“Those monstrous rats are capable of doing that,” Yu said. “Don’t you see a similarity between her and Hua in Fujian? In each case, a naked body after sex.”

“I don’t know much about the Hua case in Fujian, but those behind Xing could be connected. So, do a couple of things for me during my visit in the States: in an address book left behind in her room, there are some phone numbers. It’s quite an old address book, but it may still be worth checking into. Also, look into her phone records for the last several weeks, especially after the special investigation group was formed in Beijing.”

“Hasn’t Kuang checked the phone records?”

“He did, but according to him, she made no more than six or seven phone calls in the last three days, all of little relevance,” Chen said. “Kuang doesn’t seem too eager to share his information with me.”

“I see. Anything else you want me to do?”

“It may not be easy. You aren’t officially on An’s case. Kuang is not cooperative-for a number of reasons. In fact, you’d better not tell Kuang about your interest in the case.”

“I won’t say a single word about it. Not to Kuang. Not to anybody.”

“Follow the An case as closely as possible. I’ve put together a list of people, either interconnected with An or with Xing. Among them, Jiang, of the City Land Development Office. I want you to pay special attention to him. Any unusual move made by him, like going to another city or applying for a passport. Also, keep this small package for me.”

“I’ll put the name down,” Yu said, taking the padded envelope and producing a notebook. Chen did not explain about the contents of the package. It wasn’t characteristic of his boss, but Yu didn’t ask.

“And Dong, of the State Company Reform Committee, also in connection with Ming’s company.” Chen put down his chopsticks and wrote several names on a piece of paper.

“Tell me more about these people.”

So Chen began with a detailed account of his work, focusing on the involvement of Jiang and Dong, and on the possibility of Ming still hiding in Shanghai. At the end of his narration, he added, “I need to ask a personal favor of you.”

“What’s that?”

“Call my mother from time to time. She’s in rather frail health. You don’t have to go there. Or perhaps Peiqin can call. Does Peiqin know her?”

“Yes-remember the dinner in Xinya? We both met her there.”

“Old Hunter is still making his rounds patrolling as a traffic control advisor, I know. He may occasionally make his rounds there too.”

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Chief.”

But there came a knock on the door. The waitress returned with their noodles and other dishes.

“The soup in the bun can be very hot. You may use the straw,” she demonstrated amiably, “to suck out the soup carefully first.”

It was not exactly soup in the bun, but hot, savory liquid with a rich flavor made of crab ovary and digestive glands. But Detective Yu did not have his heart in the food.

“Yes, we will do that,” Yu said to the waitress curtly. “Please leave now.”

“The xiao pork is wonderful too,” Chen said politely. “Thank you.”

As soon as the waitress left the room, Yu resumed, “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m concerned not just about her health, but her safety too.”

“Has somebody made a threat against her?”

“Not explicitly, but I have to be careful. In a real emergency, you may also contact Ling-my friend in Beijing. I’ve put down her phone number too. She may be able to help.”

“In a real emergency,” Yu repeated. “That’s too much. You must have moved in the right direction, or those bastards wouldn’t have tried to play this kind of dirty trick. They know you are a filial son. It’s not your case anymore, it’s mine too, Chief. I have to do something.”

“I’m sorry to drag you in like that.”

“I don’t read much, you know, but I remember the saying in the Romance of Three Kingdoms: ‘Not born on the same day, we want to die on the same day. ‘The three sworn brothers-Liu, Guan, Zhang. So how can I stay outside alone? Let’s have some wine.”

“Why?”

“I am a lucky guy-a great wife, a wonderful son, and a real friend. Now I have something worth fighting for. So we’ll drink.”

“Let’s drink tea instead. I’m going to a government office in the morning.

“Tea is fine,” Yu said. “Now, what do you think of Comrade Zhao? He’s in Shanghai, isn’t he-because of the investigation?”

“Comrade Zhao may be one of the last Bolsheviks, like Old Hunter, but you can’t expect him to go out investigating by himself. A high-ranking revolutionary of the older generation, his hands are bound with all the doctrines,” Chen said, taking a sip at the bun. “Oh, I have met with him at the Western Suburb Hotel and mentioned your name to him. He has heard of you too.”

“Me? That’s not possible.”

“But that’s true. I suggested to him that you be permitted to act on my behalf during my visit abroad, and he agreed.”

“Any specific instruction?”

“With this case, anything is possible.” After a pause, Chen said, “If need be, you may go to him in person. But you don’t have to. You’re an emperor’s special envoy too, and can do whatever you believe necessary. Here is the statement signed by Comrade Zhao on behalf the Party Discipline Committee. I have added one line to it.”

Yu took the statement printed on the letter of the powerful committee. The line in Chen’s handwriting read, “Comrade Detective Yu Guangming of the Shanghai Police Bureau is hereby authorized to act on Chief Inspector Chen Cao’s behalf during his trip out of China.” Chen had put the line under the original statement, but above Comrade Zhao’s signature, together with his own signature. Yu wondered whether Chen had done that in the presence of Zhao.

“How can I contact you in the United States?”

“You don’t call me. I will try to call you-in our weather jargon.”

In one of their earlier cases, worrying about the possibility of their phone lines being tapped, they had successfully practiced their special weather jargon. Phrases like “cloudy with the possibility of rain,” or “the possibility of the sun breaking out in the afternoon” had served their purpose well.

“And you can’t be too careful,” Chen concluded, draining the cup.

“Don’t worry, Chief.”

But, at home at the end of the day, Yu was worried.

Peiqin was busy warming dishes in their room. She was dressed in white and blue floral pajamas and a pair of transparent plastic slippers he had never seen before. He made himself a cup of tea, going over what he had done during the day.

Not much, he admitted, spitting out a tea leaf. Instead of talking to Kuang, Yu had approached a young cop working with Kuang, and the information he had obtained about An’s phone record did not reveal anything new or different. For an anchorwoman, her phone calls seemed to be surprisingly few. As for Jiang and Dong, it was out of the question for him to go to their offices. And he did not know any people working there.

“Time for dinner, Guangming,” Peiqin said. “There is a dish in the microwave.”

He put the tea on the windowsill and took out a dish of salted pork fried with fresh leek. Peiqin was ladling out a bowl of rice for him.

The dish was steaming hot and good, in spite of its coming out of the microwave. The appliance was a housewarming gift from Chen in celebration of their moving into the shikumen room. A well-chosen gift, especially for Peiqin, who insisted on having hot meals at home. She could not, however, bear the idea of the shiny white microwave being smudged by the wok fumes in the common kitchen area, so she put the microwave in their bedroom, which also served as the dining room.

Theirs was not exactly a multiroom apartment, but it was still a huge improvement on what they had had-staying under the same roof with Old Hunter and sharing everything. It was at least a room under Yu’s own name.