Don't Cry Tai Lake (20 page)

“Jiang then began taking the issue more seriously. He sold his business and devoted himself full time to environmental protection. He managed to make a modest living from the fees for talks and articles, but his efforts started to upset an increasing number of Big Bucks, especially those he mentioned unfavorably. So they launched a fierce counterattack, claiming that he was seeking publicity at the expense of law-abiding companies, and that his writings were amateur and half-baked, not based at all on scientific research.

“Then they took it even further by appealing to city authorities. After all, the success of Wuxi was dependent on its booming industry, and the city couldn't afford for it to be discredited. The officials didn't hesitate to put pressure on him.

“Jiang persisted, however, targeting factories that continued to dump pollutants into the lake. After doing extensive research, he sent detailed reports to many newspapers and magazines. To his dismay, though, his submissions were invariably returned. He was told that they had received specific instructions from above banning his work and that those companies were untouchable because they produced the majority of the local industrial revenue. Still, he kept on sending letters and reports to government authorities—higher and higher authorities—a persistence which eventually got him labeled a ‘political troublemaker.'

“According to his research, most of the companies in Wuxi were problematic. They were far from meeting the environmental standards, and the situation was aggravated by the acquiescence of the government.

“He started to reach out to foreign media, contacting Western correspondents, who sometimes paid him for his work and published it abroad. Ironically, it then found its way back into China, even into some ‘inside journals' compiled for high-ranking leaders in Beijing. This made the local officials consider him even more troublesome, and he was consequently blacklisted. But those factories went on operating as before, at the expense of environment.

“So he modified his tactics. He started doing specific field studies, collecting pictures and data, undeniable evidence, before confronting the companies in question and demanding that they mend their ways. If they then didn't do anything about it, he would post vivid pictures and concrete information on the Web. Those Web posts became quite influential, even more than his earlier articles in the newspapers and magazines, drawing thousands and thousands of responses. As the information spread to an ever-increasing number of people, it became a serious headache to the authorities.

“Then, out of the blue, the accusation came up that Jiang was making a mountain of money by blackmailing those companies. A local business tycoon even went so far as to produce a letter from Jiang which said: ‘If you don't respond, you'll have to pay for it.' There was no question that it was a warning, but it was too vague for it to be read as blackmail.

“So for the last two years, he has been in trouble,” she concluded, “and there has been one attempt after another to bring him down. But I don't think he would blackmail someone for his own benefit.”

Chen listened on attentively, without interrupting or commenting. Her narrative about Jiang had gone on fairly long. The afternoon light that silhouetted her against the quaint pavilion was gradually fading. In the distance, a light haze began softening the hills.

“But as you said, he had sold his business and had to make a living,” Chen said. “Nowadays, he doesn't make any money from his speeches or articles.”

“I guess he made enough before he became an activist.”

“What kind of a man do you think he is?”

“He's no murderer, I'll say that.” Then, as if in afterthought, she said, “Of course, he has his flaws. For instance, he's too fond of the limelight. And he's self-important too. When a company offered to pay him a consulting fee, he never said no. He might have planned to use the money for his environmental work, but it wasn't a good idea.”

“How did his activities affect you?”

“I got to know him about a year ago. Because of our common interests, we would meet up and talk from time to time. On one occasion, I talked to him about the problem at my company, citing a bunch of research data which he later put into a special report.”

“Do you know if he approached Liu with it?”

“He did. Liu was furious with me over my ‘betrayal,' though there was nothing secret or confidential about the data. Anyone could accumulate the same information through their own research. But I, too, was upset with Jiang. He should have considered the consequences before confronting Liu with it. Jiang claimed that he never mentioned my name, but that didn't change the fact that he got the data from me. I was so pissed off, I stopped seeing him.”

He noticed her choice of words—
stopped seeing him
. They carried a subtle hint as to the nature of their relationship.

“That was several months ago?” Chen asked.

“Yes. What he's been doing since, I have no idea.”

“About two months ago, in March, I believe, he contacted Liu again. They met at the chemical company office and had a heated argument.”

“What? That's not possible! Jiang promised me that he would target other companies instead. He said that it wouldn't be a problem since there are so many of them around.”

“Well, maybe he did it because of the timing. With the coming IPO of the Wuxi Number One Chemical Company, Liu would have been more likely to compromise at that critical juncture. At least, that is how Internal Security has it figured.”

“But I still don't think Jiang would have come to the office.”

“Mi says she heard him arguing with Liu in his office.”

“When was that?”

“At the beginning of March—the day before Women's Day. She was positive about it.”

Shanshan made no response, instead staring first at him, then seemingly at something beyond him, in the distance. The air on the hill became slightly chilly for the time of year.

There was something suddenly vulnerable about her, he noticed. She sat up against the post, her arms hanging at her sides, hands slightly open, as if in supplication. She hadn't yet said anything explicit about her relationship with Jiang. Chen decided not to push. What she would tell him, eventually, she would.

The personal factors aside, a clear picture was forming of the economic background behind the case against Jiang. For the local government, environmental protection efforts were made only to the extent that they wouldn't jeopardize the appearance of “a harmonious society.” The local authorities depended on the ever-increasing production and profits contributed by the factories, which cut costs by dumping industrial waste into the lake. Exposing this to the Western media, as well as on the Web, made Jiang politically intolerable, and Internal Security must have been following him for quite a while. Which would explain how they came to intervene so quickly in the case.

“It's difficult,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “Isn't it?”

It was difficult because he couldn't rule out the possibility of Jiang's being a criminal, even though political persecution appeared to be a far more likely scenario.

