Death of a Red Heroine [Chief Inspector Chen Cao 01] (64 page)

His new office was a multi-room suite in the Square Mansion in the center of Shanghai. The city government itself was located in the same building, together with a number of important organizations. Such an impressive office site was probably chosen to convince people of the serious attention being paid to traffic congestion by the city authorities, Chen reflected.

“Welcome, Director Chen.” A young girl wearing a pair of silver-rimmed glasses was waiting for him. “I am Meiling, your secretary.”

So he had a personal secretary working for him at a reception area in front of his spacious office. Meiling lost no time showing him the ropes. “The office is not just a department under the Shanghai police bureau. It’s under the joint leadership of the city government and the bureau,” Meiling said. “Even the mayor himself calls in here from time to time.”

“I see,” he said. “So there is a lot of work.”

“Yes, we’ve been terribly busy. Our old director was rushed to the hospital, and we have not had any preparation for your arrival.”

“Neither have I. As a matter of fact, I knew nothing about my appointment until a couple of hours ago.”

“Our old director has been sick for several months,” Meiling said apologetically, “There’s a backlog of work.”

So there was all the routine work he would have to familiarize himself with—documents to read, officers to meet, reports to review, and calls to make. Several papers were already waiting his signature.

Following Meiling, he made a tour of his office suite. There were several computers in each room, forming a network for metropolitan traffic control. In spite of the evening computer courses he had taken, he would require two or three weeks to become familiar with the system. A director’s responsibilities consisted not only of dispatching traffic police officers, but also maintaining close cooperation with the public transportation bureau, the construction bureau, and the city government.

After the tour, Chen felt even more disoriented. Earlier in the morning, he had been ready to quit, believing that his career coming to an end. Now he was sitting at an impressive desk, the tall window behind him overlooking the People’s Square, with the afternoon sunlight shining on his brass director’s plaque.

But he did not have the time to ponder this unexpected change. Meiling handed him a copy of the department newsletter. “The latest issue, just delivered to us.”

It was an edition focusing on traffic violation cases. Most of the offenders were quite young. Yet they might be seriously punished, for the report’s tone sounded politically serious. Some might even get ten or fifteen years.

He leaned back in his swivel chair, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated, watching Meiling arrange the papers neatly in a pile on the desk. His first secretary. It was wonderful to have one. He was intrigued by the difference produced by a female presence in the office.

He settled down to the work.

The day turned out to be much longer than he had expected. He told Meiling to go home at six. By the time he himself was able to leave his office, it was already past eight.

Little Zhou’s guess was right. Chen had a car for himself, and a driver, too, who had called his office asking when he would be needed. He declined the offer; as the director of the Shanghai Traffic Control Office, he felt obliged to learn the situation firsthand.

With my horse galloping jubilantly in the spring wind,

I see the flowers all over Luoyang in one day.

The decision to take the bus home instead of his car cost him another hour. The bus came to a stop in bumper-to-bumper traffic at Henan Road. The weather was hot, and the passengers cursed the stuffy air loudly. He, too, grew inexplicably exasperated—involved in the collective angst of the city. Still, it was an ethical necessity for him, he believed, to experience the traffic ordeal as one of the ordinary Shanghai people.

It was not until he had reached his apartment, and lit a cigarette, that he was able to look back at the day’s events. He should have been elated by the unexpected promotion, but its very unexpectedness was disturbing to him. Why should he, of all people, have been chosen to fill such an important position?

A man, once bitten by a snake, would be nervous all his life at the shadow of a straw rope.

Yet it did not appear to be a trap. He thought about the last remark by Party Secretary Li as he left Li’s office, about Ling’s long distance call from Beijing. Was his promotion just due to her family? That was what he dreaded.

* * * *

Chapter 38

hief Inspector Chen—”Director Chen”—lost no time in exercising his new authority, as he sat in the leather swivel chair against a wall plastered with street and transport maps, looking down at the people moving about in the People’s Square.

One of the first few instructions he had dictated to Meiling was to summon Old Hunter to the office. As the old man had been working as a temporary traffic patrol officer, it was not difficult for Meiling to page him. Old Hunter arrived at the office, as Meiling was ready to leave. Chen asked her to stay, saying, “Don’t go, Meiling. Please get me the regulations regarding an adviser’s position for our department. Compensation, as well as the other benefits.”

“They are all in the cabinet,” Meiling said. “I’ll find them.”

“Congratulations. Chief Inspector Chen—oh no, Director Chen,” Old Hunter said as he examined the impressive office furniture. “Everybody says you are doing a wonderful job.”

“Thank you, Comrade Old Yu. It’s my second day here. As a new hand, I need your valuable help.”

“I’ll do whatever I can. Director Chen.”

“You’ve worked as a traffic officer. So one of the problems you must have noticed, I believe, is the problem of traffic accidents. These accidents cause not only casualties, but also serious traffic jams.”

“That’s true,” Old Hunter said, casting a curious glance at Meiling, who was kneeling on the floor, busily searching in the drawer of the tall file cabinet.

