Death of a Red Heroine [Chief Inspector Chen Cao 01] (63 page)

 

The only problem was that Wu was married, and that Wu did not want to divorce his wife to marry her.

 

She must have been stung by Wu’s decision, the pain in proportion to her passion. She had given everything to him, at least that was what she must have felt. When everything else failed she resorted to blackmail, turning his own weapon against him. In a crisis, some people will fight back by any means, fair or foul. Chief Inspector Chen could well understand that.

 

Or was it possible, he wondered, that Guan finally awoke to a passion she had never known before? And surrendered to it because she had never learned how to cope with it. Having been used to wearing a mask, she had come to take the mask as her true identity. She knew how politically incorrect it was to become enamored of a married man, but that was what she had become, a helpless woman groaning behind the mask, her hands and feet bound. Had she felt for the first time an overwhelming passion that gave her life a new meaning, which she had to keep at any cost?

 

Chief Inspector Chen was more inclined to the second scenario: Guan Hongying, the national model worker, had been carried away by passion.

 

What the truth was he might never discover.

 

* * * *

 

Chapter 37

 

 

C

hief Inspector Chen did not expect much from meeting with Party Secretary Li the next morning, but he could not afford to wait any longer.

 

There was hardly any hope of pushing the investigation forward—with or without the new evidence, for in the light of the Party’s interests, even those pictures could be brushed aside as irrelevant. If it meant that his time in the force was coming to an end, he was prepared for it. He would have no regrets, and no bitterness. As a cop, he had served to the best of his ability, and as a Party member, too. When he became incapable of serving, he would leave. Or he would be asked to leave.

 

Perhaps it was time to turn over a new leaf. Overseas Chinese Lu had been doing well with Moscow Suburb. According to an ancient proverb, “You have to look at a man anew after three days.” In a couple of months, Lu had metamorphosed into the prototypical “Overseas Chinese,” confident, expansive, and ambitious, sporting a diamond ring on his finger. Now the position of manager of an international restaurant was waiting for Chen. “It’s not just for you, old buddy, but for me, too. It’s so difficult to find a capable, trustworthy partner.”

 

Chief Inspector Chen had said he would think about it.

 

Alternatively, he could start a small business of his own. A translation or language tutoring agency. So many joint ventures had appeared in Shanghai. This could be his niche, an economics term he had learned in his college days.

 

But first, he had to have a talk with Party Secretary Li.

 

Li received him cordially, rising from his seat. “Come on in, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.”

 

“It’s about a week since I got back from my assignment, Comrade Party Secretary,” Chen said. “I need to talk to you about my work.”

 

“Well, there is something I want to talk to you about, too.”

 

“It’s about Guan’s case, I hope.”

 

“You’re still working on that case?”

 

“I’m still the head of the special case group, and I don’t see anything wrong with doing my job. Not until my suspension is officially announced.”

 

“You don’t have to talk to me like this, Comrade Chief Inspector.”

 

“I don’t mean any disrespect to you, Comrade Party Secretary Li.”

 

“Well, go ahead, tell me about your investigation.”

 

“Last time we talked, you made a point about Wu’s motive. A good point. It was missing, but we have found it now.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Chen produced several pictures from an envelope.

 

“Pictures of Guan and Wu taken together—in bed. As well as of Wu with other women. They were concealed behind Comrade Deng Xiaoping’s portrait in Guan’s room.”

 

“Damn!” The Party Secretary heaved a distressed sigh, but said nothing further in the face of such depravity.

 

“Guan got hold of the pictures—in one way or another. Then she must have used them to blackmail Wu into divorcing his wife. The timing could not be worse for Wu. He’s at the top of the list for the position of acting Shanghai Culture Minister. At such a critical juncture, he could not allow any interference with his opportunity.”

 

“I see your point,” Li said.

 

“The committee member responsible for the promotion happens to be a comrade-in-arms of his late father-in-law’s, and his mother-in-law remains active in the Central Party Discipline Committee. So he had no choice, he could not afford a divorce.”

 

“Yes, your analysis makes sense to me, I have to admit,” Li said, putting the pictures back into the envelope. “Still, Wu Xiaoming has a solid alibi, hasn’t he?”

 

“Wu’s alibi was provided by his pal Guo Qiang, to help him out.”

 

“That is possible, but an alibi is an alibi. What can you do?”

 

“Bring Guo in,” Chen said. “We’ll make him tell the truth. At this stage, a search warrant is justified, and we may find more evidence at Wu’s home.”

 

“Under normal circumstances, yes, these are possible options. But in the present political climate, it’s out of the question.”

 

“So there’s nothing we can do?”

 

“You’ve done a lot. It’s just that the situation is so complicated at the moment,” Li said. “Of course, that does not mean we cannot do anything. We have to proceed carefully. I will discuss it with some people.”

 

“Yes, we are always
discussing,”
Chen said, “but Wu’s applying for a visa to the United States at the very moment.”

 

“Is that true?”

 

“Yes,” Chen said. “Wu will get away while we are still discussing and discussing.”

