Don't Cry Tai Lake (10 page)

“Yes, these Communist Party officials turn into billionaires, but at the same time they remain Party officials,” he said, looking up at her. “You've made a thorough study of the issue, Shanshan. It's as if you were teaching a course.”

“It's because the IPO plan is somehow related to the pollution problem. That's why I've been paying attention to the so-called reform. A successful IPO depends on having an impressive balance sheet, so for the last half year, Liu has been dumping industrial waste into the lake like never before. It was a business decision designed to drastically reduce production costs. For his own personal gain, the world itself can go to hell. He was already in his mid-fifties, getting nearer to retirement, so he had to rush the process.”

Shanshan's lecture testified to something he'd sensed in her. She wasn't merely a “flower vase,” a pretty but naïve girl. Things in China were complicated. The reform was, as Deng Xiaoping had said, like wading across the river by stepping on one stone after another. But which stone was next, no one could tell. For instance, the changes in the ownership system were confusing to most people, and some simply didn't bother to understand.

Shanshan didn't have to worry about these things, which weren't in her field. But apparently she did, studying all the factors that were behind the current environmental problems.

The pending IPO could actually be another one of the new problems that Comrade Secretary Zhao wanted Chen to pay attention to.

“Thank you for enlightening me. I've finally got some idea of what is going on with the IPO,” Chen said. “Do you think Liu's death could be connected to it?”

“That I don't know.”

“Another question. You told me that Liu died at his apartment—or, rather, his home office. Can you tell me something about that place?”

“It's close. Only a five-minute walk from the company. It's just another privilege provided to the Party officials. The apartment was assigned him in recognition of his hard work, and it's in addition to the two-story house he bought with the company housing subsidy. But many people work hard at the factory, and they didn't get an apartment. Some of them still don't have even a single room.”

“He stayed there all by himself?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, then added without waiting for his answer, “Mi, his ‘little secretary,' was there with him, of course.”

“Did he go there a lot?”

“Perhaps the only one who could really say is his little secretary.”

“Yes, she would be there to help him with his work, right?”

“And help with his bed too.”

“Oh that!”

He should have guessed. Nowadays a big boss, whether at a private or a state-run company, had to have a “little secretary”—a young girl who accompanied him in the bedroom as well as in the office. It was a sign of his status and, of course, more than that.

“A little secretary. I see. Do people know about the relationship between Mi and Liu?”

“Are you from Mars, Chen? That's how she became his secretary in the first place. What are her qualifications? She had barely graduated from middle school when she was hired. It's an open secret, but people don't want to talk about it.”

“In other words, Mi would know not only about Liu's whereabouts that night, but a lot more.”

“As far as I know, if Liu was there for some business reason, she would be the one to make the plans and preparations. If it wasn't for business, she would be the one to make the bed.”

This was quite different from Sergeant Huang's version, according to which Mi didn't know anything about Liu's plans that evening and instead had worked late at the office, a fact that had been corroborated by a colleague.

“That's right,” he said, aware that it wasn't easy not to talk like a cop. “But that evening, it could have been something he didn't want her to know about.”

“That's possible. Who can really tell what's happening between a man and a woman?”

“He must have paid her a lot.”

“At the company, her pay was appropriate to her position as a secretary. To give the devil his due, Liu at least tried to keep up appearances.”

“Well, whatever he was worth, it could have eventually been all hers. For her, it would have been only a matter of time.”

“She might not have been so sure about that. If a little secretary doesn't turn into a Mrs. in a year or two, then a little secretary she'll remain. The boss may have all kinds of reasons to do or not to do something. How much Liu gave her in private was, of course, another story.”

“That's a very good point,” he said. “But what about Mrs. Liu? She knew about Liu's evening plans, right?”

“I don't know, but she knew about the little secretary Liu kept there—”

The sampan swayed and she lurched forward, her hand touching his shoulder for support.

“Now tell me about your argument with Liu. It was about a week before his death, I heard.”

“You've heard a lot, Chen. We argued several times. For Liu, profit was more important than everything else. That's what had made him—and not just as a general manager but as a much-propagandized representative of China's economic reform. It probably would have to be a top priority to keep up production at whatever cost for anyone in his position. But I had to do my job as an environmental engineer.”

“You did the right thing.”

“But that day, about a week ago, he snapped and started shouting at me in his office. People must have heard our argument.” She added softly, after a pause, “I don't want to speak ill of him now that he's dead.”

A short silence ensued. Another fish jumped out and fell back in, splashing. The boat was probably in the middle of the lake.

“That's the Wuxi Number One Chemical Company,” she said abruptly, pointing to their left. “Over there, I can show you something in the water.”

“Move over there,” Chen called, rising to give the order to the sampan man.

“There?” The sampan man looked puzzled. It was far from any scenic sights, and no tourist would be interested going there. But the sampan went there as instructed.

“Let's stop here for a while,” Shanshan said to the sampan man. Turning to Chen, she said, “Take a close look at the water here.”

Already Chen could see a difference in the color of the water close to the chemical company. But it was more than that. An immense expanse of the water was covered in something like a heavy blackish-green shroud. It was substantial, almost solid, and stretched far into the distance. He hadn't seen anything like that in the Huangpu River in Shanghai or, for that matter, in any other river.

“Do you see something over there that looks like a dam, Chen?”

“Yes, what's that for?”

“This horrible green mess might be permissible here since no visitors come around, but it wouldn't be allowable near the park, and definitely not near the center. So the dam is designed to keep tourists like you from seeing this.”

She spoke less reservedly today than she had before, about the problems and about the people responsible for them. After the detention she had suffered, Chen reflected, that was understandable.

