A Death in the Lucky Holiday Hotel Read online

  The Chongqing municipal government turned to its Weibo shortly before eleven o’clock on the morning of February 8 and issued a ludicrous one-line comment:

  Chongqing deputy mayor and former police chief Wang Lijun, 52, is undergoing “vacation-style treatment” due to his heavy workload and stress.

  That merely fueled further speculation and ridicule. In a matter of hours, “vacation-style treatment” became the most popular political buzzword online.

  One sarcastic posting stated, “Getting a vacation-style treatment in the US Consulate? Did he defect or seek vacation-style treatment? What a blatant lie, unheard of in Chinese history!”

  Realizing the absurdity of its statement, the Chongqing municipal government removed it from its Weibo but reposted it an hour later, then removed it again. To many, it was an indication that local officials had lost direction and did not know what to do.

  Wang’s defection had caught Beijing off guard. While senior leaders were mulling over a solution, government censors were left without directions. They waited for instructions, unsure what they should be blocking and what could go through; their inaction allowed comments and news leaks to flood the network. Wang Xing, a journalist with China’s Southern Metropolis Daily newspaper, found out from a contact at the Chengdu Municipal Public Security Bureau that Wang Lijun had left Chengdu. His newspaper spiked the story, so he posted it on Weibo: “Wang Lijun was taken away [from the US Consulate] this morning in a car provided by the Sichuan Provincial Public Security Department. He then flew to Beijing.” The posting proved to be true.

  Western media outlets, such as Forbes, Reuters, the New York Times, and Voice of America, contacted the US Embassy in Beijing to verify the details. Richard Buangan, US Embassy spokesman, said he was “not in a position to comment regarding reported requests for asylum.” On the night of February 8, under intense media pressure, US State Department spokeswoman Victoria Nuland confirmed in Washington that Wang had requested a meeting with the Chengdu consul two days earlier, then “left of his own volition.” Nuland declined to comment on whether Wang had requested asylum.

  The lack of details prompted many of Wang’s supporters to question claims that their patriotic anticrime hero would seek political asylum at the US Consulate. One Weibo posting quoted an inside source as saying Wang was the unwitting victim of a trap by his enemies within the party—in this version of events, the US consul general had invited Wang to go in for an urgent antiterrorism meeting.

  On February 9, political insiders bombarded Mingjing News and Boxun with details and speculation. Despite years of government control, ordinary people have stopped trusting the state-run media. News from overseas is considered more credible than a report in the People’s Daily. Knowing that antifirewall software enables overseas news to filter back to China, different political factions have learned to use overseas Chinese media to influence public opinion and embarrass their opponents by supplying them with inside scoops. Not all of the information I had received was reliable—there were many elements of deliberate fabrication—but as the events unfolded in the following months, the majority proved to be true, or at least close to the truth.

  On the morning of February 9, an article on Boxun, which quoted an official from Beijing, shed more light on Wang’s “defection”:

  On the afternoon of February 6, after attending several activities at a university in Chongqing, Wang Lijun left in disguise and entered the US Consulate in Chengdu to seek political asylum.

  Authorities in Chongqing sent troops to the consulate and surrounded the building for twenty-four hours. During his stay, Wang Lijun had long conversations with American intelligence officials and divulged political information relating to power struggles within the Chinese leadership. He also applied for political asylum. Due to pressure from the Chinese government and to the fact that Wang was disturbed and emotionally unstable, American officials turned him over to the Ministry of State Security early in the morning of February 8. At the moment, he is being held for questioning at a secure location in Beijing.

  Before leaving the US Consulate, Wang was heard talking to officials of the State Security Ministry: “I’m Bo Xilai’s victim. Bo Xilai is a conspirator. I’m going to fight him until my death. My evidence against him has been transferred overseas.”

  Wang’s attempted defection made Bo and his wife, Gu Kailai, very nervous. Gu hasn’t been able to sleep for several days.

