A Drop of Chinese Blood (22 page)

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Authors: James Church

Tags: #Noir fiction, #Thrillers, #Espionage, #Mystery & Detective, #International Mystery & Crime, #Korea, #Police Procedural, #Political

BOOK: A Drop of Chinese Blood
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He had something there. “I’d say they care about corruption when they’re ordered to worry about it, or when they realize their last payoff had a long string attached.”

“Let’s pull on that. How worried were they when they gave you that order? To put it another way, what do you suppose worried the people who ordered you to worry about it? Let’s add one final point to consider—we can be sure that whoever is behind the phony seal isn’t after a big splash. No, this is not supposed to be high profile. More likely, it’s supposed to be just enough to discredit whoever uses the stamp, which in this hypothesis would be the South Korean government.” He picked up “What to Do in Ulan Bator.” “Why would someone want to discredit the South Koreans?”

“They’re annoying?”

“For the moment, let’s assume you’re right. They certainly are all over this town, but we are still left with the central question: Who has the seal?”

“I don’t know and you don’t know, but it looks to me like someone certainly has a hunch, and they’re playing it for all it’s worth. Let’s back up. If Beijing put this all in motion to get you here, who do
you
think they think has the seal?”

“People they consider my old friends, that’s who.”

“Again, that border! You’re telling me Beijing thinks this is a North Korean operation? I thought you said it was South Korean.”

“No, I said it was a South Korean seal. Whose operation it is remains to be seen.”

Maybe all of this was pure speculation, but it didn’t ring that way. This involved at least three capitals, maybe more. If this was such an important case, why hadn’t they put a special team on it? I knew the answer before I even asked myself the question. They needed someone small, too small to attract attention. They also needed someone who thought like a North Korean, not just someone with a little Korean blood in his veins. They needed my uncle, and they couldn’t get him here without me. My résumé, golden or otherwise, had nothing to do with it.

“This stinks,” I said. “If I can book us a flight, we’re going home tomorrow. Beijing can send someone else to handle things. If it were on the border in my jurisdiction, that would be a different story. This isn’t my neighborhood. Not even close. Wrong latitude, wrong longitude.”

“Not even if Madame Fang is part of it?”

“Be serious. She’s too old for me. Besides, you said it yourself, she’d eat me alive.”

My uncle had a gleam in his eye I didn’t like.

“Don’t tell me you think she’s involved.”

From behind me, I heard, “Do you want to close the door, or shall we let all the flies come in?”

 

Chapter Three

“Mei-lin, this is unexpected.” My uncle walked over and took her hand. “Been in town long? Fascinating country, rather flat in parts. No doubt you’re here for the wrestling matches—glistening, sweaty young bodies, muscles rippling, that sort of thing. Or maybe you’ve taken up throat singing. You were always good at playing two parts at once.”

Madame Fang rewarded him with a disdainful smile. “Inspector, if I’d known you and your handsome nephew were here, surely I’d have come sooner. I’ve been here a week or so staying all alone in a lovely ger hotel at the edge of town. You should move your things and room with me.” Madame Fang gave my uncle a look that would have sunk a thousand ships. She was dangerously annoyed and made no pretense of it. It didn’t seem to throw my uncle off stride.

“No, we’re comfortable here, aren’t we, nephew?”

I nodded. “Perfectly comfortable.”

“In that case,” Madame Fang said, shifting moods abruptly, “why don’t we all go out to dinner? There’s an Italian restaurant downtown not far from here that’s very good. It’s Italian in its own way, of course, but the ambience is tremendous. They play music from the 1930s. It reminds me of restaurants in Shanghai when I was younger.” She was suddenly sunny, cheery to a fault.

I like it when emotions arrive with plenty of warning. Madame Fang preferred the neck-snapping variety. It didn’t seem to faze my uncle, but it was getting to be too much for me. “Why don’t you two go for dinner?” I suggested. “I have a few things to nail down. I’ll probably be late; stay out as long as you want.”

“It will be like old times, Inspector.” Madame Fang laughed.

She was well over her annoyance and as dazzling as the Hope Diamond. I could see from his expression that my uncle would have meowed like a kitten for her if she’d suggested it.

