redecoration.
When the truth was not to be told, one excuse was as good as another.
In the distance, a white gull glided over the slightly yellow water, silhouetted against the horizon, as if carrying the sun on its wings.
Chapter 2
Y
ou have come a long way, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.” Party Secretary Li Guohua of the Shanghai Police Bureau smiled, leaning back in his maroon leather swivel chair by the window. Party Secretary Li’s spacious office overlooked the central area of Shanghai.
Chief Inspector Chen sat across the mahogany desk from him, breathing into a cup of the new Dragon Well green tea, a special treat few would have been offered in the powerful Party Secretary’s office.
As an emerging cadre with further promotion awaiting him, Chen owed a lot to Li, his mentor in bureau politics. Li had introduced Chen to the Party, spared no pains showing him the ropes, and advanced him to his present position. An entry level cop in the early fifties, Li had moved up steadily to the top of the bureau, picking his way through the debris of political movements, betting on the winners in inner-Party struggles. So people saw Li’s hand-picking of Chen as his potential successor as another clever investment decision, especially after Chen’s relationship to Ling, a politburo member’s daughter from Beijing, became known to the small inner circle. To be fair to Li, however, he had not been aware of this relationship until after Chen’s promotion.
“Thank you, Party Secretary Li. As our sage has said, ‘A man is willing to lay down his life for the one who appreciates him, and a woman makes herself beautiful for the one who appreciates her.’”
It was still not considered in good political taste to quote Confucius, but Chen guessed that Li would not be displeased.
“The Party has always thought highly of you,” Li said in an official tone of voice. His Mao jacket was buttoned high to his chin in spite of the warm weather. “So this is a job for you, Chief Inspector Chen, for you alone.”
“You have heard about it already.” Chen was not surprised that somebody else had made a report to Li about the body discovered in Bund Park that morning.
“Look at this picture.” Li produced a photo from a manila folder on the desk. “Inspector Catherine Rohn, a representative of the U.S. Marshals Service.”
It was a photo of a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties, handsome, spirited, her large blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.
“She is quite young.” Chen studied the picture, thoroughly puzzled.
“Inspector Rohn has studied Chinese in college. She is sort of a sinologist in the Marshals Service. And you’re the scholar on our force.”
“Hold on—what job are you talking about, Party Secretary Li?”
Outside the office window, an occasional siren was heard in the distance.
“Inspector Rohn is going to escort Wen Liping to the United States. Your job is to help her accomplish this mission.” Li cleared his throat before going on, “An important job. We know we can count on you, Chief Inspector Chen.”
Chen realized that Li was talking about a totally different matter. “Who is Wen Liping? I do not have the slightest idea about this job, Party Secretary Li.”
“Wen Liping is Feng Dexiang’s wife.”
“Who is Feng Dexiang?”
“A Fujian farmer, now a crucial witness in an illegal immigration case in Washington.”
“What makes Feng so special?”
Li poured hot water into Chen’s cup. “Have you heard of someone named Jia Xinzhi?”
“Jia Xinzhi—yes, I’ve heard of him, a notorious triad tycoon based in Taiwan.”
“Jia has been involved in a number of international criminal activities. Jia is a heavyweight snake head. He’s been arrested in New York in connection with these activities. To convict him, the American authorities need a witness who will testify to his
When the truth was not to be told, one excuse was as good as another.
In the distance, a white gull glided over the slightly yellow water, silhouetted against the horizon, as if carrying the sun on its wings.
Chapter 2
Y
ou have come a long way, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.” Party Secretary Li Guohua of the Shanghai Police Bureau smiled, leaning back in his maroon leather swivel chair by the window. Party Secretary Li’s spacious office overlooked the central area of Shanghai.
Chief Inspector Chen sat across the mahogany desk from him, breathing into a cup of the new Dragon Well green tea, a special treat few would have been offered in the powerful Party Secretary’s office.
As an emerging cadre with further promotion awaiting him, Chen owed a lot to Li, his mentor in bureau politics. Li had introduced Chen to the Party, spared no pains showing him the ropes, and advanced him to his present position. An entry level cop in the early fifties, Li had moved up steadily to the top of the bureau, picking his way through the debris of political movements, betting on the winners in inner-Party struggles. So people saw Li’s hand-picking of Chen as his potential successor as another clever investment decision, especially after Chen’s relationship to Ling, a politburo member’s daughter from Beijing, became known to the small inner circle. To be fair to Li, however, he had not been aware of this relationship until after Chen’s promotion.
“Thank you, Party Secretary Li. As our sage has said, ‘A man is willing to lay down his life for the one who appreciates him, and a woman makes herself beautiful for the one who appreciates her.’”
It was still not considered in good political taste to quote Confucius, but Chen guessed that Li would not be displeased.
“The Party has always thought highly of you,” Li said in an official tone of voice. His Mao jacket was buttoned high to his chin in spite of the warm weather. “So this is a job for you, Chief Inspector Chen, for you alone.”
“You have heard about it already.” Chen was not surprised that somebody else had made a report to Li about the body discovered in Bund Park that morning.
“Look at this picture.” Li produced a photo from a manila folder on the desk. “Inspector Catherine Rohn, a representative of the U.S. Marshals Service.”
It was a photo of a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties, handsome, spirited, her large blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.
“She is quite young.” Chen studied the picture, thoroughly puzzled.
“Inspector Rohn has studied Chinese in college. She is sort of a sinologist in the Marshals Service. And you’re the scholar on our force.”
“Hold on—what job are you talking about, Party Secretary Li?”
Outside the office window, an occasional siren was heard in the distance.
“Inspector Rohn is going to escort Wen Liping to the United States. Your job is to help her accomplish this mission.” Li cleared his throat before going on, “An important job. We know we can count on you, Chief Inspector Chen.”
Chen realized that Li was talking about a totally different matter. “Who is Wen Liping? I do not have the slightest idea about this job, Party Secretary Li.”
“Wen Liping is Feng Dexiang’s wife.”
“Who is Feng Dexiang?”
“A Fujian farmer, now a crucial witness in an illegal immigration case in Washington.”
“What makes Feng so special?”
Li poured hot water into Chen’s cup. “Have you heard of someone named Jia Xinzhi?”
“Jia Xinzhi—yes, I’ve heard of him, a notorious triad tycoon based in Taiwan.”
“Jia has been involved in a number of international criminal activities. Jia is a heavyweight snake head. He’s been arrested in New York in connection with these activities. To convict him, the American authorities need a witness who will testify to his
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