A Case of Two Cities

he spoke cautiously, both on his home phones and cell phones. What made those conversations difficult to decipher was his use of the local triad jargon. Also, he referred to his contacts by their nicknames, such as “Small Boss,” “Crocodile,” “Big Brother.” Who these people could possibly be, the CIA had no clue. Still, there were a couple of points the CIA interpreters underlined.
     
    Xing had mentioned several times that his mother was worried about somebody, the “little boy,” still in China. Who this “little boy” was, the CIA failed to figure out. In one of the calls, Xing seemed to have lost contact with the “little boy,” and he asked about his whereabouts anxiously. After a number of phone calls, he must have got in touch with the “little boy” again.
     
    Another point was Xing’s connection with the local triad. There were discussions about triad protection of Xing in L.A. Several nicknames were brought up in that regard, like “Black Shark” and “Little Tiger,” most of which sounded characteristic of those organizations. Still, in spite of the considerable amount paid for his personal protection, Xing hadn’t made any requests for an attempt against anyone else. In one of the highly jargonized conversations, the head of the local triad seemed to have mysteriously made contact, as Xing said to somebody else, with a high-ranking official in Beijing.
     
    In addition, he seemed to have made more phone calls in the last few days. While the contents of the conversations remained largely inexplicable, Xing sounded anxious or even desperate, seemingly under extreme pressure.
     
    Catherine then tried to listen to the phone records herself, but after a short while, she gave up. Xing spoke with a strong Fujian accent. She barely made out a fifth of the contents, which was further muddled by all the jargon thrown in.
     
    But it might not be so obscure to Chief Inspector Chen, who had been working on the case, with access to lots of information unknown to her. He might be able to get some clues out of it, and to make a difference. She printed out the transcript. After a moment’s thought, she also copied the transcript onto a floppy and picked up a cassette tape of the phone calls.
     
    She put everything in her bag. Rubbing her ankle, she was ready to go back to Washington University, where Chen would deliver his talk on “Eliot in China.”
     
    * * * *
     

26
     
     
    I
    T WAS STILL EARLY in the morning when the phone rang in Detective Yu’s small room. He took a look at the radio clock on the night-stand. Not six yet. Peiqin was still asleep, her bare legs and feet reaching out, so white against the light green towel blanket in the pale light. He picked up the phone and moved down, so as not to wake her up. But there was not much space for him to do so. Qinqin was asleep in the back part, which was partitioned out as his room.
     
    “A very important development, son,” Old Hunter said. “Now I know why the Beijing government sent Chen out with the delegation. A devious conspiracy indeed.”
     
    “What is it?” He had to push the old man. Old Hunter, otherwise nicknamed Suzhou Opera Singer, could go on delaying and digressing for an hour before coming to the point. “Please tell me, Father. I’m leaving in five minutes.”
     
    “Now it’s from a most reliable source, this information I’m going to tell you. But I have to begin from the beginning. Now, Hua had a sworn brother at the passport office of the Shanghai City Government, Miao Zhiying. I have just learned that from Hua’s widow. Hua sheltered Miao for weeks during the Cultural Revolution. Miao was then on the wanted list issued nationwide by a Red Guard organization. Hua’s a golden-hearted guy, as I have told you. So I went to Miao, who, a man in his late fifties, burst into tears. You know what he said to me? ‘If you can do something for Hua by cutting my head off, Old Hunter, strike, and I will not groan.’ So I asked him to check any suspicious movement made of late by those rats, and he promised to help. Early this morning, through one of his colleagues, he found out that a Canadian visa—for ‘personal business’—had been recently granted to Jiang, the director of the City Land Development Office. The application and approval were conducted in a secret way, completed just two days ago. Miao called me immediately.”
     
    “So Jiang’s trying to run out, before Chen comes