The Shanghai Union of Industrial Mystics (13 page)

‘But the horses, et cetera, can go to buildings where top dignitaries are waiting to be entertained? At the presidential summit which starts this week, for example?’

Linyao thought about this. ‘Yes. There will be a few animals at the summit’s first night cultural show at the Grand Theatre tomorrow. But I don’t see how my pass could help anyone infiltrate those events. No—they can’t be planning to sneak into the parades with the horses or anything. There are separate passes for the animal handlers. Even the animals themselves have passes—photopasses with their pictures on them.’

Sinha sighed. ‘Perhaps they don’t understand that your stable pass only lets them have limited access. Perhaps this is all misconceived.’

‘I’ll tell them when I speak to them—when they give my baby back.’ She looked down at the phone she was clutching tightly: now this tiny device was her precious lifeline to her child.

The
vaastu
master looked away, his eyes appearing to sweep the dingy street as he searched for answers somewhere in the middle distance. ‘No—there’s something wrong here. Their planning is too good. They wouldn’t make a mistake like that. Our train of thinking must be wrong. I think we should assume that they know your pass will only get them into the stable block. Is there access to any important government building from the stables? Is it adjacent to anyone’s office?’

‘I don’t know. It’s just north of the creek in a building off Zhejiang Bei Lu. There are lots of nondescript buildings around there—I have no idea what’s inside them.’

‘Let’s look at a map.’ Sinha had purchased a street map of Shanghai at the airport bookshop to help him find Wong’s office—now, his ex-office. They pored over the map and noticed that next to the stables were dozens of blocks, including some government offices. ‘It will take forever to try to work out who is in them, and who they’re after—but I think we’re going to have to try.’

‘You are going to have to try. I am going to the park.’

Sinha shook his head. ‘I don’t think you should, madam. They said seven o’clock. It will do you no good to go ridiculously early. Indeed, it may make them feel uncomfortable. I suggest we follow their instructions closely. Let’s spend some time looking at the map and working out what they want your pass for. And then, in good time, we’ll head to the park.’

After some thought Linyao decided that he was right— engaging in some activity would help her pass the time without going mad with worry. ‘I’ll take you there,’ she said. ‘To the stable block. Come on.’

Before Sinha could react, she had raced off down some gritty streets. Walking at a brisk pace, she led him over a small hump-backed bridge across an ugly brown river to the stable block in Zhejiang Bei Lu. It took less than twenty minutes to get there. Then they carefully walked the streets surrounding it. Sinha took notes in a small notebook as Linyao told him what each building contained. She knew some of them, but there were several she couldn’t identify. In those instances, they simply strolled up to the main entrances and examined the nameplates. There was one large office building, to the east of the stable block, which had no nameplate at all— something that piqued Sinha’s interest. The guards standing outside looked particularly hostile. All the windows were covered with reflective panels so passers-by could not see inside. Stone barriers prevented cars pulling up outside the main door, and a guard checked every approaching vehicle before allowing it to proceed into a tunnel to a basement car park to the right of the entrance. This black hole swallowed up a succession of cars, most of which were black and had tinted windows.

‘Very suspicious,’ said Sinha. ‘No identifying marks whatsoever. It strikes me that this building is significant, given the vehicular activity and the fact that it gives no clues as to what it is.’

Linyao shook her head. ‘That’s where the spies hang out. It’s one of those secrets that nobody tells anyone else because everyone already knows it.’

Seven o’clock—or actually, six forty-nine—arrived with glacial slowness. Linyao waited at the Yan’an Road park. She sat on a bench, but she was shaking so much that she looked as if she had delirium tremens. She had the stable pass—a piece of laminated plastic bearing her photograph—in her sweaty right hand, which was in her pocket, and her mobile phone was on her lap.

The little digital clock on the screen of the phone moved slowly. It said 6:49. She waited for what seemed like hours before looking at it again. It
still
said 6:49. Had the damn thing stopped? What a time for the clock to give up! Did this not prove that she was cursed? Her life had become a waking nightmare. If she and Jia Lin came out of this alive, she would burn incense at the temple every day—twice a day, if that’s what the gods wanted.

Then the time on the tiny Motorola screen switched to 6:50 and she realised that the phone was still working, but the rawness of her nerves was slowing time down for her. There were ten minutes to go. She closed her eyes and replayed, in her head, the conversations with the kidnapper. Did she recognise the voice? Were there any clues in what was said, or in the background noises? Were there any background noises?

She couldn’t bear to replay Jia Lin’s little cry—it broke her heart even to think of it. What must the poor girl have been suffering. When she got her back, she would never let her out of her sight again. She would pull her out of school. She could come to work at the stables, in her office. She would learn more from her mother than from that useless school that allowed kidnappers to snatch children and their minders from its doorstep.

Her mind played on these things for a while, and when she next looked at her watch it said 6:54. The phone was due to ring in six minutes. Again and again, her eyes swept the thinning crowds of people ambling through the park, looking for a small girl with pigtails. Where could she be? When would she appear?

Several groups of people with small children were strolling home through the park and a number of times Linyao’s heart jumped as she saw someone who she initially thought was Jia Lin—but on each occasion, just as she became sure enough to leap to her feet, the child would turn and she would see that it was not her.

