Shanghai Redemption (28 page)

“It's bad for our restaurant. The management here uses it as a gimmick. Some of the overnight customers might stay a couple of hours longer just for the buffet. It's convenient for the customers, and it costs the karaoke club practically nothing.”

“You know a lot about this karaoke club, Peiqin.”

“Only that the buffet here is terrible. A number of their customers have told us about it. Anyway, we're not here because of the buffet.”

“Yes, what you were saying before the knock on the door?”

“We have to hit back, and by whatever means possible, too.”

“Well, there's one thing we have to do first,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “We have to change the SIM card in our cell phones. I've already changed mine. You need to give one of these new SIM cards to Old Hunter as soon as possible. I've got one for you, and one for Yu too. But don't contact me unless it's absolutely necessary. And if you do, use a public phone.”

“I see. So these are just for receiving calls. I'll give the SIM card to Old Hunter today. Don't worry about it.” She then said emphatically, “If only we could find out who they are, and why they are so anxious to get you out of the picture.”

Chen had been wishing the same thing for a long time, but he chose not to respond to her statement, instead pressing the buttons to play another red song.

“Is there anything new in the case Yu's investigating?”

“He visited Liang's company and the law firm that represents it.”

“The law firm?”

“Yes, Kaitai. It's a very powerful firm.” She added, “With the construction of the new high-speed train being seen as symbolic of China's economic reform, it is also a highly political case.”

Peiqin then briefed Chen about what Yu had discussed with her about the case.

“Yu has quoted an old saying a number of times,” she said. “‘
To treat a dead horse like a living one
.' I think that's something he picked up from Old Hunter.”

“Like father, like son.”

It meant Yu didn't think the investigation was going anywhere or had any relevance to Chen's troubles.

“Based on what Yu told me about these latest cases for your squad, I tried to comb through the Internet as much as possible. With the firewall-climbing software Qinqin installed for me, I was able to look at some forbidden ‘hostile Web sites.'”

“What did you find?”

“With regard to the dead pig scandal, they don't see it as an isolated incident. To them, it's just a part of the general moral landslide resulting from the uncontrollable corruption rooted in the one-party system.”

“The moral landslide. That's a term that was used by the premier, but the day after he said it, the
People's Daily
ran an editorial denying the very idea.”

“There's something unusual happening at the top. Several of the overseas Web sites touch on the idea that there's a power struggle in the Party between the left and the right wings,” Peiqin said. “But back to the dead pigs. People have been bringing powdered milk in from Hong Kong and elsewhere ever since the scandal about the contaminated powdered milk. Now some are talking about bringing in pork from other countries too. It's a devastating blow to the Shanghai government's image.”

Chen thought about his meeting with Sima the other day and nodded.

“Also, a Chinese meat company is trying to buy an American meat company as a kind psychological assurance. ‘Only the Communist Party can save and rule China'? Surely you remember that red song. Well the netizens—the people who post and comment frequently on various newsgroups and Internet sites—have posted a parody version of it: ‘Only the Americans can save and rule Chinese pork.' It's another slap at the city government. Lai is said to have been livid when he heard the parody.'”

“What black humor!”

“And it's related to another matter too. In the eyes of the Maoists, the netizens are being hard on Shang's son because Shang is a symbol of those red songs. So the Maoists believe that investigation of Shang's son is being carried out for political reasons,” she said. “That may be true to some extent. By the way, did you quote the old saying that ‘A prince, if found guilty, should be punished like an ordinary citizen' in a recent article?”

“Yes, but that was just an old saying. I wasn't using in reference to anybody in particular.”

Once again, he was surprised. In an interview for
Wenhui
, Chen had indeed said something about everybody being equal before the law, along with quoting the old saying Peiqin had noted. The interview wherein he made that statement had been conducted a couple of days before the scandal involving Shang's son broke. But the son was hardly a prince in any real sense, and Shang was just nominally a general. Nevertheless, some people might have been enraged by Chen's remark.

That was a direction Chen hadn't considered before, and it was even more alarming in the light of what White Cloud had said regarding Shang's well-connected wife.

Any one of these cases, when examined under the magnifying glass of Chinese politics, could have been enough to have Chen removed from his position, but none seemed to warrant what had happened to his mother and Qian.

“There is also some discussion in social media about the mysterious death of an American in Shanghai. But that seems to be very vague. My English is not good, and as far as I can make out, it's about how the American didn't drink at all, and yet the authorities concluded that his cause of death was alcohol poisoning.”

White Cloud had mentioned that death too, Chen remembered.

“But all these individual events might be neither here nor there. I have no idea which, if any, could be the cause of your trouble.”

“What you've learned by searching the Internet really helps, Peiqin. In the meantime, I've been listening to the tapes—your family's conversation, the talk in the ernai café, and the discussion between Old Hunter and Tang. They open up possibilities that I would never have imagined. It may take some time to narrow down the list.”

“Yu said these are like a lot of dots that refuse to be connected. And Old Hunter plans to keep going back to the ernai café, but as he puts it: it's like standing by the tree, waiting for a rabbit to run by and knock itself out against the trunk. We can't afford to keep waiting.”

“Has Old Hunter exchanged e-mails with Jin?”

“I don't think so. He knows very little about the Internet. He's only just now learning to listen to Suzhou opera online.” She went on after a pause, “I just thought of something.”

“What?”

“Qian's phone was tapped. Most likely, yours was too. But you can do the same to them. You have some idea of who could be involved, directly or indirectly, don't you?”

“Sima could be one. And Shen, of the Heavenly World, as well. Tapping their lines could help, but I'm not cop anymore. I'm not capable of doing anything like that. I could try to approach some of my connections, but any indiscreet move on my part could get them into trouble.”

