When Dr. X made his way down half an hour later, he was nonetheless delighted and surprised to see the moderately famous and widely respected Judge Fang sitting all by his lonesome staring out at the pond, its schools of fish flickering lambently. When he approached the table to tender his respects, Judge Fang invited him to take a seat, and after several minutes of sensitive negotiations over whether this would or would not be an unforgivable intrusion on the magistrate's privacy, Dr. X finally, gratefully, reluctantly, respectfully took a seat.
There was lengthy discourse between the two men on which of them was more honored to be in the company of the other, followed by exhaustive discussion of the relative merits of the different teas offered by the proprietors, whether the leaves were best picked in early or late April, whether the brewing water should be violently boiling as the patheticgwailosalways did it, or limited to eighty degrees Celsius.
Eventually, Dr. X got around to complimenting Judge Fang on his cap, especially on the embroidery work. This meant that he had noticed the unicorn and understood its message, which was that Judge Fang had seen through all of his efforts at bribery. Not long afterward, Miss Pao came down and regretfully informed the Judge that his presence was urgently required at a crime scene in the Leased Territories. To spare Judge Fang the embarrassment of having to cut short the conversation, Dr. X was approached, moments later, by one of his staff, who whispered something into his ear. The Doctor apologized for having to take his leave, and the two men then got into a very genteel argument over which one of them was being more inexcusably rude, and then over which would precede the other across the bridge. Judge Fang ended up going first, because his duties were deemed more pressing, and thus ended the first meeting between the Judge and Dr. X. The Judge was quite happy; it had all gone just as planned.
Hackworth receives an unexpected visit from Inspector Chang.
Mrs. Hull had to shake the flour out of her apron to answer the door. Hackworth, working in his study, assumed it was a mere delivery until she appeared in his doorway, harrumphing lightly, holding a salver with a single card centered on it: Lieutenant Chang. His organization was called, in traditional Chinese general-to-specific order, China Coastal Republic Shanghai New Chusan Leased Territories District Magistrate Office.
"What does he want?"
"To give you your hat back."
"Send him in," Hackworth said, startled.
Mrs. Hull dawdled significantly. Hackworth glanced into a mirror and saw himself reaching for his throat, checking the knot on his necktie. His smoking jacket was hanging loose, and he wrapped it tight and retied the sash. Then he went to the parlor.
Mrs. Hull led Lieutenant Chang into the parlor. He was a burly, ungainly fellow with a short buzz cut. Hackworth's top hat, looking rather ill-used, could be seen indistinctly through a large plastic bag clenched in his hand. "Lieutenant Chang," Mrs. Hull announced, and Chang bowed at Hackworth, smiling a bit more than seemed warranted.
Hackworth bowed back. "Lieutenant Chang."
"I will not disturb you for long, I promise," Chang said in clear but unrefined English. "During an investigation— details not relevant here— we got this from a suspect. It is marked your property. Much the worse for wear— please accept it."
"Well done, Lieutenant," said Hackworth, receiving the bag and holding it up to the light. "I did not expect to see it again, even in such a battered condition."
"Well, these boys do not have respect for a good hat, I am afraid," said Lieutenant Chang.
Hackworth paused, not knowing what one was supposed to say at this point. Chang just stood there, seeming more at ease in Hackworth's parlor than Hackworth was. The first exchange had been simple, but now the East/West curtain fell between them like a rusty cleaver.
Was this part of some official procedure? Was it a solicitation for a tip? Or just Mr. Chang being a nice guy?
When in doubt, end the visit sooner rather than later. "Well," said Hackworth, "I don't know and don't care what you arrested him for, but I commend you for having done so."
Lieutenant Chang did not get the hint and realize it was time to leave. On the contrary, he seemed just a bit perplexed now, where before everything had been so simple. "I cannot help being curious," Chang said, "what gave you the idea that anyone had been arrested?"
Hackworth felt a spear pass through his heart. "You're a police lieutenant holding what appears to be an evidence bag," he said. "The implication is clear."
Lieutenant Chang looked at the bag, laboriously perplexed. "Evidence? It is just a shopping bag— to protect your hat from the rain. And I am not here in my official capacity."
Another spear, at right angles to the first one. "Though," Chang continued, "if some criminal activity has taken place of which I was not made aware, perhaps I should recharacterize this visit.
Spear number three; now Hackworth's pounding heart sat at the origin of a bloody coordinate system plotted by Lieutenant Chang, conveniently pinned and exposed for thorough examination. Chang's English was getting better all the time, and Hackworth was beginning to think that he was one of those Shanghainese who had spent much of his life in Vancouver, New York, or London. "I had assumed that the gentleman's hat had simply been misplaced or perhaps blown off by a gust of wind. Now you say criminals were involved!" Chang looked as though he had never, to this day, suspected the existence of criminals in the Leased Territories. Then shock was transcended by wonder as he segued, none too subtly, into the next phase of the trap.
"It was not important," Hackworth said, trying to derail Chang's relentless train of thought, sensing that he and his family were tied to the tracks. Chang ignored him, as if so exhilarated by the workings of his mind that he could not be distracted.
"Mr.' Hackworth, you have given me an idea. I have been trying to solve a difficult case— a mugging that took place a few days ago. The victim was an unidentified Atlantan gentleman."
"Don't you have tag mites for that kind of thing?"
"Oh," Lieutenant Chang said, sounding rather downhearted, "tag mites are not very reliable. The perpetrators took certain precautions to prevent the mites from attaching. Of course, several mites attached themselves to the victim. But before we could track him, he made his way to New Atlantis Clave, where your superb immune system destroyed those mites.