Finally,
finally
—the pop song burst out of the phone and Linyao started so much that it almost slid to the ground. She snatched it as it fell. Her trembling fingers found it hard to find the talk button.

‘Yes, yes, yes,’ she said. ‘I’m here.’

A female voice started talking rapidly in Mandarin: ‘Good evening, honoured client. This is a short, recorded message from Unicorn Delight Trading to give you the exciting news that you can cut your telecoms bill by fifty per cent—yes, a full fifty per cent—by switching your accounts to us with no transfer charge. All you have to do—’ ‘Die, die, die, die, die, scum,’ she screeched into the phone. She slammed the red button with her fist so hard that the phone flew out of her hand and fell to the ground. The back cover snapped off and the battery fell out.

Oh no, no, no. Not now, not now
. Feverishly, she picked up the pieces and reassembled it, cursing continuously. Within seconds of her sliding the back cover into place, the music started playing again.

‘Yes, yes, yes? I’m at the park.’

‘I know. You’re here early. Which is why I’m calling a few minutes early. Did you bring the pass?’ The voice had lost some of its tranquillity and betrayed signs of excitement. It was the voice of an Englishwoman.

‘I did.’

‘We can see you. Can you hold it up?’

The news that she was being watched sent a fresh tremor through her system. She held up the small photo-card as if she was examining it. Then her eyes scanned the park again. Who was it? Where were they? The park was still busy. There were some families playing in the distance, there was an elderly couple near a hedge, there were two young lovers on a bench, there was a park keeper and a gardener chatting by a tree, there were several idle old men walking and smoking, and some dirty-looking migrant workers were camped under a tree.

‘Where’s my daughter?’

‘Look over to your left. Far left. See those trees?’

‘Which trees?’

‘See those thick trees near the bench?’

‘Yes.’

‘Look at the third tree, counting from your left.’

As she stared, a figure stepped out from behind the tree. It was impossible to tell whether it was male or female in the evening gloom, but Linyao’s heart leapt when the figure pulled a child out from behind the tree. It was Jia Lin; it had to be: she recognised the distinctive floppy hat and the satchel.

Linyao leapt to her feet and started running towards the tree.

‘Stop,’ said the voice on the phone.

At the same time, the figure by the tree held up one hand in a keep-away gesture.

Linyao slowed down but did not stop.

‘
Stop
. Go back to the bench where you were sitting, and put the card down on it. And then walk slowly towards the tree.’

The child and the adult disappeared from view. Linyao stopped and reluctantly turned around. She quickly marched back to the bench and carefully placed the card on the seat. Then she turned around and walked as fast as she could in the direction of the tree.

She was dimly aware of someone behind her, walking briskly to the place where she had been sitting, but she didn’t turn round. Who cared about the blasted card? Anyone who wanted could have every card she owned. She wanted nothing but her baby back. She strode as quickly as she could towards the tree and broke into a run as she reached it. ‘Jia Lin,’ she called out. ‘Jia Lin!’

The child stepped out from behind the tree and Linyao reached out to grab her. But then she saw her face and recoiled. It was not Jia Lin but a child she’d never seen before, wearing Jia Lin’s hat and carrying her school bag. There was no one else behind the tree.

Linyao burst into tears.

In the first century, a desert bandit and his gang came to the
cave home of the wise man Luo near the Plain of Jars.

The bandit said: ‘Give us your money or we will kill
you.’

Luo said: ‘I have nothing to give you except my
wisdom.’

The bandit said: ‘Then we will take your life.’

Luo said: ‘But my wisdom is valuable. I can show you a
mountain where diamonds grow on trees.’

He led the bandit chief on a journey of many li to Cold
Mountain. They camped at night close to the summit.

At first light they emerged from their tents. The trees and
hedges were glittering with jewels on every leaf. Even the
cobwebs were hung with diamonds.

The desert bandit chief ’s jeweller looked at the gems
through a magnifying glass. He said: ‘These have amazing
designs, the finest work I have ever seen. Each is cut into
intricate six-sided patterns, and no two are alike.’

The bandits let Luo go. They filled chests with the jewels
and took them home. But when they reached the desert, their
treasure boxes contained nothing but water.

Blade of Grass, to the dweller in the desert, there is no
gem more magical than the frost. To the dweller in the frost,
there is no gem more magical than the sun. The foolish
man labours hard to create wealth. The wise man merely
recognises it.

From ‘Some Gleanings of Oriental Wisdom’
by CF Wong.

It was the ache in his bony hips that brought him back to consciousness. He had been dimly aware that every time he turned over in his sleep, there was a bruising pain at the points where his hip bones stuck out. It was almost as if someone had replaced his mattress with a slab of concrete. And it was cold. Where was his blanket?

Wong, his eyes still tightly shut, moved one hand along what should have been the surface of his bed, groping for his blanket—and what he found made him open his eyes with a start. This wasn’t a bed. He was sleeping on the floor: a frozen, unyielding slab of concrete. His head ached. His bones were stiff. His muscles weren’t responding. And he was groggy. He felt as if he had been hit on the back of the head with a plank.