They speak, and Peter Dunne says, ‘No, but there is a security gate at the entrance and the guards there have been spoken to.’
‘And?’ Tom says.
‘No help, I’m afraid.’
I swallow. ‘I have things of Lori’s, for the DNA.’ I’d wrapped the freezer bags in brown paper, and now I take the parcel from my bag.
‘Thank you.’ Peter Dunne gives me a look of sympathy and explains to Superintendent Yin, who takes the bag from me.
The officer closes his folder, placing the bag I have brought on top of it. He speaks, looking from Tom to me.
‘Superintendent Yin says that Chengdu is a very safe place,’ Peter Dunne translates, ‘and the Chinese people very law-abiding. The PSB will do all they can to find Lorelei.’
The policeman adds something.
‘He wishes to emphasize that Chengdu is very safe,’ Peter Dunne says.
Superintendent Yin gives a nod. ‘Chengdu very safe,’ he says, in a thick accent.
‘Right,’ Tom says sarcastically.
‘It’s true,’ Peter Dunne says, unruffled. ‘There is very little crime, compared to London, New York or Paris. This is a very safe city.’
‘Try telling that to the dissidents,’ Tom says.
‘You’re entitled to your opinions, Mr Maddox, and you’re right, critics of the regime are dealt with harshly, but that has little to do with the situation we find ourselves in.’ It’s a smooth put-down. Tom compresses his lips and looks away.
We are dropped back at the hotel, and as soon as the car has left, I round on Tom. ‘What are you playing at? We need the goodwill of that policeman, not to get up his nose making sarky comments.’
‘He couldn’t understand,’ Tom says.
‘He probably got the gist,’ I say.
‘What did we learn?’ Tom complains. ‘They’re keeping stuff from us, Jo, the text to Shona, the lesson on Sunday. We should have been told about that as soon as they found out. They say we can be involved but it’s lip service.’
‘OK, so we know that now. We’ve met the man leading the search, we know they don’t have CCTV at her place, that she was still here as normal on Sunday. It all matters. Yes, we’re here by invitation, on sufferance, if you like, that’s just how it is. Just fucking grow up-’
He touches my arm.
‘Don’t,’ I say, rearing back.
He glares at me, then turns away.
‘The leaflets?’ I break the silence.
‘I’ll sort it out,’ he says. ‘I’ve got all the details.’
‘OK. I’ll email Nick and Missing Overseas – get them to change that date.’
An enormous coach, full of tourists, pulls up in front of the hotel. I go in to beat the rush. The lobby is hushed and cool, a balm.
