Advisor was an honorable position, usually filled by high-ranking retired cadres like Comrade Zhao. Weici apparently showed some respect to the title in the business card. But Old Hunter’s case was totally different. While serving as temporary head of the City Traffic Control, Chen had created the position for the sake of the “advisor subsidy,” which meant more than anything else to the retired cop on a meager pension. Weici couldn’t have known that. Yu didn’t know about that impressive business card, either.
“There are so many customers here. As a general manager, Mr. Weici may not know whether Ming has come here or not. We have to take that into consideration, Detective Yu,” Old Hunter said, squeezing a smile out of all the wrinkles on his face. “It’s not easy to run a place with such a golf course. In fact, there’s not a single one in the old cadre centers.”
“Really!” Weici feigned surprise.
“Yes, I have a passion for golf. Only the membership fee here must be expensive. I don’t think I can afford it.”
Yu was amazed by the way the old man talked. The part about the membership fee came as an unmistakable hint. But the son had never worked with the father before, so he decided to say nothing.
“It’s not that expensive,” Weici said with an equally obliging smile, “not unimaginable for an old cadre like you.”
“That would be fantastic,” Old Hunter said, taking up a cigarette from a shining silver case on the desk. “Oh, Panda. The super premium brand, unavailable on the market. Manufactured only for the top leaders in Beijing.”
“Yes, top leaders come to our place too,” Weici said, lighting the cigarette for the old man. “Look at those pictures on the walls.”
Yu had noticed those pictures upon entering the office. Several politburo members stood with Weici on the green meadow stretching dreamlike toward the horizon. In another picture, a city government leader put his hand on Weici’s shoulder like a buddy.
“Oh, has Comrade Zhao Yan visited your club?” Old Hunter said, looking at the pictures. “He is in Shanghai, staying at the Western Suburb Hotel. I’ll tell him about your wonderful place.”
“Yes, I talked to Comrade Zhao this morning.” Yu tried to stage a comeback into the conversation, which had somehow become a golf dialogue between Old Hunter and Weici.
“Here are two VIP cards,” Weici said to Old Hunter, taking the cards out of the desk drawer. “Free for three months. All our services included. One for you, and one for Comrade Zhao. You can also bring your friends along with you, like Detective Yu.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll give it to Comrade Zhao,” Old Hunter said after putting the cards into his wallet. “Now let me say something, General Manager Weici. With so many things on your desk, you may not notice or remember all the details. So how about trying to think again? More closely this time. Perhaps you’ll succeed in recalling something.”
“You are just wasting your time, Advisor Gu,” Yu cut in again. “We’ll take him to the bureau, and we’ll search every corner of the club. As the proverb goes, he refuses to drink the wine I offer him, so he has to drink what I order him.”
“Come, Detective Yu. As another proverb goes, the mountain does not turn but the road turns, so people will meet one way or another. You should give him some time to think and check.” Old Hunter turned to Weici. “General Manger Weici, I also want to say a word for Officer Yu. He’s under a lot of pressure from the Party Discipline Committee. In fact, Comrade Zhao has pushed him again this morning. Comrade Zhao is like Judge Bao in the Song dynasty, always carrying the golden dragon-headed cleaver to behead criminals. The Beijing government is really furious, as you know. Anyone involved with Xing or Ming will be investigated and punished. That’s why Comrade Zhao himself has come to Shanghai, sent Chief Inspector Chen to the United States, and signed the authorization for Officer Yu. Officer Yu has to do something.”
“I understand all that. I, too, would like to help the government fight corruption. But how can I admit to something I don’t know?”
“I’m not saying that you have to admit something you don’t know. But try to help us by making an effort-check your computer and talk to your employees. If, hypothetically, you succeed in finding out something about Ming, you would be making a great contribution to our work. In our report to Comrade Zhao, I’ll make sure to mention your great help.” Old Hunter added after a pause, “And we may not have to touch on the phone call part. Am I right, Officer Yu?”
“I don’t think Comrade Zhao has the time to read the transcript line by line,” Yu said, “especially without my highlighting those lines.”
“Since you have both said so,” Weici said slowly, “let me double-check for you.”
Weici turned on the computer. With the two cops standing behind him, he keyed in Ming’s name and did a name search. Nothing matched there.
“You see, nothing has been found,” Weici said.
“He may not have used his real name,” Yu said.
“Yes, that’s possible. Let me talk to my assistants then.” Weici picked up the phone and tried several numbers, asking about the possibility of Ming having come to the club. He seemed to get the same answer. On the fifth or sixth call, however, he appeared to have a different response. Weici rose and said to the two policemen, “Wait here for me.”
In about five minutes, Weici came back into the office with an ashen look on his face.
“Officer Yu. I have to apologize. Ming contacted Zhang Boxiong, one of my assistant managers, and has been staying in an unoccupied villa here. He must have bribed Zhang with a large sum. I didn’t know anything about it. I have fired Zhang, though I don’t think he knew anything about Ming’s relationship to Xing, either.”
“Of course you didn’t know anything about it,” Old Hunter echoed. “We appreciate your help.”
“Take us to the villa,” Yu said.
They were escorted to a free-standing white villa beyond the golf course. A waitress ran up to Weici and whispered something in his ear. He turned to Yu and Old Hunter. “Ming’s on the second floor. Here is the key. I’ll stay out here. I don’t want to see that bastard.”
They moved upstairs in silence. Whipping out his gun with one hand, inserting the key with the other, Yu opened the door. In the room, they saw a man in a scarlet silk robe holding a naked girl on a rumpled bed, watching an American sex video, and imitating it. They hadn’t heard anything because of the loud moaning and groaning from the TV.
“Who are you?” the man said, his hand still on the thigh of the girl trembling beside him.
“You are Xing Ming, aren’t you? We are from the Shanghai Police Bureau. You are under arrest for sleeping with this prostitute.”
“No, she’s my girlfriend.”
“Show me your ID,” Old Hunter said to the girl.
The girl, wrapped in a blanket, took it out of a purse on the sofa and said sobbing, “I am a student, but both my parents are laid off. I have to support the family.”
Old Hunter glanced at the ID and turned to Ming. “You’re having sex with an underage girl. She’s only fifteen.”
“I didn’t know that, officers,” Ming stuttered, a broken man. “I don’t even know her name.”
That should be more than enough. The cops thought it unnecessary to even mention Xing there.
As they marched Ming out, Yu saw Weici waving at them from a distance. He understood. In the car, Little Zhou nodded without asking any questions. He waited for Yu’s instruction.
“Where are you going to put him?” Old Hunter asked.
“Where do you suggest?” Yu asked.
“Anywhere but the bureau.”
“The Western Suburb Hotel then-under the custody of Comrade Zhao.”
“Good idea,” Old Hunter agreed. “You know where it is, Little Zhou?”