“Who else did you talk to at the company?” she said, with an alert look in her eyes, suddenly changing the subject. “You didn't meet Officer Huang just for lunch in the canteen, did you?”

“You're right. We went and inteviewed Mi and Fu. But I'm not the one who's a cop here, so Huang did most of the talking. We didn't learn anything new or useful from them. Huang and I also spoke to Mrs. Liu at her home.”

“You've been doing some investigating, like a cop.”

“There's something strange about Mrs. Liu, but I'm not sure what it is,” he said, ignoring the question in her remark. “She travels back to Shanghai frequently—almost weekly—to play mahjong. How could she afford it?”

“Money is nothing to her. Liu earned a lot—he got as a bonus ten percent of the company's annual profit. And that's only his legitimate income, not including what he got in gray-area money.”

“She must have known about his little secretary, so how could she have left him on his own so much in Wuxi?”

“She did know about his little secretaries. But I've heard that they had a deal. He gave her a lot of money, and she provided the secure, stable home environment that was a necessity for his position.”

“Hold on, Shanshan. Little secretaries? Plural? Liu had someone else in addition to Mi?”

“There was at least one before Mi—that I know of.”

“What happened to her?”

“Dumped liked a worn-out mop.”

“Can you find out more about her?”

“I could try. Somebody told me she had been a karaoke girl. Mi used to work in a foot massage parlor,” she said. “As a Party cadre in charge of a large state-run company, it was very shrewd of him to maintain a quiet, stable home life by providing generously for his wife. At the same time, he had Mi serving him hand and foot like a concubine at his home office.”

“Yes, I see.”

“But tell me, Chen, what did you hear from Mi and Fu?”

“Mi described a most unhappy family life for Liu, which I think was an effort to justify her role as a little secretary. Fu said little. He's also from Shanghai and mentioned going there—to Shanghai—this evening.”

“Fu goes back quite often. Now, as the boss, he can travel there whenever he likes.” She paused, then said suddenly, “Oh, I don't know what will happen to the company or to China.”

It reminded Chen of something written by Fan Zhongyan, a Song-dynasty poet-statesman who described people “
joyful with the joy of the country and sorrowful with the sorrow of the country. Alas, in whom can I find such a companion?
”

Shanshan, herself besieged by troubles, was sorrowful with the sorrow of the country. She was so different from many of her contemporaries, standing out from the crowd in this acquisitive age by fighting for things beyond her own materialistic considerations. He couldn't help but be reminded of himself from his long-forgotten years at college, when he, too, had cherished idealistic, passionate dreams.

Their eyes met, and they beheld each other. The air was abruptly filled with the sound of birds chirping, and a fitful breeze blew through the trees like a lost song.

A couple of lines he had written earlier came to mind—
when you no longer belonged / to a place, nor a time, nor yourself.
It was a poem about her, he realized.

At that moment, however, he didn't know what to say, so he repeated the words he, as a cop, had said so many times.

“Thank you for telling me all this, Shanshan. If you think of anything else, anything unusual, let me know.”

THIRTEEN

IT WAS ONE OF
the few mornings that Detective Yu, of the Shanghai Police Bureau, didn't have to get up early. Nor did he want to. It was Saturday morning, and the clock on the wall read eight thirty, but he was still in bed with Peiqin. Qinqin, their only son, had left around six for an intensive review session in Pudong to prepare for the coming college entrance exam.

There was only a plasterboard partition wall between their room and Qinqin's, so they couldn't enjoy any real privacy. But this morning, it was different.

Peiqin was sitting up, reclining against a couple of pillows and watching TV with the volume turned up fairly loud. She didn't want to go out to the food market early, either. With Qinqin away for the day, she had no motivation to prepare a special meal.

Yu understood. He lay beside her, contented. The moment would be perfect if he could smoke a cigarette in bed, but he knew better. He thought about talking to Peiqin about the recent work at the bureau but then thought better of it. It was a quiet moment, which he cherished. There were several none-too-special “special cases,” for which he wasn't in a hurry to do anything. Chief Inspector Chen would come back in a week.

“Any special cases of late?” she said, turning off the TV. It was as if she was synchronized with his thoughts.

“No, not really,” he said. “There's one involving an official in the city government, but he's already a dead tiger, so to speak. It's just a matter of process—first a list of his wrongdoings will be released to the public, and then an editorial will appear in
Liberation Daily
hailing the Party's determination to fight corruption. Another case involves some dissidents planning to release a petition calling for improved human rights. The authorities in Beijing put them on a blacklist long ago, so the results are a foregone conclusion. I don't think there is anything our squad can do. Even Chen couldn't do anything to stop it.”

“So why the sudden vacation for your chief inspector?”

He had sort of anticipated the question. The inscrutableness of the inspector had become one of her favorite topics. “I don't know of anything happening here that Chen had to get out of the way of. Not recently.”

“Did he give you any explanation for his sudden vacation?”

“No, not at all.”

“But you never know what your boss is really up to. Remember his trip to Beijing not too long ago?” she said, then added, “Not that I have anything against him, you know.”

“Some people are saying that he will soon be removed from his position because he has ruffled too many high feathers and that the vacation is just a face-saving maneuver. But I don't think so. His vacation was arranged by Comrade Secretary Zhao. If anything, that should indicate that Chen remains in favor in Beijing. So it might be nothing more than a vacation. It's not unimaginable for him.”

“He needs a break, what with his nervous breakdown not too long ago, and his ex-girlfriend having married somebody else. A vacation will do him good. But still, I wonder what he's doing in Wuxi. I can't picture him relaxing, drinking tea, and sightseeing like a tourist. Your boss seems to bring trouble with him wherever he goes.”