Yu ignored Jun’s question and instead asked, “How long have you worked here, Manager Jun?”
“More than three years.”
“So you would be able to answer the questions being raised on the Internet about your company’s incredibly lucrative deals from the government?”
“You’re asking the wrong person, Comrade Detective Yu. I work under his wife, and I’m only responsible for PR. The boss didn’t share any confidential details about the company’s business transactions.” Jun went on after a pause, “You know we supply parts for the new high-speed trains, don’t you? For a country with such a huge population, the importance of the high-speed rail can’t be exaggerated. In less than ten years, we’ve already surpassed the rail systems of America and the more advanced European countries. The safety, as well as the quality, of our products is not just critically important, it’s a political priority.”
Jun’s answer sounded like glib propaganda, an echo from an article in the People’s Daily.
“But your company only supplies chairs and tables for the new trains.”
“Nonetheless, they are integral part of those trains. The designs were studied and restudied, and our products meet all the quality requirements. Everything has to be the best, a point that has been made again and again, and everything we did was legitimate. You can’t pay attention to irresponsible hearsay on the Internet,” Jun said, raising his voice. “If you have any more questions, you have go through our representatives, the Kaitai law firm. Our bid to supply parts for the high-speed rail project was arranged through them.”
Jun handed him a business card.
“Their offices are nearby, in Commerce City. It’s just a block away, on Nanjing Road.”
Yu took the card, surprised at the hostility in Jun’s voice. So far it was still a missing person case, but given all the evidence posted about the company’s practices on the Internet, there was no reason for a PR manager to be this uncooperative.
There was also something strange in the way Jun had referred him the law firm. It was as if he thought he was playing a trump card.
Afterward, Yu made his way to Kaitai LLC in the Shanghai Commerce City, one of the top office buildings in the city. To his amazement, the law firm occupied nearly half a floor, and an impressive sign outside the suite indicated that it had branch offices in Beijing and Hong Kong.
A partner in the law firm named Dai received Yu in an office that overlooked West Nanjing Road. Dai was seated at a large mahogany desk, with a laptop next to a desktop computer, and what looked like a tablet as well. On the white wall behind him, there was an impressive array of pictures of Party officials and business tycoons. Some of the people in the pictures were foreigners, including a president of a European country. Yu recognized only a few of them.
Dai turned out to be far more polite than Jun, but also far more guarded.
“The city government people came to us about Liang and his business transactions. We were told not to discuss the sensitive details with anybody else. Besides, Liang is neither charged nor shuangguied. He’s simply disappeared. We’re not obliged to say anything.” Dai added with a smile, “Of course, if you have some general questions, I’ll try my best to help.”
“I understand. In last several years, Liang landed a number of enormously lucrative deals with the government, but his company didn’t have any special expertise or experience, compared to other companies-”
“That’s something I can’t discuss,” Dai said, cutting Yu off. “It was due to the reputation of the company, I suppose. Liang has always delivered on time and met the required specifications.”
“Also because of his connections, I would say.”
“Yes, his connections,” Dai said, leaning back in his chair. “For a successful businessman today, that’s not really surprising.”
“Liang’s company was selected, from all the competing companies, as the designated supplier for the high-speed train, and your law firm prepared all the documents for the bidding process. According to one post on the Internet, however, the company created a special memory drive for which they charged the Railway Ministry more than ten thousand yuan. It was discovered to be nothing more than an ordinary flash drive wrapped in a plastic shell-a flash drive that sells for only twenty yuan in any supermarket.”
“That decision was made by the Railway Ministry in Beijing. I’m not a technology professional, so I can’t tell you anything about it,” Dai said. “We helped them submit their bid, and all the necessary specifications were included and verified. Everything was legitimately done.”
“But if everything was legitimate, why did he flee?”
“That’s a question for the police, not us. As far as I can see, Liang simply panicked. The storm of accusations on the Internet was terrifying. It was like a lynch mob. His privacy was invaded, his personal life put out on display, and all his company’s secrets paraded before the public. Nobody could possibly withstand the pressure.”
It was clear that this conversation was going nowhere. Sighing inaudibly, Yu wondered whether Chen could have done any better.
“But there is one thing I can tell you. The company uses a well-known American accounting firm to audit its books. If you’re interested, talk to the accounting firm directly.”
Dai sat up in his leather swivel chair, his fingers touching a framed picture on the desk. It was a photo of a strikingly attractive woman.
“Our law firm has come a long way,” Dai said. “You might have seen pictures of our special advisor Kai in the newspapers. She no longer works in the office, but she founded it single-handedly.”
EIGHTEEN
IN THE EARLY AFTERNOON, Chen decided to pay a visit to Suzhou Opera Club.
His hotel room felt oppressive; he couldn’t sit there any longer. And ever since his second phone call to Qian, he’d had an ominous feeling.
Qian might not be at the club, but maybe someone there could tell him something about her. At the very least, it could be an interesting visit, something he could talk about with Old Hunter. Chen’s knowledge of Suzhou opera had mostly come from his conversations with Old Hunter, but it wouldn’t be too difficult for him to toss out a couple of terms and names, pretending to be someone genuinely interested in opera.
The club was in a traditional two-story building, and a small sign on the front door indicated the club was on the second floor. The first floor had been converted into a shoe store, which had a large sign declaring “Suicidal Sale! Bankruptcy!” But the sign looked faded. It could have been posted there for weeks, possibly months.
Visitors to the club had to cut through an extremely narrow corridor leading to a precarious staircase in the back. On the second floor, the door was open, covered only by a bamboo bead curtain flapping slightly in an unexpected breeze. Chen noticed a bell on the doorframe, so, instead of barging in, he pressed the bell.
“Come on in. The door is open.”
A woman got up, walked over, and nodded her welcome. She was in her late thirties or early forties, looking haggard and noticeably thin in her oversized dark gray mandarin dress, like yesterday’s chrysanthemum.
The club’s space was quite large. It looked like it had been converted from the original living room and two wings with the partition walls removed. There were a couple of tables and chairs by the windows, instruments were leaning against the wall, and an oblong opera table stood toward the upper end. That was probably the centerpiece, and singers would perform sitting at the table.