  When the Boxun story came out, I was still in Taiwan. My skepticism remained: the melodramatic descriptions seemed to have been taken from a bad Hollywood action movie, leaving too many questions unanswered. What prompted a nationally known police chief to seek shelter at the US Consulate? How could the Chinese government ignore international law and send troops to block the US Consulate for twenty-four hours? I could not think of any precedent that would suggest that the series of amazing events described in Boxun was authentic. With poor telephone reception, I felt reluctant to verify a story I suspected had been embellished with many fictional elements.

  However, as insider e-mails poured in with similar details about Wang and Bo over the following two days, I became convinced that most of what had been reported was authentic.

  On February 12, a letter supposedly written by Wang Lijun on the day after he had been fired appeared on many overseas Chinese news sites.

  When everyone sees this letter, I’ll either be dead or have lost my freedom. I want to explain to the whole world the reasons behind my actions. In short: I don’t want to see the Party’s biggest hypocrite Bo Xilai carry on performing: When such evil officials rule the state, it will lead to calamity for China and disaster for our nation. . . . Bo Xilai is a despot who makes arbitrary decisions, hateful and ruthless. If you go along with him you’ll prosper, go against him and you’ll perish. He always forces his subordinates to use any means possible to do all kinds of unspeakable things on his behalf. If you don’t comply you are dealt with ruthlessly. He treats people like chewing gum: after a little chew, he just throws you away, and he doesn’t care whose feet you end up under. . . . Bo Xilai has the reputation of being honest and upright, but he is actually corrupt to the core, conniving with his family members getting outrageously rich. I have documented these matters, and have already submitted reports to the relevant parties and I also ask that friends abroad help to circulate this letter to the world. Everybody’s got to die, I am willing to use my life to expose Bo Xilai. For the sake of ridding the Chinese system of this scourge on the people, this brazen careerist, I am willing to sacrifice everything!

  Zhou Lijun, a scriptwriter who befriended Wang while doing research for a TV series based on the renowned police chief’s life in 1999, considered the letter credible because he had heard the chewing gum reference from Wang before. The letter made me realize a political earthquake was rumbling to a head before the 18th Party Congress. I assembled a news team to monitor the constant flow of news tips from inside China and to cover, after verification, developments relating to Wang.

  “THE IRON BLOODED POLICE SPIRIT”

  GENETIC SCIENTISTS BELIEVE that 17 million people in Asia are direct descendants of Genghis Khan. Wang Lijun liked to brag at the height of his fame that he is a product of that fearsome thirteenth-century Mongolian warrior.

  Born in Arxan, Inner Mongolia, on December 26, 1959, Wang shared the same birthday as another formidable figure, Mao Zedong, who led the Communist revolution to victory in 1949 and ruled China with brutality for twenty-seven years. At the height of Wang’s career, a local newspaper in the northeastern city of Tieling described Wang’s birth in a style once reserved only for Mao:

  When the glowing sun broke through the clouds and rose slowly on the horizon, spewing golden rays, a crying baby boy was born in a house at the foot of the Arxon Mountain. By Mongolian tradition, a newborn’s name is based on the specific time and the natural environment of his birth. Wang’s father, well versed in Mongolian culture, bestowed upon him a romantic name—“Ü
nen Baγatar,” which means “A True Hero.” Ünen Baγatar’s Chinese name is Wang Lijun, which means “Finding your call in the military.” As a little boy, Wang inherited the heroic styles of his famous ancestor Genghis Khan, and began practicing horse-riding and archery.

  Not everyone was prepared to buy into the Mongolian-warrior angle; Wang Licheng, a lawyer and blog writer in China’s northeastern province of Liaoning, disputed Wang’s ethnicity. Though he was born in Inner Mongolia, the lawyer, who has closely monitored the official’s career path over the past decade, claims Wang is 100 percent Han—the largest ethnic group in China. His ancestors lived in the northeastern province of Liaoning. In an application form that Wang submitted to the army in 1978, he listed his ethnicity as Han.