“Do you still drink?” She patted my uncle’s hand. “Or have you given that up, too?”

2

I headed for the square in front of the Parliament Building, not far from our hotel. At this time of the evening, the place was bustling, and the sidewalks all around were full of people. That was good. I moved into the flow of the crowd, blending in every way I could. I made myself walk like a man who would rather be on a horse than on a concrete sidewalk. I held my head like someone accustomed to being outdoors scanning the horizon; someone who ate large quantities of mutton; someone who knew how to survive long winters of minus thirty degrees. I swung my arms like a man who hated wolves because they killed my sheep. My sheep! I thought bad thoughts about Lenin and the Soviet secret police. Most of all, I convinced myself that I was not from China but from this place, had always been from here, back to the beginning of time. My ancestors, I felt deep in my heart, had ridden down fleeing soldiers of broken armies and laughed at the sport of doing it. There was also something about other men’s wives, but I let that alone.

I knew instinctively what they would be looking for, the foreigner in the crowd, the slight swing of the arms or length of the gait that would stick out, the hesitation at the street corner, or the too eager step into the road against the traffic light. They’d zero in on anything that gave away the game, anything at all that stripped away the protective coloring. They were looking for me. I didn’t know who might be behind, or in front, trying to mark me. I had to see them first. There was one thing working in my favor. It’s difficult not to crane your neck when you’re looking for someone out of doors. Inside, even in a big meeting hall, you can let your eyes roam, but outside in a crowd of people, if only a little bit, you have to crane your neck.

I spotted the first one off to the right, about fifteen meters away. There would be at least three more of them, each one covering one-fourth of an invisible circle. I spotted the second one. These weren’t Mongolian security agents—wrong eyes. They weren’t Chinese—wrong haircuts. They were North Koreans, always the same stupid shoes. I’d dealt with enough of them over the past few years to know how they took their time scouring the bushes for their prey. That was fine. They were exactly who I wanted to see because it told me what I needed to know. My uncle, not that it was a surprise, had been right.

A North Korean team like this wasn’t here for the sights. They were here to snatch someone, not just anyone. They were here to find my predecessor and bring him back, either that or make sure he never left this place. They thought he was here, in Ulan Bator. That meant I had to find him first.

I eased my way across the street into the darkness of a narrow alley and watched. In another minute they closed the net and discovered it was empty. They exchanged a few sharp words, then headed back in the direction of their embassy, which I knew was about five minutes away. I gave them a head start and set off to follow at a safe distance.

Two big Mongolians blocked my way. “In a hurry?” One of them put his hand on my neck. And that, as we say, was that.

 

Chapter Four

“You’re on my territory, and you don’t have permission to operate here.”

I sat up. My head was clear. A quick inventory turned up no bumps or bruises. The only thing was my throat was a little dry. My eyes did a quick tour of the room. The lights were low, which was more soothing than ominous. There were no windows, but the place didn’t feel cramped. It had an air of openness to it, as if the sky and open plains didn’t pay attention to walls but seeped into everything. The man who had spoken was leaning against a desk, watching me.

“Where am I?”

“Not far from where you were a couple of hours ago.”

“I’m a tourist.” Anyone who started a conversation by telling me I was on his territory was not someone I wanted to sit and chat with. “You treat everyone like this?”

“No, just your type. You’re a tourist? Pleased to meet you, I’m the king of Siam. Who did you think you were kidding out there on the square, walking around like you had terminal hemorrhoids?”

“I ride horses a lot.”

A laugh rolled in from the hall, followed by a big man who had to duck as he came through the door. It was the man in the alley who had put me to sleep.

“Bazar here apparently isn’t convinced. In case you’re wondering, we didn’t make you in the square. We picked you up at the airport. The rest was easy. We’ve been watching.”

“What about those North Koreans crawling all over? You watching them, too?”

“This is a big place, but very empty, as you no doubt have figured out. We notice things.”

“So what happens now?”

“That depends.”

“How’d your boy do that, the hand on the neck thing? I’d like to teach it to my students.”

“Oh, you teach?”

“Yeah, I teach riding.”

Bazar laughed again.

