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‘They can go ahead,’ said Yoyo grimly. ‘Let’s see them try to eat me.’

‘Eat me, and I’ll eat you alive.’

‘Well remembered,’ snorted Yoyo, turning round and walking off to the kitchen.

* * *

Jericho was ecstatic to have Diane back again. Without holding out any great hopes, he checked the three websites which were supposed to be interchanged according to the report, and was disappointed. The mask hadn’t unearthed anything. It seemed they really had been taken out of circulation.

So that just left him with the Swiss films and a hunch.

He gave Diane a series of directions. With programmed courtesy, she informed him that the analysis would take some time, which meant it could just as easily take five years as five minutes. The computer had no plan on this front. He might as well have asked Alexander Fleming how long he would need to discover penicillin. As
the films were three-dimensional, Diane had to go through data cubes rather than data surfaces, which threatened to drag the process out for a long time.

Joanna came in, bringing him some tea and English biscuits.

It was four years now since they had broken up, but Jericho still didn’t know how to act around the woman who had lured him to Shanghai and then left him out of the blue. At least, that’s how it had seemed to him: that Joanna had ditched him in order to marry someone who was hitting the big time in the Chinese boom, someone who didn’t conform in the slightest to what one might assume to be her ideal partner. But it was this very man who had become Jericho’s closest friend: a friendship, initiated by Joanna, which had started out within the cocoon of a business relationship, and developed in such a way that neither Tu nor Jericho had really realised it was even happening. It had come down to Joanna to alert them to the fact they had become more deeply attached, at the same time hoping to make Jericho realise it was about time he stopped seeing himself as indebted to everyone.

‘I don’t,’ he had retorted with a baffled expression, as if she had just suggested he shouldn’t walk to work on all fours any more.

But Jericho knew exactly what she meant. She had exaggerated a bit of course, which was in her nature, because Joanna went to the other extreme: she hardly ever felt guilt. This might lead to accusations of self-righteousness, but her behaviour was far from amoral. She just lacked the guilt that all children were born into. From the day you first come into the world, you find yourself being constantly admonished, lectured, caught in the act, always in the wrong, subjected to judgement and constant corrections, all of which are intended to make an imperfect human being into a better one. The extent of the improvement is measured by how much you live up to others’ expectations, an experiment doomed to failure. It normally leads to failure for all involved. Accompanied by good wishes and silent reproaches, you ultimately end up taking your own path and forget to grant the child within you absolution, a child accustomed to being scolded for running off alone. Rushing through the crossroads of ‘I can’t, I shouldn’t, I’m not allowed’, you always find yourself back in the same place you set out from a long time ago, regardless of how old you may have become in the process. Your whole life long, you see yourself through the eyes of others, measure yourself by their standards, judge yourself by their canon of values, condemn yourself with their indignation, and you are never enough.

You are never enough for yourself.

That was what Joanna had meant. She had developed a remarkable talent for freeing herself from the entanglements of her childhood. Her way of looking at things was genuine, as sharp as a knife, her behaviour consistent. She had considered herself fully within her rights to break up with Jericho. She knew that the
breakdown of their relationship would cause him pain, but in Joanna’s world, this kind of pain was no more the result of culpable behaviour than toothache. She hadn’t robbed him, hadn’t publicly humiliated him, hadn’t continually deceived him. She paid no attention to what others felt she should have done or not done. The only person whose gaze she wanted to be able to meet was the one right opposite her in the mirror.

‘How are you?’ asked Jericho.

‘Well, how do you think?’ Joanna sank down into one of the cantilever chairs scattered around Tu’s office. ‘Very agitated.’

She didn’t look particularly agitated. She looked intrigued, and a little concerned. Jericho drank his tea.

‘Did Tian tell you what happened?’

‘He gave me an overview in passing, so now I know
his
version.’ Joanna took a biscuit and nibbled at it thoughtfully. ‘And I’ve heard Hongbing’s too of course. It sounds dreadful. I wanted to speak to Yoyo, but she’s in the middle of battling out her tiresome father–daughter conflict.’

