The Interior Page 34

  David saw Sun to the front gate, where he mounted a bicycle and began pedaling. When the governor disappeared around the alley’s corner, David locked the gate and made his way back to the last courtyard. Hulan sat at the little round table. Her bandaged hand rested palm up before her. She looked tired, more tired perhaps than he had ever seen her. Weren’t pregnant women supposed to need, want, and get a lot of sleep? He thought he could remember reading something like that or seeing it in a movie.

  “He’s innocent, isn’t he?” she said.

  “My logical mind says he can’t be, but when he speaks, I want to believe him.”

  “He’s a politician,” Hulan reminded him. “You’re supposed to believe him.”

  “He also gave me these.” David handed Hulan Sun’s bank records. In his mind they proved nothing, but he had a duty to turn evidence over to the authorities if it might help his client.

  Hulan saw that the names of these banks matched those in the dangan and that these were official documents dated yesterday, but she said none of this. Instead she picked up the index card that had Sun’s name on it and corresponded to the columns which read ACCEPTING BRIBES and CHINESE jurisdiction. Without saying a word, she tore the card into pieces and put them in the trash. Then she said, “I need some sleep.” With that she left the room, leaving David to stare at her chart and wonder if she really believed Sun was innocent.

  20

  MONDAY MORNING DAWNED HEAVY AND HOT. HULAN dressed in a loose-fitting suit of pale green pongee. Since she was going to the MPS, she carried her weapon under her jacket. She still felt tired, and she went about her morning activities quietly. At 7:30 she left the compound, got into the backseat of Lo’s black Mercedes, and drifted back to sleep for the short drive to headquarters. As she walked through the lobby and upstairs to her office, the temperature seemed worse than ever before. The dinginess of the walls and the lack of light made the heat all the more oppressive.

  She went straight to Zai’s office. Vice Minister Zai was already at his desk, and it occurred to her that perhaps he’d spent the entire weekend there. The tea girls hadn’t come in yet, so Zai poured the tea from his thermos himself. Hulan took a sip and felt its heat radiate through her body and produce a fine sheen of sweat on her face. This was exactly what tea was supposed to do. Sweat was nature’s way of cooling the body. But today, instead of giving any relief, the tea only added to her discomfort.

  “You recall the file of which we spoke yesterday?” Hulan said. When Zai nodded, she went on, “I would like to see it again.”

  They were inside, where anyone could be listening, and yet Hulan—though her words were ambiguous as to whose file she wanted—had broken the protocol with which she and her mentor usually communicated. But Zai didn’t question her motives or even ask her to step outside for a walk. For her to show such a lapse must mean that she needed Sun’s dangan urgently. He left the room and came back a few minutes later. As he’d done the day before, he placed the file in front of her, but instead of turning away he watched as she opened it and read. Sometimes she would pick up a piece of paper and hold it up to the hazy light coming through the window or she would set out two pieces of paper side by side to compare them. She worked silently and Zai didn’t ask any questions. After a while he went back to his own work, and the two of them worked in companionable silence.

  At nine sharp, Zai’s support staff arrived. A pretty girl came in and refreshed their tea, bowed, and left again. A few minutes later another girl entered carrying his morning newspaper, and Zai instantly felt the change in her demeanor when she saw Hulan. It was true that Hulan had never been considered as just one of the workers. She was different from them by education, money, and political position. As a result she had always been seen as an outsider, and when Zai considered this he thought that this separateness above anything was what made Hulan so good at what she did. Still, this morning Zai’s assistant stared at Hulan with more than the usual curiosity. After the girl left the room and he picked up the People’s Daily, he understood why.

  He cleared his throat. “Inspector Liu,” he said formally, knowing without doubt that someone would be listening given the circumstances, “have you seen this morning’s paper?”

  “No, uncle, I haven’t,” she said without looking up. “You know I try not to read our papers. I have learned from personal experience that what they say is not necessarily true.”