“What about their e-mails, then?” she said, “I'm no computer expert, but I know some people in that field who are fighting the uphill battle against corruption. I knew someone who is really good at hacking, but he went abroad half a year ago.”

Earlier, White Cloud had given him Shen's e-mail address with the idea that Chen could access his e-mails. Peiqin was thinking along the same lines.

“You did an investigation where you got some help from a hacker,” she said. “I remember Yu telling me about that.”

“That's true, but I've lost touch with him. He changes his phone number every two or three weeks. Given his position, he has to be really careful,” Chen said, then added, “Remember the
Wenhui
journalist at the temple? She introduced him to me. I think his name is Melong.”

He hadn't contacted Melong for months, in spite of the crucial information he'd provided in one of Chen's anticorruption investigations. But it was different asking for help when it'd been a chief inspector asking for it. Now, professional scruples aside, it wouldn't be advisable to approach the hacker. Melong might be under surveillance, too.

“Of course I remember,” Peiqin said. “It meant a lot to us, first your presence with your journalist friend at the temple, and then the pictures that ran in the
Wenhui Daily
. Our relatives talked about it for days.” She added abruptly, “Lianping, that's the name of the journalist. What has happened to her?”

“I haven't seen her for a while. She's a happy soon-to-be mother, I think. She gave me the then-current contact information for Melong, but I'm not sure it's fair of me to involve him in this. He could get in trouble simply by talking to me.”

“I see,” Peiqin said. “Why don't you give me Sima's e-mail address?”

“You—”

There was another knock on the door.

She didn't say any more as a waiter stepped in, holding a menu in his hand. “We can also serve breakfast in the room. Just check the items that you'd like.”

Neither of them was in the mood to pick and choose breakfast items, but they did, like typical Shanghainese, pointing at one item after another, discussing them until the waiter withdrew.

“Old Hunter has Jin's e-mail address. Give me Sima's.”

“So you are—”

“Don't worry. I'm just an ordinary netizen. No one really pays attention to me. Oh, don't you also have Shen's?”

He hesitated, but he copied them onto a napkin.

“We often keep lists of customers' e-mails,” she said with a knowing smile. “It helps our business.”

This wasn't for her restaurant, he knew, shaking his head as the waiter came back with a tray.

“It's not too bad,” Chen said, after taking a bite of a fried dough stick. He helped himself to a spoonful of the soy soup strewn with green onion and pepper oil.

“But you can never tell if the dough stick here is fried in gutter oil or not,” she said. “At least you don't have to worry about that at my place.”

 

TWENTY

PEIQIN WOKE UP, CONSUMED
with worry again.

In the dim light peeping through the curtain, she gazed at Yu, who snored lightly at irregular intervals, his forehead knitted.

Last night, Yu hadn't come back until after eleven. It was too late for her to talk things over with him, and she wasn't sure it was something she should discuss with him or not.

She got up, put on her slippers, and walked out into the kitchen. She poured water into a pot of cold leftover rice and turned on the gas.

Waiting for the water to boil, she tried to sort out her tangled thoughts.

Both Yu and Old Hunter had been trying their best to help Chen, each in his own way.
But the water is too far away and the fire too close at hand
. That was another saying from Old Hunter, whose proverbial way was infectious.

She wasn't just worried about Chen, but about Yu too. The camaraderie between the two was no secret in the bureau. Sooner or later, Party Secretary Li would get rid of Yu too, in spite of his recent promotion to the squad head. Chen's crisis was escalating, and any move on Yu's part could lead to more trouble.

So what could she possibly do?

“What are you thinking, Peiqin?”

Yu walked over to the table in the kitchen area, yawning.

“Nothing,” she said, putting chopsticks on the table. “Breakfast is almost ready. It's just cold rice reboiled in water. Sorry about that, Yu. The pickles are in the refrigerator. You can take them out.”

“Why are you sorry? I love pickled cucumber and fermented tofu. It's perfect with reboiled rice,” he said. “What's your plan for the day?”

“I have to go to the restaurant. Yesterday, after visiting Chen's mother and delivering something to Old Hunter in Pudong, I didn't make it back to the restaurant until three o'clock.”

It was an evasive answer, leaving something important out. Luckily, Yu appeared to be absent. He didn't say much while washing down a second bowl of watery rice and then wiping his mouth with back of his hand. She refrained from discussing the vague ideas she had in mind for the day.

After Yu left home shortly after seven, Peiqin called in sick to the restaurant.

“But I'll come in if I feel better this afternoon.”

She made herself a pot of strong tea and sat down in front of the computer. But less than fifteen minutes later, she stood up again. The idea she'd tried to put off came back.

What Chen needed wasn't something she could find in an Internet search. The Internet might provide background information, but it failed to cut to the heart of the matter. He needed to know something more about those directly involved.

Had Chen anticipated the move she was likely to make? Had he mentioned Lianping in the karaoke room to suggest it? There was no point in speculating. He hadn't said anything explicit about it. Nor had she.

But the only way that Chen would be able to protect himself would be by turning the tables on the people going after him. And it was the only way to protect Yu, too.

Draining up the bitter tea, she made up her mind.

After checking the subway route to the
Wenhui
office online, she set out.

Near the exit to the lane, a black cat jumped out of nowhere, hissing, its tail trembling like a live whip. It might be an ominous sign. She spit on the ground three times in spite of herself.

*   *   *

An hour and a half later, Peiqin left the Wenhui Office Building and headed for the subway entrance near Shanxi Road. In her hand, she had the new address of Melong the hacker, though Lianping wasn't sure about his latest phone number.

She had but a fleeting impression of Lianping from years ago, thinking of her mainly as a potential girlfriend for the now former chief inspector. But as another proverb said, In this world, eight or nine times out of ten, things don't work out the way one wishes.