  “Why did Wang change his ethnicity from Han to Mongolian?” asked the lawyer in his blog. “At the 14th Communist Party Congress in 1992, Wang Lijun, who was then the deputy police chief in Tieling city, was contending for a delegate spot, which could put him on a fast track to the top. Knowing that the Party always allocated token seats for members of the minority groups, Wang changed his ethnicity to Mongolian.”

  Whether Mongolian or Han, Wang was brought up in the Mongolian tradition. As a teenager, he was a member of a Mongolian youth boxing team and commanded superb martial arts skills. After high school in 1977, he was assigned a job at a state farm in northeastern China and a year later joined the army. According to a childhood friend, Wang always dreamed of becoming a military officer. While stationed in Tieling, a northeastern city with a population of 3 million people, he twice took the rigorous national college entrance exam hoping to get into a military academy, but he never passed. In 1982, a year after his compulsory military service ended, Wang married Xiao Shuli, who was a switchboard operator in the army. Four months after their marriage, the two settled in Tieling, where, through the connections of his father-in-law, an army officer, Wang obtained a job as a truck driver at the municipal commerce bureau. His wife also left the military and was employed at the local police department.

  Wang’s police career started in 1983, when the local public security bureau enlisted him as a volunteer in a neighborhood watch group. Wang took the assignment seriously and trained a group of young people who diligently patrolled the streets and coal mining facilities. In 1984, a friend at a local mining company introduced him to the Tieling deputy police chief, who later recommended Wang join the police force when the Tieling Municipal Public Security Bureau began recruiting in 1984. Despite his lack of a college education, which was required of other candidates, he got the job.

  Three years later, at the age of twenty-eight, Wang was promoted to head a police station in Xiaonan township at the southern-most tip of the city, where robberies and gang-related killings were rampant. A month before he assumed the position, a young police officer there was ambushed and stabbed to death. The assailant was never caught. An article in the Law Weekend described vividly Wang’s first week at his new job there:

  Wang received a phone call while he was on duty one night. “Are you the new police chief? Do you know how your predecessor died? You will end up like him. If you don’t believe me, come see me at the train station.” Wang slammed the phone down, holstered his handgun and headed directly to the train station. In the icy cold wind, he searched for the gang leader and shouted, “If you have the guts, come out to meet me!” Wang waited until dawn, but the gang leader never showed up.

  Thus, Wang’s reputation as a brave and fearless officer soared. The new police chief was not only brave, but also smart. In his spare time, he invented an automatic alarm system, connecting all public security offices nearby. He had the alarm system installed in factories and government offices. Each time someone broke in, the red lights in the public security bureau would flash. Police could be on site within minutes.

  The crime rate plummeted in Wang’s district and within three years, the state media said he solved 281 criminal cases and the township was being cited as a model in the province. In 1991, he was transferred to another branch, where he practically lived in the office. Wang created a record by busting ten criminal groups in nine days. In January 1992, he was honored by the Ministry of Public Security as one of “China’s Ten Most Remarkable Policemen” and traveled to Beijing to meet many of China’s senior leaders. Upon his return, Wang was appointed the deputy director of the Tieling Public Security Bureau and sent to receive training at the Chinese People’s Security University. At the beginning of his tenure in Tieling, the city was infested with organized-crime gangs that controlled the city’s nightclubs, hair salons, and restaurants, engaging in prostitution and blackmail. Gun shootings were rampant and gang members even planted bombs outside government buildings. In winter, many farmworkers were largely unemployed and engaged in drinking, pickpocketing, and street fighting. Ordinary residents suffered at the hands of mafia leaders and street gangs.

  As an important new initiative, Wang launched an anti–organized crime campaign in September 1994. He set up a forty-member work team and turned a three-level office building into a temporary jail, detaining and interrogating suspects. Over the next four days, he cracked more than 800 cases, arresting 923 people in connection with the 87 gangs, or mafia groups, that controlled the city. At subsequent trials, seven ringleaders received the death penalty. Nineteen police officers were found to be corrupt and were jailed or sacked on charges that they had colluded with criminals.