  Zai stared at his protégée. She was speaking to him with her mouth, but her words were clearly for the others—if they were listening. He realized then that she’d come here for two reasons. The first was that she had a legitimate reason to look at Sun’s file. The second was that she suspected something was about to happen and wanted to get her position on record with the people who’d be monitoring their conversation.

  He pushed the paper across the desk and watched as she looked at the four photographs that blotted the front page. The first had been taken last night and showed Governor Sun, Henry Knight, and Randall Craig. The second showed the Knight factory. The third was of a Chinese woman—a foreigner from her dress, haircut, and know-it-all expression. In the article Zai had read that this Pearl Jenner worked for an American newspaper and was spoken of in glowing terms as a true friend to China, who’d come back to the motherland to help her countrymen rid themselves of corruption. The last was that same grainy photo of Hulan and David dancing at Rumours Disco that newspapers across China had used when the propaganda tide had shifted against her. Rumours was in the Palace Hotel and reputed to be owned by generals from the People’s Liberation Army. Only a handful of people on the globe knew that Hulan’s last big case had at its heart the smuggling of nuclear components. Those smugglers happened to be some of the same generals who owned Rumours. These were men who, with the exception of a couple of scapegoats, had avoided prosecution. Still, they had lost a lot of money, and they did not forgive easily.

  Hulan picked up the paper. Unlike the others who were listening, Zai had the benefit of watching Hulan’s reaction as she scanned the article. Immediately he saw her brow furrow as she read the allegations: Knight International was harming Chinese citizens. Another American company, Tartan, was prepared to buy Knight to further this activity. The deal was being shepherded by Governor Sun Gan, who was reputed to have accepted bribes. The proof? The newspaper printed a copy of one of the pages of numbers that Guy Lin had tried to show them in the bar of the Shanxi Grand Hotel. It was a page from Miaoshan’s papers and the reporter, Bi Peng, had deciphered the SUN GAN code. Sun’s arrest was pending, but it was a forgone conclusion that he would be caught soon. Representing Sun was American attorney David Stark, which suggested just how corrupt the governor was.

  Hulan winced, and Zai knew she’d come to the section where Pearl Jenner was quoted as saying, “Inspector Liu Hulan and a certain Miss Quo Xuesheng are responsible for introducing Mr. Stark to Governor Sun. These two women—both Red Princesses—obviously stand to profit from their affiliation with Sun and Stark. It is no wonder, then, that Inspector Liu has tried to bury the facts of Sun’s misdeeds and Stark’s cover-up.”

  Hulan set the paper down in disgust. The government controlled the newspaper and this story wouldn’t have appeared if Hulan didn’t have powerful enemies, but it was also true that Bi Peng had it out for her. This time the reporter had surpassed himself. By tonight this news would be on television. By tomorrow it would go out across the country. It might take two or three days to reach deep into the countryside, but these lies would get there eventually.

  On the other hand, Hulan also had some powerful friends. It was to these unseen people that she spoke now. “Attorney Stark is innocent of these unfounded charges. I am also innocent. Miss Quo comes from one of the Hundred Families. To suggest that she would do something like this for money is ludicrous when she could practically buy Knight International herself.”

  Zai didn’t say a word.

  “In many ways I’m most concerned with these lies about Gove
rnor Sun. As you know, Vice Minister, I’ve been curious about him. I’m an investigator of facts. My job is to look for criminal activity. I think that I’ve done a good job over the years. But as I look at his personal file and as I’ve talked to him, I see nothing to suggest that he would be guilty of any acts of bribery. Still, I believe we’re being manipulated into thinking he’s to blame.”

  “Nevertheless, if he has run away, then we must find him.”

  “Of course, Vice Minister. Have you already authorized this as it says in the paper?”

  “I will authorize it now.”

