The Fourth Sacrifice by Peter May Page B

with you.’ She turned away in disgust.
    He got angry in his own defence. ‘You have no idea, have you?’ He found his breath coming in short bursts. ‘With my uncle dead, my job is the only life I have. And if I go against my superiors I will lose that job. And what would I do then? An ex-cop! Sell CD roms to tourists in the street? Get myself a market stall and pass off junk with phoney designer labels as genuine? If I want to be with you, Margaret, I have no future in China. We would have to go to the United States. And what future would I have there?’ He tugged her arm and pulled her round to face him. ‘You tell me.’ His eyes appealed to her desperately for understanding.
    But she could not think of anything to say. She tried to imagine how it would be to leave everything in the States behind – her home, her family, her job – to come and live in China. But no picture of it would come to her mind.
    ‘This is my home,’ he said. ‘This is who I am. And no matter how painful it has been for me to accept it, I know there is no future for you and me.’
    She saw the pain in his eyes and knew that it was real. But it did nothing to diminish her own. She said, ‘I was right, then. I gave up on you, Li Yan. Finally. I was supposed to catch a plane home this morning. Then they asked me to do the autopsy.’
    ‘And now you have done it,’ he said, ‘there is no reason for you to stay. This is a Chinese police investigation. There is no point in either of us putting ourselves through more pain.’
    And it was as simple as that, she thought. Get on a plane, fly away and don’t look back. She had come here in the first place to escape the failures of her personal life back home. She would be returning home to escape the failures of her personal life here. Everything she touched, it seemed, turned to dust. Including Li. She reached out and ran her fingers lightly over his cheek where the imprint of her hand was raised and red.
    ‘I’m sorry I hit you,’ she said.
    He reached up and put his hand over hers and squeezed it gently. He had an overpowering desire to bend his head and kiss her. But he didn’t.
    She slowly withdrew her hand. For a moment she had thought he was going to kiss her. She had wanted him to, with all her heart. And when he didn’t she had felt a terrible aching emptiness with the realisation that there was no way back, and no way forward.
    ‘Well, that’s that fixed.’ Sophie pushed through the swing doors and down the steps. ‘It’s been agreed that translation of the autopsy reports and copies of the photographic evidence in all four murders will be delivered to the embassy as soon as possible.’ She stopped, realising immediately that she had walked in on something, and saw the unmistakable shape of a raised handprint on Li’s face. ‘I’ll wait in the car,’ she said hastily, and turned towards the limousine.
    ‘It’s all right. We’ve finished,’ Margaret said, suddenly businesslike, and she brushed past Li and followed Sophie to the car.
    ‘Jesus,’ Sophie said, as they slipped into the back seat. ‘You hit him!’ And then she saw the tears rolling slowly down Margaret’s cheek, and she quickly turned to face forward. ‘Sorry.’
    Li watched the car pull away from the kerb, and felt as if some invisible umbilical cord was dragging the inside out of him as it went.
    II
    They drove in silence for nearly fifteen minutes before Sophie sneaked a look at Margaret. The tears had either dried up or been brushed away. They had both been staring out of their respective windows at the traffic on the second ring road, tower blocks rising up all around them and casting lengthening shadows from west to east. ‘That was my first autopsy,’ Sophie said.
    ‘I’d never have guessed.’ Margaret kept her eyes fixed on the traffic.
    Sophie smiled and blushed. ‘That obvious?’
    Margaret relented and drew her a wan smile. ‘I’ve seen worse. At least we weren’t forced to