“Yes,” Lo responded. “Or a detective. Just two small men, in a wicked world. What are they to do?”
Two days later the door to Sadiq’s shop once again opened to admit the damp Detective Lo, who paused occasionally to sniff the contents of a brass box or burlap bag as he made his way to the counter, where Mustafa Sadiq was serving a customer. The old Uighur woman, spying the Han policeman, snatched up her purchase, glowered at him, and scurried away. Lo wiped his handkerchief along the back of his neck and watched her go.
“Very wise,” he said to Sadiq. “Not to call me ‘friend’ in her presence.”
“On a day when that one is angry at the Prophet, I would not call him friend,” Sadiq replied. “Is this another step in your acquisition of new habits? Last time you came before I was expecting you, and now you come when I’m not expecting you at all.” He reached for the kettle.
“I haven’t come for a game, or for tea, Sadiq. I have news that I thought I might share.”
“Oh?”
“The office of one of the mining companies was vandalized last night.”
“Was it really?”
“Windows broken, papers scattered about, and the walls spray-painted.”
“With slogans to the glory of Aliqqi the Hero?”
“Indeed.”
“You were sent for?”
“I was.”
Sadiq nodded. “And the miscreants? Were they caught?”
“No, my friend,” Lo replied. “They were not. However, there is no question in my mind as to who committed this outrage.”
“Is that so?” Sadiq murmured. “Well, your logic is usually faultless. I suppose you will proceed, then, as you must?”
“Yes,” Lo confirmed. “Exactly.”
The following morning, Detective Lo presented himself at the office of Housing Commissioner Wu. Unlike Public Security Bureau Headquarters and the satellite police buildings, the Housing Commission’s suite of offices had powerful air conditioning. The sweat gluing Lo’s shirt to his wide back turned icy, causing him to shiver as though in the presence of a ghost.
Commissioner Wu, small and dapper in a well-made suit, wrinkled his nose at the slovenly, perspiring policeman.
“I apologize for my appearance,” Lo said, sitting though he had not been offered a seat. With his handkerchief he blotted up sweat from his face. “It is very hot today.”
“This is the desert,” Wu retorted. “Each of us, until his wishes are granted and he is finally posted back to civilization, will have to put up with the unpleasant conditions of this forsaken place. Really, though, Detective Lo, isn’t it possible for you to put yourself together better?”
“This is why I was promoted to detective,” Lo said ruefully. “So that I could work in plainclothes. I was a disgrace to the uniform.”
“No doubt.” The commissioner sat back in his chair and frowned. “Detective Lo, I must tell you, your reputation precedes you. To hear you were a disgrace does not altogether surprise me. It is my information that you spend a good deal of time among the Uighurs. I understand you’ve made it your business to be fluent in their language. You play Xiangqi in teahouses and visit with shopkeepers. It could all make one question where your loyalties lie.”
Lo stopped in mid blot. “I’m surprised to hear that the activities of a policeman hold any interest for the housing commissioner. I suppose, on reflection, I’m flattered, though I’m saddened to hear the opinion you express, sir. The actions you describe are my poor attempts to stay close to the events of the city. They seem valuable to me, in my work, you understand, but perhaps I’m wrong.”
The commissioner sighed impatiently. “That is for your superiors, Detective. I understand you’ve come here because you have information you believe will interest me. If you do, please proceed.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.” Lo folded his handkerchief carefully and tucked it into his pocket, seemingly oblivious to the commissioner’s mounting irritation. Crossing his legs and settling into the chair, which, being as substantial as he was, did not complain, he said, “I think you may have heard that the offices of the Golden Chance Mining and Minerals Company were vandalized two nights ago?”
“No, I had not. I’m too busy to involve myself in problems that are not mine, Detective Lo. I would have thought vandalism was routine police business.”
“It is,” Lo agreed. “The Public Security Bureau was alerted by a concerned citizen, and I was sent to the scene. Rousted, in fact, from my bed.” He shook his head with a small smile. “Because, you see, I’m able to read the slogans that were sprayed on the walls. At times like these I, like you, question my decision to study the Uighur language. In any case, I did read the slogans. They were to the glory of Aliqqi the Hero.”
“Aliqqi.” The commissioner snorted. “An illiterate thug who centuries ago routed some other ragged tribe and stole their sheep. Good luck to him and his glory.”
“As you say. In any case, after I surveyed the situation and ascertained there was no useful evidence to be found, I sent the uniformed officers into the streets to search for the, um, miscreants.”
“Did they find them?”
“Unfortunately, they did not. There was no evidence left behind that could identify them, you understand. I’m certain that in time, however, we will track them down. In any case, I took it upon myself to remain, keeping the premises secure until officials of the Golden Chance company could make their way there.”
“All proper procedure, no doubt, and I’m sure you’re to be commended. Detective Lo, I’m a busy man. Why are you here?”
“Yes, of course, sir. I’m sorry.” Leaning forward, Lo produced two folded, wilting sheets of paper from his shirt pocket. With the palms of his pudgy hands he ironed them out on the commissioner’s desk.
Commissioner Wu inched back, as though to keep a distance between himself and anything that had been in such close proximity to the sweaty policeman. “What’s this?”
Lo gestured to the letterhead of the Golden Chance Mining and Minerals Company. “While I was waiting in the office, I thought to gather up some of the scattered papers. The mining company officials were already going to form an unfortunate impression of Turpan, based upon this offense against their property. I didn’t want them to come upon a public servant in the midst of such chaos, just standing there.”
“How civic-minded,” the commissioner muttered.
“One tries to do the right thing. In collecting the papers, though, I found myself glancing at them. Unavoidable, if unplanned; a career’s worth of curiosity, I’m afraid I can’t control it.” He gave a small shake of his head. “Now, I’m just a policeman, you understand, sir, and much of this is beyond my comprehension. However, unless I’m mistaken — always a possibility — I believe this report indicates the presence of, shall we say, unanticipated resources in an unexpected place?”
Commissioner Wu gazed at Lo a moment longer, then lowered his eyes to the papers. Skeptically at first, then more intently, he read through them, gingerly pinching the first sheet at its edge to lift it so he could study the second. When he had finished, he began again, reading with great care. Finally the commissioner looked up at the detective. “There is gold on land owned by the shopkeeper, Mustafa Sadiq.”
Lo nodded. “That was my conclusion also. I’m glad to see it confirmed by a man of your erudition.”
The commissioner frowned. “I had understood the companies prospecting in the mountains to be after copper. Bauxite. Iron, perhaps.”
“Yes, sir. Until this discovery — made, as it seems, within the week — the mountains near Turpan were not thought to have reserves of gold.” Lo hesitated. “Sir?”