It was the sixteenth of the twelfth lunar month. The sky had been overcast since early morning, wrapped in a heavy fog.

The main gate of the Songhu Garrison Command headquarters near Longhua Temple stood only half open. The four wooden door panels were plated with bulletproof sheet iron, and the Blue Sky, White Sun flag flew high above the gate tower; the muzzles of machine guns could be dimly made out through the firing slits in the parapet. Beneath the sign reading “Songhu Garrison Command” on the left of the gate stood two sentries holding bayoneted rifles; beneath the sign for the 32nd Army of the National Revolutionary Army on the right stood three more sentries, similarly armed.

Directly across from the gate of the Garrison Command stood a two-story Western-style building, quiet as always. Mu Chuan gave it a careful look as he passed by on his way in. The courtyard was overgrown with weeds; the brick path was slick underfoot, weeds pushing up through the cracks between the bricks.

He walked into the office of the Judge Advocate’s Section, and as he turned to shut the door behind him, glanced once at the Pagoda of Gratitude beyond the courtyard wall, silently murmuring “Amitabha Buddha” out of habit. He took off his overcoat, called an orderly, and had him take it outside to give it a beating.

He drank a few mouthfuls of hot tea, then, as usual, went out to stroll once around the compound, as if inspecting his own domain. The detention house, the courtroom, the guard post, the motor pool, the cells, the perimeter wall, the barbed wire—he found himself hoping, out of habit, that he might notice something in the cold, dead light of a winter day. He’d done the same in Nanjing, in Suzhou. Once he’d made his round, he went back to the office and drank a bit more of the black tea the orderly had brewed.

“Ask Squad Leader You to come in,” he said, half to himself.

No sooner had he spoken than a hoarse voice sounded outside the door: “Section Chief Mu, Tianxiao is here.”

Though You Tianxiao was Mu Chuan’s subordinate, he held another, secret identity: he was the man stationed in Shanghai on behalf of the Nationalist Party’s Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics. The Bureau was a mysterious organization, its public address on Nanjing’s Dingjiaqiao Road, once housed within the Party’s Central Organization Department, though the offices there held only a handful of clerical staff—its real headquarters was set up elsewhere, near the Central Hotel, and later, as its staff grew, it moved into Zhanyuan Garden. Those in the know called it the “Special Services Headquarters.”

This organization specialized in political cases, investigating not only the Communists but also dissidents within the Nationalist Party itself. Mu Chuan, unlike many of his colleagues, did not look askance at this outfit—in truth, he usually treated You Tianxiao rather civilly.

You Tianxiao was not tall, with a sallow complexion and eyes that were often bloodshot at the corners. He held a paper-wrapped parcel in his hand as he stood before Mu Chuan’s desk. Being in uniform, he gave a perfunctory salute, then set the book he was carrying—The Theory and Practice of Special Services Work—down on Mu Chuan’s desk.

“Section Chief, I’ve brought you the book you wanted.”

Mu Chuan glanced at You Tianxiao and told the orderly to step out first. He picked up the book, looked at the cover, flipped through a couple of pages, and as he put it away in his drawer said with a smile, “I’ve been wanting this one for a long time. Must’ve taken some doing on your part.”

“They only print a few copies, and it’s kept under close watch—the requisition took a bit of time.”

“So thorough!” Mu Chuan gestured for him to sit. “You needn’t be so nervous about everything—I say those machine guns up on the gate tower could well be taken down.”

You Tianxiao, not quite catching his meaning, said nothing, and the two fell silent for a moment.

“How long has it been since you’ve gone to Nanjing? You should find time to go have a look.”

“Nanjing—always on my mind—” You Tianxiao’s eyes fixed on Mu Chuan’s teacup. “I hear Section Chief goes back often?”

“Where’d you hear that—” Mu Chuan, reaching for his teacup, paused, tapping a finger lightly on its rim. “Who told you that?”

“They say the Section Chief goes to Nanjing for meetings every week.”