  “Good,” Hulan said. “When we find him, I’m sure that he’ll be able to clear away all ambiguity.” For the first time since she’d entered his office, Zai heard the deceit in her voice. But would the others, who didn’t know her as well as he, hear it as well?

  Hulan stood. “Thank you for your time, Vice Minister. I will keep you informed of my activities.”

  Zai followed her out the door, past the cluster of chattering assistants, down the stairs, and into the parking lot. They stood in the middle of the courtyard and hoped they wouldn’t be heard.

  “Are you so sure of what you said, Hulan?”

  “I’m sure that David, Miss Quo, and I are innocent. I believe that Governor Sun is being set up. But why and by whom I don’t know.”

  “Maybe it’s politics. He may be too popular and they want to bring him down as they have done to you.”

  “Um, perhaps.”

  “What is it?”

  “Someone has doctored his dangan.”

  Zai recoiled. “This can’t be!”

  “In some sections the paper doesn’t match. In others it appears to be the same person making the report, and yet the calligraphy is subtly different. I only have my bare eyes, but I think a lab would be able to verify my conclusions.”

  “They’ve put damaging information in it?”

  “Just the opposite. His file reads as thought it were for Mao or Zhou. It’s perfect. Every place that you’d expect to find criticism is only praise. He was not targeted during the Cultural Revolution, yet I know that the people in and around Taiyuan were very harsh and cruel.”

  “Why change his file to make him look good if they’re going to accuse him of corruption so publicly?”

  “This is exactly the question I’m wondering.”

  Zai contemplated Hulan. He admired her fortitude, but always worried that it would get her into trouble.

  “Tell me this,” he said. “Do you still believe this has something to do with the death of your friend’s daughter?”

  “Yes, and what Bi Peng wrote about the Knight factory is true. It’s all linked.”

  Zai grunted. This was not what he wanted to hear.

  “I think you should leave the city,” he said at last.

  “I’m going back to Da Shui Village. I think the answers are there.”

  “No!” he rapped out. “I was thinking you should go to Beidaihe and stay with your mother. It might remind people who you are.” He thought for a moment, then said, “Better yet, go to Los Angeles. If you remain here, I don’t know what will happen. Our anti-corruption policies are very strong now. If they demand your arrest, there’s nothing I can do. The best thing for you to do is leave. Do you have your visa ready?”

  “Of course, always.” As a Red Princess she was always prepared to leave on a moment’s notice. It also went without saying that she had plenty of cash—Chinese and American—hidden at her house.

  “Go with your David to the United States,” Zai said. “Take Lo with you. He’ll always be able to reach me. I’ll take care of your mother. I’ll bring her to you as soon as I can.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “You should never have come back here. Not in 1985 and not three months ago. It’s time you realized your life lies elsewhere.” He released her, looked around, and signaled for Lo and the car.

  He stood on the hot asphalt and watched as the Mercedes left the compound. Then he headed back to his office, where, as soon as he had made the proper calls to ask that Sun be arrested and Miss Quo picked up, he would have to decide just how long he could wait before he ordered Hulan’s and David’s detainment.

  When Hulan, hot and feeling exhausted, entered the small reception area of David’s office, she saw Miss Quo crying into her hands. Hulan put an arm around the young woman, said a few soothing words, and escorted her into David’s office. He was perched on the edge of his desk, staring at the television. Pearl Jenner, wearing a sky blue suit, was on the screen, her face twisted into a look that somehow managed to convey outrage and pleasure. She was clearly enjoying her newfound celebrity. She spoke in English while a Chinese woman’s voice translated over the broadcast.

  “Pearl’s been busy this morning,” David said. “How long before we’re taken in for questioning?”