“OK,” said the man. “Fun’s over. I need a statement from you.” He turned to the big man. “Tell Tuya to come in. We’re liable to be here awhile, so tell her to bring us something to eat.”

With the big man out of the room, it felt like there was more air to breathe. “You think I could have a glass of water?”

“In a minute.”

“We waiting for something?”

“No, I need you to listen.”

“I can’t drink and listen at the same time?”

“Not unless I say so.”

“Speak, by all means.”

He produced a tape machine, pressed the
PLAY
button, and stood back. What came out was short, less than a minute. “That’s it? I was expecting something more. Moaning, or screaming, maybe pleas for mercy. What else is on the tape?”

“Nothing. A dog barking, that’s all. You heard it all. It’s a dog. I want to know what sort of dog. Big, small, English breed, Mexican?”

“What makes you think I know one from the other?”

He fussed with the tape player. “Listen closely this time.” He closed his eyes and played the tape again.

I listened. “That’s not a dog.”

“It’s not a canary, that’s for sure.”

“No, it’s a seal, maybe a sea lion.”

“You mean this was taped in a zoo?”

“Seals do live outside of zoos, you know.”

“Not around here they don’t. Like where?”

“Like everywhere there’s ocean.”

“In China? I need it to be in China.”

“How about close, near the port of Rason. They have seals there. I know because … one of my students is from there.”

“In North Korea, seals?”

Strange he should know that Rason was in North Korea. I wouldn’t have bet a Mongolian police inspector would know something like that. If I hadn’t been suspicious, I would have been impressed.

“How do you like that! That explains plenty.” He stepped into the hall. “Tuya, I’m waiting. Do you mind?”

“Momento.” A young woman brushed past him into the room carrying a tray, which had on it a pitcher, three glasses, a notebook, pens, and a small pile of what appeared to be flat white rocks. Not unusual, except she was carrying it behind her back, with both hands. She put down the tray, retied her ponytail as if she were standing behind herself, and then looked at me languidly. As soon as she did, I prayed for an early death because I knew I was going to fall for her, and it would end badly. She was slim and tall; she moved like a flower in the wind. The only thing wrong was the way she had her arms behind her back. It was unnerving.

“Tea?” She was holding a glass up for me, in the proper fashion. “It’s Mongolian tea, I don’t know if you’ll like it.” She could have poured mud in the glass, it didn’t matter. If she was giving, whatever it was, I was taking.

“Yes, thank you.”

“It’s salty milk tea.”

Didn’t matter. Didn’t matter.

“Here.” She put a little in the glass and handed it to me. “Have a sip first. If you like it, I’ll give you more.”

More! I heard soft zither music in the word. “Delicious,” I said. “Superb.”

“You haven’t tried it yet.” Her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. “Maybe you should eat something with it.” She took a couple of the stones and handed them to me. “They’re cheese. Are you hungry?”

Just then the man walked back into the room. “Thank you, Tuya. Set up to take notes. As soon as our guest has had his tea, he’ll begin telling us why he is here.”

Tuya sat down. “Allegro,” she said. “Anytime.”

The man took some cheese stones for himself and chewed one slowly. “Tuya went away to Italy a few years ago. She was supposed to learn Italian and work in a restaurant, but it turned out not to be the case. They wanted her for something else. Some bigwigs thought she was the very thing they needed at their parties. She told them what to do with themselves and left. She went out the door and didn’t look back. You’ll notice she’s tall.”

“I did notice that.”

“And that she carries herself very well.”

“Unusually, you might say.”

“That’s her training. After she left the party animals she talked herself into a European circus for a season. When the circus went into winter quarters, she came back here and enrolled in the UB School of Contortionism. She was finishing up with honors when I heard about her. It was a perfect fit. She works flexible hours.”

Contortionism, that explained the odd way she’d carried the tray in the room. Unbidden, certain possibilities flashed through my mind. I put them aside, though not too far aside.

The man frowned. “Tut! I can see what you’re thinking, and you might as well forget it.”

Tuya smiled to herself.

The man continued. “She’s a gem. I can’t even tell you how many jams she’s gotten us out of. It’s amazing how many times you end up needing someone able to do so many things with their thighs.”

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