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  “You knew him in the camp,” Hulan said.

  As Liu said that indeed he had, David thought he heard something outside. Neither Hulan nor her father had seemed to notice.

  “Let me tell you something,” Liu continued. “Guang Mingyun was someone I went to for help after I got out of Pitao. We had been through a lot together, but he chose to look the other way. Since that time I watched him, and from the ministry that was very, very easy. I saw him with his airplanes and satellites. I saw him with his munitions factory. I saw him open Panda Brand. So when I met Henglai at the Black Earth, my first thought was of Panda Brand. By that time, I had been thinking about exporting bear bile for many years and I knew that company very well. Now suddenly the time was right, the people were in place, and we had access to the product.”

  “The others didn’t resist?”

  Liu snorted. “The Watsons were greedy. And Guang Henglai? He is a Red Prince. He has lots of money, but he is bored. At first it is a game for him: Find people on the inside at Panda Brand, steal the packaging and bile.”

  “But to cheat his own father?” David asked.

  “Guang Mingyun is so busy making money, he pays no attention to his different businesses. That makes it a simple matter for Henglai—or someone else—to take advantage. Eventually Guang Mingyun suspected something, but by then we already had this place.”

  The more Vice Minister Liu talked, the more David and Hulan could see how his obsessions had corrupted him. Yes, he told them, he wanted to get rich. Who didn’t these days in China? That’s why it had been so easy to recruit couriers. Liu had suggested that Billy and Henglai find help at the Black Earth, since people there were always looking to make a deal—legal or otherwise.

  The scheme had been perfect until his partners got greedy. “They should never have tried to cut me out,” he repeated as though that explained how he could have gone on a rampage that had resulted in the deaths—either by his own hand or those of the Rising Phoenix—of seven people. David ticked off the list in his head—Guang Henglai, Billy Watson, Cao Hua, Noel Gardner, Zhao Lingyuan, Spencer Lee, and Peter Sun. David and Hulan would soon be added to that bloody tally.

  “Clean blade in, red blade out,” Liu intoned. He stood and began to pace before the window openings on his side of the shed. “This is how Mao told us to deal with our enemies. And I did, with the help of those Rising Phoenix scum. The whole time I am thinking this brings back the purity of the old days. When I think of that time, I cannot help but remember the three of us together. Mama, Baba, daughter. I needed my daughter to come home to complete our family. I needed her where I could keep an eye on her. Hulan has known this for many years.”

  Hulan shivered but didn’t speak.

  “But then, Liu Hulan, my own dear daughter, I see that my actions might bring me the greatest happiness of my life.” Liu stopped in front of one of the openings and nodded to himself at the memory. David thought he saw a shadow pass outside. “Revenge is a glorious action. It is deliciously pure.”

  “I suppose, then, we might find Ambassador Watson’s body here?” Hulan asked.

  “No, you just missed him.”

  “The car on the road? He’s not dead?”

  “The ambassador and I were waiting for you for many hours. He is such a boring and predictable man, don’t you agree? But you’re right. He left. He wanted to get back to the embassy in Beijing. He thinks he’ll be safe there.” In his usual way, Hulan’s father waved his hand, as though dispersing a bad smell, only this time, he held a gun in it. “Why would I kill him? The other punishments are so much greater, don’t you agree?”

  “He’ll have diplomatic immunity from the crimes committed here in China,” Hulan said.

  “I think your father’s referring to murdering Watson’s only child,” David suggested.

  “Yes, of course, there’s that,” Liu agreed amiably. “But even better, he must face the boy’s mother every day, knowing that he is responsible for her misery. And when she finds out that her husband is guilty…Does she know this already? Is that why you’re here? Oh, how I would love to see the look on his face.” He conjured up this image and allowed himself another laugh. “But no, I wasn’t thinking of the ambassador. I was thinking of you.”

  David took a step forward, hoping that Hulan’s father was so caught up in his story that he wouldn’t notice. But the bears—already groaning and tossing their heads from side to side as they picked up the humans’ emotions—became even more agitated. When two of the bears threw themselves against the bars of their enclosures, the vice minister’s gun instantly came up. His aim was steady and directed at David’s heart. He began to pace again.

