Five Character Secrets

The Krem Trekker Diaries, Part I

The Diaries is a part of a social polling project made in 2006-2008 at Jimei University, Xiamen, China.

Opinion and attitude monitoring, so called social polling, is strongly restricted in China. This makes e.g. brand promotion very difficult because the companies cannot profile the target groups. This Web 2.0 initiative solved the problem by publishing a narrative where the readers could decide by voting how the story continues. As the number of the readers grew up to tens of thousands they begun to show their thoughts and attitudes thus drawing a clear profile of themselves.

The research lasted 62 weeks and produced as many chapters of the story. The research has 520 pages and is now published in Mandarin and in English. The narrative tells the reader what Chinese students - the future decision-makers - think for instance about the transparency of the government, reliability of the police, business people, equality of the genders, violence, sex, romance, fighting, superstition, ghosts, gambling, Tibet, foreigners, luxury brands, and about many, many more things.

The complete research can be obtained at www.kremtrekker.net



FIVE CHARACTER SECRETS



My name is Krem Trekker. I work as a private investigator for Phobos Inc. in Canton, China.

I was hired by a company that lost a female engineer in a recent accident.

You can follow my investigations by reading these diaries.

1. Evil Spirits

Yesterday they called me.

- Wei, Trekker.
- Hi Krem. This is Hanson speaking.

Hanson is the Phobos Far East manager in Hong Kong. He is probably at this moment sitting on the roof terrace of the Phobos extravagant Garden Road headquarters.

- Morning Hanson, I answered.
- How’s business?

Hanson sighed.
- Clients rushing in from every door and window. You know.
- Yes, I know, I said.

- The market is badly overheated. Everyone knows this and tries to grab their share and run.
- Exactly. Hit and run. Perhaps this is the last chance to get yourself a slice! As greasy and thick as possible.
- The country has turned into a jungle.

I had to shrug and smile. The tougher the bad boys become, the more digits in my paycheque. I profit from the agony of my clients.

- Trekker, there might be a case for you!
I heard a chinking sound from the other end of the line. It was a coffee spoon. It appears Hanson is drinking coffee as we speak.

- The case is not a big one. Probably not even a criminal case. But the client believes they need a zhongguo tong, a real China Hand who understands people’s thinking back here. It only requires a few days, I think.

Hanson told that a middle manager of a foreign company had had an accident. In Xiamen, Fujien. She was killed. Now the superstitious employees think there are evil spirits involved! They refuse to work. Choosing to spend their time speculating and gossiping and are at the brink of a mutiny. As a result a major government order is jeopardised.

Someone is required to find out what is going on and calm down the turbulent feeling.

It all sounded a bit weird. I didn’t actually know what to think about it.



2. Blue Mountains

The Blue Mountains Snake Temple is close to Canton. It was erected after the Qing soldiers burnt down the Fujien Shaolin Temple in the early 1700’s. This is my home when I have no cases from Phobos.

I had agreed to meet the vice president of Odin Cargo early this morning.

The morning was just beautiful. The China Sea glittered in the early sun. A small fleet of fishing boats returned in the distance. The temple monks started their everyday tasks after the 6:00 a.m. prayer. Some of them lifted water from an ancient well, others prepared breakfast. Ropes squeaked, and dishes clinked.

The tip of the mighty pagoda looked golden in the rising sun. A bird called, another answered.

I am no novice anymore and I have no more common morning duties. Thus, I can concentrate on balancing my chakras. I do it regularly, at least four times a week. Once the chakras are in perfect balance, one gets a bridge between the visible and spiritual world. This means that I often can see more than usually meets the eye…

At 7:05 my mobile rang. It was the Odin Cargo man. Muller was his name. The China Southern Airlines plane was early and he was already on his way to the Snake Temple. That was fine with me. I asked one of the novices to prepare a breakfast table for the two of us. In the shade outside the temple yard.

A taxicab arrived some fifteen minutes later. A man in a wrinkled suit stepped out. He was in his late fifties. His tie was loosened.

- Good morning! My name is Muller; he smiled broadly exposing his rotten lower teeth.
- Welcome to the Snake Temple, Mr. Muller, I said.
- Please, take a seat.
- Thanks. You can call me Hal.

