The Firemaker tct-1 Read online

  Margaret glanced back as they reached the opposite sidewalk. The woman was gathering her things from the middle of the road, traffic all around her honking impatiently. Tears streamed down her face. There was something, Margaret thought, inestimably sad in her loss. Both she and Margaret had come so close to plucking the bird from the air. Margaret imagined she had almost felt its heart beat as her fingers brushed its panicked breast. Its instinct had been to escape. And yet, Margaret knew, it would die in the wild.

  Li hurried her away along the sidewalk, turning south into the dark, still backwater of Beichang Street, where he had parked the Jeep under the trees. They stopped on the kerb by the car, and without conscious decision by either of them were kissing almost immediately, all the passion and lust of the park returning in a rush. They broke breathlessly and she held his face and gazed anxiously into his eyes. ‘What are we going to do, Li Yan?’

  It was a big question, a question that was many questions in one. A question he could not answer. His only thought was to make her safe while he tried to decide what he should do next. ‘I should get you back to the Friendship Hotel,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t want to leave you.’

  ‘Just for a few hours.’

  ‘I don’t want to leave you,’ she insisted, and kissed him, then shook her head and laughed at herself. ‘Listen to me. Like some teenage girl.’ She took a moment to gather herself. ‘I want to love you. I want to make love to you. We don’t even have anywhere to go. Not your place or mine.’

  Li grinned. ‘Not even the back seat of the car?’

  Margaret laughed. ‘I wouldn’t dare. Lily Peng’s probably hiding in the trunk.’ And then both their smiles faded as they realised that all the jokes in the world could not put off the moment when they would have to face up to reality. They had no future. And she was scared that if they separated now, she might never see him again. Like the bird broken free from the cage, he would slip through her fingers and disappear into the night. He opened the passenger door for her. ‘What will you do?’ she asked.

  ‘I need some time on my own to think. Then I will ask my uncle’s advice. He is due home tonight.’

  II

  Li watched Margaret run across the forecourt of the Friendship Hotel and up the steps to the main door. He still had the taste of her on his lips. There was a constriction in his throat and his eyes were burning. He knew he would not see her again, and his sense of loss was far greater than he could ever have imagined. But it was important that she remain here, away from him, until her plane took her to safety in the morning. The forces arrayed against him would be happy just to see her go. And they could focus on him, alone — as he intended to focus on them. He had no idea how far or how deep the rot had gone, or from what it had grown, but he knew he could no longer trust anyone, and that a difficult course lay ahead of him. He gunned the engine and pulled away with a squeal of tyres.

  Margaret turned at the top of the steps and saw the Jeep drive away at speed. Li’s words were still ringing in her ears. Go straight to your room. Lock the door. Do not answer it to anyone, even room service. Wait for me to call. If I do not call, get a taxi straight to the airport in the morning and get on your plane. She knew he had no intention of calling, that he believed she would be safe as long as he stayed away from her, as long as she left the country as planned in the morning. But she had no intention of leaving. Her visa was good for nearly five more weeks. What she felt for Li she had not felt for a man in a long time. And she was damned if she was going to throw away the chance of at least a few weeks of happiness after everything that she had been through. After all, she thought, she could be dead tomorrow, or next week, or next year. And she would have played safe for what? For a few more empty days, weeks, months? If she had learned anything from the last year, it was that you had to grab the good things in life when they were there, because they, or you, might be gone tomorrow.

  She crossed the polished marble floor to the reception desk to pick up her key.

  ‘Margaret.’

  She turned, surprised, to find Bob hurrying across the foyer from where he’d been sitting impatiently reading a paper, waiting for her return. It was not a pleasant surprise. ‘What do you want?’ she said, running up the short flight of steps to the elevators.

  He hurried after her. ‘I was worried about you. Jesus Christ, Margaret, what have you been up to? Public Security were at the university this afternoon looking for you.’

  She stopped and scowled at him. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Apparently you’re booked on the first flight out of here tomorrow.’

  ‘You don’t say,’ she said scornfully. ‘I brought the booking forward this morning after our little exchange. Only now, I’ve changed my mind.’

  He looked at her in confusion. ‘But you can’t.’

  ‘I can do what I damn well like,’ she said pressing the call button for the elevator.

  ‘Not without a visa.’

  ‘My visa’s good for another five weeks.’

  ‘That’s the point. It’s not. These guys were from the Visa Section. Apparently your visa’s only good now till your flight leaves.’

  The elevator arrived and the doors slid open. She stared at Bob in disbelief. ‘They can’t do that.’

  ‘Oh yes they can, Margaret.’ He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘What’s going on?’

  She shrugged his hand away. ‘None of your fucking business,’ she said, controlling her tears long enough to get into the elevator and press for her floor. As the doors slid shut, the tears came, hot and salty, and a deep sob tore at her chest. It wasn’t fair. How could they make her go? What right did they have? But she knew she couldn’t fight them, and she saw all her choices dwindling to zero.

