A Case of Two Cities

He’s under a lot of pressure from the Party Discipline Committee. In fact, Comrade Zhao has pushed him again this morning. Comrade Zhao is like Judge Bao in the Song dynasty, always carrying the golden dragon-headed cleaver to behead criminals. The Beijing government is really furious, as you know. Anyone involved with Xing or Ming will be investigated and punished. That’s why Comrade Zhao himself has come to Shanghai, sent Chief Inspector Chen to the United States, and signed the authorization for Officer Yu. Officer Yu has to do something.”
     
    “I understand all that. I, too, would like to help the government fight corruption. But how can I admit to something I don’t know?”
     
    “I’m not saying that you have to admit something you don’t know. But try to help us by making an effort—check your computer and talk to your employees. If, hypothetically, you succeed in finding out something about Ming, you would be making a great contribution to our work. In our report to Comrade Zhao, I’ll make sure to mention your great help.” Old Hunter added after a pause, “And we may not have to touch on the phone call part. Am I right, Officer Yu?”
     
    “I don’t think Comrade Zhao has the time to read the transcript line by line,” Yu said, “especially without my highlighting those lines.”
     
    “Since you have both said so,” Weici said slowly, “let me double-check for you.”
     
    Weici turned on the computer. With the two cops standing behind him, he keyed in Ming’s name and did a name search. Nothing matched there.
     
    “You see, nothing has been found,” Weici said.
     
    “He may not have used his real name,” Yu said.
     
    “Yes, that’s possible. Let me talk to my assistants then.” Weici picked up the phone and tried several numbers, asking about the possibility of Ming having come to the club. He seemed to get the same answer. On the fifth or sixth call, however, he appeared to have a different response. Weici rose and said to the two policemen, “Wait here for me.”
     
    In about five minutes, Weici came back into the office with an ashen look on his face.
     
    “Officer Yu. I have to apologize. Ming contacted Zhang Boxiong, one of my assistant managers, and has been staying in an unoccupied villa here. He must have bribed Zhang with a large sum. I didn’t know anything about it. I have fired Zhang, though I don’t think he knew anything about Ming’s relationship to Xing, either.”
     
    “Of course you didn’t know anything about it,” Old Hunter echoed. “We appreciate your help.”
     
    “Take us to the villa,” Yu said.
     
    They were escorted to a free-standing white villa beyond the golf course. A waitress ran up to Weici and whispered something in his ear. He turned to Yu and Old Hunter. “Ming’s on the second floor. Here is the key. I’ll stay out here. I don’t want to see that bastard.”
     
    They moved upstairs in silence. Whipping out his gun with one hand, inserting the key with the other, Yu opened the door. In the room, they saw a man in a scarlet silk robe holding a naked girl on a rumpled bed, watching an American sex video, and imitating it. They hadn’t heard anything because of the loud moaning and groaning from the TV.
     
    “Who are you?” the man said, his hand still on the thigh of the girl trembling beside him.
     
    “You are Xing Ming, aren’t you? We are from the Shanghai Police Bureau. You are under arrest for sleeping with this prostitute.”
     
    “No, she’s my girlfriend.”
     
    “Show me your ID,” Old Hunter said to the girl.
     
    The girl, wrapped in a blanket, took it out of a purse on the sofa and said sobbing, “I am a student, but both my parents are laid off. I have to support the family.”
     
    Old Hunter glanced at the ID and turned to Ming. “You’re having sex with an underage girl. She’s only fifteen.”
     
    “I didn’t know that, officers,” Ming stuttered, a broken man. “I don’t even know her name.”
     
    That should be more than enough. The cops thought it unnecessary to even mention Xing there.
     
    As they marched Ming out, Yu saw Weici waving at them from a distance. He understood. In the car, Little Zhou nodded without asking any questions. He waited for Yu’s instruction.
     
    “Where are you going to put him?” Old Hunter asked.
     
    “Where do you suggest?” Yu asked.
     
    “Anywhere but the bureau.”
     
    “The Western Suburb Hotel then—under the custody of