‘Sure.’
He was about to go when Qian stopped him. ‘Chief, I left a note on your desk.’ He hesitated, and Li had the distinct impression that everyone in the room was listening, even though they appeared still to be working. ‘Commissioner Hu Yisheng’s office called. The Commissioner wants to see you straight away.’ Several heads lifted to see his reaction. Now he knew they’d been listening. And why.
II
The noise of diggers and demolition resounded in the narrow Dong Jiaminxiang Lane. A couple of bicycle repair men sat huddled against the cold in the weak winter sunshine opposite the back entrance to the headquarters of the Beijing Municipal Police. The stone arch which had once led to the rear compound had been demolished, and the entrance was blocked by heavy machinery, a digger, a crane.
Li picked his way past them to the red-brick building which still housed the headquarters of the Criminal Investigation Department, although for how much longer he did not know. The building looked shabby, covered in the dust of demolition, windows smeared and opaque. Most of the sections had long since moved to other premises around the city, and the original CID HQ across the way — once the home of the American Citibank — was now a police museum.
Even in the outer office of the divisional head of CID, Li could hear the insistent rasp of a pneumatic drill and the revving of engines as machines moved earth and concrete in preparation for whatever new development was being planned. Commissioner Hu’s secretary called him to let him know that Li was there, and after a moment he emerged from his office pulling on his jacket. He nodded toward Li. ‘Section Chief.’ And then told his secretary, ‘Can’t think with all this goddamn noise. If anyone’s looking for me, we’ll be next door.’
They swung past the workmen crowding the old entrance, and Li followed the Commissioner up the steps of the museum, between tall columns, and through its high, arched entrance. Inside, they were confronted by an elaborately carved totem pole dedicated to the ‘soul of the police’, a bizarre-looking monument whose centrepiece was the crest of the Ministry of Public Security. But here, in this old marble building, the work of the demolition men outside was a distant rumble and there was a sense of peace.
‘I used to have my office on the top floor,’ the Commissioner said, and they climbed several floors, past exhibits which illustrated the history of the police and fire departments, gruesome murders and horrific fires. The top floor was a celebration of the modern force, mannequins modelling the new uniforms, an electronic shooting range where you could pit your wits against video baddies. But it was dominated by a huge curved stone wall, twenty feet high, carved with cubist-like representations of the features of policemen past. Eyes, noses, mouths, hands. This was the Martyrs’ Wall, a monument to all the police officers of Beijing who had died on active duty since the creation of the People’s Republic in 1949. There were strategically placed flowers to commemorate the dead, and a large book, on a glass dais, which named all of the fifty-nine officers who had so far gone to join their ancestors.
A group of uniformed policemen was being given an official tour, and a young female officer wearing a headset which amplified her voice across the top floor, was describing the history and purpose of the monument. When she saw the Commissioner, she cut short her speech, and the group moved discreetly away to try their luck on the electronic range. Li stood staring up at the wall. It was the first time he had visited the museum.
‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ Commissioner Hu said.
Li looked at him. He was a short man with an impressively large head, and Li wondered if maybe he had modelled for some of the faces on the wall. His hair was greyer than the last time Li had seen him, and the first lines were beginning to etch themselves on an otherwise smooth face. ‘Unusual,’ Li said diplomatically.
‘You know your uncle is listed among the Martyrs?’
Li was shocked. It was the first he had heard of it. ‘But he did not die on active duty,’ he said. ‘He was retired.’
‘He was murdered by the subject of an active investigation. And in light of his outstanding record as a police officer, it was decided that his name should be included in the roll of honour.’
Oddly, Li found this unexpectedly comforting. His uncle had not passed into the unsung annals of history, to be forgotten with the death of living memory. He had been given immortality of a kind, a place among heroes, which is what he had been.
The Commissioner was watching him closely. He said, ‘There are two matters I want to discuss with you, Section Chief.’ He glanced across the floor to make sure they would not be overheard, and lowered his voice. ‘I received a call last night from the Procurator General regarding the official report into the death of the weightlifter, Jia Jing. It had been drawn to his attention that the report was not entirely accurate.’ Li opened his mouth to speak, but the Commissioner held up a hand to stop him. ‘His enquiries on the subject revealed this to be true. He also discovered that since you attended the incident you must have known this to be the case. And yet you signed off the report as being an accurate representation of events. The Procurator General is furious. And frankly, Section Chief, so am I.’
Li said, ‘And who was it who drew the Procurator General’s attention to this alleged inaccuracy?’
‘I don’t think that’s the point.’
‘I think it’s very much the point.’
The Commissioner took Li firmly by the arm and steered him closer to the wall. His voice reduced itself to an angry hiss. ‘Don’t play games with me, Li. I think you know very well who it was. Loyalty is not something you inherit with the job. You have to earn it. And I am hearing that all is far from well between you and another senior member of your section.’
‘If I’d been Section Chief at the time of his appointment, he would never have got the job.’
The Commissioner glared at him. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Li. The decision would not have been yours to make.’ He let go of Li’s arm and took a deep breath. Although Li towered over him, he was still a solid and imposing figure in his black dress uniform, with its three shining silver stars on each lapel. ‘Are you going to tell me why this report was doctored?’ Even his use of the word ‘doctored’ rang a bell for Li.
Li said quietly, ‘Perhaps you should ask the Minister, Commissioner.’
Hu narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you telling me the Minister asked you to alter an official report?’ Li nodded. ‘And do you think for one minute he would admit to that?’
And Li saw for the first time just what kind of trouble he could be in. He said, ‘One or two minor facts were omitted purely to save embarrassment for the people involved. That’s all. Nothing that materially affected the case.’
‘The fact that the Chinese weightlifting champion was screwing the wife of a senior member of BOCOG is hardly a minor omission, Section Chief.’
‘The Minister—’
Hu cut him off. ‘The Minister will not back you up or bail you out on this, Li. Take my word for it. In the current climate, he has far too much to lose. Everyone from the lowliest officer to the Minister himself must be seen to be beyond reproach. Don’t forget that his former Vice-Minister was sentenced to death for his misdemeanours.’
Li protested, ‘Li Jizhou took nearly half a million dollars in bribes from a gang of smugglers! Saving a few blushes over a marital indiscretion is hardly in the same league.’ But he was kicking himself. He knew he should never have agreed to it.
The Commissioner glared at him angrily. ‘You’re a fool, Li. Fortunately, it’s not too late to do something about it. Get the officer concerned to issue a full and accurate report, and we will redefine the current report as “interim” and withdraw it.’