Dragon Bones

  They’d had tea and exchanged the usual pleasantries. Ho’s English was near perfect, but he was hesitant to delve into his problem. This was understandable. All across China—from the Special Economic Zones along the coast and the major cities to the most remote villages deep in the interior—average people, companies, the army, and government ministries all wanted a piece of the economic pie. To get rich is glorious! Private companies and government bureaus alike were bound to get into trouble.

  “I’ve heard good things about you, Attorney Stark,” Ho said at last. “You’re well-known in Beijing for your discretion in sensitive matters.”

  So this was to be a job interview.

  “I’m one man with a small practice.”

  “Ah, Chinese modesty. I’ve heard you are an expert.”

  “Many people say many things, but are they reliable character witnesses?”

  “I’m sure Minister Li at the Ministry of Justice would be amused to hear you question his reliability. He says you are a Zhongguotong—an honorary Chinese.”

  “The minister and I are well-acquainted, but we both know he is given to exaggeration.”

  Ho laughed. “Old Li said you would say this as well.”

  “I’m happy to be predictable then.”

  The irony, if such a thing could be said of David’s career, was that the Chinese government often hired him, a foreigner, because he adhered to American legal ethics. He honored attorney-client privilege in all of its manifestations, including work product. This was especially important to bureaus and ministries. What was common in the United States—hiring an attorney to conduct an internal investigation of malfeasance and then quietly negotiate restitution and punishment—was a rarity in China, but word had circulated that David could get results without necessarily bringing in the police. Furthermore, he was fluent in spoken Mandarin, even though he was still basically illiterate. He’d gotten pretty far with his tutor in the written language until he’d reached the word yang. The word meant different things when pronounced in each of the four tones: disaster, sheep, raise one’s head, and sample. He’d mastered the distinctions but had finally balked when he learned that yang in the second rising tone could also mean pretend, ocean, melt, or beetle, depending on the intricacies of the written character. But he’d stuck with the spoken language, which was why he knew gutter curses and wasn’t shy about using them if a case required it.

  He was also well-respected in the foreign business community. If he accepted a matter, it was because he knew he could deliver. And deliver he did, for in these last five years David had developed that quintessential prerequisite for good business dealings in China—guanxi, connections. No matter which side of the cultural fence a client was on, David had impeccable connections. He worked hard to maintain his contacts back in the States with the FBI and the U.S. Attorney’s Office, but the people he had private access to in China were even more impressive. He often consulted with the Ministry of Public Security. Beyond this, it was a well-known fact that his wife was a Red Princess, very rich, very well connected in her own right.

  For these reasons, David’s practice thrived. He’d conducted numerous internal investigations of corruption for a variety of Chinese governmental entities and had handled several politically awkward matters that required someone intimately familiar with U.S. law. He’d litigated on behalf of the Ministry of Culture in a dispute with an American film company over a proposed theme park. He’d worked as a liaison between U.S. and Chinese Customs departments in numerous matters involving smuggled artifacts. These cases rarely made the papers in either country but were common knowledge in some circles.

  “It is your absence of predictability that has made you a friend to China,” Ho continued. “My old friend Nixon Chen said this about you as well.”

  No one had better guanxi than Nixon Chen. Nixon was a childhood friend of Hulan’s, a former associate at Phillips & MacKenzie, a Red Prince, and probably the most important private lawyer in Beijing.

  “Again you embarrass me, but let me say that it’s an honor to meet with the director. I too have knowledge of your reputation….” Unlike Hulan, David couldn’t pull a dangan, a secret personal file, but he’d chatted just enough with Nixon and a few others this morning to be able to flatter the director.

  They could go on this way for hours. David used to chafe at these formalities, but now he enjoyed the exchange of compliments and the constant deferring that were part of the delicate dance leading first to business, then to deeper relationships. But Director Ho glanced at his watch, settled further into his chair, and stared at David. The message was clear: he wanted to move on.

  “How may I help you, Director?”

  “Minister Li said you are familiar with my field.”

  “Yes,” David said. “On behalf of the ministry, I just negotiated the return to China of a sculpture stolen during the Boxer Rebellion and taken to England.”

  Every case required that an attorney become an overnight expert, and in recent years David had learned a lot about how artifacts moved. Ho would already know this, but he still delayed saying what he wanted by giving David background information. Another common custom….

  “When China closed to outsiders,” Ho began, “Chairman Mao decreed that we had no use for the ancient past. Few excavations were conducted. Then, during the Cultural Revolution, the Red Guard were ordered to destroy any artifacts that could be read as symbols of a decadent or imperial past. Today we have a new mandate. We are to prove that China has had five thousand years of uninterrupted history. Although every schoolchild can recite that fact, we have no physical proof of the first two thousand years. So now we are trying to unite history, chronology, and newly discovered artifacts to validate our claim to the rest of the world. Unfortunately, we still know very little. For years we believed that the cradle of Chinese civilization was on the Yellow River, but we’ve discovered sites in other parts of the country that may suggest otherwise.” He smiled wanly. “As you know, China is backward in many respects.”

