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David was asking the archaeologist to rat out his benefactor, but Ma’s verdict seemed measured yet truthful. “He could, but if he had, I don’t think he’d be hanging around the site.” After a pause, he added, “It doesn’t look like this rain is going to let up. Do you want to stay here and explore the cave for a while?”
The idea of going deeper into the darkness sent a shiver through Hulan.
“I’d rather speak with the families of the other victims,” David said.
Ma shook his head. “I can’t help you there. In light of the deaths, the families were given extra money to move before the deadline.”
“To Beijing?”
“Their stories are doubly tragic. They were sent to the Xinjiang Autonomous Region.”
That was a remote and desolate area, and about as far west as you could go and still be in China. While it was true that the government was trying to colonize the region with displaced families from the inundation zone, it was also a great place to send someone you never wanted to hear from again.
“But the Wu family is still here,” David said.
“Yes, and you can visit them if you want,” Ma responded. “But do you think your visit will be a comfort to Wu’s wife or father?” He glanced at David, then Hulan, but neither of them said a word. Since there seemed to be nothing more to say, he stood and said, “We should get back.”
The walk back up the cliff was arduous and wet. The rocks were slick and, with little greenery, there wasn’t much to grab on to. Once they reached the main path, the threesome picked up their pace. When they arrived at the Wu house, David knocked on the door and called, “Wu Taitai. Wu Taitai.” No one answered.
DR. MA DROVE DAVID AND HULAN BACK TO BASHAN AND DROPPED them at the entrance to the Panda Guesthouse. They were sopping wet from the hike back to the dig and the Jeep ride into town. They entered the lobby, checked in, and set out for their room, which was located in the fourth courtyard. The Panda Guesthouse was a traditional Chinese compound—slightly larger than Hulan’s family home and far smaller than Beijing’s imperial Forbidden City. In typical fashion, the guesthouse had been built on a north-south axis with a series of connecting courtyards, buildings, and pavilions, all surrounded by a high protective wall. As David and Hulan walked, painted landscapes portraying subjects from the Chinese classics unfurled on the eaves above them. Carved wooden screens covered the windows they passed. The third courtyard housed a traditional Chinese garden with three huge scholar’s rocks serving as the centerpiece. David and Hulan reached the fourth courtyard, and he opened the door to their room. It was lovely in the sense that it had one double bed and no television.
David knew that if anyone was going to make the first move, it had to be Hulan. Still, he was completely unprepared that it happened so soon or so effortlessly. Hulan didn’t say a word as she came toward him. She gently put her hands on his cheeks and brought his face down to hers. Her lips were soft and yielding. She pulled back, and he looked into her eyes. She couldn’t h
ide what was in them from him, and he realized that all this was happening just a little too easily. But as soon as she undid the first button on his shirt, he reached for her as though it had been years and not months since the last time they had made love. He wanted to believe—if only for the time that they were here in the Three Gorges—that they still could have a life together.
Their wet clothes clung tenaciously to their skin, but every inch revealed was reclaimed and reconquered. They didn’t hurry as they touched and tasted each other. For these minutes they forgot everything except the needs of the flesh. When he finally entered her, she moaned in pleasure as she lifted her hips to meet him. They moved together across tides of sensation and emotion, until neither of them could endure another moment. This was why he’d wanted to get her out of Beijing, away from the MPS, away from their own bed, away from memories of Chaowen.
By the time they were sated, they were both as damp as when they’d walked into the room. The sheets lay in a rumpled pile at the foot of the bed. The air from the overhead fan slowly cooled their sweaty bodies. They had so much to talk about. Even if this encounter had been staged by Zai, even if Hulan had forced herself in the early moments, couldn’t this be a new beginning? But David couldn’t and wouldn’t push Hulan. She wasn’t yet willing to reveal her mind’s deepest intimacies, but she was ready to talk about the case that had brought them here. For David, it was a start, and his heart welled with cautious happiness.
“How can I prove Brian was murdered?” She rolled onto her side and put a hand on David’s chest. “By the time I saw his body, whatever evidence might have been there had long washed away.”
“Witnesses—”
“What witnesses? If someone saw Brian getting tossed in the river, don’t you think it would have been reported?”
“People don’t always want to come forward—”
“Maybe in America, but this is China, David. ‘Leniency to those who confess….’”
“A witness is not a criminal who has to confess.”
“Of course not, but the idea could apply to witnesses, too, in terms of the common good for society.”
“What about the day workers?” he asked.
“Pretty convenient that their families have been moved,” she responded. “On the other hand, it’s common knowledge that the poorest of the poor are being sent to faraway lands. But the Wus are still here, and we should talk to them.”
Finding out what had happened to the site workers was David’s assignment, but he and Hulan had been sent down here together. It was only natural that lines would blur.
“There’s always circumstantial evidence,” he offered.
“Yes, lawyers love that, but what circumstantial evidence do you see?”
“The contractor and the police captain are brothers-in-law.”
“That’s not circumstantial! That’s dead-on proof of corruption as far as I’m concerned, but we’re not here to investigate local corruption.”
“What do you make of Lily?”