  She ran, still sobbing, along the landing to her room, past two astonished attendants. Inside, she slipped the chain on the door and sat on the edge of the bed, and let the tears flow freely down her cheeks. Her sense of powerlessness was overwhelming, like that of a child manipulated at the whim of an adult world whose power was absolute. The phone rang and startled her. It couldn’t be Li. She let it ring two or three times, fear growing inside her like a tumour, before lifting the receiver.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Dr Campbell?’ An American accent, the voice oddly familiar.

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘It’s Dr McCord.’

  Her relief was almost palpable. ‘McCord? What the hell do you want?’

  ‘I need to see you.’

  ‘In your dreams.’ Her fear was replaced by anger. ‘You’re the guy who told me to fuck off twice. Remember? Why would I want to see you?’

  ‘Because I know why Chao Heng was killed. And I think I could be next.’

  She caught her breath. There was no doubting the fear in his voice, an odd desperation. ‘I’ll meet you downstairs in the bar.’

  ‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘Too public. Take a taxi to Tiantan Park — the Temple of Heaven. I’ll meet you at the east gate.’

  Her fear was returning. ‘No. Hang on a minute …’

  But he wasn’t listening. ‘For God’s sake make sure you’re not followed. I’ll see you there in half an hour.’ He hung up, and in the silence of the room she could hear her heart beating.

  * * *

  Li drove with the flow of traffic down Fuxingmennei Avenue towards the Gate of Heavenly Peace. Floodlit buildings on either side illuminated the way ahead. People had taken to the streets again to escape the heat of their homes. The sidewalks were crowded, families gathered beneath the trees on the south side. Li could see the tail-lights of vehicles stretching for miles ahead into the shimmering hazy night. Somewhere in the city Johnny Ren was patiently watching, awaiting further instructions. From whom? Deputy Procurator General Zeng would not be able to sleep for fear that Li had, perhaps, already begun to suspect his involvement. Somewhere, in some dark and secret place wherein power resided, a paymaster or paymasters must be trembling in fe
ar of exposure. But exposure of what? Li’s ignorance seemed limitless. Whatever he knew, whatever they thought he knew, he felt a long way away from enlightenment.

  How did one begin an investigation of a deputy procurator general without at least some proof? Who would authorise it? And who else might be involved? Not Chen, surely? But then, he had been so dismissive of the idea that Chao’s body had been deliberately destroyed, of the thought that Professor Xie might have been complicit in the incineration of blood and tissue samples. What was it they were so desperate to prevent him from discovering, and who stood to lose most from it?

  Li knew he needed his uncle’s advice. Old Yifu would listen to everything he had to say without fear or favour. He would trust Li’s instincts but have a different perspective. His years of experience, of the police, of the justice system, his ability to calmly rationalise and sift through conflicting evidence, would be invaluable. More than ever before in his life, Li needed his uncle’s help now.

  He drove past the Gate of Heavenly Peace, Mao’s portrait gazing down implacably upon the crowds in Tiananmen Square and his own mausoleum, a stern paternal figure remembered now with affection, his excesses and failures forgiven and forgotten. Past the gates of the Ministry of Public Security, and then right into the shady seclusion of Zhengyi Road. Immediately Li stood on the brakes, bringing his Jeep to a standstill. Near the foot of the road, outside the gates to the Ministry-provided police apartments where he lived with his uncle, were the blue and red flashing lights of several police vehicles and an ambulance. The road was blocked off, several uniformed officers milling on the sidewalk. Li felt a knot of nausea turn in his belly, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He jammed his foot on the accelerator and sent the Jeep careering down the street to screech to a halt behind the ambulance. The uniformed officers turned in surprise as he leapt out of the car. ‘What’s happened? he demanded.

  ‘There’s been a murder,’ said the senior officer.

  Li looked up and saw all the lights on in his apartment, the shadows of figures moving around inside. He started running. ‘You can’t go up there.’ The officer tried to stop him, but Li pulled free.

  ‘I live there!’

  There was no sign of the duty policeman as he ran to the front door of the apartment block. But inside, the ground-floor landing was swarming with uniformed officers. Li went up the stairs two at a time. Behind him he heard someone say, ‘That’s Li. Better radio up to the apartment.’

  When he got to the second landing it, too, was full of uniformed officers. The door of his apartment stood wide open. Lights were on everywhere. Inside he could see more bodies in uniform and plainclothes, and forensics men in white gloves. He recognised most of the faces. They all stood looking at him, frozen as if in a still frame from a movie. The silence was eerie, broken only by the odd crackle of a walkie-talkie. Li pushed through the figures in uniform and into the apartment. Still no one spoke or moved. He passed down the hall, glancing into the living room. It was a shambles, furniture upturned, the television set smashed. Fear rose like bile in Li’s throat. He carried on down to the bathroom where there seemed to be the biggest concentration of plainclothes and forensics officers. Detective Wu, chewing almost manically on a piece of gum, stood in his way. He looked pale and shocked, and his eyes were full of incomprehension.