Mu Chuan laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Well, they say Nanjing is for getting things done, but Shanghai is for living.”

“Everything I do is right here in Shanghai.”

Mu Chuan laughed again, and You Tianxiao looked a bit puzzled—he’d meant that quite seriously, yet it had been taken as a joke.

“Hard work yesterday, Squad Leader You—but—” Mu Chuan lit a cigarette and handed one to You Tianxiao as well, “—a great success all the same.”

“We took in six Communists; the rest got away. The library is run by foreigners in the concession—the meeting place was a room behind the stacks that no one ever goes into. There may be Communists among the library staff; the Detective Squad will keep investigating.”

“What about that one who jumped—I hear the police station botched things?”

“The police station leaked word.” You Tianxiao lit his cigarette, his speech suddenly slowing. “The Detective Squad can’t just go making arrests in the concession as it pleases either—we had no choice but to notify the police station’s political section beforehand and get their help with the arrests. The afternoon before, Detective Chief Yao of the Central District Station arranged the manpower; to keep things quiet, the men weren’t allowed to go home that night, and the Detective Squad even paid for drinks—after drinking, they were to rest at the station and stand by. Someone tried every trick to get to a telephone, said he wanted to let his family know, and it looked like it might be a rough night. Detective Chief Yao lost his temper, said once this was over he’d get to the bottom of it. To make sure the arrest went smoothly, I discussed it with him and had all of them herded into the station’s small assembly hall—but by dawn, the man had still gotten away. Detective Chief Yao said he’d take responsibility for bringing him back, went to the man’s home, and found it empty. No one imagined he’d dare charge straight into the market.”

“He’s a Communist?”

“He opened fire, wounded two men. Truly ruthless—even shot at his own police colleagues. Finally cornered in a storeroom, he jumped.”

“He was trying to jump and escape?”

“Where he jumped from, right below was where their meeting was being held. He must have jumped to warn the people below.”

“Oh—so he died for nothing.”

The room fell quiet for a moment.

“It’s good enough that we caught the others.” Mu Chuan exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. “I’ve reported it to the Garrison Command—I’ve put you up for a commendation, Squad Leader You.”

“The Section Chief’s kind favor.”

“No need to thank me—those people at the Garrison Command—men of your caliber, Squad Leader You, will find their rewards elsewhere.” Mu Chuan laughed heartily, then lowered his voice. “You’ve built up quite a network inside the Communist ranks, Squad Leader You—your intelligence is first-rate. You’ll go on rendering great service to the Party in the future—no need to concern yourself with that crowd at the Garrison Command.”

You Tianxiao weighed his words, unsure how to reply.

“I hear the code name is ‘Xi Shi’—” Mu Chuan waved a hand, as if brushing away a fly, and changed the subject. “Get them extradited back from the concession as soon as possible, and start the interrogations right away.”

“Yes, Section Chief. The paperwork’s been arranged—today the police station will send men to escort all the prisoners to Baiyunguan. As for the stretch of the journey from Nanshi back to Longhua, things could get complicated—the Detective Squad is short-handed. Could the Section Chief get in touch with the Garrison Command’s military police unit?”

“Military police? Moving army trucks—isn’t that making rather a show of it? These people haven’t even been interrogated yet. Over the years Longhua has arrested plenty of fake Communists too—arrest them, let them go, arrest them again. The riffraff out there, drug dealers, con artists, murderers and robbers, teachers and translators—when the interrogation turns up nothing, in the end they all get released anyway.” Mu Chuan said it lightly.

“Someone was willing to throw his life away just to rush into the arrest scene and warn them—that alone tells us this is serious.”

“So there’s intelligence that the Communists plan to intercept them on the road?” Mu Chuan paused, as if suddenly grasping something. “Are all six of them Communists? Squad Leader You, did you happen to sweep up one of your own people along with them?”

“No, no—none of my people,” You Tianxiao said gravely.