  “The truth is, when I assigned you to the investigation of Guang Henglai, I did it because—well, what can I say?—I didn’t think you would get anywhere. Naturally, Ambassador Watson did not want the case to proceed either. So when I received orders from high above to pull our department back from the case, I thought all was going according to plan. But I hadn’t counted on those imbecile immigrants on the Peony! When they didn’t throw the body overboard, that obviously complicated things for me.”

  David believed they didn’t have much time left. A pitchfork leaned against the wall behind Hulan’s father, but it may as well have been on the far side of the moon.

  “Then your lover finds the body on the Peony,” Liu said. “I cannot begin to express to you how I felt when I heard this news. Then when I received orders that the case must be reopened and that we—two great countries—must work together, my future suddenly spread out before me as clear as could be. You see, I had never forgotten that day in the hutong. I never forgot what you did to your mother.”

  “Hulan didn’t do anything,” David said. He heard the pistol’s crack and felt the searing burn as a bullet entered his arm. The impact lifted up his body and hurled it against the shed’s back wall. The bears roared. Hulan screamed and moved toward David.

  “No! Stay where you are,” her father said, swinging the weapon back in her direction. Liu grudgingly dragged his eyes to the American, who sprawled against the wall, his hand over his wound. “There are many ways to die, Attorney Stark. Quickly with a bullet. Or slowly. I tried to make it painless for you once in Beijing, but it didn’t work out. So be it. We are here now. And I want you to understand this. You know nothing about Hulan, nothing about me. I suggest that you keep quiet and your death will be merciful.”

  Liu slowly backed up, coming to a stop against one of the shed’s windows. His attention returned to his daughter. He took a fatherly tone, the one he had always used when talking to her about family obligation, tradition, and customs. “As you know, revenge is a duty for all Chinese people. Like the debt we owe our parents, it must be paid. Like monetary debts we accrue, they must be settled. It may require many years or many decades, but a Chinese of honor will exact revenge. I have waited patiently, Liu Hulan, and now that time is here.”

  Liu raised his pistol to his daughter’s head. Hulan straightened her shoulders. Then, from his position on the floor, David saw an arm reach through the window opening, quickly come across Liu’s neck, and hold him in place. The surprise caused his gun to waver. Hulan knocked it from his grasp. At the same time, another hand came out of the shadows and pressed the muzzle of a revolver against Liu’s temple.

  “It’s over,” Section Chief Zai said.

  24

  STILL LATER

  Long Hills

  For a moment, all was quiet, then Zai spoke. “Hulan, you know what to do.” When she didn’t move, he ordered, “Inspector Liu, pick up the gun.”

  She did and aimed it at her father. Zai’s lips were close to Liu’s ear. He said softly, “I am going to come inside. You stay where you are. Understood?” Liu nodded. Zai slowly loosened his grip, disappeared for a few seconds, then stepped through the door.

  “My old friend, welcome,” Liu said bitterly.

  Zai lifted his revolver to keep a bead on Liu. Hulan dropped
her father’s gun, looked around, found David, and rushed to his side.

  “I’m all right,” David said. He looked up at Zai. “You followed us. The car outside Hulan’s house…”

  “And many others,” Hulan’s mentor said, nodding. “I knew you would eventually come to Chengdu. I waited for you at the airport. From there it was simple. Hulan is a professional, but she wasn’t looking for me to follow her and I have more experience.”

  “You let us come down here.” David lifted his good arm. His gesture took in the shed, the bears, Liu.

  “When you drove off the main road, what could I do?” Zai then addressed Liu. “I think this was your main mistake. This place is out of the way, but the position…It is not what we learned in the army.”

  “What are you talking about?” David was indignant. Hulan put a hand on him to calm him.

  “This camp is down in a canyon and very remote,” Zai explained. “I couldn’t trail you then. You would have seen me. But from the main road I could watch without being observed myself. I followed your headlights as you made your progress. If you had gone very far, then I would have driven in. But when the lights stopped here, I knew I should walk. My arrival would be more of a surprise.”

