"A Loyal Character Dancer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Xiaolong Qiu)

Chapter 16

Catherine returned to her hotel alone.

Slipping off her shoes, she rubbed her ankle for several seconds before she walked to the window. Along the river, vessels moved against the eastern shore, shining under the inflamed clouds. Below her, people hurried along the Bund, in one direction or another, looking straight ahead. Chief Inspector Chen might be among them, walking toward the hotel with his briefcase.

Turning from the window, she stared at the thick dossier on her desk. That she looked forward to his company, she assured herself, was entirely professional. She wanted to discuss the new direction for the investigation after their visit to the Dynasty Karaoke Club. There was something else suspicious about the Hong Kong visitor.

She also wanted to show Chen that her attitude was free from Western prejudices and that, in spite of their differences, they had their common goal. Stories of forced abortion were not new to her, unfortunately. She knew he was a Chinese cop, working within the system.

Wen was probably no longer in Fujian. The Flying Axes must have reached a similar conclusion. So what could she do in Shanghai, working with Chief Inspector Chen? He had invoked yiqi with Gu. She hoped this approach would succeed, and quickly.

She started to dash off a few words on a pad, crossed them out, and was thinking hard, when the fax machine began to emit a roll of paper. It was from Washington.

The cover page bore only one line: Information about Chen, from the CIA.

Chief Inspector Chen Cao is an emerging Party cadre, touted as a successor to Superintendent Zhao or Party Secretary Li of the Shanghai Police Bureau. It is said that last year Chen was on the top candidate list for the position of Shanghai Propaganda Minister. He also served as the acting director of Shanghai Traffic Control and attended the Seminar of the Central Party Institute. The last event is seen as an unmistakable sign of his further promotion within the Party system. As one of the “liberal reformists” within the Party, Chen enjoys a connection with powerful people at a higher level.

As for his professional performance, he has recently been in charge of several politically important cases, including the national model worker investigation last year, and a recent one concerning the vice mayor of Beijing.

Chen majored in English literature in college in the late seventies, but for some unknown reason, he was assigned to the police. Chen is on the invitation list of the U.S. News Agency as a writer.

In his mid-thirties, Chen remains a bachelor. He has his own apartment in a good location. Like other emerging cadres, he keeps a low profile in his personal life, but it is alleged that the father of his (ex?) girlfriend, Ling, is a leading politburo member.

Catherine put the fax into her file. She made a cup of coffee for herself.

An enigmatic man. She was intrigued by the part about his relationship with a politburo member’s daughter. One of the High Cadres’ Children. She had read about that prestigious group, privileged by their family connections, corrupt, powerful. Were they still seeing each other? The CIA data was vague. She wondered whether a spoiled HCC would make a good wife for him. If he married an HCC, would he turn into one?

Catherine caught herself. Chief Inspector Chen was just a temporary partner in China. It was the CIA’s business to be concerned with his life, not hers. The information about Chen was irrelevant now; what she needed was a clue to Wen’s whereabouts, which she did not have.

She was jolted by the ringing of her phone. It was Chen. There was traffic noise in the background.

“Where are you, Chief Inspector Chen?”

“On my way home. I had a call from Party Secretary Li. He invites you to a Beijing Opera performance this evening.”

“Does Mr. Li want to discuss the Wen case with me?”

“I’m not sure about that. The invitation is to demonstrate our bureau’s attention to the case, and to you, our distinguished American guest.”

“Isn’t it enough to assign you to me?” she said.

“Well, in China, Li’s invitation gives more face.”

“Giving face-I’ve heard only about losing face.”

“If you are a somebody, you give face by making a friendly gesture.”

“I see, like your visit to Gu. So I have no choice?”

“Well, if you say no, Party Secretary Li will lose face. The bureau will, too-including me.”

“Oh no! Yours is one face I have to save.” She laughed. “What shall I wear to the Beijing Opera?”

“Beijing Opera is not like Western opera. You don’t have to dress formally, but if you do-”

“Then I’m giving face, too.”

“Exactly. Shall I pick you up at the hotel?”

“Where is the theater?”

“Not far from your hotel. On the corner of Fuzhou and Henan Roads. The City Government Auditorium.”

“You don’t have to pick me up. I’ll take a taxi there. See you.”

