“So that’s a rain check,” she said, smiling and sliding back into her car.
He stood watching as her car disappeared into the distance. It was a wasted evening in terms of the investigation, but as he hastened to reassure himself, not entirely so. There was his visit to the Internet café prior to the concert, the mail from Peiqin with the pictures, and then the latest information about Melong. Perhaps some dots were beginning to form into possible lines, though nothing was yet clear…
Alone, in the stillness of the night, he might be able to figure something out.
Lianping reminded him, he realized, of a character from a French book he read long ago-
Rameau’s Nephew
.
And again, he was getting confused.
SIXTEEN
Melong was sitting alone in his home office, brewing his third cup of Pu’er tea that morning, and restlessly alternating between putting his feet on the desk and then putting them back down on the floor.
He felt like a trapped animal.
The Confucian maxim that one should “pay respects to ghosts and spirits, yet keep yourself at a distance from them” had been working out so far-at least in his dealings with the cops, the netcops, and with Internal Security and the city government as well. But this time, “paying his respects” didn’t appear to be enough. The human-flesh search initiated by the photo of the pack of 95 Supreme Majesty appearing on his Web forum had resulted in an avalanche of questions from the authorities. The initial reaction to the picture wasn’t totally unexpected, but the subsequent developments astonished him. Still, Melong didn’t think he could be blamed for the results.
What he did wasn’t that different from what others in his position had done, and controversy adds to the traffic of a Web forum. What he hadn’t told the netcops was the sense of satisfaction he felt over the downfall of another corrupt official, and in seeing the embarrassment of the “ever-correct-and-glorious” Party authorities.
Still, what he
did
tell them was true. He had no idea who’d sent the original picture. Using all his expertise, he’d traced the IP address of the sender to a particular computer, but it turned out to be at an Internet café. The netcops must have made the same effort and come up with the same results. So that was the end of it. Or it should have been.
But it wasn’t. The netcops concocted a conspiracy theory that somehow Melong had gained access to Zhou’s computer, got hold of that picture, posted it online, and then invented the story of an anonymous user having sent the picture from an Internet café. They based their scenario on his hacker credentials. After all, they claimed, an ordinary person wouldn’t have been able to read the cigarette brand from a newspaper photo.
They were bent on punishing him, not because they really believed their theory or because they were worried about his occasional computer hacking, but because the Web forum was becoming a chronic headache for the Party authorities. This was an opportunity to shut it down for a seemingly legitimate reason.
For the moment, the netcops might still be looking for evidence, but with or without it, they were going to “harmonize” the Web forum out of business. It was just a matter of time.
A loud coughing from the room in the back reminded him that the Web forum wasn’t the only thing worrying him. He’d never felt so helpless.
He was preparing another cup of strong tea-black enough to dye his gray hair-when the silver-gray cell phone started to ring. Strange. It was a “private phone,” for which he’d just bought a prepaid SIM card only a couple of days ago. Only a few knew the number, which he would change again in a month. He picked up the call.
“Hi, I’d like to speak to Melong.”
“Speaking. Who is this?”
“Chen Dao.”
It was an unfamiliar voice, and an unknown name.
“Chen Dao,” Melong repeated the name, still unable to recall anything about it from his memory.
“Your friend Lianping recommended you to me.”
“Lianping?” He knew her, but it wasn’t like her to recommend him to someone, and he didn’t remember having given her the new phone number. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to talk with you. How about over a cup of good tea at Tang Flavor on Hengsan Road?”
He had heard that Tang Flavor served excellent tea. It also wasn’t a good idea to meet with a stranger at his home office, which might well be bugged, or over a phone that might be tapped.
“Okay, I’ll meet you there. How about half an hour, depending on the traffic.”
* * *
Half an hour later, Melong arrived at Tang Flavor. Located close to a subway, the teahouse enjoyed a loyal customer base and was particularly popular for the Chinese snacks that were served for free with the tea.
Melong’s private phone rang again. This time it was a text message.
“Welcome. I’m on the third floor. A6.”
