“That makes sense. The name of this club makes the association with the club in Shanghai clear,” Chen said, nodding like a truly bookish customer. “But cell phones and surveillance cameras are everywhere, and all it would take is one picture of someone prominent going up on the Web for their presence here to cause damage. That would seem particularly true for Party officials.”
“For those people, there are also private clubs.”
“Private clubs?”
“Not open to the public like this one. They offer absolute security. Each floor has its own private garage that leads directly to a particular floor offering all the services imaginable.”
“Really!” he said, thinking of the vacation Gu had suggested to him.
“Have you heard of the Obama Club?”
“What?”
“Some rich female clients fancy black studs…”
“Have you been to it?”
“A friend of mine worked at such a place in Sheshan. And she saw a number of untouchable elites there, including the one at the top.”
“Sheshan in Shanghai-there are a lot of villas there,” Chen said, thinking. He knew he had heard something about that area lately, but he couldn’t remember what.
“Of course, not everybody is there to take advantage of the available services. They might just want to meet someone in private to discuss important business. No one knows.” She added, “But you have nothing to worry about here. Our club is connected in both the white and the black ways.”
It was then that Chen caught a glimpse of a black-clad man loitering near the hotel’s side entrance. He was raising a cell phone to his mouth. Something about the man struck Chen as suspicious. Was it something real or just Chen’s high-strung nerves?
“Thank you for all that you have told me, but I’m not ready to go into your club yet. I think I’ll go and eat something first.”
“We serve dinner at the club too.”
“I like the street food in Suzhou.”
It was a lame excuse, but it was nonetheless a true one.
When he looked over again, the black-attired man had already vanished.
“Here is my cell phone number,” she said, handing him a card. She was probably tired of being a consultant, even if she was paid not too badly. “I’m usually here a little after one. Give me a call, and I could come to your room. For a good man like you, I won’t charge you any extra.”
“Thank you,” he said, slipping the card into his pants pocket. “I’ll think about it.”
“Think about it indeed,” she said, touching his cheek with the tip of her slender finger.
He stepped back and then fled.
Outside the hotel and across the street, he saw a hot pot eatery named Little Lamb and a Hunan cuisine restaurant with young waitresses clad in Xiang style standing on the sidewalk, soliciting customers. There was also an American steakhouse just a stone’s throw away, sporting a large bilingual sign. The neon lights flashed and reflashed delicious temptations. Neither of them looked too bad, but to his surprise, he didn’t see a single restaurant offering authentic Suzhou cuisine. It would have been fantastic if the noodle restaurant were open for business at this time of day.
Another luxury car pulled into the hotel, honking and rolling in through the side entrance.
A thought struck him. “The restaurant is also near a club that I’ve been to quite a few times,” Qian had said. She’d been to this very club frequently, which wasn’t surprising, given the job she’d offered him. He wondered if she’d be able to tell him something about this nightclub-or, more importantly, about its connection to the one in Shanghai.
It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing.
He pulled out his cell phone, but he changed his mind as a motorcycle rumbled past.
Instead, he headed over to a phone booth at the corner of a side street.
NINE
OLD HUNTER FELT LIKE a cop once again, in the middle of an investigation. He strode out of the subway in Pudong, holding a city map in his hand.
To an old man from Puxi, which was west of the Huangpu River, the area of Pudong, east of the river, was almost an unexplored world. The new subway system hardly helped. The underground hub was a maze, with confusing signs about line transferring and retransferring between Puxi and Pudong. It was supposed to be convenient, but to Old Hunter, it was not.
In the early eighties, he had had an opportunity to move to Pudong, but he chose not to go because of a then-popular saying: “A bed in Puxi is far preferable to a room in Pudong.” At the time, Pudong was basically farmland. Since then, however, it had undergone an unbelievable transformation. Now, featuring some of the fanciest commercial and residential developments, Pudong was almost unrecognizable. The old saying about changes in the world came to mind, “as dramatic as from the azure sea to the mulberry field.”
He plodded among the unfamiliar streets, rubbing his eyes, studying the signs and comparing them to the map in his hand, which proved to be of little use. It had been printed two or three years earlier and was already out of date.
But he knew how desperate the situation was. He understood why the ex-chief inspector had turned to him for help rather than to his son, Detective Yu. As a retired cop, he probably wouldn’t be noticed. And the crisis was escalating. Soon Yu could be involved in it, too.
“You’re a really experienced cop, but you can’t be too cautious.” That’s what Chen had said at the end of their conversation in the teahouse.
Experienced or not, Old Hunter would have to come up with an excuse to approach Tang, the cop from the Sex Crimes Squad. He was pretty sure he’d have no problem. Before retirement, Old Hunter had rarely worked with Tang, but there was still a common bond between the two. Despite their good, hard work, somehow both of them remained at the bottom of the ladder.
After several wrong turns, Old Hunter succeeded in spotting Jufeng Road, and from there, the sign for Carrefour Supermarket told him that Tang’s home was close. Old Hunter pulled out his phone.
“Hi, Tang, it’s Old Hunter.”
“Oh, such a surprise! What favorable wind has brought you over to Pudong today?”
“I’m on an errand here for my part-time job. I just walked out of the subway, got lost-guess what-and I’m now near the Carrefour. You once told me that your home was close to the supermarket, and fortunately, I have your number stored in my phone. What about joining me for a cup of tea?”
“You’re still thinking of me, Old Hunter. I’m flattered. Stay in front of the supermarket and I’ll come find you. There’s a neighborhood recreation center just about a block away, and we can get tea there.”
Tang appeared in less than five minutes. He was a gaunt man in his midfifties, with his hair streaked white and with a slight suggestion of shuffle in his steps. Tang was pleased by the unannounced visit.
Instead of the neighborhood center Tang had suggested, Old Hunter dragged him to a street eatery about a stone’s throw from the supermarket.
“This is still a developing area,” Tang said. “It’s too far away from Lujiazui, the center of Pudong, and there aren’t many decent restaurants here. Still, it’s much better than when we first moved here.”
“That was when the state housing assignment was still in effect, right?”
“That’s right-so the apartments here can’t compare to the new ones people are buying, but I still count myself lucky. We couldn’t afford an apartment in today’s market, and with the new subway, this area may see some improvement soon.” Tang said. Then he added shamefacedly, “To tell the truth, my place is overcrowded, now that my daughter has just moved back in with her crying baby. That’s why I didn’t invite you home.”
“You don’t have to feel alone in that, Tang. I’m still living in one room at that old shikumen house, with my old wife bedridden. My two daughters and their children are all squeezed together in the same wing.”