‘I don’t believe you know Mr. Fan, my generous benefactor,’ Fleischer said. ‘But he knows all about you.’
The CEO of the Beijing OneChina Recreation Club smiled, dimpling his cheeks. But he appeared tense, and he did not speak.
Margaret became aware that a third man had entered. She craned her neck to look at him, but he had his back to them as he shut the door behind him. Then he turned, and for a moment hope burned briefly in Margaret’s heart. It was Detective Sun. And then just as quickly the flame died. He could not even meet her eye. And she knew that he was one of the bad guys, too.
Chapter Twelve
I
An armed PLA guard, fur collar turned up on a long green coat, stood chittering in the sentry box at the back entrance to the compound of the Ministry of State and Public Security. Snow was gathering on his red epaulettes, on the shiny black peak of his cap, and on his boots. He glanced impassively at Li and Tao as Li turned his Jeep through the gate and then took a right along the front of the apartment blocks allocated to junior public security officers and their families. Lights from windows fell out in yellow slabs across the snow.
Li pulled in outside the third block along, and he and Tao got out and took the elevator to the seventh floor. From the window on the landing Li could see the lights from his apartment in the senior officers’ block, and knew that his father was waiting for him there on his own. He had not seen him in forty-eight hours. And he had no idea for how much longer he would be able to call the apartment his. But none of that mattered. He did not care whether he was still a police officer tomorrow or just another citizen, whether he was married to Margaret or not, whether they shared an apartment or lived apart. All that mattered was that he would find her before they killed her.
Tao knocked loudly on Sun’s door, and after a few moments Wen opened it. Li was immediately struck by how much she appeared to have aged in just a few days. There were dark rings beneath her eyes, and red blotches on pale cheeks. She did not appear surprised to see them.
‘He’s not here,’ she said dully.
‘May we come in?’ Li asked.
She stood aside mutely, and they walked past her into a small hallway. She closed the door and led them through to a living room with a glazed terrace that overlooked Zhengyi Road below. It was almost exactly like the apartment Li had shared for so many years with his Uncle Yifu. There was very little furniture in the room, and packing cases were still stacked against one wall. Another stood in the middle of the floor, partially unpacked, its contents strewn around it.
Wen wore a tight-fitting smock that emphasised the swelling of her child. She stood with her palms resting on her hips, just above the buttocks. A pose that Li had often seen Margaret adopt. It sent a jolt through him, like an electric shock.
‘Where is he?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘I have no idea.’
He looked at her contemplatively for a moment. ‘Why did you start crying when I phoned earlier?’
She sucked in her lower lip and bit down on it to stop herself from crying again. ‘I never know where he is,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘I’ve hardly seen him since I got here.’ She threw her hand out in a gesture towards the packing cases. ‘I’ve had to do all this myself. We haven’t had a meal together in days. He doesn’t get in until two or three in the morning.’ And she couldn’t stop the sobs from catching in her throat. ‘Just like it was in Canton. Nothing’s changed.’
‘How was it in Canton?’ Li asked quietly.
She brushed aside fresh tears. ‘He was always out. More than half the night sometimes.’ She breathed deeply to try to control herself and looked up at the ceiling as if it might offer her guidance. ‘If it had been other women, maybe that would have been easier to take. Maybe you can compete with other women.’ She looked at Li. ‘He was a gambler, Section Chief. He loved it. Couldn’t ever let a bet go.’ She paused. ‘How do you compete with that?’ She couldn’t face them, then, and turned away towards the terrace, folding her arms beneath her breasts in a gesture of self-protection, walking up to the glass and staring out into the snowy darkness. ‘He ran up terrible debts. We had to sell nearly everything. And then, when he got the job here, I thought maybe it would be a fresh start. He promised me…for the baby.’ She turned back into the room and shook her head helplessly. ‘But nothing’s changed. He behaves so strangely. I don’t know him any more. I’m not sure I ever did.’
Li was both shocked and dismayed by her description of a young man he had once thought was like a younger version of himself. It was not the Sun Xi he knew, or thought he knew, the detective he had been nurturing and encouraging. What shocked him even more, was how badly he had misjudged him. He glanced at Tao. Had he also been as wrong about his deputy? What was it Police Commissioner Hu had said to him? Loyalty is not something you inherit with the job. You have to earn it. He certainly hadn’t done anything to earn Tao’s loyalty. Perhaps, after all, he just wasn’t cut out for management.
Tao said to Wen, ‘When you say he’s been behaving strangely, what do you mean?’
She gasped and threw her hands up in despair. ‘I found a piece of paper folded into one of his jacket pockets. It had a poem written on it. Some stupid poem that didn’t even make any sense. When I asked him about it he nearly went berserk. He snatched it from me and accused me of spying on him.’
Tao was frowning. ‘What kind of poem?’
‘I don’t know. Just a poem. I found it a couple of days later between the pages of a book in his bedside table. I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to be accused of spying again.’
‘Is it still there?’ Li asked.
She nodded. ‘I’ll get it.’
She returned a few moments later, with a grubby sheet of paper folded into quarters, well rubbed along the folds. She thrust it at Li. He took it and opened it carefully and spread it out on the table. He and Tao leaned over it. The poem was written in neat characters. It had no title and was unattributed. And, as Wen had said, appeared to make very little sense.
Li was completely nonplussed ‘It’s not much of a poem,’ he said.
Tao said quietly, ‘None of the Triad poems are.’
Li blinked at him, confused now. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s a tradition which has mostly passed from use,’ Tao said. ‘But there are still some Triad groups who practise it. Members are given personal poems to memorise. They can be interrogated on them to verify their identification.’ He lifted the sheet of paper. ‘But they are supposed to destroy them once they have been memorised.’
Wen was listening to their exchange with growing disbelief. ‘What do you mean, Triads?’ she said. ‘Are you telling me Sun Xi is a Triad? I don’t believe it.’
Tao looked at Li and shrugged. ‘Canton was one of the first areas in mainland China the Triads moved back into after the Hong Kong handover. If Sun had got himself into financial trouble with his gambling he would have been a prime candidate for Triad recruitment. And a big feather in their caps, too. A detective in criminal investigation.’