I hang up.
I’m not too surprised that John isn’t answering his phone. Uncle Yang has this number, and you can track someone on a cell phone, right?
Maybe they can hack the voice mail, too.
I switch off my phone.
Email.
I walk down the tree-lined street, past university walls and gates, until I come to a smaller lane with little shops and cafés.
First thing I do is buy another SIM card. I’ll use the first one to call numbers that might be tapped.
Second thing, I find a little café/bar advertising free Wi-Fi and grab a table.
Another typical Beijing joint: small, wooden tables, a couple fake plants, some random decorations-in this case the top half of a male mannequin wearing a Mao cap and a Rolling Stones T-shirt-specials written in English and Chinese on a board with Day-Glo chalk, selling some form of pizza and burgers and sandwiches.
I order a Yanjing Beer and one of the pizzas, because by now it’s almost 6:00 p.m. and I can’t remember if I’ve had anything to eat today. I don’t think I have. When the pizza comes, it’s pretty bad-canned tomato sauce and plastic cheese-but I wolf it down. Get out my laptop, start up my VPN, and close my eyes so I don’t see the emails coming in. I’m not ready for Vicky Huang, or the Caos, or the Beijing PD, or my mom.
When I open my eyes, I launch a browser and go to the Yahoo! account that’s not linked to my real name-at least I hope it’s not. And I type John’s email in the address box. Not the Bright Spring email. The other one he gave me: “Jinhuli.”
Cinderfox.
On the subject line, I type, “From Little Mountain Tiger.” And then I write, “Either you or Uncle left something in my bag. I couldn’t wait to find out who.”
I stop. Take another slug of beer. I don’t know what to say. There’s too much in my head: Did you talk to Inspector Zou? Did you find out anything about Celine? Are you going to fix this shit? Save my ass?
Because I’m all alone, and I don’t know what to do, and I’m scared.
I don’t type any of that.
“Write me back. Leave me a number where I can reach you. We need to talk.”
After that I take a big gulp of the Yanjing and start reading email.
Five messages from Vicky Huang. The first few are variations on Mr. Cao is interested in your report. When can you meet? The last one says, You must contact Mr. Cao right away. He urgently needs to speak to you.
Here’s one from Meimei: Did you know your phone isn’t working? J If you have a problem, maybe I can help. Call me or write.
And here’s one I didn’t expect at all. From Marsh Brody:
Hey. Well, you really know how to liven up a dinner. What’s the deal with your friend? I bet he’s even more fun at parties. Tiantian and me are heading south to Movie Universe to do some shooting on our film. Why don’t you join us? He’s actually really interested in this museum thing. Here’s the info.
Movie Universe. I’ve read about this place. Huge outdoor sets with reproductions of the Forbidden City and the streets of old Hong Kong, and it’s out in the middle of nowhere, someplace south of Shanghai.
And what do you know, here’s an email from Tiantian:
Dear Ellie, I think you have a misunderstanding recently of the situation with our family. I would not like you to have a bad impression of us. Perhaps we can meet to discuss. I think your museum proposal has merit. Please call me to schedule.
Weird. It’s like all the Cao kids want to make nice with me. I have my doubts that this is actually the case.
So what do I do? Keep avoiding Sidney or call him? If I call him, what do I say? Hi, one of your kids, or maybe your political patron, is a murderer?
Maybe the killer is Marsh. That would be so much more convenient.
I’m thinking about this, and another email comes in.
The subject line is “Letters from the Deep Yellow Sea-My Decision.”
I feel a prickling along the back of my neck, up and down my spine. She’s dead. Celine’s dead. So what the fuck is this?
I have written things for a while now that I do not publish. Because I know they could cause me trouble and I am scared. I am also selfish. I like the life I have, even when it seems very silly. But now after what I saw I must speak the truth. When you read this I will be gone from Beijing. Maybe from this world. That’s okay. I think there are better worlds we can’t see. This one sometimes is so ugly.
Okay, I tell myself, okay. I subscribed to her blog feed. She set this up to autopublish. Simple enough.
Everyone knows the rich move their money overseas. So they can send their kids to some fancy American university. Buy their winery in France. Everyone knows about this. But it is not just the rich. It is our leaders. They set up phony companies overseas to hide their money. You know this, too, but I can prove it.
I have this sudden flash, of Celine offering me one of her Panda cigarettes with her little half smile.
They do this in ways that maybe aren’t against the law, but they still don’t want the people to know about it. Regardless, they can use the law any way they want. For you and for me, the laws have different meanings.
No one took her seriously, I’m thinking. I know I didn’t. All the while she was there, in the middle of all that wealth and power, taking notes.
But sometimes their money is just dirty, and then they must clean it. They have all kinds of ways to do this. For example, I know one leader who has a friend who invests in art.
Well, shit. I have a pretty good guess where this is going.
It is so simple with art. Another friend in a foreign country buys the art for you. You pay him too high a price. The friend gets some of this money and gives you back the rest. The other money goes into a bank account overseas. The money is now clean. So simple! No one knows how much this art is really worth.
I’d be surprised if Sidney hadn’t been doing something like this. Is there a rich Chinese person who doesn’t have money stashed overseas?
The big question is, does Uncle Yang? Because the whole trend of high-level officials and their families getting super rich and taking their money out of the country is really pissing off the laobaixing, the common people.
But that is just a small thing compared to the other things. There is so much more I can say. How the leaders help the rich get richer. How the rich give money back to the leaders.
I can tell you about companies overseas. These companies are just fakes. Ways to open bank accounts. Places to hide money. This is how the leaders and the rich help each other. The leaders relax the laws so that the rich can move their money to these places. The rich give the leaders money. Help their relatives and children become rich. Even the foreign companies help. Paying money to relatives of leaders, for ‘consulting’ and things of that nature. It is just to try to gain influence. Everybody knows this.
Here is a company you should know about, in the British Virgin Islands: Favorable Wave LTD. If you can find out who really owns this company, I think it is very interesting.
I’m sweating now. This is not shit that I want to know. I don’t need to know it. So Uncle Yang and the Caos are corrupt-this is news? But the details-those can get you killed.
What do I do with it?
I can send it to John. Maybe it will give him the kind of ammo he needs to get us out of this mess.
Or maybe it will just be more fuel for his vendetta.
And if I completely throw in with John, if this blows up my relationship with the Caos… is that smart?