He went over to the stairs, where a waitress in a scarlet Tang dress led him to a private room. She held the door for him with an engaging smile.
Upon his entrance, a middle-aged stranger stood up and reached out his hand. He was wearing a white shirt, and there was a dark blue blazer draped over the back of a mahogany chair.
“So you’re Chen Dao?”
“Chen Cao,” he corrected, “of the Shanghai Police Bureau.”
Now the name rang a bell. Melong must have heard it wrong over the phone.
“I was afraid to say more on the phone,” Chen said with a wry smile, “since some people might not want to show up after learning I’m a cop. Thank you for coming over at such short notice.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, Chief Inspector Chen. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Melong said, then added, “You’re investigating the Zhou case, correct?”
“I’ve heard about you too,” Chen said, without responding to his question. “Lianping suggested that I consult with you. She tells me that you’re a computer genius.”
He was a regular cop, not a netcop involved with overseeing the Internet, so what could Chen possibly want to consult him about? As is stated in the old proverb, people don’t come to a temple without having something specific to pray for.
“So do you know Lianping well?” Melong asked. “She’s an excellent journalist, but I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“We had lunch yesterday.”
“That’s great,” Melong said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Smoke?”
“Take one of mine.” Chen produced a pack of Panda. “But first, a disclaimer. An old friend gave them to me. It’s not something I could afford myself.”
“Don’t worry about it, Chief Inspector Chen. Let me be frank with you. You’re not the first cop who has come to me, but you’re the first real one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, all the people who’ve come to me before are ‘netcops’-wang guan. They started showing up long before the scandal of Zhou and the pack of 95 Supreme Majesty. They have been no strangers to me from the day I launched my Web forum.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of these so-called netcops. Let me reassure you that I’m not one of them.”
The waitress came into the room carrying a thick tea menu and a long-billed bronze kettle.
Chen ordered ginseng oolong, and Melong chose Pu’er, the Yunnan tea.
“Enjoy your tea,” the waitress said, bringing out the tea leaves from drawers in the table, putting each into a teapot, then pouring hot water from the kettle into their respective pots. “Snacks, which are on the house, are also listed on the menu.”
“We’ll have tea first,” Chen said. “When we are ready for anything else, we’ll let you know.”
When they were again alone in the room, Chen resumed. “You were talking about your Web forum, Melong.”
“Yes, for a Web forum like ours to survive, two things are necessary,” Melong said. He was guessing that was the purpose of this meeting with Chen. Chen was supposed to be almost at the top of the city police bureau, so he had to concern himself with the Zhou case and its cyber background. Disgruntled as Melong was with the netcops, there was no point in making another formidable enemy of a regular cop who was inquiring into the Internet scene. “Those two necessary things are the permission of the government and the popularity of the content. There’s no need to say much about the first part. For that, social harmony is the bottom line. On the other hand, if only a few people visit the forum, it won’t last. The number of hits determines the amount of ad revenue. Enough ad revenue is required for a forum to meet its bills.”
“I understand. Now, let’s be a bit more specific, Melong. Why such a big fuss about that picture of 95 Supreme Majesty? Why start one of those searches over that?”
“Let me first say that a human-flesh search isn’t necessarily started by a Web forum. Any photo or article can be posted online, but if no one pays attention, nothing will happen.”
“That’s true.”
“So when I posted the photo, I didn’t know what kind of response it would get.”
Which was exactly what he’d told the netcops. There was no point in talking about his efforts to urge the forum users to respond and react, which then turned into the frenzied crowd-sourced search for incriminating information on Zhou. There was no visible change in Chen’s facial expression, Melong observed. Allegedly, Chen was one of the few cops who still adhered to some principles. That had to be true, or Lianping wouldn’t have given Chen his number.
“Is this kind of human-flesh search ideal?” Melong started up again. “Surely not-at least, not for an ideal society. But in a society like ours, what else can people possibly do? There isn’t a real independent legal system, despite all the talk-”
Melong cut himself short. The police officer sitting opposite him, however unorthodox, was still a representative of the system.
