Death of a Red Heroine

in Wu Xiaoming’s mansion, wasn’t it? Tell me that’s not you.”
    “I don’t know anything about the picture,” Guo said doggedly, but with a hint of panic in his voice.
    “You lied in your testimony, Mr. Guo Qiang,” Chen said, taking a leisurely sip of his tea. “You won’t get away with it.”
    “I did not kill her,” Guo said, wiping away the sweat that had begun to bead on his forehead. “Whatever you say, you have no evidence to prove it.”
    “Listen, even if we cannot nail you for the murder, the picture alone is enough cause to lock you up for seven or eight years. Plus your false testimony. Fifteen years, I’d say. You will be an ancient, white-haired hunchback when you walk out again. I’ll make sure you will have a wonderful time in there. You have my word on it.”
    “You’re threatening me.”
    “Think about your family, too. How will your wife react when she gets hold of that picture? Will she wait for you for twenty or more years? I don’t think so. You were married just last year, weren’t you? Think about her, if not about yourself.”
    “You can’t do that!”
    “Of course I can. So here is your chance: Work with me. Tell us what you know about Wu and Guan, and what Wu did on May tenth. A deal may be possible.”
    “So you really think you can touch Wu?”
    Chen understood the doubt in Guo’s mind.
    He opened his briefcase again. In it was the envelope of the Party Central. Ling might have purposely chosen it for others to see. He had been carrying it with him. Not for any sentimental reason. He did not want to leave the letter at home with Internal Security snooping around.
    “This is a case,” he said, flashing the envelope at Guo, “directly under the Central Party Committee.”
    “So—” Guo stammered, staring at the envelope, “it’s a decision at the highest level.”
    “Yes, the highest level. Now, you’re a clever man. Wu must have tipped you off about his maneuvers against me. What’s the result? I’m still chief inspector, and metropolitan traffic control director, too. Why? Think about it.”
    “They are planning something against the old cadres?”
    “That is your interpretation,” Chen said. “But if you think Wu will help you, you are dead wrong. Wu would be only too happy to have a scapegoat.”
    “Are you sure you can work out a deal for me?”
    “I’ll do my best, but you have to tell me everything.”
    “Let me think—” Guo lifted his gaze from the envelope to Chen’s face and slumped further into the chair, making his hunchback more pronounced. “Where shall I start?”
    “How did you come to know about the relationship between Wu and Guan?”
    “I came to know Guan first—as one of those party girls. A lot of them were at Wu’s parties. They came of their own will. Some wanted to have fun, drinks, karaoke, and whatnot, some wanted to meet Wu, some wanted to take a look at the mansion, and some wanted to have their pictures taken . . . You have seen those pictures, haven’t you?”
    “Yes, every one of them. Go on.”
    “Wu Xiaoming has all the advanced photography equipment. His own darkroom, too. He published quite a few. Some of those hussies were just delirious about publicity. Wu’s got quite a reputation among them. And a way with them, too. Not to mention the other offers he could make.”
    “What are the other offers?”
    “Good, lucrative jobs, for instance. With Wu’s connections, it was not difficult for him to arrange such things. People are willing to do things for him, you know, so someday they might ask for something in return. Also, Wu introduced several girls to modeling agencies.”
    “So in return, they let him take pictures—even those pictures?”
    “Well, some of them fell for him anyway, with or without his offering anything. They let him pose them, totally nude, before his camera. You don’t need me to tell you what happened after ward, Comrade Chief Inspector. One girl was so eager, she told me, that she was willing to sleep with him just for the pictures. ‘I’ll work for them,’ that’s exactly what she said.”
    “Why did Wu want to take those pictures?”
    “I don’t know—Wu’s a man who keeps his own counsel— except for one thing he told me. He was a bit drunk that night, I think.”
    “What was that?”
    “Those pictures could prevent the girls from getting him into trouble.”
    “I see. You said that you first met Guan at a party. So was she like one of those party