  ‘What’s happened, Wu?’ Li’s voice was husky, almost a whisper. He cleared his throat.

  Wu said nothing. He simply stepped out of the way, and Li saw the red spray of blood across the while tiles, and the body of Old Yifu in the dry bed of the bath, impaled by his own ceremonial sword, driven with such force that it had passed right through him, through the plastic of the bath, and into the floorboards below. The shock brought tears immediately to Li’s eyes and he started to shake. He looked at Wu.

  ‘He put up a hell of a fight,’ Wu said.

  Li wanted to scream. He wanted to smash his fist into faces and walls, lash out with his feet. He wanted to inflict maximum damage on everyone and everything within reach. He put up a hell of a fight. But it was Li’s fight, not Yifu’s. Why had they done this? What possible point could there be in killing his uncle? Wu shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’ve got a warrant for your arrest, Li. Issued by the Municipal Procuratorate.’

  Li knew now that this was a dream. A nightmare from which he was certain to wake up. ‘A warrant?’ It didn’t even sound like his own voice.

  ‘For the murder of Li Li Peng.’

  Li was almost incapable of taking in this new twist to the nightmare. ‘Lily?’ he heard himself say.

  ‘Got her head bashed in at her apartment,’ Wu said, almost as though it were the most natural thing in the world. ‘I’m afraid I’m also going to have to hold you on suspicion of the murder of your uncle and the duty police officer here at the apartments.’

  Li looked at the body of his uncle, lifeless eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling, and then back at Wu. ‘You think I did this?’ His breathing was rapid now, and he felt in danger of losing control. He was holding on to reality by the merest thread. When was he going to wake up?

  Wu looked embarrassed. ‘To be honest, Li Yan, I don’t believe for one minute that you did it. Any of it. None of us do. But we have evidence, and there are procedures to be gone through.’

  ‘What evidence?’ His anger almost choked him. He was paralysed now, rooted to the spot.

  Wu snapped his fingers in the direction of a forensics officer and was handed a plastic evidence bag containing Li’s fob watch, its leather pouch dark with the staining of blood. ‘It was found in Lily’s apartment beside her body.’

  Li looked at it like a man possessed. ‘That was stolen from my desk this morning. When we were all in the meeting room, and Johnny Ren was in my office.’

  ‘We only have your word for it that it was Johnny Ren. We all just saw some guy. No one else recognised him. And why would he kill Lily?’

  Li already knew the answer to that one. She had been witness to Margaret’s request for the blood tests. ‘Why would I kill Lily?’ He couldn’t believe he was having to ask the question.

  ‘She snitched to Public Security about the American pathologist spending the night at your apartment.’ Wu shrugged uneasily. ‘It’s what they’ll say.’

  Li would have laughed if it hadn’t all been so grotesque. ‘So I killed her? Is that it? Because she got me in trouble with my boss?’

  Wu held out his hand and was passed another clear plastic bag. It contained a bloody handkerchief. ‘You can see Lily’s name embroidered on the corner. I reckon we’ll find it’s her blood on it. It was found in your bedroom.’ And he held his hand up quickly to stop Li’s protests. ‘And before you say anything more, I’m as uncomfortable with all of this as you are. But I’m still going to have to take you in.’

  ‘Let me see the arrest warrant.’

  ‘What?’ Wu was taken aback.

  Li held out his hand. ‘Just show me the warrant.’

  Wu sighed and took it from his pocket. Li unfolded it and looked for the signature. ‘Deputy Procurator General Zeng.’ He looked at Wu and waved the warrant at him. ‘He’s your man. He’s setting me up.’

  ‘What?’ It was Wu’s turn to be incredulous, and Li saw immediately how ludicrous it sounded. He realised just how neatly he had been set up. They wanted him out of circulation. They were going to discredit him, and his investigation. They were going to tie up Section One in a scandal and a sordid murder investigation that was going to divert attention away from Chao Heng — even if, in the long run, Li was cleared. He looked around at the officers eyeing him as if he were a madman. He looked at his uncle and wanted to hold him, and tell him he was sorry, and ask for his forgiveness. He felt the tears spring to his eyes again, and he blinked them back. What was it Old Yifu had always told him? Action is invariably better than inaction. Lead, do not be led. He turned and pushed into his uncle’s bedroom. ‘What the hell are you doing, Li?’ Wu shouted after him.

&nbs
p; The bottom drawer of the dresser was partially open, as if, perhaps, his uncle had tried in vain to reach his gun. Li had left it fully loaded. He had intended to replace the rounds in the box the previous night, but with Margaret in the apartment he had forgotten. The revolver was still there, wrapped in tissue in the old shoe box at the back. The cold metal fitted snugly in his hand.

  Wu was right behind him. ‘Come on, Li. I’m taking you back to Section One.’

  Li stood and turned, grasping Wu by the collar and pressing the barrel of the revolver into his temple. ‘I’m walking out of here, Wu. And you’re coming with me.’