  Many legal experts, including Wang Licheng, the lawyer who disputed Wang’s ethnicity, criticized the campaign for denying due process to the accused, but dissenting voices fell on deaf ears. The authorities were pleased with the results and Wang was hailed as a tough crime fighter. The local government commissioned a book, The Legends of the Northeastern Tiger, to chronicle his heroic acts. In one chapter, Chen Xiaodoing, the author of the biography, described how Wang captured the two mafia leaders:

  On September 19, 1994, Wang was tipped off by an informant that Yang, a local mafia leader, was hiding at a nearby hotel. Wang took a small police squad there and they took up positions in an employee meeting room on the hotel’s first floor. The informant went to see Yang, whispering to the mafia head that he had something urgent to share. The informant brought Yang to the employee room on the first floor. Barely had Yang entered the room than Wang leapt on him like a tiger on his prey and subdued him. “Do you know who I am?” Wang shouted. Yang looked up and stammered, as if waking up from a dream. “Oh, you, you are Wang Lijun. It’s totally worth it.” Wang asked, “What do you mean by that?” Yang answered, “It’s worth it, dying by your hand.”

  Another triad leader, Ho Jing, was a kung fu master. He fled after hearing police were after him. A month later, Wang received news that Ho had returned to the city and was hiding in his company headquarters. Wang, not wanting to arouse suspicion, took with him a single assistant, but as they arrived at the headquarters, Ho was spotted getting into his Peugeot 605. Ho recognized Wang and sped off and a car chase ensued. As Wang almost caught up with Ho, a tractor inadvertently blocked Wang’s car and Ho had the chance of a clear escape. Wang was furious. But Ho’s car got only a few meters’ advantage before it stalled. Wang leaped at the opportunity and dragged Ho from the Peugeot as he struggled to restart it. As the story goes, kung fu master Ho and lone cop Wang fought for twenty minutes, Ho managing a choke hold on Wang that should have killed him, but Wang broke his grip and followed through by slamming Ho’s head into the roadway, knocking him unconscious. Police reinforcements completed the arrest. Wang’s face was covered with blood and deep cuts.

  Wang’s bravery earned him a number of accolades and his uniform was covered with medals. In 1995, he went on a nationwide lecture tour, touting the success of his anticrime programs in Tieling and explaining how a more alert and aggressive police crackdown could achieve good results. On the day he made his presentation to senior leaders at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing, he was told by the local court that the mafia leaders he h
ad captured would be executed. A government newspaper described Wang’s reaction to the news:

  Wang was eager to hear the gunshots of justice. When he finished his talk at the Great Hall, he quietly left the stage and stood in the hallway, where he called Ji Lianke, deputy director of the criminal investigation unit. “Director Wang, can you hear the gunshots? We are shooting the fourth one now,” Ji reported to Wang, who held his phone tightly to his ear. “Bam!” Wang could hear the sound of gunshot through his phone. After the execution, several hundred residents spontaneously showed up in front of the city hall, carrying a twenty-meter-long banner to thank Wang Lijun.

  During his tenure as deputy director and then director of public security in Tieling, Wang gained a nickname, “Biaozi,” which in the local dialect means “a pigheaded and fearless person.” For example, an officer who worked alongside Wang at the criminal investigation team said Wang used to forbid forensic experts from wearing masks and gloves, which he believed “impeded the expert’s senses of smell and touch.” At one time, he jumped into a waist-deep pond and dragged out a rotting corpse.

  Although a tough fighter, Wang was also depicted by the local media as a man with a soft heart. According to one online story, Wang raided a house he believed harbored an escaped prisoner. After Wang kicked the door open, the prisoner dashed toward him brandishing a cleaver. Wang dodged the attack but, though he had a clean shot, holstered his weapon and instead wrestled the man to the ground and disarmed him. He had seen a baby wriggling in the room’s only bed. “You should thank your child for saving your life,” he said. “I didn’t want to traumatize the baby with gunshots.”