Detective Lo began to translate, but Sadiq waved him silent.
“There is gold on my land?”
“I have information.”
Sadiq’s brow furrowed. “Why is it you have such information and I do not?”
“That’s neither here nor there, Sadiq. I’m a government official, privy to much that does not reach shopkeepers.”
Sadiq nodded. “I suppose that’s true. Is it a great deal of gold?”
The commissioner blew out a breath. “Would I have brought you here otherwise? I don’t have time to waste, Sadiq.”
“No.” Sadiq pursed his lips. “Please, you’ll forgive me, Commissioner, but this is all new to me. I must try to understand. My ancient ancestors’ worthless land has suddenly become valuable.” He shook his head. “Keslenqük yilan bolmighi ming yilqilik.”
The commissioner, alarmed, turned to the detective.
“It is a Uighur proverb,” Detective Lo told him. “ ‘It takes a thousand years for a lizard to become a snake.’ ”
“Yes,” said Sadiq. He smiled. “But look! Finally, it does.”
The commissioner snorted. “I don’t know what the meaning of that is supposed to be. We are not discussing lizards, Sadiq. I’m offering to buy your land.”
Sadiq nodded, suppressing the smile and rearranging his features into a serious aspect. “Yes, of course, Commissioner.” He smoothed his moustache, as though in an effort to keep the smile under strict control. After a few moments, however, the smile broke through the moustache barricade. Sadiq said, “Well, thinking of it, I don’t believe this is quite the right time to sell that land. You can appreciate, I have not had much time to consider the varying benefits of the paths open to me, but my inclination is to wait and see what arrangement Golden Chance Company suggests. If you’d like to discuss the situation after that, sir, I’d be happy to visit again.”
The commissioner replied, “Mustafa Sadiq, I think you’ll find my offer more satisfactory than any that Golden Chance Company will make.”
“Possibly. Once I know what they intend—”
“No, Sadiq. Now.”
“But, sir, if I don’t—”
“This is my offer: You will convey your land to me. I will convey to the Turpan Historical Preservation and Restoration Commission the home of Aliqqi the Hero.”
Sadiq stared, open-mouthed, at the commissioner. He turned to Detective Lo, who repeated the commissioner’s words in the Uighur language.
“Well.” Sadiq shook his head, as if to clear it. “That was what I thought I heard.” He hesitated; then, resuming speaking in Mandarin, he said to the commissioner, “It is a generous offer, sir. I appreciate the Housing Commission’s acknowledgment of the value to my nation of the home of Aliqqi the Hero. But...”
Commissioner Wu glanced at Detective Lo, and back to Sadiq. “But what? It is, as you yourself have said, a generous offer. Land where the worth is yet to be proven, in exchange for something of known and inestimable value to your people.”
“Sir,” Sadiq said, “what you say about the value of the home of Aliqqi the Hero to my people is true. It is an irreplaceable monument in our hearts. But I have three daughters. They will have husbands soon — the eldest, Qolpan, is already being courted — and they will have children. The land in the mountains is their birthright. It is not my place to give it away, even in exchange for such a cultural treasure.”
“Sadiq,” said Detective Lo, before the commissioner could respond. “Did you not tell me the home of Aliqqi the Hero is the birthright of every Uighur?”
“Yes.” Sadiq swallowed. “That is what makes this a difficult decision. One birthright for another. But I don’t see how I can agree to this.”
“Sadiq, you yourself will be a hero to your people if you do,” the commissioner said. “Our arrangement, of course, will remain private. But I will make it widely known that I was persuaded not to demolish the home of Aliqqi the Hero, but to convey it to the Preservation Society instead, by the silver tongue of the shopkeeper Mustafa Sadiq.”
Sadiq looked very sad. “Oh, that would be satisfying indeed! But I do not think—”
“On the other hand, if you do not agree, I will make it known equally widely that Mustafa Sadiq had the opportunity to save the home of Aliqqi the Hero, but chose not to, for reasons of his own greed.”
Now it was Sadiq who looked alarmed. “But no! That is not—”
“Is it not? You refuse my offer, in hopes that the Golden Chance company will make a better one — but what can they offer you, Sadiq, except money? So you are trading the home of Aliqqi the Hero for money. There is no other way to look at it.”
“But the home of Aliqqi is not mine to trade.”
“It is, Sadiq. Right now, the fate of your hero’s home is in your hands.”
From alarmed, Sadiq’s features paled to stricken.
“And your neighbors will know,” the commissioner finished. “They will all know.”
“No,” Sadiq whispered. “You cannot. My neighbors will never forgive me.”
“Nor should they, Sadiq, if you let this opportunity pass.”
“But my daughters... No, you must see, if I command the respect of all my nation but yet my daughters must marry beneath themselves because they have no dowries, what have I gained?”
“Beneath themselves? Sadiq, you’re a shopkeeper!”
“Commissioner!” Sadiq drew himself up. “Perhaps in your exalted world—”
“Sir?” Detective Lo, inserting himself in the conversation, addressed the commissioner. “If I might make a suggestion?”
“What is it?” the commissioner asked irritably. Sadiq turned narrowed eyes to the detective also.
“Well, it is this. Mustafa Sadiq: If there were not gold on this land in the mountains — if your daughters’ dowries consisted entirely of the grazing and melon-growing potential of this land — what would you ask for it?”
“But there is gold.”
“Sadiq.” Detective Lo, with only the slightest shift of posture and expression, suddenly appeared much changed: looming, volcanic. Both Sadiq and the housing commissioner stilled and stared. “Sadiq.” Lo seemed to rumble rather than speak. “If there were not.”
“I...” Sadiq was silent for some moments, his wide-eyed gaze fixed on Lo. Finally he whispered, “Seventy thousand renminbi.”
Detective Lo nodded and, saying nothing, turned to the housing commissioner.
“Detective?” the commissioner said. “Are you suggesting I buy this land?”
“I am,” Lo affirmed.
“That I give this man money? In addition to a cultural treasure?”
“Seventy thousand RMB is not so much money,” Lo said soothingly, “even to a policeman. Divided among Sadiq’s three daughters, it will give each a small nest egg, just enough that self-respecting Uighur men will be willing to court them. If, Sadiq, this were to occur, would you agree to the arrangement?”
“I... but the gold...”
“No one will know.” Lo relaxed in his chair, and the volcano vanished, replaced by the chubby policeman. “You will sell your land to Housing Commissioner Wu, who enjoys, from time to time, a rustic retreat, and who, happily settling in here in Turpan, wishes for mountain land of his own where he can wander through the splendor of your rocks and streams. You will also take the opportunity of a business relationship with the commissioner to importune him on the subject of the home of Aliqqi the Hero.
“Commissioner Wu,” Lo turned his attention across the desk, “you will enter into a simple business transaction with Mustafa Sadiq, which you will have no reason to keep hidden. In the course of it, you will be so moved by, as you say, Sadiq’s silver tongue — and by his reasonable price and lack of avarice in your business dealings — that you will agree that the home of Aliqqi the Hero must be preserved, and you will convey it to the Turpan Historical Preservation and Restoration Commission. When, weeks or possibly months from now, the Golden Chance Minerals and Mining Company seeks the owner of this land to make an offer on it, no one will be more surprised than Commissioner Wu. You, Mustafa Sadiq, will shrug philosophically when that happens. Possibly for a time you’ll face some ridicule from your neighbors, but that will be muted and good-natured, as you will be known throughout Turpan as the Uighur who saved the home of Aliqqi the Hero. Your daughters will have small dowries and a heroic father, and your people will have their cultural treasure. A most satisfactory ending.”