Enigma of China(13)

“Yes, it really backed the government into a corner. They knew only too well why Zhou was being targeted. But with so many people protesting, without a legitimate excuse for his sudden wealth, and with the irrefutable evidence of it all, they found it hard to shield him anymore. They realized it was more important to protect the Party’s image, so they put Zhou into shuanggui—over a pack of 95 Supreme Majesty.”

“Thank you so much, Peiqin. You’ve thrown much light on the background of the situation.”

“So it’s a case you’re investigating?”

“No. Not exactly,” Chen said with a wry smile. “Shuanggui is not the territory of the police. It’s believed that Zhou committed suicide while under detention at a hotel. I’m simply serving as a consultant to the team investigating the cause of death.”

“Zhou’s dead?”

“Yes. It will be announced in the newspapers soon.”

“This will cause another storm on the Internet. Suicide while under detention. How will people online react?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“You’ve been talking so much about Internet searches, Peiqin,” Yu said, changing the subject, “but what I’m searching for is the dessert.”

“Sorry, I forgot,” Peiqin said, rising in haste. “A friend from Beijing brought me some green bean–paste cakes, supposedly from Fangshan, the Forbidden City.”

“That restaurant in the North Sea,” Chen said, “on the island where chefs used to prepare all the delicacies for Dowager Empress Cixi toward the end of the Qing dynasty. The name of the restaurant alone, Fangshan, is more than enough to evoke the imperial majesty complex and its privileges from China’s collective unconscious. It’s just like the brand name of 95 Supreme Majesty.”

“Don’t worry, Chief. I’m not a Party official. The green bean cakes are just a gift from an old friend.”

“I know who it is,” Yu said with mock seriousness. “He was a secret admirer of Peiqin from the days when we were educated youths during the Cultural Revolution. He’s not an official, just an ordinary clerk in the Beijing Travel Bureau, otherwise I would be really worried.”

“But I am worried,” Chen said, putting a tiny cake in his mouth. “If the government is anxious to conclude that Zhou’s death was suicide, then why was I chosen to consult on the investigation?”

“You’ve conducted several high-profile anticorruption cases, which a lot of people know,” Peiqin said, putting the remaining green bean–paste cakes into a box for the departing guest. “So if you’re involved, people will believe the official report.”

“Having you on the case is an endorsement of their conclusion,” Yu cut in again.

“Thank you, Peiqin and Yu, for the meal, for the cake, for the lecture about the Internet and crowd-sourcing, and for everything else,” Chen said, rising. “Now I have your endorsement, I think, for what I’m going to do next.”





FIVE


AS A SPECIAL CONSULTANT, Chief Inspector Chen wondered about his role in the investigation: what was left for him to do, and what was not. As the old proverb says, there’s no point in or justification for cooking in another’s kitchen. Detective Wei, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind that much.

But Wei wasn’t the one and only chef in there. Jiang was another, and he was following his own recipe. Then there was the city Party Discipline Committee team, even though it looked like Liu wasn’t at the hotel most of the time.

Chen began to have second thoughts about this assignment after his dinner with the Yus.

The city government might not be able to convince people with just an announcement that Zhou had committed suicide. A police investigation into his death could be a necessary show, one that had best be performed in convincing earnestness. So as Yu had put it, Chen’s role as a consultant could simply be to endorse the conclusion.

If so, Chief Inspector Chen was in no hurry to do anything.

What made the situation even more complicated was the divergent investigations of Wei and Jiang.

Judging from his discussions with Wei, the stubborn detective was more and more inclined to conclude that Zhou had been murdered. This persistence had to be an annoyance to Jiang, who, to protect the interests of the city government, wanted a conclusion of suicide.

Chen didn’t think that he had to confront Jiang right away. Still, he felt compelled to do something on the case, so he settled on a visit to Zhou’s widow.

The Zhous lived in Xujiahui, just a block away from the Oriental Commerce Center. For a Party cadre with Zhou’s position, their three-bedroom apartment might not be considered too luxurious—that is, if one didn’t take into consideration the other properties he owned.