So his identity has remained a mystery." Chang reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "Mr. Hackworth, please tell me whether you recognize any of the figures in this clip."
"I'm actually rather busy— " Hackworth said, but Chang unfolded the paper in front of him and gave it a command in Shanghainese. Initially the page was covered with static Chinese characters. Then a large panel in the middle opened up and began to play back a cine feed.
Watching himself getting mugged was one of the most astonishing things Hackworth had ever seen. He could not stop watching it. The feed went to slow motion, and then out came the book. Tears came to Hackworth's eyes, and he made an effort not to blink lest he dislodge them. Not that it really mattered, since Lieutenant Chang was standing rather close to him and could no doubt see everything.
Chang was shaking his head in wonderment. "So it was you, Mr. Hackworth. I had not made the connection. So many nice things, and such a vicious beating. You have been the victim of a very serious crime!"
Hackworth could not speak and had nothing to say anyway. "It is striking to me," Chang continued, "that you did not bother to report this serious crime to the magistrate! For some time now we have been reviewing this tape, wondering why the victim— a respectable gentleman— did not step forward to assist us with our inquiries. So much effort wasted," Chang fretted. Then he brightened up. "But it's all water under the bridge, I suppose. We have one or two of the gang in custody, on an unrelated crime, and now I can charge them with your mugging as well. Of course, we will require your testimony."
"Of course."
"The items that were taken from you?"
"You saw it."
"Yes. A watch chain with various items, a fountain pen, and-"
"That's it."
Chang seemed just a bit nonplussed, but more than that he seemed deeply satisfied, suffused by a newly generous spirit. "The book does not even bear mentioning?"
"Not really."
"It looked like an antique of some sort. Quite valuable, no?"
"A fake. That sort of thing is popular with us. A way to build an impressive-seeming library without going broke."
"Ah, that explains it," said Mr. Chang, growing more satisfied by the minute. If Hackworth provided him any more reassurance on the matter of the book, he would no doubt curl up on the sofa and fall asleep. "Still, I should mention the book in my official report— which will be shared with New Atlantis authorities, as the victim in this case belonged to that phyle."
"Don't," said Hackworth, finally turning to look Chang in the eye for the first time. "Don't mention it."
"Ah, I cannot imagine your motive for saying this," Chang said, "but I have little leeway in the matter. We are closely monitored by our supervisors."
"Perhaps you could simply explain my feelings to your supervisor."
Lieutenant Chang received this suggestion with a look of wild surmise. "Mr. Hackworth, you are a very clever fellow— as I already gathered from your demanding and very responsible position— but I am ashamed to tell you that your excellently devious plan may not work. My supervisor is a cruel taskmaster with no regard for human feelings. To be quite frank— and I tell you this in all confidence— he is not entirely without ethical blemishes."
"Ah," Hackworth said, "so if I am following you-"
"Oh, no, Mr. Hackworth, it is I who am following you."
"-the appeal to sympathy won't work, and we will have to sway him using another strategy, perhaps related to this ethical blind spot."
"That is an approach that had not occurred to me."
"Perhaps you should do some thinking, or even some research, as to what level and type of inducement might be required," Hackworth said, suddenly walking toward the exit. Lieutenant Chang followed him. Hackworth hauled his front door open and allowed Chang to retrieve his own hat and umbrella from the rack. "Then simply get back to me and spell it out as plainly and simply as you can manage. Good night, Lieutenant Chang."
As he rode his bicycle toward the gate on his way back to the Leased Territories, Chang was exultant over the success of tonight's research. Of course, neither he nor Judge Fang was interested in extracting bribes from this Hackworth; but Hackworth's willingness to pay served as proof that the book did, in fact, embody stolen intellectual property. But then he bridled his emotions, remembering the words of the philosopher Tsang to Yang Fu upon the latter's appointment to chief criminal judge: "The rulers have failed in their duties, and the people consequently have been disorganized for a long time. When you have found out the truth of any accusation, be grieved for and pity them, and do not feel joy at your own ability."
Not that Chang's abilities had even been tested this evening; nothing could be easier than getting the New Atlantans to believe that Chinese police were corrupt.
Miranda takes an interest in an anonymous client.
Miranda scanned her balance sheet at the end of one month and discovered that her leading source of income was no longerSilk RoadorTaming of the Shrew —it was that storybook about Princess Nell. In a way that was surprising, because kid stuff usually didn't pay well, but in another way it wasn't— because she had been spending an incredible amount of time in that ractive lately.
It had started small: a story, just a few minutes long, involving a dark castle, a wicked stepmother, and a gate with twelve locks. It would have been forgettable, except for two things: It paid much better than most kid work, because they were specifically looking for highly rated actresses, and it was rather dark and weird by the standards of contemporary children's literature. Not many people were into that whole Grimm Brothers scene anymore.
She collected a few ucus for her trouble and forgot about it. But the next day, the same contract number came up on her mediatron again. She accepted the job and found herself reading the same story, except that it was longer and more involved, and it kept backtracking and focusing in on tiny little bits of itself, which then expanded into stories in their own right.
Because of the way that the ractive was hooked up, she didn't get direct feedback from her counterpart on the other end. She assumed it was a little girl. But she couldn't hear the girl's voice. Miranda was presented with screens of text to be read, and she read them. But she could tell that this process of probing and focusing was being directed by the girl. She had seen this during her governess days.