau, and now director of the Shanghai Legal Reform Committee.”

  “Now—I’m lost, Director Chen. The decision to move you to your new position was made by higher authorities. I knew nothing about it until it was announced that morning.”

  “But you know what?” Chen said, barreling ahead. “I haven’t been a cop all these years for nothing. I’ve put something away, in case there was a need to protect myself.”

  “Whatever you may have put away—” Li said tentatively, before changing direction. “I knew so little about your work, about those special cases you worked on. Nobody else in the bureau knew anyth
ing about them either, except for your longtime partner, Detective Yu.”

  “That’s another reason I’m calling you today. Whatever I’ve put away, it’s not with Detective Yu. You can be assured of that. I’ve worked on too many special investigations to make such a mistake. And don’t think I’ve kept anything on the office computer. I definitely didn’t leave it in any of the obvious places that others could lay their hands on. If I fall, then what I’ve stored away will automatically come out on the Internet.”

  This time, there was no response from Li.

  “For what I’ve done, I’ll take responsibility. My late father used to say, ‘There are things a man will do, and things a man will not do.’ But if anything happens to Detective Yu because of me, then anything is possible. Then we’ll all learn what it’s possible for me to do.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. Detective Yu is doing a great job as head of the Special Case Squad. How could anything happen to him?” Li managed with difficulty. “You must have overworked yourself. I’ll have a word with the leading comrades about the stress of your job.”

  Li was playing dumb. But there was no point in pressing him too hard. Events must have been planned at a level way above him.

  “Take care, Director Chen,” Li said, in a hurry to get off the phone. “Bye.”

  With a dial tone suddenly sounding in his ear, Chen put down the phone. He wondered whether the call, made on the spur of the moment, would make any difference. Perhaps his enemies might have to slow down a bit and think about their next moves more carefully. Optimistically, it could make Chen’s opponent narrow down his “enemy list.” Pessimistically, well, it could hardly be any worse than it already was.

  But it was a call he had to make, for Detective Yu’s sake.

  The young attendant was coming over to him, carrying two saucers on a stainless steel tray. One saucer contained fried watermelon seeds, and the other, white-sugar-covered yang mei berries.

  “I saw you were on the phone,” she said, “so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  It had been a long time since he’d had a sweet bayberry. When he was a child, his mother once bought him a tiny bag, which he finished, to her chagrin, in less than ten minutes. Now he picked up only one berry from the saucer, satisfied with both the taste and service.

  “Your room number?” she asked.

  So it would be charged to his room. But it had been naive of him to think otherwise. When she presented him with a slip, he signed his name without bothering to check the amount.

  He got up, wrapped the remaining berries in a paper napkin, and walked back along the winding trail like any other tourist.

  A black bat flitted around overhead, first circling, then uttering a strange sound that sounded just like Chinese character shou, and finally disappearing into the dusk. The heat was steady, enclosing him like a grasp. The eerie noise reminded him of another garden—the Qing Dynasty Summer Palace. The Empress Dowager Cixi had the palace in the north built lavishly, imitating the southern landscape, thereby spending all the money in the treasury that had been reserved for the navy. In the Summer Palace, the shou sound made by the bats, a character that could mean longevity in Chinese, was so pleasant to her that she kept a skyfull of them.

  China changes, and China doesn’t change. Apparitions of the emperors and empresses seemed to be presenting themselves again in the flickering light in the ancient garden. Dusk was spreading out against the sky, and the last pale cloud began to retreat.

  He thought of the rapid emergence of the princelings, the children of the party elite assuming high positions of their own. That was something new and yet old in China’s political landscape. And he thought of the newly resurgent red songs and their call for the Party to rule for thousands of years.

  He left the garden and strolled out of the hotel. He turned right onto Ten Perfections Street, moving past small local stores and a bookstore tucked in behind the landing of a stone bridge that spanned a dark green canal. It was a scene he remembered from a literary festival several years earlier, one session of which had been held in the bookstore. There was a peach tree blossoming near the landing, just as there had been the last time he was there. Like before, the bookstore seemed more like a café, with a blond waitress flitting among the chairs and tables outside. He wondered whether the waitress was the same one as before. It might not a bad idea to come here for breakfast tomorrow morning, perhaps stir up possibilities in a cup of coffee.

  One block farther on, the stores were interspersed with small workshops and factories, all unsightly in the dimming light. He turned and walked back the way he’d come.