  “You knew everything,” Liu concluded.

  “A long time ago,” Zai said sadly. “We have, after all, known each other many years.”

  “I wanted you to pay and Hulan, too…”

  “Liu, how many times did I try to tell you?”

  The conversation had taken a turn. David felt Hulan pull away from him. She stayed very still at his side, listening.

  “I know what I saw,” her father was saying. “I know what I heard. My daughter destroyed her mother, my wife.”

  “No!” The syllable cut sharply through the room. “It was your own back-door ways that destroyed Jinli. You have never wanted to hear the real story, Liu. But this time you will. What happened to Jinli was your fault.”

  “Never! It was you and Hulan!”

  “I was there,” Zai shot back. “I saw it happen. Remember, we were together at the Ministry of Culture. I knew you were into schemes even then. I’m not talking about the ways you tried to get films made. We all did what we could in those days to bring honest stories to the people, not just propaganda. But you were my friend, and when others came to report that you had taken a bribe, that you were taking kickbacks from the workers, or that you were having an affair with Secretary Sung, I ordered them out of my office. They despised you for your crimes and I did nothing.”

  “Ba?” Hulan sounded very young.

  “It’s all lies,” her father said.

  “It is the truth, Hulan,” Zai said. “You were a small child. You saw only your mama and baba. You didn’t know what was happening.”

  Hulan looked confused.

  Zai turned back to his old friend. “But I did and so did others. As the Cultural Revolution waged on, I knew it would be harder to protect you. Soon I began to hear rumors that the workers wanted to kill you. I refused to accept the reality. That is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life.”

  Zai hesitated before going on. “Then one day Jinli came to the ministry. The vultures saw their opportunity. They circled around her. They recited your crimes. Let me tell you, Secretary Sung was the worst of all.”

  Liu agreed. “She was such a pretty girl, but she had venom in her heart.”

  With her father’s acknowledgment, Hulan suddenly realized that all the fond memories of her childhood had been false.

  “They were holding me back, accusing Jinli and me of being fornicators, too.” Zai’s voice dipped as the images came back. “I can see Jinli on the balcony now, backing away, backing away, until she hits the railing, loses her balance…As she flailed, she looked about for help and no one stepped forward. Then she fell to the courtyard below.”

  Zai looked up and saw Hulan across from him, tears streaming down her face.

  “They said if anyone touched her, they, too, would learn to fly,” Zai continued. “We both remember how things were in those days. Those people spoke the truth, and no one wanted to risk death. Jinli lay in the courtyard for four days while I went to get you. Four days! Such a long time! But the people were so harsh, so unforgiving. These cruelties were common. Usually victims were just left to die, but I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “When you were coming for me, she was lying there alone?” Hulan asked. “Ba, where were you?”

  Liu sank to the floor. His skin had gone pale.

  “Your neighbors already had him in the hutong,” Zai said.

  “For four days?” Hulan asked. Her training didn’t allow her to believe that simple answer.

  For the first time since Zai’s arrival, Liu spoke directly to his daughter. “No, I was not in the hutong the whole time.”

  “You were with Secretary Sung,” she guessed.

  He shook his head. “I had already tired of her. There was another woman, a tea girl from the ministry.” He looked directly at Hulan now. His eyes were tormented. “And what you said in the hutong…”

  “All that you heard—every word Hulan spoke—was a lie designed to save your life,” Zai said. “But more than that, I wanted the gossip to travel back to the Ministry of Culture. The people took pity on Jinli, and I was able to call for an ambulance. I sent her to Russia, where her money could buy her decent medical care and safety. I sent Hulan into exile—away from her family, away from her homeland. The rest you know.”

  “Everything she did…” Liu’s body began to shake, and he couldn’t complete the sentence.

  “Your daughter was like the Liu Hulan of legend,” Zai finished for him. “She martyred herself to save you and her mother.”

  Liu uttered a low guttural sound. Then he moved quickly, scrambling across the floor to the gun Hulan had dropped. He picked it up and stood.