He knew that her history with the company might make her not such a reliable source for the investigation, though he chose not to believe that.

“What you see here is not the worst of it,” she went on. “A couple of miles up, it is even worse.”

“I just read an article in the newspaper which claimed that green algae might be a longstanding problem for the lake.”

“How can you believe what's written in those Party newspapers? They would never trace back the ecological disaster to industrial pollution. In the past, you might see a small green patch here or there in the lake, and occasionally the water would be too rich with nutrients because of the weather, but it didn't affect the quality of the water for the whole lake. Nothing like this.”

She was speaking fervently, as if to justify her work. There was no need for it, certainly not for him. He knew she was doing the right thing. So he tried to say something to lighten the moment.

“I'm no expert,” he said, “but the water reminds me of a Tang dynasty poem about the south:
the spring water ripples bluer than the skies, reclining / against a painted barge, / I fall asleep, listening to the rain
. The lake water turns green, more or less naturally, with the arrival of spring. In a way, you might call that poetic.”

“You really think so?”

Then she did something totally unexpected. She shifted to the side of the boat and put her feet into the water.

He didn't know why she suddenly chose to dangle her feet here, her white ankles flashing above the darksome, smelly water. He leaned over, her long black hair straying across his cheek. Watching, he wondered whether he should do the same, and he bent over to undo his shoelaces. But she was already pulling her feet out of the water. They were covered with a layer of green grime, as if painted: wet, slimy, and sticky.

“Would you call that poetic?”

“You didn't have to do that, Shanshan.”

He grabbed one of her feet and tried to find a handkerchief. He ended up wiping the algae off with a small packet of paper napkins, which turned out not to be an easy job. His hands quickly got smeared too.

He couldn't claim it was poetic for him, but even so, it was almost surreal, yet touching. Her bare soles yielding in his hands, her soft toes flexing against his clumsy fingers, she seemed inexplicably vulnerable. He had known her for only a couple of days, with his identity as a chief inspector unrevealed to her.

But she had proved her point. And she had done so in a way he had never read about in classical poetry.

“Let's go back,” he said to the sampan man.

“Where?”

“To the Wuxi Cadre Recreation Center.”

“Wow!” the sampan man said, with a puzzled expression on his face when he noticed the grime on her feet and on Chen's hands.

“You want to go back?” She, too, looked up at him in surprise.

“I am no expert like you, Shanshan. But I don't think exposure to the chemicals will do you any good. You have to wash off your feet with clean water.”

“I appreciate your offer, but you don't have to worry,” she said, shaking her head.

He also shook his head, resolutely.

They remained sitting like that for a long while, not speaking, her feet still in his hands.

The sampan man began to exert himself, looking over his shoulder from time to time.

The center's fence at the foot of the hill came into view.

“Pull over,” Chen said, “we want to get off here.”

“Here?” the sampan man repeated, not seeing a dock or an entrance.

Chen had him row the sampan over to something like a landing near the concealed door in the fence.

“I know a shortcut. We can get in through there,” he said and paid the sampan man generously. “It's for the full day, as we agreed, plus fifty for the boat meal and a tip for the boat songs. Is that enough?”

“More than enough, sir. Thank you so much. But you're from the center, so it's little wonder. Sorry that I was so blind as not to recognize Mount Tai.”

It was an old proverb, often used to describe one's failure to recognize people of high status or importance.

Chen helped Shanshan to the shore and carried her shoes, which she didn't immediately put back on. The ground was gritty against her bare soles, and she leaned slightly against his shoulder for a minute. He pointed at the villa glittering in the afternoon sunlight.

“That's where I am staying.”

“Oh, that looks like a villa.”

“Yes, let's go there. You can wash your feet and we can have a drink.”

“No, not today,” she said, looking down at her feet. “What a sight I would be for your high-cadre center.”

“In classical Chinese literature, there is an expression about ‘walking lotus flowers,' which refers to a beauty walking barefoot. So what's wrong with that?”

“You're being sarcastic again,” she said. “No, definitely not. I don't want to make a mess of your room.”

“As it is, it's already a mess.”

“Well, some other day. I'll keep your invitation in mind and take a rain check.”

“Yes, do keep it in mind. When you come, if you come through the main entrance, make a right turn at the first crossing, and you'll see the white villa. It's a freestanding one. Number 3A. You can't miss it. At night, you can see its green-shaded windows against the shimmering expanse of the lake.”

“I wish I could say something similar about my room, my dorm room. It's number 3B, but that's the only resemblance. It's as small as a piece of tofu and no one in the center would care to see it.”

“Why not?” he said. “I'll take a rain check.”

They arrived at the fence door and she took the shoes from his hands, yet still didn't put them on.

“Thanks for everything, Chen.”

“Thank you, Shanshan.”

Standing at the door, he watched her walk barefoot along the road, turn as she took out her cell phone and shut it off, and then hasten away.

SEVEN

THERE'S NOTHING TOO SURPRISING
about Chief Inspector Chen,
Sergeant Huang recalled Detective Yu saying. Waiting under a tall tree near the back exit of the park, Huang contemplated that statement.

He couldn't help taking another look at the entrance to the center, which still seemed mysterious, almost forbidden, to a local like Huang.

He had been surprised by Chen's request for help for Shanshan. Was it all because of something mentioned by Comrade Secretary Zhao? It was said that the romantic chief inspector had a way with women, and he had only been in Wuxi for two or three days. There was no telling what Chen was really up to, what with his connections in Beijing. He could have been dispatched here for something highly secretive. In that case, Shanshan might be involved in a way far beyond what a low-level cop like Huang could fathom.