‘Are you saying there is more than one department dealing with muggings?’
‘It’s normal for police officers with various specialities to work together.’
‘In order to find a lost bag?’
‘In order to solve a serious attack on a guest in our country.’
She’s going round and round in circles, Birgitta thought. I’ll never get a proper answer out of her.
‘I’m a judge,’ said Birgitta Roslin again. ‘I’ll be staying here in Beijing for a few more days. As you seem to know all about me I hardly need to tell you that I’ve come here with a friend who is spending every day talking about your first emperor at an international conference.’
‘A knowledge of the Qin dynasty is important for an understanding of my country. But you are wrong if you think I know much about who you are and why you have come to Beijing.’
‘Since you were able to produce the bag I had lost, I’m going to ask you for some advice. What do I need to do to get entry into a Chinese court of law? It doesn’t need to be an especially remarkable trial, I just want to follow the proceedings and perhaps ask a few questions.’
‘I can arrange that for tomorrow. I can go with you.’
The immediate answer startled Birgitta Roslin. ‘I don’t want to be a nuisance. You seem to have an awful lot to do.’
‘No more than I decide is important.’ Hong Qiu stood up. ‘I’ll contact you later this afternoon to let you know where we can meet tomorrow.’
Birgitta was about to mention her room number, but then it struck her that Hong Qiu no doubt knew that already.
She watched Hong Qiu walk through the bar towards the entrance. The man who had been carrying the bag and another man joined her before they disappeared from Birgitta’s sight.
She looked at the bag and burst out laughing. There is an entrance, she thought, and also an exit. A bag is lost, and found again. But what actually happens in between, I have no idea. There’s a risk that I won’t be able to distinguish between what’s going on in my mind and what actually happens in reality.
Hong Qiu called an hour later, just after Birgitta had returned to her room. Nothing surprised her any more. It was as if unseen people were observing every move she made and could say exactly where she was at any given moment. Like now. She came into the room, and the telephone rang immediately.
‘Nine o’clock tomorrow morning,’ said Hong Qiu.
‘Where?’
‘I’ll pick you up. We shall visit a court in an outlying suburb of Beijing. I chose it because a female judge will be on duty there tomorrow.’
‘I’m most grateful.’
‘I want to do everything we possibly can to make up for that unfortunate incident.’
‘You’ve already done that. I feel surrounded by guardian angels.’
After the phone call Birgitta emptied her bag onto the bed. She still found it hard to accept that the box of matches had been in there rather than in her suitcase. She opened the box. It was half empty. Somebody’s been smoking, she thought. The box was full when I put it in my case. She took out the matches and looked inside. She didn’t really know what she expected to find. All it is is a matchbox, she thought. She felt annoyed as she put the matches back into the box and replaced it in her bag. She was going too far again. Her imagination was running away with her.
She devoted the rest of the day to a Buddhist temple and a long drawn-out dinner in a restaurant not far from her hotel. She was asleep when Karin tiptoed into their room and she merely turned over when the light was switched on.
The next day they got up at the same time. As Karin had overslept, she didn’t have a chance to do much more than confirm that the conference would come to an end at two o’clock. After that she would be free. Birgitta told her about the visit she was going to make to a Chinese court, but still didn’t mention her mugging.
Hong Qiu was waiting in reception. She was wearing a white fur coat today; Birgitta felt almost embarrassingly underdressed standing by her side. But Hong Qiu noted that she was wearing warm clothes.
‘Our courts of law can be rather chilly,’ she said.
‘Like your theatres?’
Hong Qiu smiled. She can’t know that we attended a Peking opera a few nights ago, Birgitta thought — or can she?
‘China is still a very poor country. We are approaching the future with great humility and hard work.’
Not everybody’s poor, Birgitta thought cynically. Even my untrained eye can see that your fur coat is genuine and extremely expensive.
A car with a chauffeur was waiting outside the hotel. Birgitta had a vague feeling of reluctance. What did she actually know about this woman she was following into a car with an unknown man behind the wheel?
She persuaded herself that there was no danger. Why couldn’t she just be thankful for the kindness and consideration they were surrounding her with? Hong Qiu sat silently in a corner of the back seat with her eyes half closed. They travelled very fast down a very long street. After a few minutes Birgitta Roslin hadn’t the slightest idea in which part of Beijing she was.
They stopped outside a low, concrete building with two police officers guarding the entrance. Over the door was a row of Chinese characters in red.
‘The name of the district court,’ said Hong Qiu, who had noticed what Birgitta was looking at.
As they walked up the steps to the entrance, the two police officers presented arms. Hong Qiu didn’t seem to react. Birgitta wondered who her companion really was. She could hardly be simply a messenger girl whose job was to return stolen handbags to foreign visitors.
They continued along a deserted corridor and came to the courtroom itself, which was wood-panelled and austere. On a high dais at one of the short sides sat two men in uniform. The place between them was empty. There were no members of the public present. Hong Qiu led the way to the front bench, where two cushions had been placed. Everything has been prepared, Birgitta thought. The performance can begin. Or is it simply that I’m being courteously received even in this courtroom?
They had barely sat down when the accused was escorted in between two security officers. A middle-aged man with close-cropped hair, dressed in a dark blue prison uniform. His head was bowed. Sitting beside him was a defence lawyer. Sitting at another table was the man Birgitta assumed to be the prosecutor. He was dressed in civilian clothes, a bald, elderly man with a furrowed face. The woman judge entered the courtroom from a door behind the podium. She was in her sixties, small and stout. When she sat down, she looked almost like a child sitting at the table.
‘Shu Fu has been the leader of a criminal gang that specialises in stealing cars,’ said Hong Qiu in a low voice. ‘The others have already been sentenced. As Shu is the leader of the gang and a recidivist, he’ll probably get a stiff sentence. He’s been treated mildly in the past, but because he’s betrayed the trust put in him and continued his criminal activities, the court is bound to give him a more severe punishment.’
‘But not the death penalty?’
‘Of course not.’
Hong Qiu had not liked her last question. The answer sounded impatient, almost dismissive. That wiped the smile off her face, Birgitta thought. But is this a real trial or is the whole thing being staged and the sentence already decided?
The voices were shrill and echoed around the courtroom. The only one who never said a word was the accused, who just sat there, staring down at the floor. Hong Qiu occasionally translated what was being said. The defence lawyer was not making any great effort to support his client — but then that was not unusual in a Swedish court either, Birgitta thought. The whole trial became a dialogue between the prosecutor and the judge. She couldn’t work out the function of the two assistants sitting on the podium.