“I’m a dead pig anyway. It makes no difference if you throw me into the boiling water,” Zheng said stonily. “Put me back in prison if you can.”

Detective Yu had heard of gang yiqi. Still, few would be a boiled pig rather than a betraying rat. Perhaps Zheng thought Yu was merely bluffing. A Shanghai badge might mean little to a local gangster, but Yu was not anxious to call in Sergeant Zhao.

The deadlock was broken by Shou’s entrance, her wooden slippers clicking on the hardwood floor. Dressed in blue-striped pajama tops and pants, she carried a tea pot and two cups on a black lacquer tray.

“Comrade Officer, please have some Oolong tea.”

That Shou would chose to come into the room was unexpected. Another woman would have remained sobbing upstairs, too ashamed to reappear before the cop who had just seen her naked. Now with her body concealed by her pajamas, she appeared presentable, decent, not the lascivious woman Pan had suggested. She had fine features, though worries had etched lines around her eyes. She might have been eavesdropping.

“Thanks.” Taking a cup, Yu pushed on. “Let me put it this way, Zheng. Have you heard anything about what the gang may do to Feng or his wife?”

“No, I’ve heard nothing. Since I came out, I’ve been living with my tail tucked in.”

“With your tail tucked in? What you did last night with your tail sticking out was enough to put you back inside for years. Playing mah-jongg is a serious parole violation. Use those dead pig brains of yours, Zheng.”

“Zheng has done nothing wrong,” Shou cut in. “I wanted him to stay overnight.”

“Leave us alone, Shou,” Zheng said. “It has nothing to do with you. Go back to your room.”

As Shou left the room, looking back at them, Yu said deliberately, “A nice woman. Do you want to drag her into trouble on your account?”

“It has nothing to do with her.”

“I’m afraid it has. I will not only put you back inside, but also have the bathhouse closed on the grounds that it is a house of gambling and prostitution. She will be put behind bars, too, but not in the same cell with you, I will make sure of that. The local cops will do what I tell them.”

“You are bluffing, Officer Yu.” Zheng stared at him defiantly. “I know Sergeant Zhao.”

“You don’t believe me? Superintendent Hong is in charge of the province. You must know him, too.” Yu said, taking out his phone. “I am calling him right now.”

He dialed the number, showed Zheng the LCD display, and pressed the speaker phone button so the conversation could be heard by both of them.

“Comrade Superintendent Hong, this is Detective Yu Guangming speaking.”

“How is everything, Detective Yu?”

“No progress, and Chief Inspector Chen calls every day. Remember, this case is of serious concern to the Beijing ministry.”

“Yes, we understand. It is top priority for us too.”

“We have to exert more pressure on the Flying Axes.”

“I agree, but as I told you, the leaders are not here.”

“Any of their members will do. I’ve discussed it with Chief Inspector Chen. Lock them up, as well as the people connected with them. If we use enough pressure, they will cave in.”

“I’ll work out a plan with Zhao and call you again.”

“Now we can talk.” Detective Yu looked Zheng in the eyes. “Let me make one thing clear to you. At this moment, the local police don’t know I’m here. Why? My investigation is highly confidential. So if you cooperate, no one will talk-not you, not Shou, and not me. What you did last night is not my concern.”

“It was really nothing-last night,” Zheng said in a suddenly husky voice. “But now I remember one thing. One of the mah-jongg players, a guy named Ding, asked me about Feng.”

“Is Ding a Flying Ax?”

“I think so. I had never met him before.”

“What did he say?”

“He asked if I heard anything about Feng. I hadn’t. In fact, it was from Ding that I first learned about Feng’s deal with the Americans. And about Wen’s disappearance, too. The organization is very upset.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“Not in detail, but I can guess. If Jia is convicted, it will be a huge loss to our smuggling operation.”

“There are enough Taiwan smuggling rings to take up the slack. I don’t think the Flying Axes have to worry about that.”

“The reputation of the organization is at stake. ‘A grain of rat dung may spoil a whole pot of white porridge.’ “ Zheng added after a pause, “Perhaps it’s more than that. Feng’s role in the operation is another factor.”

“Now that’s something. What do you know about his role?”

“Once the departure time of a ship is arranged, snake heads like Jia want to sign up as many passengers as possible. They’ll lose profits if the ship is half full, so it is our responsibility to get the word around. Feng was engaged in recruiting. He developed a network and made himself useful to the village folks. They would consult him to learn, for example, which snake heads are reliable, whether the price is negotiable, what captains are experienced. So Feng has in his head a list of the people involved-on both the supply and demand sides. If he turns that over, it will be a terrible blow to the whole business.”

“He may have turned it over already.” Yu had not heard about this. Perhaps the Americans had focused on Feng only as a witness against Jia. “Did Ding tell you what the gang plans to do with his wife?”

“He cursed like mad. Something like, ‘The bitch changed her mind. She won’t get away so easily!’”

“What does that mean-changed her mind?”

“She was waiting for her passport, but she ran away at the last minute. I believe that’s what he meant.”

“So what are they going to do?”

“Feng is worried about the baby in her belly. If they get hold of her, Feng will not squeak. So they are hunting her down.”

“Almost ten days have passed, they must be really anxious now.”

“You bet. They have sent gold axes out.”

“Gold axes?”

“The founder of the Flying Axes had five small gold axes made with the inscription, ‘When you see the gold ax, you see me.’ If another organization fulfills a request made with a gold ax, they are entitled to any favor in return.”

“So other gangs are involved in the search for Wen, outside Fujian?”

“Ding mentioned some people in Shanghai. They will do whatever they can to beat the cops to Wen.”

Detective Yu was alarmed-as much on behalf of Chief Inspector Chen and his American companion as for Wen. “What else did he tell you?”

“I think that’s all. I’ve told you everything I know. Every word is absolutely true, Officer Yu.”

“Well, we will find out,” Yu said, believing that Zheng had revealed all he knew. “One more thing. Give me the address of this prostitute, Tong.”

Zheng wrote a few words on a piece of paper. “No one knows about your visit here?”

“No one. Don’t worry about that.” Yu rose from the mah-jongg table, adding his cell phone number to the card. “If you hear anything more, contact me.”

He left the bathhouse like a satisfied customer, with his hosts accompanying him to the door.

Turning to look back at the end of village, he saw Zheng still standing with Shou in the doorway, his arm grasping her waist, like a couple of crabs tied together with a straw in the market. Perhaps they did care for each other.