“I believe it is partially because more and more people are driving around without a license.”

“You’re right. Driving has become a fashion. Everybody wants to have his hands on the wheel. Driving school is way too expensive, and takes a long time, so some people go without a license.”

“Yes, this is really dangerous.”

“Exactly. Those young people—quite a number of them— seem to believe they’re born drivers. Totally irresponsible.”

“That is why I want you to do something—a sort of experiment. Choose one particular area, station yourself there, and look out for those licenseless drivers. If you have a hunch, stop the car for a checkup. Don’t just give a violator a ticket, take him into custody—no matter who he may be.”

“Good idea,” Old Hunter said. “As that old saying goes, you have to use a strong drug for a desperate disease.”

“And report to me directly.”

“That’s fine. Like son, like father. Where are you going to put me?”

“What about Jingan District? As for a particular street, you pick one. My suggestion is to start with Henshan Road.”

“Oh, Henshan Road—yes.” Old Hunter’s eyes sparkled. “I see, Chief Inspector Chen—no, Director Chen.”

“It’s an important task,” Chen said earnestly. “Only a veteran like you would be up to it. So I’d like to appoint you as our special adviser. You will have a couple of police officers under your command.”

“No, you don’t have to create a position for me, Director Chen. I will do my best anyway.”

“Meiling,” Chen said, turning to his secretary, “when you find the compensation regulation, send Adviser Yu the money in accordance with it.”

“I’ve already got it,” Meiling said, “A check can be cut right away.”

“That’s great. Thank you.”

“No,” Old Hunter protested in embarrassment. “I’d rather be a volunteer.”

“No, you will be paid, and you will have your men, too. That’s your authority. I just want to emphasize one point: Do whatever you are supposed to—no matter whose car it may be—with a white plate or not.”

“Got you, Comrade Director Chen.”

Chen believed he had made himself clear to Old Hunter—in Meiling’s presence.

Old Hunter should be able to detain whoever drove the white Lexus—at least for one day. If anything went wrong, Old Hunter was no more than a traffic police officer carrying out his responsibilities. So there was one thing Chen was now able to do about Guan’s’ case.

The result came faster than he had expected.

On Thursday, he attended a field meeting in the morning. The mayor inspected the project connecting the banks of the Huangpu River by the Yangpu Bridge. Once it was completed, the bridge would also alleviate the traffic congestion in the area. Chen had to be there too, mixing with a group of cadres, walking back and forth along the bridge.

When he returned to the office, Meiling pointed her finger at his closed office door with a slightly puzzled expression on her face. Approaching, he could hear a high-pitched voice inside his office. “It’s no good denying it, Guo Qiang!”

“It’s Old Comrade Yu talking with somebody in there,” Meiling said in a subdued voice. “He wanted to bring the man into your office. For an important case, he said. He’s our adviser. So I had to let them in.”

“You did the right thing,” he assured her.

They overheard Old Hunter saying, “Why are you trying so hard to save someone else’s ass, you sucker? You know our Party’s policy, don’t you?”

“Comrade Adviser Yu is right.” Chen opened the door upon a sight he had foreseen: Old Hunter stood like a Suzhou opera singer talking dramatically to a man slumped in the chair.

The man was in his early forties, lanky, narrow-shouldered, with a suggestion of a hunchback. The photo of the stranger on top of Guan flashed through Chief Inspector Chen’s mind. This was the man.

“Ah, Director Chen,” Old Hunter said, “you’re back just in time. This S.O.B. has not spilled the beans yet.”

“He is—”

“Guo Qiang. He was driving a white Lexus—without a license.”

“Guo Qiang,” Chen said. “You know why you are here today?” Chen said.

“I don’t know,” Guo said. “Driving without a license is a minor offense. Just give me a ticket. You’ve no right to keep me here.”

“You sound like a happily innocent man,” Old Hunter said. “Whose car is it?”

“Take a good look at the white plate. It’s not difficult to guess.”

“Wu Xiaoming’s car—or rather Wu Bing’s car, right?”

“Yes. So you should let me go now.”

“Well, that is the very reason why you are being held here,” Chen said. “I tell you what. We have been watching you for days.”

“Why—so you’ve purposely trapped me,” Guo said. “You will regret it.”

“Comrade Adviser Yu,” Chen said to the old man, “thank you for bringing this suspect to us. From now on, it’s no longer a traffic violation case. I’m taking it over.”

“My last piece of advice to you, young man,” Old Hunter said, grinding out his cigarette. “Use your brains. Don’t you know who Comrade Chen Cao is? The new Metropolitan Traffic Control Director, as well as chief inspector of homicide, and head of the special case group, Shanghai Police Bureau. The game is over. You’d better come clean. A cooperative witness will be punished with leniency. Director Chen—Chief Inspector Chen—I should say—may work out a deal for you.”

As Old Hunter left the office, Chen stepped out, too, walking him to the elevator. “Have the car thoroughly examined, especially the trunk,” he said in a subdued voice, “for any evidence.”