  Soon he found himself at the entrance of the hotel, but he walked past it in the other direction and was soon in sight of an impressive-looking Suzhou noodle restaurant with a black and gold sign: CAI’S NOODLES. It was closed for the day, which struck him as strange, as it was almost dinnertime. He took a look at their business hours. From six a.m. to one p.m.

  He recalled something the young woman named Qian had said the other day. She mentioned a really good noodle restaurant close to that hotel. That was probably why he’d thought of that hotel back in the cemetery office. She also mentioned an interesting detail about the restaurant being open only for breakfast and lunch, but if she’d explained why, he’d forgotten.

  He made his way back, absentmindedly, to the hotel again. A bright red convertible sped past him just as he walked in one of the side entrances of the hotel. To his surprise, Chen saw something that looked like a nightclub on his right. Why was there a nightclub in an ancient-style hotel garden? As fragments of music came wafting over, he saw a flashing neon sign saying Southern Heavenly World.

  A uniformed doorman hastened toward him with an obsequious smile.

  “Welcome, sir. I can see that you’re a guest at the hotel. Now, let me tell you that we have the best girls in the city of Suzhou and an incredibly large number of them for you to choose from. Superior quality, affordable price. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

  Grinning from ear to ear, the doorman spoke like an experienced salesman.

  “So the nightclub is part of the hotel?” Chen asked.

  “Yes and no. The nightclub was built in the hotel complex, and the profits are split with the hotel.”

  “So the club was built on the grounds of the ancient garden?”

  “There are too many old gardens in Suzhou, and no matter how ancient, a garden doesn’t bring in much income.”

  “But don’t people choose the hotel because of the garden?”

  “Well, truth be told, more guests stay here because of the nightclub,” the doorman said. He added in an exaggerated whisper, “It’s so convenient. After a couple of hours at the club, you may take a girl back to your room at no extra charge, since you’ve already checked in. And no one will say anything—”

  His enthusiastic introduction was interrupted by a skinny girl who emerged from the club’s interior and scampered over to their side.

  “So you’re a guest at the hotel, sir. Welcome.”

  The doorman slipped inside, as if on cue.

  “You’ve got nothing to do this evening, right?” she went on. “It’s lonely for a traveler, I know. So you need someone to keep you company—”

  But she broke off right there and abruptly turned her head to watch a Jaguar that was pulling up at the curb. A plump woman in her fifties, wearing a light Burberry trench coat and a large diamond ring, stepped out of the car and walked toward the club. The doorman rushed past Chen and hurried outside to get the car keys from her.

  “I’ve a question for you,” he said to the young girl after the older woman disappeared into the club.

  “What’s your question?”

  “Are most of customers here staying at the hotel?”

  “No, not necessarily, but it’s easy for hotel guests to walk over to the nightclub. And it’s also easy for them to make arrangements afterward.”

  “I see,” he said, noddin
g. “I’ve another question, if you don’t mind my curiosity. The lady who just went in was in her fifties…”

  “Of course, we have female clients as well. She’s a regular here. If you have money, you can buy anything—ducks too.”

  “Ducks?”

  “Gigolos,” she said. “You’ve got so many questions, sir. How about coming inside with me? In a cozy private room, you may fire away to your heart’s content, and I’ll try my best to respond to your satisfaction.”

  If it weren’t for his experience at the Heavenly World in Shanghai, he might have agreed. Instead, he pulled out a hundred-yuan bill and gave it to her. “Just buy yourself a drink tonight. Next time we’ll go inside. For now, I have just a couple of questions more.”

  “You mean—” she said, snatching the bill in surprise.

  “For instance, the lady customer who just arrived,” he said. “She must be someone important.”

  “Yes, she has a meat company that went public about half a year ago.”

  “So she’s a well-known Big Buck here. Aren’t people like her worried about police raids?”

  “Are you from Mars?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The club owner is connected all the way at the top, so customers don’t have to worry about their security.”

  “So it’s just like the Heavenly World in Shanghai?”

  “Oh, you’ve been there? Then surely you know better. Our club is affiliated with the Heavenly World.”

  “Affiliated—how?”

  “The owner of the Heavenly World owns shares in this club. When his Big Buck customers come to Suzhou, he refers them here. And his connections help too. But that’s about all I know.”

  “That makes sense. The name of this club makes the association with the club in Shanghai clear,” Chen said, nodding like a truly bookish customer. “But cell phones and surveillance cameras are everywhere, and all it would take is one picture of someone prominent going up on the Web for their presence here to cause damage. That would seem particularly true for Party officials.”

  “For those people, there are also private clubs.”