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He was smooth, this one.
“But nothing,” she said abruptly. “You’re dismissed.”
She’d wanted to ask him other questions. Had he planned to go to the dig today? If so, why was he wearing those particular clothes? What kind of a mathematician was he? Did he teach? Where? And what was he really doing here? Had he been invited? By whom? Had he heard of the All-Patriotic Society? But her desire to have Michael Quon out of her sight had outweighed her desire for answers.
Dr. Strong was next. His sunburn hadn’t improved, and he was in quite a muddle about everything. He rambled on about his work with oracle bones and their importance to the history of the Chinese language. He talked about how throughout history the Chinese people had had a love of numbers: the Nine Provinces, the Five Punishments, the Three Obediences. He told her that, although he was eighty-seven years old, he got along well with the younger generation. Brian had been a particular favorite. They’d carried on an e-mail correspondence all of last year. He was old, Dr. Strong admitted, but he wasn’t so old that he couldn’t learn how to do e-mail! Could Hulan see that correspondence? What a hilarious idea! His computer was in Cambridge, and all of the old e-mail disappeared eventually anyway. Didn’t she know anything?
Yes, he knew Lily, although he preferred talking with Catherine. (He was old, he confessed again, but he wasn’t so old that he couldn’t appreciate a beautiful woman when he saw one!) His room was in the same courtyard as Lily’s. He’d heard noises, but he always heard noises in this place. In fact, he could say that he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since he’d arrived this June. But then, he was an old man and given to insomnia no matter where he was.
The rain had gotten much worse, and the road to Site 518 far more treacherous than it had been yesterday. As a result, David’s driver concentrated on keeping the car on the slippery track and out of the largest mud holes. But David paid little attention to the dangerous conditions. He was totally wrapped up in the events of this morning, playing out each piece. His first concern, of course, was Hulan. Just when things were beginning to go well, the universe revealed itself to her as cruel and capricious yet again. He was very worried about how she would handle this, and the fact that she was shutting him out of her investigation bothered him deeply. Then there was the murder itself. As it always was with death, it came as a total shock. What had been done to Lily Sinclair made him sick. Obviously he didn’t know her well, but from what he had seen she had been smart and funny. She was too young and too beautiful to be taken so soon and so viciously.
His mind spun back to Hulan. She didn’t want him with her, and she didn’t want to share her earliest suspicions with him. She preferred that he continue with his own investigation of the thefts, but because he was a former prosecutor, it was David’s nature to look for patterns and make links. Whether or not Hulan liked it, he was already formulating his own ideas about Lily’s murder, how it could be related to Brian’s, and how both of them could be connected to the thefts from Site 518.
The car bumped into the camp, and David stepped out into the warm rain. Since last night the river’s level had risen to within a few feet of the lowest tents, and some day workers were moving them up the slope. David didn’t see Dr. Ma down there, so he trudged up the hill until he found the director squatting under a canopy brushing at a shard. The archaeologist, aware of David’s presence, didn’t look up. “We work on a schedule out here,” Ma remarked. “I’m not a chauffeur, and I can’t wait around for VIPers, no matter who they are.”
“Lily’s dead.”
Ma lifted his head, but his face was impossible to read. He set down his brush and stood.
“What happened?” Ma asked.
“She was murdered.”
“How?”
“I think you’d better take that up with Inspector Liu. She’ll be coming later.”
Ma nodded thoughtfully, then: “And you’re here because—”
“I was sent to do a job. As a courtesy I’m telling you that I’ll be interviewing some others about the missing artifacts.”
Ma held David’s gaze. “Do as you please.” Then Ma dropped back to his haunches, picked up his tool, and went back to his work.
David hesitated, half wanting to put Ma in his place, half wanting to ask what his problem was. Instead he went in search of the museum representatives. He found them in one of the caves, sitting around a table on upturned crates, smoking cigarettes and playing cards. They motioned for him to sit, and he did. Though he couldn’t be sure that all of the caves were like this one, it did match the description Ma had given yesterday. Three-tiered bunks rested against the walls deeper in the cave. Lanterns hung in rocky recesses, though most of the light came in through the cave’s mouth.
David had a difficult time with their Sichuan accents, but between his Mandarin and their English they were able to communicate. He’d let Hulan decide how she wanted to handle Lily’s death and kept his inquiries specific to the thefts.
Li Guo, a representative from the Three Gorges Museum, upriver in Wanxian, turned out to be the most loquacious of the group. “Look no further than the foreigners,” he recommended as he pushed his horn-rims firmly onto the bridge of his nose. “They all want to steal from us.”
“I’m a foreigner,” David reminded them. “I don’t want to steal from you.”
The men nodded vigorously. A couple of them knocked on the table with their knuckles, signaling their approval.
“Yes,” Li agreed cheerfully, “you’re a foreigner and our government sends you to salvage our heritage. Our leaders tell us our country is changing. When we see you here, we know that this is so. But then,” he added philosophically, “we would rather speak with you than with the inspector. She’s a tough one.”
After a pregnant pause, David asked somberly, “Have you forgotten she’s my wife?”
The men stared at him dumbly for what seemed a full minute, then gave themselves over to raucous laughter. Li called for a bottle of mao tai, and one of the other men rummaged around until he found one. David reached into his satchel and pulled out a bag of pressed radish seeds to contribute to the impromptu party. The liquor was poured, shots thrown back, and aphorisms traded on the nature of wives. After the way the day had begun, David was grateful for the strong drink and the jokes. Still, he had to come back to the thefts, and the group was ready for him when he did.
“Ask Dr. Ma. He’s in charge,” the man from the Chongqing Municipal Museum suggested.
“Ma would not give a straight answer even if our Supreme Leader came back from the grave and asked the question himself,” Li scoffed. His glasses had steamed up, and he wiped them on his shirt.
“Why not?” David asked.
“Dr. Ma looks young, and he is on the outside, but inside he’s an old man. Understand?”
“Old in his political philosophy….”
