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“Vice Minister Zai assures me that you and your wife have worked well together in the past on matters sensitive to the state,” Ho stated evenly.
David hadn’t expected Zai’s name to come up either. It seemed that Ho had gone to considerable lengths to check out David’s credentials.
Then Ho dropped his final bombshell. “Your wife has been assigned to investigate Brian McCarthy’s death. So, in addition to looking into the thefts, I’d like you to represent the bureau’s interests if it’s discovered that his or any of the workers’ deaths are connected to Site 518.”
Ho pushed his chair back and stood. “We have an appointment at the Ministry of Public Security at three o’clock. You can inform me of your decision to take the case after you’ve heard what the
vice minister has to say.”
When David and Director Ho were ushered into Vice Minister Zai’s office, Hulan was already there. David remembered back with incredible clarity to the day five years ago when he had first entered this room. He recalled the total shock he experienced at seeing Hulan, the woman who had disappeared from his life seven years previously. From that moment of supreme confusion, they had reconnected and fallen in love again.
Now he felt conflicted. It seemed they were being brought together for an investigation, but this whole setup was suspicious. Why throw them together again after so many years? What was it about this case that required the two of them? Just what was Ho after? Not to mention Zai. Hulan wouldn’t like being pulled away from her All-Patriotic Society campaign, David knew that much. Their eyes met briefly, and he read profound wariness in hers. It put him at ease to know that she picked up on his caution too. David had heard enough Chinese bureaucrats obfuscate or lie or try to paint something in rosy hues when the colors of the situation were as dark as mud that he never believed every word that was spoken. Only speak one-third of the truth. Hulan had taught him that.
True to personal form and social custom, Zai had retreated beneath a veneer of bureaucratic authority, which was exactly what David expected. Familiarity didn’t mean that this meeting would be anything less than formal. In the center of the room, four overstuffed chairs had been placed facing each other with a little table between them. Tea was poured. Watermelon seeds were set out in a dish. Cigarettes were offered. Compliments were exchanged. David watched Hulan through all of this. Whatever emotions she’d felt this morning were now deeply hidden, but he wondered if she too was thinking of that day five years ago when he’d walked into this office. What did she see when she looked at him now?
Zai smoothly led them into the purpose for the meeting. “Attorney Stark, Inspector Liu,” he began, falling back on formal titles befitting the situation, “we have brought the two of you together in hopes that you can once again help China by using your special skills. In the past, Inspector Liu has not let political correctness influence her reasoning, while Attorney Stark has always understood the importance of keeping secrets. Inspector Liu carries with her a badge of government authority, while you, Attorney Stark, can sometimes get people to answer your questions for the very reason that you do not carry a badge. You have not crossed any politically difficult lines in the past. As a result, no one has lost face.”
“Keeping things to ourselves is what American lawyers are trained to do,” David said.
“Which may be particularly important in this situation.” Zai shifted his attention to Ho. “Director, have you told Attorney Stark about McCarthy’s death?”
When the director nodded, Zai said, “Good. Now I hope you will explain to Inspector Liu a little bit about your other problems.”
After Ho repeated much of what he’d told David earlier about the missing artifacts, Hulan asked, “But why are you so interested in what happened at Site 518? Haven’t several sites along the river been looted?”
“Looted and vandalized,” Ho admitted ruefully. “Most of the people who do this are not sophisticated. We call them ‘mound-digging rats.’ They don’t know what they’re finding, and in many cases they’ve broken more than they’ve stolen. Some of these hooligans have been arrested. They’ve been sent to prison or labor camp for terms of one to fifteen years.”
“What about the artifacts that aren’t broken?” Hulan asked.
The director cleared his throat of Beijing grime, then said, “Sadly, many of them leave the country and are put up for auction. Sometimes they disappear into private collections or even into unwitting—or unethical—museums.” Ho leaned forward and spoke directly to Vice Minister Zai. “At least a million of our relics are being held captive in private and public collections in other countries!”
“Until very recently almost anyone could walk into a country and take whatever they wanted,” David explained, “but then some of the most famous museums in the world would not be so famous if not for this practice. I think of the Elgin Marbles in the British Museum or the Egyptian artifacts in the Louvre. Often relics of this sort can be repatriated. Countries that wish to keep their friendship with China are most willing to negotiate returns.”
“Attorney Stark is right,” Ho agreed. “But we must know where they are in order to retrieve them.”
“What about the Poly Group bronzes?” Hulan asked. “You knew where they were.”
David had always admired the way Hulan refused to succumb to the strictures of female decorum in her investigations, although Director Ho was not so appreciative of her impertinence.
“Those bronzes were ransacked from the Summer Palace by British and French troops one hundred and forty years ago,” Ho said plaintively. “When Christie’s and Sotheby’s put them up for sale two years ago, we asked that they be returned to Beijing.”
David remembered this case clearly. At the time, Hulan had said that the government should have hired him to deal with the auction houses. Instead the PRC issued a proclamation to the effect that there would no longer be a policy of looking the other way while the nation’s treasures were sold off in a city that once again belonged to China. The Hong Kong courts thought otherwise. One country, two systems. Mainland China’s laws protecting national treasures did not apply in Hong Kong, where stolen antiquities were openly displayed for sale in shops along Hollywood Road. So the bronzes had gone on the block, with the Poly Group, a commercial arm of the People’s Liberation Army, making the winning bids to the tune of $6 million U.S. The Poly Group said they’d made the purchase as a matter of patriotic pride. But instead of donating the bronzes to a museum, the group had used them as a marketing tool, sending them on a tour around the country to attract new customers.
“We would all like to prevent a repeat of that embarrassment,” Zai confided to David, “which is why you are here. From the ministry’s perspective, prosecution is less important than retrieval and repatriation, if indeed the artifacts have left the country.”
David thought about what Director Ho had said in their earlier meeting. All kinds of diplomatic problems could arise if the thieves turned out to be foreigners. It would be easier in the long run to settle things quietly….
“Of course, if Chinese nationals are involved,” Zai went on, staying a step ahead of David, “Inspector Liu should make arrests.”
“Explain something to me, Vice Minister,” Hulan cut in. “What is the real concern here? Brian McCarthy’s death or these missing relics?”
“The young man’s death is a tragedy, no? We can all agree on that. And of course I’m concerned about the others….”
“Others?” Hulan asked, and David could tell by her voice that she couldn’t help being intrigued by the facts.
Over the next few minutes Zai recounted what David had learned about the deaths of the peasants.
Hulan inquired, “Why was I not informed of this before?”