Jericho hesitated. ‘Do you actually know what that’s about?’

‘I’m not stupid.’ She jerked her thumb in the direction of the door. ‘I also know that Tian is involved.’

‘And that’s not a problem for you?’

‘It’s his business. He must know what’s he’s doing. I’m too shamefully lacking in ambition myself, as you know. I wouldn’t make a very convincing dissident. But I understand. His motivations seem clear to me, so he has my unconditional support.’

Jericho was silent. It was obvious that Chen Hongbing wasn’t the only one who had eaten bitterness at some point in his past. Tu’s professional status implied all manner of things, but not collaboration with a group of dissidents. There must be something from way back that was influencing his behaviour.

‘Maybe he’ll tell you about it someday,’ Joanna added, eating another biscuit. ‘In any case, you’ve all been hunting, and now I’m coming to gather. And as Yoyo is otherwise engaged, I’m starting with you.’

Jericho briefly explained what had taken place since Chen’s visit to Xintiandi. Joanna didn’t interrupt him; that is if you didn’t count the occasional
ahhs
,
mm-hms
and
ohhs
which were ritually expressed in China as a form of courtesy to assure the other person of your attentiveness. During his report, she also devoured all of the biscuits and drank most of the tea. That was fine by Jericho. He still didn’t have even the slightest appetite. After he finished talking, they both fell silent for a while.

‘It sounds like you’ve all got a long-term problem,’ she said finally.

‘Yes.’

‘Tian too?’ It sounded like
Me too?
Jericho was just about to tell her that her own wellbeing should be the least of her worries, but stopped himself; perhaps he was reading too much into her question.

‘You can work that out for yourself,’ he said. ‘In any case, even Kenny will have to acknowledge the fact that he’s cocked things up. By now we could have confided in anyone under the sun. He missed his opportunity to eliminate everyone who knew about it.’

‘You mean he won’t keep trying to get Yoyo?’

Jericho pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. ‘It’s hard to tell,’ he said.

‘In what way?’

‘Believe me, I’ve met psychopaths who are bad to the core, ones who tortured their victims, filleted them, canned them, let them die of thirst, cut off this or that, things you wouldn’t believe. Their type are motivated purely by obsession. And then there are the professional killers.’

‘Who combine business with pleasure.’

‘The main thing is that they see it as a job. It brings them money. They don’t develop any emotional connection to their victims, they just do their job. Kenny botched his up. Aggravating for him, but usually you’d expect him to leave us in peace from now on and turn his attention to other jobs.’

‘But you don’t think that’s the case?’

‘He’s a professional
and
a psycho.’ Jericho circled his index finger over his temple. ‘And those guys are a little harder to classify.’

‘Which means?’

‘Someone like Kenny could feel offended that we’ve not all been eliminated as planned. He might think we shouldn’t have put up a fight. It’s possible that he’ll do nothing. But it’s just as possible that he’ll set my loft on fire, or your house, or lie in wait for us and shoot us down, and all just because he’s angry.’

‘I see you’re full of optimism as usual.’

Jericho glowered at her. ‘I thought that was
your
job.’

He knew his retort was unfair, but she had provoked him. It was a shabby, mean little comment with sharp teeth and threadbare fur, which had scurried up in a surprise attack, sank its teeth in and then died with a cackle.

‘Jerk.’

‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘Don’t be.’ She stood up and ruffled his hair. Strangely, Jericho felt both comforted and humiliated by her gesture. A display lit up on Tu’s computer console.
The guard reported that the police had arrived and wished to question Tu as well as the others present on the incidents in Quyu and Hongkou.

* * *

The questioning went as questioning tended to go with citizens of a higher social standing. An investigating civil servant with assistants in tow showed great courtesy, assuring all of those present of her sympathy and describing the incidents in quick succession as ‘horrifying’ and ‘abhorrent’, Mr Tu as an ‘outstanding member of society’, Chen and Yoyo as ‘heroic’ and Jericho as a ‘valued friend of the authorities’. In between all that, she flung questions around like circus knives. It was clear she didn’t believe the story in the very parts where it wasn’t true, for example when it came to Kenny’s motive. Her gaze resembled that of a butcher, talking encouragingly to a pig as he carved it in his mind’s eye.

