A Loyal Character Dancer

knew better than to push the matter further. On the surface, everything could be attributed to coincidence. There was no point going on with Inspector Rohn and Wen waiting.
     
    “We local police can do little,” Hong said, looking Chen in the eye. “You know that, Chief Inspector Chen.”
     
    Could that be a hint about the higher-level politics?
     
    The doubts Chen had harbored at the beginning of the investigation were resurfacing. Wen’s disappearance might not have been orchestrated from above, but whether the authorities had been so eager to deliver her to the Americans, he was not sure. What was left for Chen to do was perhaps no more than a performance in an ancient shadow play, full of sound and fury, but no substance. In his eagerness to serve as a model Chinese chief inspector of police, however, he had stepped beyond the boundaries of the stage.
     
    If this was so, the battle in the village might truly have been beyond the scope of the local police, as Superintendent Hong intimated.
     
    Maybe “the order of the acts had been schemed and plotted,” at the highest level.
     
    He did not really want to believe this.
     
    Perhaps he would never know the truth. Perhaps it would be best if he could be content to be one of those brainless Chinese cops in the Hollywood movies, and to let Inspector Rohn think of him that way.
     
    Whatever his suspicions, he was in no position to confide in her. Or another report by Internal Security would travel to Party Secretary Li’s desk even before he got back to Shanghai.
     
    “Now the case has been concluded.” Superintendent Hong changed the topic with a ready smile. “You have found Wen. All is well. We should celebrate. The best Fujian cuisine, a banquet of a hundred fishes from the southern sea.”
     
    “No thanks, Superintendent Hong,” Chen declined. “But I need to ask a favor of you.”
     
    “We will do anything we can, Chief Inspector Chen.”
     
    “We have to return to Shanghai right now. We are pressed for time.”
     
    “That’s no problem. Let’s go to the airport directly. There are several flights to Shanghai every day. You can take the next one. It’s not the high season. I believe there should still be some seats available.”
     
    Hong and the others drove off in their jeep, taking the lead. Yu followed with Wen in the car that had brought them from the airport. Chen rode with Catherine in the Dazhong.
     
    The half bag of lichee still lay on the seat. The fruit no longer looked so fresh. Several appeared black rather than red. Or if the color remained the same, his mood had changed.
     
    “I’m sorry,” she said.
     
    “For what?”
     
    “I should not have supported Wen’s wish to take this trip.”
     
    “I was not opposed to the idea, either,” he said. “I’m sorry, Inspector Rohn.”
     
    “For what?”
     
    “Everything.”
     
    “How could the gang have found us so quickly?”
     
    “That’s a good question.” That’s all he said. It was a question Superintendent Hong should have answered.
     
    “You called the Fujian Police Bureau from Suzhou,” she said quietly. The tai chi term was: It is enough to touch the spot. She did not have to push.
     
    “That was my mistake. But I did not mention Wen.” He was puzzled. Only the Suzhou police were aware that Wen was with them, but he went on, “Maybe some villager notified the gangsters as soon as we arrived. That’s Superintendent Hong’s story.”
     
    “Maybe.”
     
    “I do not know much about the local situation.” He caught himself talking to her in the same evasive way as Superintendent Hong had spoken to him. Still, what else could he say? “Maybe the gangsters were waiting for Wen. Just like ‘the old farmer waiting for the rabbit to knock itself out.’”
     
    “Old farmers or not, the Flying Axes were here and the local police were not.”
     
    “There’s another proverb, ‘A powerful dragon cannot fight local snakes.’ “
     
    “I have another question, Chief Inspector Chen. Why did these local snakes come with nothing but axes?”
     
    “Perhaps they came at a moment’s notice, so they carried whatever weapons they happened to lay their hands on.”
     
    “At a moment’s notice? I don’t think so. Not so many of them, and masked.”
     
    “You have a point,” he said. In fact, her question led to another one. Why had they bothered to wear masks? Their axes gave them away. Like the ax wounds on the body in Bund Park. A