The Killing Room
“Here students walked and cycled free of the traffic that choked the city streets outside, and a blink of late autumn sunshine lifted spirits otherwise destined for winter decline.Li and Mei-Ling had driven here in silence. She had greeted him brightly enough at his hotel, putting a brave face on a disastrous night. No reference was made to Margaret, or the drink, or the food – or the bruise on Li’s cheek. But Mei-Ling was pale and fragile. She had, she said, arranged for them to meet Jiang Baofu’s course professor at the medical university. And little else had passed between them since.Professor Lu was a broad man with a wide, flat face and narrow slanted eyes. His thick accent betrayed origins in north-west China. He wore a white coat open over a dusty cardigan and baggy pants, and on the rare occasions when he removed the cigarette from between his lips, he waved it around with nicotine-stained fingers. ‘Jiang Baofu?’ He breathed smoke at Li and Mei-Ling. ‘A brilliant student.’ He s...huffled papers absently on the desk in his small office.MoreLess
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