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Hulan sat in the anteroom of the vice minister’s office for a half-hour before being summoned inside. She stepped into the room and, not for the first time, marveled at its richness. The crimson carpet felt plush and thick under her feet. A Ming dynasty altar table served as a credenza. On it were gaily painted ceramic cups each with its own ceramic top to keep tea warm, an oversized flowered thermos, which Hulan assumed was filled with tea, and a tin of Danish sugar cookies. Several straight-backed chairs lined the walls. The windows were covered with red velvet drapes edged with thick gold trim.
At the center of the room was a desk. On her side, two overstuffed chairs, upholstered in a deep blue velvet, angled toward each other. On the backs and arms were tatted antimacassars. In one chair sat her immediate supervisor and the head of her work unit, Section Chief Zai. Behind the desk, Vice Minister Liu leveled his enigmatic gaze on his daughter.
“You may sit down,” he said.
Hulan did as she was told, then waited. She knew that silence was one of her father’s favorite ways of making people ill at ease. Although she had known both men her entire life and saw both weekly and sometimes daily, it had been many months since she was last in their company at the same time. Her father looked prosperous, as usual. His suit was natty—probably custom-made in Hong Kong. The appearance he presented gave no hint of the hardships of his life. His hair was still black, his face unlined, and his back rigid. He was lean, sinewy, and still strong. Like many in his generation, he wore severe black-framed glasses. Other than this last concession to his age, he looked to Hulan every inch the smooth politician as he feigned disinterest in their presence and impatiently tapped a stack of papers with the sharp tip of a pencil. Section Chief Zai—her father’s old friend—brooded in his chair. His suit bagged at all the wrong places, his cuffs were frayed, his hair was mostly gray. He looked more beaten down than usual, and Hulan wondered if his pallor was due to illness.
Finally Vice Minister Liu looked up. “I have been wondering about your progress with the case of the death of the son of the American ambassador. No one has been arrested.”
“This is correct, Vice Minister Liu,” Hulan said.
Section Chief Zai cleared his throat. “We understood that the ministry did not want our department to pursue this matter.”
The vice minister waved his hand, as if dispersing a bad smell. “I am waiting for Inspector Liu to explain herself.”
Zai sank deeper into his chair.
“What we know is this,” Hulan began, “Billy Watson was found in Bei Hai Lake. Pathologist Fong and I did not believe that it was an accident. I requested that he perform a full autopsy. The boy’s parents did not want us to go ahead with this.”
“And yet,” Vice Minister Liu observed, “I see from the file that you disregarded their wish in this instance.”
“Yes, I did,” Hulan admitted. “I took it upon myself to authorize the autopsy. I did not plan to attend, but after Pathologist Fong opened the body, he asked me to come to his laboratory. The boy showed no outward signs of physical deterioration. Pathologist Fong expected this, as the body had been frozen and therefore preserved. However, what he found inside the boy gave us considerable cause for concern. The postmortem showed damage to all of his major organs. They had begun to liquefy. Clusters of capillaries had burst in several of his organs. The worst damage was in his lungs, which showed hemorrhaging and a buildup of other fluids in addition to general deterioration. Pathologist Fong concluded that the immediate cause of death was that the boy had drowned in his own blood.”
“What would cause that?”
“We have no idea. Pathologist Fong found a strange residue on the lung and esophageal linings. As the vice minister knows, Pathologist Fong was unable to complete his investigation.”
“But what does he suspect?”
“He doesn’t like to speculate, but it must have been a very strong poison. There’s no doubt that the boy’s death was not an accident, but the American ambassador was not interested in these facts.” Hulan hesitated, then added, “But you know all of this, Vice Minister. You spoke with Ambassador Watson yourself. The order to release the body to the Americans came from you.”
Vice Minister Liu changed the subject. “A delicate situation has arisen. I’m sure that you have heard about the death of the son of Guang Mingyun. Officially, the boy’s body was found in U.S. territory, but those foreign devils, they believe that the boy died here, in China. None of this would be our concern, except that there are some similarities between the two deaths.”
Hulan sneaked a glance at Mr. Zai, who remained silent. Again Hulan spoke. “What similarities?”
“Apparently the foreign devils have also discovered—what did you call it?—a strange residue in the boy’s lungs.” Vice Minister Liu held up a hand to keep Hulan and Zai from interrupting him. “I won’t explain the rest now. What matters is that Guang Mingyun is as important a man to us as Ambassador Watson is to the Americans. Because of who these boys were, our two governments have agreed to ally themselves to each other so we might look for the person who committed these crimes. The ministry has decided that Inspector Liu—because of her experience with foreigners and her facility with their language—should work with them.”
Hulan and Zai took this news in stunned silence. Neither could remember a single instance when law enforcement agencies from the two countries had worked together successfully. The only previous joint effort—the infamous “Goldfish” case—had ended in disaster. The Chinese had arrested, convicted, and sentenced a man, Ding Yao, for his involvement in the drug trade. The DEA had asked that he be sent to the United States to testify against the people implicated on that side of the Pacific. The Americans promised that nothing could go wrong. But as soon as Ding Yao took the stand, he asked for political asylum. The American judge ignored the facts and took the view that China was inhumane. Not only was the case against the American smugglers thrown out of court, but Ding Yao was now living in Las Vegas. In the end, the Goldfish case had proven two things. One, it was politically dangerous to become involved with Americans. (The Chinese agents who had worked on the case had lost face and their positions.) And two, Americans did not operate fairly or honestly. Now Vice Minister Liu was assigning his daughter to work with them.
As if reading Hulan’s thoughts, Liu said, “This is not my decision. It comes from much higher up. It is not my job to argue with my superiors. Besides, you have the most experience with foreigners. You lived in the United States. You speak their language. You are familiar with their decadent ways.”
Once again, Liu looked down at his notes. “So,” he said after a few tense moments, “the best news I can give you is that this time the United States is sending a representative here. Let me see…I have his name here somewhere. Donald, Daniel, Darren?” The American names rolled smoothly off his tongue. “No. His name is David Stark, an assistant U.S. attorney.”
Vice Minister Liu looked up and smiled expectantly at Hulan. Next to her, Zai shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Hulan said nothing.
“We must give this American a helping hand,” Vice Minister Liu continued, still smiling. “In doing this, we will also be helping our countryman Guang Mingyun. But
I must stress to you both how important it is that the foreigner not see anything unpleasant.”
“That’s rather difficult in a murder investigation, wouldn’t you say?”
The man opposite her laughed heartily. “Inspector Liu, do I need to remind you that China has customs and rituals for dealing with guests? Use your shigu—your worldly wisdom. Remember that all foreigners—whether strangers to a family or foreign devils like these visitors—are potentially dangerous. Don’t be tempted to say what you think. Don’t show anger or irritation. Be humble and careful and gracious.” Vice Minister Liu stood and walked around the desk. He put his hand awkwardly on Hulan’s shoulder. “Draw them in. Let them think they have a connection to you, that they owe you, that they should never cause you any embarrassment. This is how we have treated outsiders for centuries. This is how you will treat this foreigner as long as he is our guest.”
Hulan left the office deep in thought. She jumped when she felt a hand on her arm, then looked up to see Zai. He motioned for her to follow him. He didn’t stop until they had reached the back stairs. He looked around to see if anyone was nearby.
“Your father has always been clever at getting facts,” he said.
Hulan laughed. “I was thinking just the opposite.”
