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“He’s the one too old to marry!”
“No, no, he is a good son.”
“What does he do?”
“See? You are thinking like a bride.” Zhang slapped her hands on her knees. “That’s good.”
“Not like a bride,” Hulan corrected, “like a fat pig before Spring Festival.”
Zhang Junying croaked a phlegmy laugh. “You are a funny girl. You should be married. Make your husband laugh. Better yet, you make your mother-in-law laugh.”
As the two women bantered, Liu Hulan mentally ticked off a list: Am I dressed right? Should I carry my gun or keep it in my desk? Does my hair still shine? Can I keep my voice steady? Over the years, Liu Hulan had perfected the art of keeping her emotions in check, of hiding her thoughts, of presenting a placid facade to the world. It was how she survived.
After an early lunch, David was picked up by Peter and whisked away in the Saab. “Your appointment is at one,” Peter announced as he honked at a caravan of camels loaded with goods as they loped through the traffic. After a few turns, the boulevard widened and Peter’s pace quickened. Suddenly everything opened up and David saw the vast emptiness of Tiananmen Square on the left and the deep-red fortress of the Forbidden City on the right. On the square, a group of Western tourists stood in a dejected cluster with their cameras and tote bags, men in dull green army uniforms carried machine guns, and a few old women swept the expanse with homemade bamboo brooms.
Peter turned right, down an alley that ran alongside the Forbidden City, then made three consecutive lefts, so that they circled the old imperial palace. Stark dismissed this as a quick tour until Peter went around the block again. Noticing his look in the rearview mirror, Peter gave David his first inkling of how Chinese officials would deal with him on this trip. “You’re not expected for another ten minutes,” Peter explained. Everything David did would be controlled to the minute.
Peter escorted David through the Ministry of Public Security’s damp halls and into Vice Minister Liu’s office promptly at one. Amid handshakes and hearty welcomes, David quickly took in his surroundings—the plushness of the office, the obsequiousness of the vice minister, and the cautious manner of Section Chief Zai.
“We are honored to meet you,” Liu said with a slight bow after introductions were made, “and honored that the United States has sent to us one of its finest lawyers to help in solving this horrible crime against one of our most respected citizens.”
“It is an honor for me as well,” David responded with a similar tip of his head.
“Surely we are two great nations united in the pursuit of a common goal.”
As they stood exchanging stilted pleasantries, David felt like a gangly teenage boy—not knowing the right words and feeling very uncomfortable in his suddenly very large body.
But from her vantage point in the doorway, Hulan saw a very different figure. David Stark stood with his side to her so he couldn’t see her as she observed him. How little he had changed in twelve years. He still had what she’d always thought of as a runner’s body, lean and long. Only his brown hair seemed to have changed—now showing a little gray at the temples. He was tall compared to her father and mentor but of average American height. Like the two older men, he wore a Western-style suit, but how dissimilar he looked from them.
David had the comfortable physical looseness that came with political freedom and regular exercise. Under his strained, formulaic words, the warmth of his voice cut across the time of their separation. She took a final moment to calm her breathing, smooth her hands along the slim lines of her skirt, and compose a look of serenity on her face.
As she stepped forward, her father and Zai regarded her with enough interest that David turned in her direction. When Zai introduced her as the inspector in charge of the Chinese investigation, David’s face paled, then flushed.
“Hulan,” he breathed.
“David Stark,” she said, taking his hand firmly. “It’s been many years. How wonderful to see you again.” She hoped her businesslike demeanor would give him the time he needed to realize that he shouldn’t act on impulse. (She didn’t know what that would be exactly. Would he take her in his arms? Would he be as stiff as she? Or would he walk out and disappear from her life as she had from his?)
“This is a surprise,” he said.
“Yes, how fortuitous,” Vice Minister Liu said. “We are old friends here, are we not?”
Without taking his eyes off Hulan, David spoke with chilly formality. “Old friends, new friends. It makes no difference. As you said, Vice Minister, we are here to work together as two nations united by a common goal. I’m sure we’d all like to see the Rising Phoenix come to justice. Perhaps you can tell me about your progress.”
An awkward silence followed. David had unknowingly made his first mistake, Hulan thought. He had openly spoken about a touchy subject, which, in turn, elicited an immediate loss of face for her two superiors.
“Unfortunatel
y, we have been unlucky in prosecuting the Rising Phoenix,” Section Chief Zai said finally.
“But we hope that through this new affiliation we will reach a satisfactory conclusion,” Vice Minister Liu added smoothly. “Please be assured that we at the Ministry of Public Security will be watching the two of you in your pursuit. If there’s anything you need from us, please inform Section Chief Zai and he will provide it.” When no one spoke, he unceremoniously closed the meeting. “There’s nothing more to say at this time. Inspector Liu, I suggest that the two of you begin.”
Hulan was conscious of David’s nearness as they walked down the deserted hallway. She began muttering more to herself than to him. “No courtesy. No manners. They didn’t give you tea. They didn’t suggest a meal. They didn’t even offer you a seat.”
David’s mind was far away from the slights that she’d perceived. “Hulan, I can’t believe it’s you.” He spoke softly. She never hesitated in her step, never turned to look at him, but kept her eyes focused on the worn linoleum before her. She surreptitiously shook her head. David followed her down one flight and then halfway down a second. Convinced that they were really alone, Hulan stopped and turned to face him. She pulled gently on his upper arm, bringing his face close enough that she could feel his breath.
“This isn’t a safe place for us to talk.” The syllables came out low and raspy. “I know it’s hard, but we have to be careful, okay?”
She let go of his arm, turned, and continued on to her office. She put on her coat and suggested he do the same. Then she sat down, motioned for him to take the chair opposite her desk, pulled out a file, and opened it. “We should get to work,” she said, then slowly moved her gaze from the manila folder, across the desk, and up into the depth of his eyes.
