“I still think of you as my boss,” Meiling insisted. “What can I do for you today?”

“There is a karaoke club called Dynasty, on Shanxi Road. Our traffic control people have approached its owner, Gu Haiguang, about a zoning issue with respect to the parking lot there. If it is a borderline case, can we make a special study of it?”

“No problem, if that’s what you want.”

“There’s no hurry. Before we do anything, I want you to contact Gu, telling him I have talked to you, and that Traffic Control will be giving the matter special consideration. Don’t promise immediate approval or anything else.”

“I see. I will ask Director Wei to give him a call. He has a high opinion of you.”

“No, don’t go out of your way, Meiling. If you can phone him tomorrow, that should be more than enough.”

“I will do it the first thing tomorrow morning. Whatever you want us to decide, that’s what Mr. Gu will get.”

“I’ll also need the help of Old Hunter for a few days.” He added, “I’m working on an important case. I have to depend on the people I can trust, like you and Old Hunter.”

“I’m glad you put me together with him. As our advisor, he does not have to report here every day. He may choose to conduct a special field study somewhere for a week. I’ll tell Director Wei.”

“Thank you, Meiling. I really owe you. When I’ve finished the job on my hands I’ll take you to the Dynasty for a karaoke evening. I’ve got a VIP card.”

“Whenever you have time, Director Chen. Take care.”

Chen’s next phone call was to Old Hunter. “I have to ask another favor of you, Uncle Yu. I need you to keep a close watch on the Dynasty Karaoke Club on Shanxi Road. The owner’s name is Gu Haiguang. Tap his telephone twenty-four hours a day. Dig into his background. But try to get it done without the bureau’s knowledge.”

“You never know what connections a Mr. Big Bucks may have inside the bureau,” Old Hunter said. “You are right to be careful. This is a job for an old hunter. I still have a good nose, and ears too. But what about my traffic control responsibility?”

“I’ve talked to Meiling. You do not have to report there next week.”

“Great. I will station myself in front of the club all day and send someone in as a customer-hold on, I have a better idea. I can get in myself. Some old people go there to kill time listening to old songs. No need for a private room or anything. I’ll have someone else, Yang Guozhuang, another retired cop, do the telephone line tapping. He worked for many years in Tibet before his retirement. I helped him get his residence permit so he could move back into the city. As a rightist in 1957, he really suffered a lot. And you know what-just because of an entry in his diary.”

“Thank you, Uncle Yu.” Chen knew he’d better cut the old man short, or he would digress into a long tale about Yang’s suffering during the antirightist movement. “If you need to have a private room, pay for it. Don’t worry about the expense. We can draw on the special fund.”

“Is Gu connected with the secret societies?”

“Connected, yes. You will have to watch out.”

“So, is this about the body in the park or the other case?”

“Both, perhaps,” Chen said, ending the call. Catherine Rohn might be right. Before he was able to do some more thinking along these lines, the phone rang again.

This time, it was Party Secretary Li.

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?”