  “Put it down,” Zai said, his aim still steady.

  Liu wasn’t listening. He stared at his daughter. “I’m sorry,” he said. He tried to say something more but couldn’t. Before anyone could move to stop him, he raised the gun to his head and fired.

  25

  FEBRUARY 14–MARCH 14

  Home

  For David, several days went by in a blur of pain and narcotics. He was admitted to a Western-style hospital in Chengdu, where he endured lengthy surgery to remove the bullet and reconstruct the bones in his arm. David had lost a lot of blood, but the doctor assured Hulan that he would recover completely. The best thing he could do now was stay in bed and rest.

  On that first day in the hospital, Hulan was sitting on the edge of David’s bed, waiting for him to regain consciousness and watching a local newscast when she heard about Ambassador Watson. “Despondent over his son’s death, the United States ambassador to China committed suicide this morning at the official residence,” the reporter announced as on the screen Watson’s body was wheeled from the official residence. This was followed by shots of Elizabeth Watson getting into the back of a limo and Phil Firestone making a statement lamenting the loss to America and China of such a fine man.

  Hulan put through a call to Zai, who, after the events at the bear farm, had ordered men to the embassy to arrest Ambassador Watson—they would worry about diplomatic immunity later—but they were too late. After leaving the farm, Watson had driven back to Chengdu and taken a flight back to Beijing, where his wife confronted him about Billy’s death. Unable to accept her husband’s lies, she killed him. Zai himself had flown up to meet with her, but the murder had occurred on embassy grounds, making it an American problem. Knowing this and wanting to protect his boss even in death, Phil Firestone acted swiftly, arranging for Mrs. Watson to accompany her husband’s body to Washington, where he would be buried with full honors in Arlington National Cemetery. Hulan had relayed all this to David as soon as he awoke.

  David began to heal. Hulan came to the hospital every day with tin containers of soup. Together they watched the story unfold
on television. On the International Hour on CNN, David and Hulan watched the president eulogize his old friend, then go on to make a broad policy statement about the continuing conflicts with China. He hoped that these would be resolved, but if they couldn’t, he—like Big Bill Watson, who throughout his life had stood up to bullies domestically and internationally—would take a tough stance.

  “Turn it off,” David said.

  Unlike the U.S. government, Chinese officials chose to use the case as an object lesson. Ironically, it was unlikely that the Chinese people would believe the account of Liu’s actual suicide, having heard so many political falsehoods in the past. Still, one quarter of the world’s population watched as the iron triangle closed around other couriers found at the Black Earth Inn, the young woman who worked at the Panda Brand souvenir shop, as well as several others who’d been involved in the packaging, sale, and transportation of the bile.

  For Liu’s official eulogy, a document written by committee that would define how he and his family would be perceived for the next fifty years or so, the government dredged up all manner of unsavory revelations from the decadent lifestyle of his grandparents through Liu’s corruption at the Ministry of Culture, and ending with the murders and smuggling. In accordance with tradition, Liu’s descendants were also examined. While on a personal level Hulan might never get over the events at the bear farm, her role there protected her from disgrace now. In fact, there had already been a brief flurry of stories in the media recalling the brave deeds of the revolutionary martyr Liu Hulan and drawing parallels between her life and the inspector’s.

  “To have two suicides of such prominent people should attract someone’s attention,” Hulan said one day after reading a particularly florid account in the People’s Daily.

  “Yes, if anyone’s paying attention,” David had responded. But no one was.

  On the morning of February twentieth, any chance that the full story might emerge was lost as another story of far greater significance was announced. Hulan came to the hospital and turned on the television to see a simple black-and-white photograph against a blue background with the characters for “Comrade Deng Xiaoping Is Immortal” displayed beneath it. (Later, they discovered that Deng had died the previous morning. The government, Hulan explained, had postponed the announcement to curtail spontaneous public demonstrations.) China entered a period of mourning. Word came down that the Lantern Festival, the final festival of Chinese New Year, should be downplayed this year.