‘In the cities, at least. But poverty is apparently still widespread in the countryside. What will they do when hundreds of millions of peasants finally decide they’ve had enough?’
‘ “The current upswing of the peasants’ revolt is of enormous significance.” Perhaps that mantra has a fundamental truth built in, despite everything?’
‘Nobody in those days told me that China could be as cold as this. I’ve almost frozen to death.’
They returned to their waiting car. Just as Birgitta was walking down the steps from the Wall, she glanced back over her shoulder, for one last look at the Wall.
What she saw instead was one of Hong Qiu’s men reading a guidebook. There was no doubt about it. He was the one who had walked up to her table with her bag.
Karin waved impatiently from the car. She was cold, wanted to get going.
When Birgitta turned round again, the man had vanished.
25
That last evening in Beijing Birgitta Roslin and Karin Wiman stayed in their hotel. They sat around in the bar drinking vodka cocktails, discussing various possible ways of rounding off their visit to China. But the vodka made them so tipsy and tired that they decided to eat in the hotel. Afterwards, they spent hours talking about how their lives had turned out. It was as if things had been predetermined by their youthful revolutionary dreams of a Red China. Now they had actually made the trip there and found a country that had undergone fundamental change, but perhaps hadn’t turned out as they had once imagined it would. They stayed in the dining room until they were the only ones left. Several blue silk ribbons hung down from the lampshade over their table. Birgitta leaned over towards Karin and whispered that perhaps they should each take one of those ribbons as a souvenir of their trip. Karin used a small pair of nail scissors to snip off a couple of ribbons when none of the waiters was watching.
Karin fell asleep when they had finished packing their bags. The conference had been very tiring. Birgitta sat on the sofa with almost all the lights out. She suddenly felt old. She’d come this far; there was a bit still left to go, then the path would suddenly peter out, and she would be consumed by darkness. She had already begun to notice that the path was sloping downward, only slightly; but the bottom line was that she could do nothing to change its direction. Think of ten things you still want to achieve, she whispered to herself. Ten things you still have left to do. She sat down at the little desk and began writing in a notebook.
What did she still have left that she really wanted to experience? One of the things she hoped for was to see and enjoy a grandchild, perhaps even several. Also, she and Staffan had often talked about visiting various islands. The only ones they had been to so far were Iceland and Crete. One of their dream journeys was to Galápagos, another to Pitcairn Island, where the blood from the mutineers on the Bounty was still flowing through the veins of the inhabitants. Learn a few more languages? Or at least improve her French, a language she had once spoken quite well.
But the most important thing was for her and Staffan to succeed in reawakening their relationship. She sometimes felt very sad when the thought struck her that they might decline into old age without any of the old passion remaining alive.
No journey was more important than that.
She tore the sheet of paper, crumpled it up, and tossed it into the wastebasket. Why should she need to write down what was already posted clearly and unmistakably on the church doors of her inner self?
She undressed and snuggled into bed. Karin was breathing calmly in the other bed. She suddenly had the feeling that it was time for her to go home, to be declared fit and start work again. Without her everyday routines she would never be able to fulfil any of the dreams lying in wait for her.
She hesitated for a moment, then reached for her mobile phone and sent a text message to her husband. ‘On the way home. Every journey starts with a step forward. So does the journey home.’
Birgitta woke up at seven o’clock. Although she had slept no more than five hours, she felt wide awake. A faint headache reminded her of the vodka cocktails the evening before. Karin was asleep, swaddled in her sheet, one hand hanging down to the floor. Birgitta carefully tucked it in under the sheet.
The dining room was already busy, despite the early hour. She looked around to see if she could recognise any of the faces. She had no doubt that the man she had recognised at the Great Wall was one of Hong Qiu’s entourage. Perhaps it was just that the Chinese state had taken her under its wing, to ensure that no more accidents would happen?
She ate her breakfast, leafed through an English newspaper, and was just about to return to her room when Hong Qiu suddenly appeared at her table. She was not alone. Alongside her were two men Birgitta had not seen before. Hong Qiu nodded to the men, who withdrew and sat down. She said something to a waitress and shortly afterwards was served a glass of water.
‘I hope all’s well,’ said Hong Qiu. ‘How was your trip to the Wall?’
‘The Great Wall was impressive. But it was cold.’
She looked Hong Qiu provocatively in the eye, hoping to see from her reaction if Hong Qiu realised that the scout had been noticed. But Hong Qiu’s face remained expressionless. She did not reveal her cards.
‘There’s a man waiting for you in a room next to this dining room,’ said Hong Qiu. ‘His name’s Chan Bing.’
‘What does he want?’
‘He wants to inform you that the police have arrested a man who was involved in the attack when you lost your bag.’
Birgitta felt her pulse rate increase. There was something sinister about what Hong Qiu said.
‘Why doesn’t he come in here if he wants to speak to me?’
‘He’s in uniform. He doesn’t want to disturb your breakfast.’
Birgitta Roslin flung her arms out wide in resignation. ‘I don’t have a problem with talking to people in uniform.’
She stood up and put her napkin down on the table. At that very moment Karin came into the room and looked at them in surprise. Birgitta was forced to explain what had happened, and introduced Hong Qiu.
‘I don’t really know what’s going on,’ she said to Karin. ‘The police have evidently caught one of the men who mugged me. Have your breakfast in peace. I’ll be back when I’ve heard what the police officer has to say.’
‘Why haven’t you said anything about this before?’
‘I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘You’re worrying me now instead. I think I’m getting angry.’
‘You don’t need to.’
‘We have to leave for the airport at ten o’clock.’
‘That’s two hours away.’
Birgitta followed Hong Qiu. The two men were still hovering in the background. They went down the corridor leading to the lifts and stopped outside a door standing ajar. As she stepped inside, Birgitta could see that it was a little conference room. At the far end of the oval table sat an elderly man smoking a cigarette. He was wearing a dark blue uniform with lots of stripes. His cap was lying on the table in front of him. He stood up and bowed to her, gesturing to a chair by his side. Hong Qiu stood by the window in the background.
Chan Bing had bloodshot eyes and thin hair combed back. Birgitta Roslin had the impression that the man sitting next to her was very dangerous. He drew deeply on his cigarette. There were already three butts in the ashtray.
Hong Qiu said something; Chan nodded. Birgitta tried to remember if she had met anybody with more red stars on his epaulettes than this man had.
Chan Bing’s voice was hoarse when he spoke. ‘We arrested one of the two men who attacked you. We ask you to point him for us.’