Chapter 14

It never rains but it pours.

Chief Inspector Chen’s phone started ringing.

It was Mr. Ma. “Where are you, Chief Inspector Chen?”

“On the road back from Qingpu.”

“Are you alone?”

“No, with Catherine Rohn.”

“How is she?”

“Much better. Your paste is miraculous. Thank you.”

“I’m calling about the information you wanted yesterday.”

“Go ahead, Mr. Ma.”

“I’ve got a man for you. He may know something about the woman you are looking for.”

“Who is it?”

“I have one request, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“Yes?”

“If you get what you need, will you leave him alone?”

“I give you my word. And I’ll never mention your name.”

“I do not want to be a stool pigeon. It’s against my principles to provide information to the government,” Mr. Ma said earnestly. “His name is Gu Haiguang, a Mr. Big Bucks, the owner of the Dynasty Karaoke Club on Shanxi Road. He has his connections in the triad world, but I don’t think he is a member. In his business, he has to be on good terms with the black way.”

“You’ve taken a lot of trouble for me. I appreciate it, Mr. Ma.”

He turned off the phone. Chen didn’t want to discuss Ma’s information with Catherine immediately though he knew she must have overheard some of the conversation. He took a deep breath. “Let’s stop here, Inspector Rohn. I’m thirsty. What about you?”

She said, “A fruit juice would be fine.”

He pulled up at a convenience store, where he bought some drinks, together with a paper bag of fried mini buns. As he entered, another car drove by slowly, then reversed and pulled into the lot.

“Please help yourself,” he said when he returned, holding out the buns covered with minced green onion, colorful, but greasy.

She took only the drink.

“The call was from Mr. Ma.” He opened his cola can with a pop. “He asked about you.”

“It’s very kind of him. I heard you thank him a couple of limes.”

“Not just that. He has found someone connected with the gang who will speak to us.”

“A Flying Axes member?”

“No, probably not, but we should interview him, if you’re no longer mad.”

“Of course we will interview him. It’s our job.”

“That’s the spirit, Inspector Rohn. Please eat some buns. I don’t know long it will take. Afterward, I will buy you a better meal-one fit for a distinguished American guest.”

“There you go again.” She picked up a bun with a paper napkin.

“Whatever I say during the interview, Inspector Rohn, please don’t jump to conclusions.”

“What do you mean?”

“For one thing, the tip came from Mr. Ma. I do not want to bring any trouble down on him.”

“I see. You must protect your source.” She stuffed a bun into her mouth. “I’ve no objection to that. I owe him a favor. Who is this mysterious man we are going to see?” She added, “And what will my role be?”

“He is the owner of the Dynasty Karaoke Club. It’s a hot place for young people. To sing along, to dance along. You won’t need to do anything. Just relax and enjoy the place as our American guest.”

They pulled onto the road. He checked his rearview mirror from time to time. A half hour later, they reached the intersection of Shanxi and Julu Roads. There, he made a right turn and pulled up by the half-open gate to a wall-enclosed mansion. A vertical white sign read: shanghai writers’ association. The doorman recognized Chen and opened the gate wide.

“You’re bringing an American guest today?”

“Yes, for a visit.”

She looked at him in puzzlement as the car rolled along the driveway to a stop alongside of a parked car. “Did you want to show me around the Writers’ Association first?”

“There’s no place to park near the Dynasty. We’ll leave the car here and take a shortcut through the back. It’s only a two or three minutes’ walk.”

It was only one of the reasons for leaving the car at the Association. Chen did not want to park a car with a bureau plate at the club. It might be recognized. And he could not shake off the feeling that they had been followed, though he wondered how a Fujian gang could have been so resourceful so far from their home territory. As they drove, he had been checking in the rearview mirror, but with such heavy traffic, it was difficult for him to be sure.

He let her through a hallway, and then out of a back door.

The new five-story building of the Dynasty Karaoke Club came in sight. Entering the spacious lobby, they found themselves standing on a vast marble floor that shone like a mirror. At one end of the main room, there was a stage with a band sitting underneath a huge TV screen, which showed singers performing along with the captions. In front of the stage were about thirty tables. Some people were sitting, drinking, while others were dancing in the space between the stage and tables. At the other end a marble staircase led to the second floor. This was different from the arrangement of the other clubs Chen had visited.

A young man in a white T-shirt and black jeans appeared on stage and made a gesture toward the band. The band started playing a jazz piece adapted from the modern Beijing Opera Taking Tiger Mountain by Surprise. It had been extremely popular during the early seventies, and told of a small detachment of the People’s Liberation Army fighting the Nationalist troops. Never had Chen imagined that a melody about PLA soldiers chasing tigers and bandits in snowstorms could be adapted so successfully into a piece to dance to.

“Chairman Mao’s words warm my heart,/ bringing spring to melt the snow away…”

How many times had he heard this refrain, sitting with his high-school friends in the movies? For a second, the past and the present were fused into one swirling scene. The fashionably dressed dancers, but also the soldiers in uniforms, pranced frenziedly before his eyes-trendy young people doing wild, exotic steps.

Then a stout, unshaven man glided to the center of the floor, clicking his fingers, drawing a great roar from the bystanders. The dancer’s features were oddly similar to Comrade Yang Zirong, the hero of the original Beijing Opera.

Chen gestured toward a young hostess in a purple velvet dress, who came over, bowing. “What can I do for you?” she inquired.

“We need a private room. The best.”

“The best, of course. There’s only one left.”

They were led upstairs, and along a curving corridor lined with private chambers, into a lavishly decorated room, with a flat Panasonic TV screen set into the wall. A high capacity Kenwood stereo system with several speakers stood beside it. A remote control and two microphones lay on a marble coffee table in front of a black leather sectional sofa.

The hostess unfolded a menu for them.

“Bring us a fruit platter. A coffee for me and a green tea for her.” He turned to Catherine. “The food here is okay, but we’ll dine later at the Jing River Hotel, a five-star hotel.”

“Whatever you say,” she said, intrigued by this proclamation of extravagance. And how did he know if the food was good or not?

The room was decorated like a rendezvous for lovers. A crystal vase on the corner table held a bouquet of carnations. The floor was thickly carpeted. There was also a liquor cabinet on the wall, whose glass shelves displayed bottles of Napoleon brandy and Mao Tai. The light was lambent, adjustable to different intensities. The floral-papered walls had been specially soundproofed. With the door closed, they could not hear any noise from outside, though all the other rooms must have been occupied by karaoke singers.

Little wonder business was thriving, even at a price of two hundred Yuan an hour, Chen thought. And this was not the peak time-period price. From seven p.m. to two in the morning it could be as high as five hundred Yuan an hour, according to Old Hunter.