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“I have come about one of your employees, a Ling Miaoshan.”
“I don’t know anything about that, so I doubt there’s much I can help you with.”
“Still…Perhaps there’s a place we can talk.”
“Of course. What was I thinking? Please come inside.” As he mounted the steps, he glanced back at the car. “Can I get your driver anything?”
“No, he’s fine.”
With the air conditioning, the lobby was at least five degrees centigrade cooler than outside. Under her lightweight jacket goose bumps popped up along Hulan’s arms. Air conditioning was an extravagance in China, used almost exclusively in Western hotels and businesses. As they walked down a long corridor, Sandy kept up a one-sided dialogue.
“Henry Knight, our founder, came to China for the first time during World War II. He didn’t return until the winter of 1990, just after the troubles at Tiananmen Square. That was a time when most American businesses were leaving.”
“I remember,” Hulan remarked, thinking it odd that Sandy felt compelled to bring up a subject that was still touchy, especially with government officials.
“But China has long held a fascination for Mr. Knight,” Sandy continued as they passed a large room broken into individual work stations, where a flock of nicely dressed Chinese women sat before computer screens. Between the aisles that separated the cubicles walked a handful of supervisors—also women, all Chinese. From this central room Hulan could see four hallways leading outward at the four points of the compass. Sandy turned down the corridor that led to the left. “So at a time when others were unsure, when even our own government was suggesting that America should beware of China, Mr. Knight took a chance.”
Hulan bet he’d also hoped for an extraordinary deal.
“But as you know, things move slowly here, and we didn’t get this place up and running until two years ago.” Sandy stopped before a display of animation cels, products, and a company history. “This is our brag wall,” he explained, then began pointing out the various highlights in Knight’s corporate history.
After years in the lucrative preschool market, Knight had struck gold in the post-war years with the Sally Doll—one of the first baby dolls on the market to drink from a bottle and pee in its diaper. The company had experienced another growth surge during the mid-eighties, when deregulation under Reagan led to relaxed limitations on advertising during children’s programming. But none of the products introduced at that time had experienced the phenomenal success of the Sam line. The action figures had been designed as a team of ten. Sam was the leader, but he was never seen without Cactus at his side. After Cactus there were—in order of military rank—Magnificent, Glory, Gaseous, Uta, Annabel, Notorious, Nick, and Rachel. Ironically, although children were supposed to want all the figures equally or at least in order of rank, the ones with the most common names lagged behind in popularity and sales.
Sandy’s patter came to a close, and he continued down the hall. Following behind him, Hulan realized that the names of the Sam figures were the same as those on the financial papers at Suchee’s. Again Hulan wondered how those documents had gotten into Miaoshan’s hands.
Sandy stopped, pushed open a door, and gestured inside. “Here, this is my office.”
A huge black lacquer desk dominated the sleekly modern room. In front of the desk the room was divided into two sections: to the left, a mini conference area made up of a round table and four chairs; to the right, two couches with a coffee table between them. Sandy took a seat on one of the couches and motioned for Hulan to sit across from him.
This entire experience puzzled Hulan, and she tried to reconcile what she knew about Americans and American business with what she understood as a Chinese woman. In China great value was placed on titles. Sandy Newheart had said he was the project director, and certainly the size and opulence of this office suggested that he was the top person here. But in China it was practically unheard of for someone of importance to meet directly with an unknown quantity, let alone go outdoors to meet that guest. Was he being polite or trying to control the situation?
“Are you the person I should talk to about Miss Ling?” Hulan asked.
“I can take you over to meet Aaron Rodgers. He’s the manager of what we call assembly. I believe that’s where Miss Ling worked.”
“I thought you said you didn’t know her.”
“I didn’t. I just know she didn’t work in the heart.”
“The heart?”
“That’s the area we just passed through,” Sandy explained. “That’s the heart of what we do. Those girls handle all orders from the U.S. They track shipments and money transactions. I doubt that poor girl was ever in this building. But tell me—and please forgive my ignorance—why are you here? Her death has nothing to do with us.”
Only tell one-third of the truth, Hulan thought for the second time since coming to the countryside. “I’m an investigator for Public Security. It’s my duty to investigate suspicious deaths in this province. Ling Miaoshan committed suicide.”
“You’re with the police?” Sandy asked, finally grasping what this was all about.
Hulan tipped her head in acknowledgment.
“But a suicide—” he tried again.
Hulan held up a hand to keep the project director from repeating himself. “You’re absolutely right, but as you’ve noted, we have our own ways in China. I’m here to understand this girl. It will help me if I can see where she worked and how she spent her last days.”
Sandy’s eyes narrowed. His fingers drummed on the armrest. Finally he asked, “Have you met with Governor Sun?”
“No, I haven’t,” she responded, startled by the question.
“Governor Sun Gan represents the province,” he explained. “He also serves as the provincial liaison between American companies and the Chinese bureaucracy, I mean, government. I’m surprised you don’t know him.”