  David had used tame Western words for what could be hell in Beijing, but his worried look told Hulan that he wasn’t taking this lightly. But before she could answer, she needed to know how far the story had gone. With Miss Quo still weeping, David ran through events to this point. He’d come to the office and found Miss Quo sobbing over a copy of the People’s Daily. They turned on the television and learned more. Reporters and the local police had gone to Governor Sun’s Taiyuan home and to his Beijing apartment, but he was in neither place. Between the time that Hulan had left the ministry and now, Vice Minister Zai had sent out a spokesperson to announce that the country should be on full alert for Governor Sun. He might try to leave the country, or he might try to disappear into the interior. People should report any strangers to their Neighborhood Committee or local police.

  This had been followed by clips showing Sun at banquets, cutting ribbons at commercial fairs, and striding across cultivated land as peasants trailed along behind him, while the anchor discussed the acts of bribery and corruption. “This all seemed innocuous enough,” David said, “but then the stories and with them the images shifted. Suddenly there was Sun clinking glasses with a Caucasian, posing with Henry and others before the Knight compound, and moving through a crowd, shaking hands and pressing the flesh as if he were a presidential candidate working his way through New Hampshire.”

  Unlike the U.S., where journalists were supposed to use the word “alleged” in connection with supposed crimes, the Chinese reporters had made no such attempt. Sun was portrayed as an enemy of the people, a man who was willing to sell China to the lowest and most corrupt bidder in the world—the United States of America. Randall Craig of Tartan Enterprises and his entourage had left the country. (That they’d gone to Singapore on a previously arranged trip was not mentioned.) The government promised a prompt inspection of the manufacturing giant’s factories in Shenzhen.

  David paused in his recitation when a visa photo of Henry Knight flashed on the screen. As the television anchor spoke, Hulan translated: “We opened our doors to this man. He has paid bribes to Governor Sun Gan and who knows whom else since he has come to our country. The government suggests that he be expelled at once. The American embassy has made no official statement regarding either Knight or Tartan. America is a strong country, but we are strong too. China will not allow any bad fellows on her soil.”

  But the story didn’t end here. Quo Xuesheng, David’s assistant, translator, and secretary, was shown in a tight evening dress getting out of a limousine. “Is Miss Quo, daughter of Quo Jingsheng, the victim of these Western influences, or is she one of the co-conspirators? Her father, who is a well-respected member of our government, has been unavailable for comment, as he is in the United States on tour.” In other words, the press, for now, was withholding judgment on Miss Quo. They might have to wait a day, a month, even a year or more before the government made its final decision on her and her father. But that didn’t offer any solace to Miss Quo, who continued to weep.

  And of course, those few grainy clips of David and Hulan dancing many months ago in the Palace Hotel appeared on the screen. More surprising was a shot of
Hulan and David getting out of the Mercedes just last night in front of the Beijing Hotel. One of the video men who’d been there to record the arrivals to a wedding banquet had probably opened the morning paper, remembered the mixed-race couple from the night before, replayed the tape, found their faces, and had promptly gone down to China Central Television hoping for a little remuneration. However, the anchor gave the film a rather more sinister interpretation, reporting that her station’s cameras had spotted Hulan and David as they went in for a clandestine meeting with Henry Knight and Governor Sun. (Hulan supposed that all across Beijing the handful of people who had been at the banquet were hoping that they hadn’t been filmed by the wedding video crews, that the other shots taken by the official photographer wouldn’t be released, that their names wouldn’t arise in this mess.)

  Once again the good and bad of Hulan’s family background were dredged up. Reporters suggested that Hulan had been tainted by the West, by David, and by Governor Sun, who was of the same generation as Hulan’s father. The implication was that if Sun and Hulan’s father had been friends, then they were both equally wicked. If they were corrupt, then Hulan was without question corrupt as well. It wasn’t a matter of what was false but rather what parts, if any, had been true.

  “Where do they get this stuff?” David asked when Hulan stopped translating.

  “This wouldn’t happen if there wasn’t agreement somewhere high in the government.”

  “But I don’t understand why they would do such anti-American stories,” David said.

  Hulan looked at David in surprise. What did he think was happening here?