Chen looked even more hollow-cheeked than normal. Tu’s face had a purple tinge to it, while Yoyo’s was filled with bitter pride. Clearly the arrival of the police had torn them from a heated discussion. Jericho realised that the inspector had gauged the emotional climate down to the exact degree, but she wasn’t commenting on it for the time being. It was only in the course of the individual interrogations that she became more explicit. She was a middle-aged woman with smoothly brushed hair and intelligent eyes, behind what looked like old-fashioned glasses with small lenses and thick frames. But Jericho knew better. It was actually a MindReader, a portable computer which filmed the person opposite, ran their expression through an amplifier and projected the result in real time onto the lenses of the glasses. In this way, the merest hint of a smug smile could become perfectly clear to the wearer. A nervous blink would mimic an earthquake. Tell-tale signals in facial expressions that wouldn’t normally be noticed became readable. Jericho guessed that she had also linked an Interpreter to it, which dramatised the tone, accentuation and flow of his voice. The effect was uncanny. If you combined the forces of MindReader and Interpreter, the people being questioned suddenly sounded like bad actors, turning into grimacing, crude robots, despite fully believing they had their reactions under control.

Jericho himself had already worked with both programs. Only very experienced investigators used them. It took years of practice to correctly read the discrepancies between the expression, intonation and content of a statement. He showed no sign of having recognised the device, told his version of the incident stoically and fended off question after question.

‘And you’re really just a friend of the family?’

‘And there was no particular reason why you happened to be in the steel factory today of all days?’

‘Those guys arrived at the factory at exactly the same time as you, and you expect me to believe that that’s pure coincidence?’

‘Did you perhaps have a commission in Quyu?’

‘Don’t you find it strange that Grand Cherokee Wang was murdered one day after you went looking for him?’

‘Did you know that Chen Yuyun was once imprisoned for political agitation and passing on State secrets?’

‘Did you also know that Tu Tian has not always behaved in the best interests of the Chinese State and our justified concerns for its internal stability?’

‘What do you know about Chen Hongbing’s past?’

‘Am I really supposed to believe that not one of you – although the actions indicate an act which was planned long in advance! – had the faintest clue who this Kenny is and what he wants?’

‘I’ll ask you once more: What commission did you have that led you to Quyu?’

And so on and so forth.

Eventually she gave up, leaned back and took the glasses off. She smiled, but her gaze continued to saw away at him, hacking off tiny pieces.

‘You’ve been in Shanghai for four and a half years,’ she stated. ‘According to what I hear, you have an excellent reputation as an investigator.’

‘Thank you, it’s an honour to hear that.’

‘So how is business going?’

‘I can’t complain.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ She put the tips of her fingers together. ‘Rest assured that you are highly valued in my field. You have successfully collaborated with us a number of times and each time you have displayed a high level of willingness to cooperate. This is one of the reasons why we would like to extend your work permit’ – here, her right hand made a waving motion, illustrating some vague future – ‘and then to extend it again and again. Precisely because our relationship is based on reciprocity. Do you understand what I mean?’

‘You’ve expressed it very clearly.’

‘Good. Now that’s clear, I’d like to ask you an informal question.’

‘If I’m able to answer it, I will.’

‘I’m sure you can.’ She leaned over and sank her voice conspiratorially. ‘I would like to know what you would make of all this if you were in my seat. You have experience, intuition, you have a good nose. What would you be thinking?’

Jericho resolved not to get taken in by her.

‘I would exert more pressure.’

‘Oh?’ She looked surprised, as if he had just invited her to torture him with burning cigarettes.

‘Pressure on my team,’ he added. ‘To make sure they put all their energy into getting their hands on the man who is responsible for the attacks, and into investigating his background, instead of getting taken in by the crude idea of making victims into perpetrators and threatening them with deportation. Does my answer suffice?’