Tall, with a large head and an imposing appearance, dressed in a well-tailored Mao suit, speaking with a clear voice, with an unusually refined bearing: that was Secretary Wang. That was the reason that when I saw him in the main hall it never occurred to me that he could be Party Secretary Wang. I thought he was probably a senior figure, maybe even one of the principals. He wasn’t even wearing glasses, so he looked totally different from my image of a director of a research facility. But as I was soon to discover, he had the attention to detail and stubbornness that is often found among researchers. For example, at both the start and finish of our discussions he looked at his watch, making it clear that he had a strong sense of time-keeping; and when I made a request, he didn’t express an opinion right away but would only reply after he had thought it through carefully. Before our discussion he demanded to see proof of identity, something that could demonstrate that I was indeed An Zaitian from Special Unit 701. He wasn’t satisfied with what I gave him, and tried to cross-examine me.

‘I hope you don’t mind me mentioning it, but when they told me you were coming, they said you’d be arriving in a jeep.’

‘And I am sure they told you that the number plate would be …’

‘So why didn’t you come by car?’

‘It broke down.’

In the interests of security, I had told the driver to drop me by the gate rather than taking me to the door. I was not expecting the heavens to open during that couple of hundred metres’ walk, leaving me looking stupid. He clearly didn’t believe my story of the breakdown, but he also had no idea how to call me on it, so he just sat there in silence. In order to gain his trust, I decided to phone up the comrade who had let him know that I would be coming. In fact, when the phone call was made, I was standing beside him. When the call went through, I handed the receiver to him, and told him to take it. He listened to what the principal had to say, and then all of a sudden he was all smiles. After hanging up he grabbed hold of my hand and pumped it enthusiastically, apologizing all the while for having been rude. He dragged me over to sit on the sofa and then hurried about lighting my cigarette and making tea. Having seated myself, I got straight down to business.

‘I’m here to find someone.’

He asked me what kind of person.

I thought about it and then said, opening my attaché case: ‘See for yourself.’