“Oh, by the way, I have not discussed this afternoon’s visit with Party Secretary Li.”

She understood this last remark was a deliberate warning.

She started to dress and reached for her suit, but after such an eventful day, especially after their argument in Qingpu, she felt tempted to appear more feminine. She decided on a black dress with a low neckline.

In front of the City Government Auditorium, she saw the surprise on Chen’s face before she noticed somebody standing by him, Party Secretary Li, a stout man in his early sixties, his wrinkled face dominated by the heavy bags under his eyes.

They were ushered into an elegant reception room where there was an impressive array of pictures on the walls showing high-ranking officials shaking hands with distinguished foreign guests or with the actors and actresses.

“I welcome you on behalf of the Shanghai Police Bureau, Inspector Catherine Rohn.” Li spoke in a rather stiff official tone, despite the smile on his face.

“Thank you, Mr. Party Secretary Li. It is a great honor to meet you today.”

“It is the first time that our two countries are cooperating on an illegal immigration case. It is a top priority for our bureau, and for our Party authorities and government.”

“I appreciate the cooperation of the Shanghai Police Bureau, but there has been no progress so far.”

“Don’t worry, Inspector Rohn. We’ve been doing our best, both in Shanghai and Fujian. You will escort Wen Liping to the United States in time.” Li changed the subject abruptly. “Now, this is your first trip to Shanghai, I’ve heard. What is your impression of this city?”

“Fantastic. Shanghai is more marvelous than I imagined.”

“What about the hotel?”

“Fabulous. Chief Inspector Chen has told the hotel people to treat me as a ‘distinguished guest.’”

“That’s what he should have done.” Li nodded vigorously. “So how is your Chinese partner?”

“I could not ask for a better colleague.”

“Yes, he is our ace inspector. A romantic poet to boot. That’s why we have assigned him to you.”

“You call him a romantic poet,” she said, jokingly, “but he calls himself a modernist.”

“You see, modernism is no good. Inspector Rohn says so too,” Li said to Chen. “Be romantic. Revolutionary romantic, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“Romantic, revolutionary romantic,” Chen echoed. “Chairman Mao used this phrase in 1944 in the Yen’an Forum Talk.”

It was obvious to her that Party Secretary Li did not know much about literary terms. Chen seemed to be good-humored, even a bit offhand, toward his boss. Was it because of his special connections within the Party system?

They were ushered to their reserved seats; she sat between Li and Chen. The lights grew dim. An orchestra of traditional Chinese musical instruments started playing and the audience burst out cheering.

“Why are they cheering now?” Catherine asked.

“Beijing Opera is an art of many facets,” Chen said. “Singing, posing, performing martial arts, and playing music. A master of a traditional Chinese musical instrument like the erhu can make a huge difference. The audience is applauding the music.”

“No, that’s not why they are clapping now,” Li interjected. “Our chief inspector knows a lot about literature, but Beijing Opera is different. A well-known actress will soon appear on the stage. So people are applauding in advance. It’s the convention.”

“Yes, our Party Secretary is an expert on Beijing Opera,” Chen said. “I’ve only read about it in a tourist guide book.”

With the rise of the curtain, cymbals preceded the singsong voices of the actors and actresses. An episode of The White Snake unfolded on the stage, a romantic story about a white snake spirit who changes into a beautiful woman in love. The White Snake summoned the turtle soldiers, crab warriors, carp knights, and other animal spirits from the river to overwhelm a temple. In spite of her heroic fight to rescue her lover, detained by a meddlesome monk in the Gold Mountain Temple, she was defeated.

Catherine enjoyed the performance, impressed by the spectacular display of martial arts, glittering costumes, and traditional music. There was no need to understand a single word of the play to appreciate it. Then the White Snake Lady started a series of somersaults across the stage.

“This is symbolic of inner as well as outer intensity,” Chen said. “The banners in her hands outline the waves of the battle. Everything is suggested by her hand gestures and body movements.”

The curtain finally fell amid the thunderous applause of the audience.

Afterward, Party Secretary Li offered to drive Inspector Rohn to her hotel, but she declined, saying that she preferred to walk back along the Bund.

“Splendid, you already know your way around.” Li turned to Chen. “Chief Inspector Chen, you may escort Inspector Rohn.”