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Authors: Ridley Pearson
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shang wu nan shi, zhi pa you xin ren.” A Chinese proverb that literally translated: “You must persevere to accomplish seemingly impossible tasks.”
“Yi ke lao shu shi huai le yi guo zhou,” Shen Deshi tested him.
“Again, please? Slowly.”
The inspector repeated his proverb. Marquardt managed to translate it, though searched for the true meaning. The Chinese language had many nuances.
The man spoke passable English. “One mouse dropping ruins the whole pot of rice porridge.”
“Thankfully, no mice around here,” Marquardt said.
“Mice are everywhere.”
“We guard against them.”
“Have you? I am aware that there is some kind of documentary being filmed about your construction project.”
Marquardt felt his tension release by a degree. Had he assumed incorrectly the inspector knew about the kidnapping?
“Ah, yes. It’s a piece for our National Public Television in the States.”
“You must enjoy dogs biting at your feet.”
“We can tolerate it. We’re used to it, actually. A free press is something you learn to tolerate.”
“In China, we have no tolerance for unauthorized investigation.”
Marquardt said nothing. He found it an interesting choice of words.
“Any problem with the film crew?”
“To be honest, I have little to nothing to do with them. You would need to speak with our Director of Communication.”
“I am speaking to you.”
Prick. “My dealings with the film crew have been positive. Nice enough people. We screened the first episode, but I haven’t seen anything since. Why do you ask?”
“Visas for foreign press are quite specific,” the inspector said. “This crew has approval to make film of Xuan Tower as well as your offices.” He hit the arms of the armchair. “Nowhere but this.”
“If they’ve overstepped their bounds, I wouldn’t know. If you want to deport them, be my guest.” Marquardt tried to calculate where all this was leading. It was a Saturday night. An inspector with the People’s Armed Police was in his office. All this because of a visa violation? It didn’t add up. “We are only the subject of the film. This crew does not work for us. Has no affiliation with us. Is there something I should know?”
“I believe you must be aware two of the cameramen have connections with World Life.”
“The environmental group? Certainly not.”
“Extremists. Militants,” Shen Deshi said. “If they do not work for you, then I trust that I can expect your cooperation in this matter.”
“I—ah…first, Detective—”
“Inspector.”
“It must be understood that neither I nor anyone in this company has any knowledge of, nor control over, the visa status or operations of this freelance film crew.” Marquardt was tempted to call in their chief counsel.
“I must account for each member of the film crew,” Shen Deshi said.
“With all respect, sir, as I was saying—”
“And it must be now. Tonight.”
Marquardt felt his temper flare. “Listen here. Tonight is”—out of the question, he thought—“unlikely,” he said. “Our Director of Communication will be in by ten o’clock Monday morning.”
“This is unacceptable,” the inspector said.
“I repeat: The Berthold Group has no professional affiliation or business relationship with the filmmakers beyond an agreement to grant them access to our offices and construction site.”
“You will please make contact with your communication direction tonight,” Shen Deshi said, misspeaking. Marquardt wasn’t about to correct him. “I wish to speak with the entire crew at once. Please,” he added as an afterthought.
Prick on a stick! Barely able to control himself, Marquardt eked out, “Monday morning at ten o’clock.”
Shen Deshi drew himself out of the chair heavily. He reached into his pocket, withdrew a leather wallet, and carefully passed his business card to Marquardt, both hands extended. Marquardt returned his card in similar fashion.
“If you are able to
“Yi ke lao shu shi huai le yi guo zhou,” Shen Deshi tested him.
“Again, please? Slowly.”
The inspector repeated his proverb. Marquardt managed to translate it, though searched for the true meaning. The Chinese language had many nuances.
The man spoke passable English. “One mouse dropping ruins the whole pot of rice porridge.”
“Thankfully, no mice around here,” Marquardt said.
“Mice are everywhere.”
“We guard against them.”
“Have you? I am aware that there is some kind of documentary being filmed about your construction project.”
Marquardt felt his tension release by a degree. Had he assumed incorrectly the inspector knew about the kidnapping?
“Ah, yes. It’s a piece for our National Public Television in the States.”
“You must enjoy dogs biting at your feet.”
“We can tolerate it. We’re used to it, actually. A free press is something you learn to tolerate.”
“In China, we have no tolerance for unauthorized investigation.”
Marquardt said nothing. He found it an interesting choice of words.
“Any problem with the film crew?”
“To be honest, I have little to nothing to do with them. You would need to speak with our Director of Communication.”
“I am speaking to you.”
Prick. “My dealings with the film crew have been positive. Nice enough people. We screened the first episode, but I haven’t seen anything since. Why do you ask?”
“Visas for foreign press are quite specific,” the inspector said. “This crew has approval to make film of Xuan Tower as well as your offices.” He hit the arms of the armchair. “Nowhere but this.”
“If they’ve overstepped their bounds, I wouldn’t know. If you want to deport them, be my guest.” Marquardt tried to calculate where all this was leading. It was a Saturday night. An inspector with the People’s Armed Police was in his office. All this because of a visa violation? It didn’t add up. “We are only the subject of the film. This crew does not work for us. Has no affiliation with us. Is there something I should know?”
“I believe you must be aware two of the cameramen have connections with World Life.”
“The environmental group? Certainly not.”
“Extremists. Militants,” Shen Deshi said. “If they do not work for you, then I trust that I can expect your cooperation in this matter.”
“I—ah…first, Detective—”
“Inspector.”
“It must be understood that neither I nor anyone in this company has any knowledge of, nor control over, the visa status or operations of this freelance film crew.” Marquardt was tempted to call in their chief counsel.
“I must account for each member of the film crew,” Shen Deshi said.
“With all respect, sir, as I was saying—”
“And it must be now. Tonight.”
Marquardt felt his temper flare. “Listen here. Tonight is”—out of the question, he thought—“unlikely,” he said. “Our Director of Communication will be in by ten o’clock Monday morning.”
“This is unacceptable,” the inspector said.
“I repeat: The Berthold Group has no professional affiliation or business relationship with the filmmakers beyond an agreement to grant them access to our offices and construction site.”
“You will please make contact with your communication direction tonight,” Shen Deshi said, misspeaking. Marquardt wasn’t about to correct him. “I wish to speak with the entire crew at once. Please,” he added as an afterthought.
Prick on a stick! Barely able to control himself, Marquardt eked out, “Monday morning at ten o’clock.”
Shen Deshi drew himself out of the chair heavily. He reached into his pocket, withdrew a leather wallet, and carefully passed his business card to Marquardt, both hands extended. Marquardt returned his card in similar fashion.
“If you are able to
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