“Nor are there any independent newspapers,” Chen responded, nodding. “So the Internet has emerged as a necessary alternative, and an outlet for the people.”
“You’ve got it, Chief Inspector Chen. One of the netcops said something similar to me, except that he emphasized that the Internet is a controlled outlet, and that netcops function as the necessary control. No one should think that they’re anonymous or invisible in cyberspace and that they can say whatever they want without worrying about the consequences. That’s absolutely not true. Thanks to technology, not only are sensitive words detected and deleted-‘harmonized,’ all for the sake of a harmonious society-the Web site itself can be blocked and banned, and the government can also trace the comments all the way back to the user.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Chen said slowly, sipping at his tea. “About these Internet human-flesh searches, I hear some claim that these people are simply trying to do the job of journalists. But could you imagine something like that being published in
Wenhui Daily
? Others claim that these netizens are just unruly mobs, lacking moral and social responsibility. But who has the power to define social responsibility? Whatever else may be said, these Internet feeding frenzies are an undeniable indication that people don’t have any other way to seek justice or voice their opinion.”
Melong was confounded by the thrust of Chen’s statement. He decided not to say anything, at least no more than was absolutely necessary, in case Chen was setting up a trap.
“There are so many people now joining forces, or taking part in one search or another, that it reminds me of an old Chinese saying-the law cannot punish when too many people are involved.” After a pause, Chen went on, “But can you tell me more-any details at all-about how you got the photo you posted online?”
Here it came. Melong wasn’t unprepared.
“I’ve already told the netcops everything. But for you, I’ll go over this one more time. I got an e-mail with that photo attached. The e-mail message was simple. ‘This picture appeared in
Liberation, Wenhui
, and other official newspapers last Friday. Look at the pack of cigarettes in front of Zhou, the director of the Shanghai Housing Development Committee. What’s the brand? 95 Supreme Majesty. Do you believe an incorruptible Party cadre working wholeheartedly in the interests of the people could afford it?’
“Officials smoking the top, most expensive brands is nothing new. But out of curiosity, I looked at that day’s newspaper, which threw new light on the picture. As a rule, we don’t post anything without knowing the identity of the contributor. This time, however, it was a picture that had already been published in the official media, so we didn’t have to worry about its authenticity. I simply posted the photo online and put the e-mail message underneath it. What happened then, you must already know.”
“The netcops came to you after that, right?”
“It wasn’t just the ordinary netcops. Before they showed up, some people from the city government hurried over, a group headed by somebody named Jiang. Then Internal Security showed up too. At their insistence, I dug out the original e-mail. They looked into it, and according to the IP address, it was sent from an Internet café not too far from here. That’s it.” Melong paused and took a big sip of tea before he continued on. “They want me to help them ferret out the anonymous sender, but what’s the use of dragging me in? They have far more resources at their disposal than I do.”
Melong chose not to go into what netcops might do to him. There was no point. The chief inspector couldn’t side with him.
“Yes, that is really up to them to do. They’re the netcops, after all.”
The sarcasm in Chen’s statement was unmistakable. It was difficult, however, for Melong to play along in the dark. He thought he’d better wait until the cop showed all his cards.
“You think so too?” Melong asked.
“It’s not easy to run a Web forum like yours. You’re doing something meaningful, an alternate way for people to find out what’s happening in our society, our socialist society with Chinese characteristics. On your Web forum, they’re allowed to speak their mind despite the difficult circumstances and stringent regulations.”
“Thank you, Chief Inspector Chen. Things must not be easy for you, either, what with all those complicated responsibilities on your shoulders.”
“You’re right.” Chen lit a cigarette for him, and then one for himself. They spent the next minute wrapped up in the silent, spiraling smoke. “The case I’m working on is another difficult one. For me, the one and only focus is determining the cause of Zhou’s death. But before we could get anywhere near to a conclusion, my colleague Detective Wei died in a suspicious accident. I hold myself more or less responsible for the accident that killed him. He might have discovered a clue while investigating, but I was too busy to discuss the case with him that morning, and I failed to warn him of the risk involved in taking the case in that direction.”