It was still not considered in good political taste to quote Confucius, but Chen guessed that Li would not be displeased.

“The Party has always thought highly of you,” Li said in an official tone of voice. His Mao jacket was buttoned high to his chin in spite of the warm weather. “So this is a job for you, Chief Inspector Chen, for you alone.”

“You have heard about it already.” Chen was not surprised that somebody else had made a report to Li about the body discovered in Bund Park that morning.

“Look at this picture.” Li produced a photo from a manila folder on the desk. “Inspector Catherine Rohn, a representative of the U.S. Marshals Service.”

It was a photo of a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties, handsome, spirited, her large blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“She is quite young.” Chen studied the picture, thoroughly puzzled.

“Inspector Rohn has studied Chinese in college. She is sort of a sinologist in the Marshals Service. And you’re the scholar on our force.”

“Hold on-what job are you talking about, Party Secretary Li?”

Outside the office window, an occasional siren was heard in the distance.

“Inspector Rohn is going to escort Wen Liping to the United States. Your job is to help her accomplish this mission.” Li cleared his throat before going on, “An important job. We know we can count on you, Chief Inspector Chen.”

Chen realized that Li was talking about a totally different matter. “Who is Wen Liping? I do not have the slightest idea about this job, Party Secretary Li.”

“Wen Liping is Feng Dexiang’s wife.”

“Who is Feng Dexiang?”

“A Fujian farmer, now a crucial witness in an illegal immigration case in Washington.”

“What makes Feng so special?”

Li poured hot water into Chen’s cup. “Have you heard of someone named Jia Xinzhi?”

“Jia Xinzhi-yes, I’ve heard of him, a notorious triad tycoon based in Taiwan.”