 

“No he won’t if he is guilty, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen,” Li said slowly. “But there’s something else I want to talk to you about first. It’s about your new assignment.”

 

“Another assignment?”

 

“There was an emergency meeting yesterday at the city government hall. About the traffic problem in Shanghai. Traffic, as Comrade Deng Xiaoping has pointed out, is one of the everyday concerns for our people. Now that more people have cars, with new construction going on everywhere and roads being blocked, the traffic situation is becoming a serious problem. Comrade Jia Wei, Director of the Shanghai Metropolitan Traffic Control Office, has been sick for a long time. We have to have someone young and energetic to fill such a position. So I recommended you.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Yes, all the people agreed with me. You’ve been appointed temporary acting director of Shanghai Metropolitan Traffic Control. It’s an important position. You will have several hundred people under your command.”

 

Chen was confounded. It was a promotion, to all appearances. And to a position far beyond a chief inspector’s level. Normally, a cadre of tenth rank would be chosen for such a post. According to an old Chinese saying, his promotion to the position was like a carp jumping over a dragon gate. And it would also be highly lucrative. The latest fashion was for people to drive their own cars, to show their wealth, success, and social status. With more vehicles adding to traffic congestion, the city government had set up strict regulations about issuing vehicle licenses. As a result, license applicants had to pay a considerable “back door” amount in addition to the regular fee. Since most of the private car owners were upstarts, they were willing to pay to get their hands on the wheel. Bribery to traffic control officers had become an open secret.

 

“I’m so overwhelmed,” Chen said, trying to gain time by resorting to political clichés. “I’m too young for such a position of heavy responsibility. And I have no experience—none whatever in the field.”

 

“In the nineties, we are getting experience every day. Besides, why shouldn’t we use our young cadres?”

 

“But I am still working on the Guan case—I am still the head of the special case group—aren’t I ?”

 

“Let me repeat it one more time: No one says that you have been suspended from your job here. The case is not closed—I give you my word as an old Bolshevik with thirty years in the Party. This is an emergency posting, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.”

 

Could it be a trap? It would be much easier to connect him with malfeasance in the new position. Or could it be a demotion in the disguise of promotion? Such a tactic was well known in China’s politics. The new job was a temporary one, and after a while he could be justifiably relieved of it, and then of his chief inspectorship at the same time.

 

Anything was possible.

 

Outside the window, traffic was heavy along the Fuzhou Road, where a white car came rushing through the intersection recklessly.

 

A decision flashed through his mind. “You are right, Comrade Party Secretary,” Chen said. “As long as it is the Party’s decision, I accept it.”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Li said, apparently pleased. “You are going to do a great job there.”

 

“I will do my best, but I want to ask for something—a free hand. No Commissar Zhang or anybody like him. I need the authorization to do whatever I think necessary. Of course, I’ll report to you, Comrade Party Secretary Li.”

 

“You’re fully authorized, Comrade Director Chen,” Li said. “You don’t have to go out of your way to report to me.”

 

“When shall I start?”

 

“Immediately,” Li said. “As a matter of fact, the people there are waiting for you.”

 

“Immediately, then.”

 

As he stood up, ready to walk out of the office, Party Secretary Li added casually, “By the way, you got a phone call from Beijing yesterday. It was a young woman, judging by her voice.”

 

“She dialed your number?”

 

“No, she somehow had access to our bureau’s direct line, so it came to my attention. It was during the lunch break. We could not find you, and then I had to attend the meeting at the city hall. Well, her message is ‘Don’t worry. Things are going to change. I’ll contact you again. Ling.’ Her phone number is 987-5324. If you want to call back, you can use our direct line.”

 

“No, thanks,” he said. “I think I know what this is about.”

 

Chen knew the number, but he did not want to call back. Not in the company of Party Secretary Li. The Party Secretary was always politically sensitive. Ling’s access to the bureau’s direct line would have spoken for itself. And the phone number in Beijing, too.

 

She had made another effort to help—in her way.

 

So how could he be upset with her?

 

Whatever she did was done for his sake—and at cost to herself.

 

“So don’t worry,” Party Secretary Li said as Chief Inspector Chen left his office.

 

Chief Inspector Chen did not even have time to worry.

 

Downstairs, he saw a black Volkswagen waiting for him at the driveway. The driver, Little Zhou, was all smiles. Party Secretary Li was not just being dramatic about the urgency of the assignment.

 

“Good news!”

 

“I don’t know,” Chen said.

 

“Well, I know. We’re off to your new office,” Little Zhou said. “Party Secretary Li has just told me.”

 

The traffic was terrible. Chen thought about it, and about his new position, as the car crawled along Yen’an Road. It took them almost an hour to reach the Square Mansion, located at the People’s Square.

 

“What a location! And you’ll have a car exclusively for yourself, and a driver, too,” Little Zhou said, reaching out of the window before he drove away. “Don’t forget us.”

Other books

Emma's Treasures by Rebecca Joyce
This Charming Man by Keyes, Marian
Her Reaper's Arms by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Shotgun Sorceress by Lucy A. Snyder
Rock Hard Love by D. H. Cameron
Waiting for Something by Whitney Tyrrell