The Ghost Shift (42 page)

Now, as they crossed the red suspension bridge over Xiqing Lake, it was hard not to enjoy the spectacle. Wing looked triumphant as women under parasols waved at them from motorcycles. The sun broke through the mist to reflect off the lake and the Nengren Temple’s yellow walls stood on the other bank, two stone snakes slithering along its tiled roof.

“I’m glad we came,” Margot said.

“I’d do anything to bring her back,” Lockhart said.

“I know you would.” She touched his hand.

As they reached the temple, the band peeled off for drinks, and Wing led them into the inner area, past an altar lined with candles and a stall selling money. Lockhart bought a five-tiered tower of red and gold paper and put it amid the ashes in a brick oven. As he lit the paper, smoke billowed from the chimney, and Margot clutched Wing, her eyes streaming.

The temple Buddhas were brightly polished, and the altar shone
with red lacquer. The three largest sat cross-legged on their ornamental thrones behind the altar, their arms outstretched and their eyes closed. Wing took an apple from her pocket and placed it on the altar as an offering. Lockhart thought of Mr. and Mrs. Wu, grieving for their daughter as he’d tried to pay them off. He remembered Lizzie as a child, throwing snowballs in the yard. An image gripped his heart, of her fleeing across the Dongguan fields, looking for him.

He walked out of the temple and stood by the gate, gazing across the bridge to the lake. Two of the orphanage kids went past, heading for the supermarket at the end of the block with a crisp banknote. When he looked up, Mei was standing by him. He hadn’t heard her approach.

Lizzie was my fortune and I squandered her
, he thought. He wanted to say it out loud, to confess, but all he managed was: “I miss her.”

Mei put her arm through his and they stood together, watching the children run back with candy to sweeten the bitterness of death.

I first saw China twenty years ago and it has fascinated me ever since. On my visits since then, government and Party officials, academics, business leaders, workers, and citizens have shown me everything from the Central Party School in Beijing to factories in the Pearl River delta, and talked openly about their country and their lives. I thank them all. I was helped by many people who know China, the world of corporate intelligence, and the technology industry in Guangdong and Hong Kong. They include: An Ping, Alison Bradley, Jack Clode, Leo Fang, Rana Foroohar, Julia Grindell, Tommy Helsby, Kathrin Hille, Rahul Jacob, James Kynge, Chris Leahy, Ian McCredie, Richard McGregor, Mark Nicholson, Jim Ohlson, Euan Rellie, Shang Lin, Zhang Lifen, Zhou Ping, and my fearless Guilin taxi driver. I drew on books and research by Leslie Chang, Rania Huntington, Li Ling, Flora Sapio, and Ezra Vogel. Garry McKenzie introduced me to Wing Chun on a winter night in Hackney. My agents David Kuhn, Becky Sweren, and Gill Coleridge were unfailingly supportive and I owe a debt to Mark Tavani, a great editor. Thanks above all for their forbearance and love to Rosie, Yasmin, and Rachel.

B
Y
J
OHN
G
APPER

The Ghost Shift

A Fatal Debt

How to Be a Rogue Trader

All That Glitters (with Nick Denton)

J
OHN
G
APPER
is an associate editor and business columnist of the
Financial Times
, and the author of several books including the novel
A Fatal Debt.
He lives in London with his wife and daughters.