  David knew the buildup. He’d heard it several times before. Now Ho would begin to talk about his problem, and it would probably involve foreigners—Americans most likely. Would it be an unfair exchange of information? Would it be something as simple as fraternizing between the races on a remote dig in the interior? None of this, David knew, was one-sided; each contingent liked to blame the other. That was the given.

  As was the tenuous relationship between China and the United States that percolated above and below the surface of all that transpired between the two countries. Which country was more powerful? Which culture was more important? Most Chinese saw the United States as the most unfriendly nation to China, as the country they most resented, and as the one that would eventually pay the price for its bad manners. This last covered a broad range of indignities—from the perceived persecution of Overseas Chinese like Wen Ho Lee to the constant nagging by the West on issues such as human rights, the one-child policy, and sovereignty over Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Tibet, that the average Chinese thought were none of America’s business. So, could the United States bomb the Chinese embassy and get away with it? Yes, though the fury that this act had brought to the surface had shocked the world. Could China shoot down an American spy plane and get away with it? Yes, though the righteous indignation with which David’s government responded was disingenuous to say the least. To David, it was all part of the cosmic Jell-O that made up his universe. Push a little on this side of the world, and a shudder rippled across the Pacific. Shove a little on that side of the Rim, and set off tremors here. David’s job then was to maneuver through these shifting tides without anyone questioning his integrity, his loyalty, or his demeanor.

  “China has embarked on the greatest construction project in the world,” Ho continued. “But once the Three Gorges Dam is completed, the reservoir will cover over two thousand archaeological sites. What we call Site 518 lies two hundred and eighty of your miles downstream from Chongqing,
just east of the Qutang Gorge. I have come here today because we’ve suffered the loss of several artifacts from this excavation.”

  “You’ve been in contact with the local authorities….”

  “We’ve worked with the Security Bureau in Bashan, the town closest to the site, but what do a few policemen in a small village understand about thefts of this sort?”

  And couldn’t it be possible, even probable, that those policemen were somehow involved? David mused.

  “What specifically is missing?” he asked.

  An odd stillness came over Ho.

  “I’ve relied on the leader of the dig to keep me informed of what’s been stolen, but I am a long way from the Three Gorges and don’t receive as much information as I’d like.”

  “Are you saying you don’t know?” David was skeptical of the idea.

  “I am aware of the identity of certain pieces, but the team is pulling out artifacts faster than they can be cataloged, and we cannot begin a search until we file an international report detailing each missing item.”

  The vagueness of the sentence mixed with Ho’s body language contained a lot of possibilities. Could the Cultural Relics Bureau be so disorganized as not to know what it was finding? Maybe the bureau wouldn’t know, but certainly they’d have to know at the site, wouldn’t they? There had to be something more….

  Ho pulled on an earlobe and confided, “Even in the year 2002, archaeology is still a largely unmechanized profession. We work with shovels, spades, scrapers, and brushes. As a result, we see cuts, bruises, and sometimes broken bones. But Site 518 has had more than the usual number of problems.”

  Ho gazed away as he said this last bit. David understood. You could tackle something head-on or pretend that you really weren’t saying it.

  “I’ve handled several cases involving work-related accidents,” he prompted. The only good that had come out of the terrible events at the Knight toy factory was that they had opened a new practice area for David in workplace safety. These past few years, he had been hired not only by the Chinese but also by American and European companies to help avoid or correct abuses.

  “I’m aware of your expertise in these matters. I’ve been told you bring to the table a unique set of abilities. Our entire country is grateful for what you did at the Knight factory.” Ho followed this piece of flattery with a new disclosure. “So far this summer we have had five accidental deaths.”

  “All at Site 518?”

  “All in the vicinity.”

  “From what you’ve said, fatal accidents should be rare.”

  “Correct.”

  “So then what are these ‘accidents’?”

  “A worker fell from a ladder. A bridge collapsed and three men died. And there was a drowning.”

  “Except for the man who fell from the ladder, these don’t seem necessarily work related.”

  Director Ho jutted his chin. It was the Chinese equivalent of a shrug, but what exactly did that shrug mean?

  “Is there any way these deaths are connected?”

  “They were all local day workers.”

  This didn’t seem like much to go on. After all, most of China’s vast population could be categorized as local day workers, whether in fields or in factories.

  “Has anything been done to improve safety or to investigate these deaths more closely? Again, what does the local Public Security Bureau have to say?” David asked.

  “How do we improve safety when we have phantom accidents?” Ho came back silkily. “How do you get the Public Security Bureau to do something when nothing seems wrong?”

  “Phantom?”

  “We have nothing to pinpoint and no one to accuse.”

  “Be grateful,” David reassured the director. “It probably means no one’s to blame. The Public Security Bureau would investigate if there were something to worry about.”

  “That’s what I was told.”

  Sometimes David’s job was closer to that of a psychiatrist or priest than that of an attorney. People wanted to tell him something, but he had to wait until they were ready.

  “We are a country of more than a billion,” Ho said, still circling his problem. “We cannot worry about the death of every peasant. A foreigner’s death, however, brings us unwanted attention.”

