If Tu was to be believed, neither Wang nor Li was a stay-at-home type, which meant he could have made the journey here in vain. But after he’d rung for the second time, something surprising happened. Without anyone bothering to use the intercom, the buzzer sounded and the door was released. Walking into a bare hallway which stank of cabbage, he took the lift up to the seventh floor and found himself on a whitewashed landing where the neon lighting was flickering nervously. A little further along, a door opened up. A young man came out and looked Jericho up and down coolly.
There was no doubt it was him!
His forehead and cheekbones were adorned with metallic applications, highly fashionable right now. Their arrival had ended the era of piercings and tattoos. Anyone who still dared to have a ring through their eyebrow or silver in their tongue was seen as an embarrassment. Even the hairstyle, smooth and long, fitted in with the trend. It was known as Indian style, as currently worn by the majority of young men around the globe, apart from the Indians themselves of course, who rejected all responsibility for it. A spray-on shirt emphasised Wang’s muscles, his wet-look leather trousers gave the impression that they were on duty both day and night. All things considered, the guy didn’t look bad, but he didn’t look great either. The warlike appearance was lacking about ten centimetres in height, and the edgy quality of his features might be quite pleasing, but they were devoid of any proportional elegance.
‘And you are?’ he asked, suppressing a yawn.
Jericho held his mobile phone out under Wang’s nose and projected a 3D image of his head, along with his police registration number, onto the folded-up display.
‘Owen Jericho, web detective.’
Wang squinted.
‘So I see,’ he said, trying to sound ironic.
‘Could I have a moment of your time?’
‘What’s up?’
‘This is the apartment of Chen Yuyun, is that correct? Yoyo for short.’
‘Wrong.’ The guy seemed to chew the word before spitting it out. ‘This apartment belongs to me and Li, and the little one just dumped her books and clothes here.’
‘I thought she lived here?’
‘Let’s get one thing clear, okay? It’s not her apartment. I let her have the room.’
‘Then you must be Grand Cherokee.’
‘Yeah!’ The mention of his forename made its owner suddenly switch into friendly mode. ‘You’ve heard of me?’
‘Only good things,’ lied Jericho. ‘Would you be able to tell me where I can find Yoyo?’
‘Where you could find—’ Grand Cherokee paused. For some unknown reason the question seemed to take him by surprise. ‘That’s—’ he murmured. ‘That’s really something!’
‘I need to speak to her.’
‘You can’t.’
‘I know Yoyo has disappeared,’ Jericho added. ‘That’s why I’m here. Her father’s looking for her, and he’s very worried. So if you know anything about where she is—’
Grand Cherokee stared at him. Something about the boy, or rather about his attitude, irritated Jericho.
‘As I said,’ he repeated, ‘if you—’
‘Just a moment.’ Grand Cherokee raised his hand. For a few seconds he paused like that, then his features seemed to smooth out.
‘Yoyo.’ He smiled jovially. ‘But of course. Don’t you want to come in?’
Still confused, Jericho entered the narrow hallway, which branched off into a number of other rooms. Grand Cherokee hurried ahead of him, opened the last door and nodded inside with his head.
‘I can show you her room.’
Suddenly, Jericho understood. This much cooperation was bordering on calculation. Slowly, he walked into the room and looked around. It didn’t say much. There was hardly anything to suggest who lived here except for a few posters of popular figures from the Mando-prog scene. One of the pictures was of Yoyo herself, posing on a stage. A note fluttered around on a pinboard above a cheap desk. Jericho walked over to it and studied the few symbols.
‘Dark sesame oil,’ he read. ‘300 grams of chicken breast—’
Grand Cherokee cleared his throat discreetly.
‘Yes?’ Jericho turned round to him.
‘I could give you some clues about where Yoyo is.’
‘Excellent.’
‘Well.’ Grand Cherokee spread his fingers meaningfully. ‘She told me a lot, you know? I mean, the little one likes me. She got quite friendly in the last few days she was here.’
‘Were you friendly too?’
‘Let’s just say I had the opportunity to be.’
‘And?’
‘Well, come on, that’s confidential, man!’ Grand Cherokee was clearly making a great effort to look outraged. ‘I mean, of course we can discuss everything, but—’
‘No, it’s fine. If it’s confidential.’ Jericho turned away and left him standing there. A wise guy, just as he’d feared. One after another, he pulled open the drawers of the desk. Then he went over to the narrow wall cabinet next to the door and opened it. Jeans, a pullover, and a pair of trainers which had seen better days. Two cans of disposable clothing spray. Jericho shook it. Half full. Clearly Yoyo had packed the majority of her things in a great hurry and left the flat in a rush.
‘When was the last time you saw your flatmate?’
‘The last time?’ echoed Grand Cherokee.
‘The last time.’ Jericho looked at him. ‘That’s the time after which you didn’t see Yoyo any more, so when was that?’
‘Ah, yes, er—’ Grand Cherokee seemed as though he was just emerging from deep water. ‘On the evening of 23 May. We had a little party. Li went off to bed at some point, and Yoyo hung around with me for a while. We chatted and had some drinks, and then she went off to her room. A little later I heard her crashing around and opening drawers. Shortly after that the house door slammed in the lock.’
‘When exactly?’
‘Between two and three, I guess.’
‘You guess?’
‘It was before three for sure.’
Given that Grand Cherokee seemed to be making no effort to stop him from doing so, Jericho carried on searching through Yoyo’s room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the student skulking around hesitantly. Jericho’s lack of interest in him seemed to be confusing him.
‘I could tell you more,’ he said after a while. ‘If you’re interested.’
‘Out with it.’
‘Tomorrow maybe.’
‘Why not now?’
‘Because I need to make a few calls to— I mean, I already know where Yoyo hangs out, but before that—’ He stretched out his arms and turned his palms to face upwards. ‘Let’s just say, everything has its price.’
That was clear enough.
Jericho finished his search and walked back into the hall.
‘As long as it’s worth its price,’ he said. ‘By the way, where’s your flatmate?’
‘Li? No idea. He doesn’t know anything anyway.’
‘Is it just my imagination, or do you not know anything either?’
‘Me? Yes, I do.’
‘But?’
‘No but. I just thought perhaps you might think of how someone might be able to release trapped knowledge?’ Grand Cherokee grinned up at him.
‘I see.’ Jericho smiled back. ‘You’d like to negotiate an advance.’
‘Let’s call it a contribution towards expenses.’
‘And for what, Grand Cherokee, or whatever you’re called? So that you can mess me about with your garbled imagination? You don’t know shit!’
He turned round to go. Grand Cherokee seemed filled with consternation. Obviously he had seen the conversation as going a little differently. He held Jericho back by the shoulder and shook his head.