  Again Ho fell silent, but this time David wouldn’t allow the director to skirt the issue. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “A young man named Brian McCarthy worked at Site 518 as a foreign expert. He was recently found dead. Today I was informed that it was not an accident. This makes me question the other deaths.”

  But what Ho said next showed that he was less concerned with the loss of life than with the bureau’s reputation in the international community. “Our difficulties make their presence known at an inopportune time,” he went on. “The world’s eyes are focused on the Three Gorges Dam….”

  Actually, David thought, the dam had transfixed environmentalists, politicians, and investors in great debates about pollution, safety, and money, but most people around the world had not even heard of it.

  “Not everyone wants to see the dam finished,” Ho explained. “Even in our own government there are factions against it….”

  This was also true. Premier Zhu Rongji had startled the country recently when he made public comments critical of the quality of construction, as well as of the graft and corruption connected to the project.

  “Everyone is looking for someone to blame,” Ho complained. “The tiger will continue to roar and the phoenix will rise again, but an ant is insignificant.”

  The implication was clear: China was losing face on the world stage and Ho was worried that he might be set up to take a fall to divert bad publicity about the dam.

  “Our situation is complicated by the fact that the team at Site 518 is international,” Ho continued. “Suppose one of them is involved in either the thefts or the deaths?”

  “Then you would want to work with the Ministry of Public Security.”

  “Exactly, and yet we both know that this may not be the best thing for foreign relations.”

  True again. The MPS was deeply feared. Its agents were notoriously aggressive, and they didn’t follow rules that might be considered commonplace by someone from England, France, or the United States.

  “What do you want me to do?” David asked.

  “I want to hire you to look into the disappearance of our artifacts. Find them and whoever is taking them. If you discover something internal to our bureau, I’d like you to keep it that way.”

  “Absolutely,” David answered. “I consider all matters that I take on to be sensitive and private.”

  “I also need someone who can shepherd us through whatever may come up with the investigation into Brian McCarthy’s death.”

  “I have a lot of experience dealing with local security bureaus.”

  But this wasn’t quite what Ho had in mind. “I understand that you have special guanxi with the MPS.”

  “That my wife is employed by the ministry is no secret,” David responded, though he was a little surprised by the segue from his general experience with local police to his very particular connection with Hulan at China’s equivalent of the FBI.

  “Vice Minister Zai assures me that you and your wife have worked well together in the past on matters sensitive to the state,” Ho stated evenly.

  David hadn’t expected Zai’s name to come up either. It seemed that Ho had gone to considerable lengths to check out David’s credentials.

  Then Ho dropped his final bombshell. “Your wife has been assigned to investigate Brian McCarthy’s death. So, in addition to looking into the thefts, I’d like you to represent the bureau’s interests if it’s discovered that his or any of the workers’ deaths are connected to Site 518.”

  Ho pushed his chair back and stood. “We have an appointment at the Ministry of Public Security at three o’clock. You can inform me of your decision to take the case after you’ve heard what the
vice minister has to say.”

  When David and Director Ho were ushered into Vice Minister Zai’s office, Hulan was already there. David remembered back with incredible clarity to the day five years ago when he had first entered this room. He recalled the total shock he experienced at seeing Hulan, the woman who had disappeared from his life seven years previously. From that moment of supreme confusion, they had reconnected and fallen in love again.

  Now he felt conflicted. It seemed they were being brought together for an investigation, but this whole setup was suspicious. Why throw them together again after so many years? What was it about this case that required the two of them? Just what was Ho after? Not to mention Zai. Hulan wouldn’t like being pulled away from her All-Patriotic Society campaign, David knew that much. Their eyes met briefly, and he read profound wariness in hers. It put him at ease to know that she picked up on his caution too. David had heard enough Chinese bureaucrats obfuscate or lie or try to paint something in rosy hues when the colors of the situation were as dark as mud that he never believed every word that was spoken. Only speak one-third of the truth. Hulan had taught him that.

  True to personal form and social custom, Zai had retreated beneath a veneer of bureaucratic authority, which was exactly what David expected. Familiarity didn’t mean that this meeting would be anything less than formal. In the center of the room, four overstuffed chairs had been placed facing each other with a little table between them. Tea was poured. Watermelon seeds were set out in a dish. Cigarettes were offered. Compliments were exchanged. David watched Hulan through all of this. Whatever emotions she’d felt this morning were now deeply hidden, but he wondered if she too was thinking of that day five years ago when he’d walked into this office. What did she see when she looked at him now?

  Zai smoothly led them into the purpose for the meeting. “Attorney Stark, Inspector Liu,” he began, falling back on formal titles befitting the situation, “we have brought the two of you together in hopes that you can once again help China by using your special skills. In the past, Inspector Liu has not let political correctness influence her reasoning, while Attorney Stark has always understood the importance of keeping secrets. Inspector Liu carries with her a badge of government authority, while you, Attorney Stark, can sometimes get people to answer your questions for the very reason that you do not carry a badge. You have not crossed any politically difficult lines in the past. As a result, no one has lost face.”