Hal Muller had a bright red drunkard’s nose with blue veins. He was overweight and his index and middle fingers were yellow from nicotine. A perfect type 2 diabetes potential patient. Some greasy hair was combed over his balding head. His breathing was laboured.

We sat down, had some tea and Hal Muller summarised the case. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

Odin Cargo is a middle-sized family company headquartered outside China. The company assembles automated harbour equipment in Jimei, Xiamen. Since last year they have been negotiating a big project with the Port Authority. An engineer from headquarters was called to prepare the final quotation. The female engineer, Mette, was here since last summer. She worked mainly on site in the harbour.

Mette had a husband who had left his job and followed her here. He soon became very bored as a househusband. However, he had seen fortune-tellers on virtually every street corner. He decided to start to prepare horoscopes by himself, too. He sold them to the local Christian community through Mette who was a believer and an active member of the church.

Last week, late in the evening, the couple returned home. A transformer had collapsed on the metal fence surrounding their house and they got a fatal shock of 5000 V. Both were badly barbecued and more or less vaporised.

A sorry incident indeed, but even worse is that the fact that Odin employees now think that the spirits revenged because of the horoscopes. They are very anxious and the management now fears that if the Port Authority gets a whiff of this then they might give the order to someone else.

This order is a matter of life and death to Odin Cargo. If they cannot book it, the company is finished. Bankrupt.

- I see. What do you want me to do exactly? I asked.
- We hope you could come over, investigate and calm down the situation by proving that the incident was just an accident, answered Hal Muller and continued
- They probably wouldn’t believe us, but an outsider…

To be honest, this didn’t sound like a particularly big challenge to me. However, these folks are really worried and there are a lot of jobs at stake. This is why I promised to take the case and fly to Xiamen a couple of days later.

- But what are you doing here exactly? Asked Hal Muller.
- I understood from Phobos that you have just been promoted to a master’s degree.
- Yes, I admitted.
- I study the Five Character Secrets under the supervision of Old Master Liang. There are 134 secrets in total. If you master 84 of them, you might advance from Instructor to Younger Master.

- And what are these secrets, if you don’t mind me asking? Said Muller.
- In short, they are the writings of a Taoist sage, I explained.
- They are five character aphorisms written in ancient Chinese. They can hardly be understood without proper background information.
- Sounds complicated. Can you give me an example?
- Well, the aphorism number 84 is kan, yi, ben, fei, yi. To look, easy, root, without, easy.
- Makes no sense to me, admitted Muller.
- There you see. It means that the things are not as easy as they appear.

Muller shook his head and smiled.
- You’re completely right, young man, he said glancing at his watch.
- But, but. I think I have to go now. Just give us a call detailing your flight information and we’ll send the company driver, Ping, to the airport. You can live in our guest apartment. It is close to our factory.




3. Nasty Rumours

I arrived in Xiamen on schedule.

As agreed, the company driver Ping was there and drove me to the factory guest apartment close to the Dragon Lake. It was in a suburb called Jimei.

After a quick shower I checked what I had with me. I had decided to use my usual cover. From now on I’m a sea biologist. I got the idea from National Geographic many years ago. I’ll be here to consult my client how to design environment-friendly solutions.

This cover is perfect because nobody is really interested about environment protection and the professionals are regarded as idealists, even losers. They always leave me in peace. No questions asked.

At 11:00 sharp the company Buick appeared in front of my residence. I took my brown corduroy jacket from the bed and my bag and ran out of the door. The bag was teeming with all kinds of items needed by a biologist, test tubes, thermometers, polyamide rope and so on. I also had a dirty white bucket to lift seawater from the berth.

Within around ten minutes we were at Odin Cargo Systems in the Jimei industrial area. The building was a typical factory building, with an impressive entrance, a lot of glittering metal and smoked glass. But the factory itself probably had a dirty concrete floor, was poorly lit and lacked any proper air-conditioning. Why to bother, the country competes with lowest cost and everybody kow-tows obediently to this principle.

Mr. Tolle, the boss of the factory came to greet me. He was as from the same mould as Hal Muller. However, his hair was not greasy, just messy. He wore a sweaty shirt with the chest pocket full of dirty yuan bills, folded business cards and a row of plastic ballpoint pens, sure proof of a technical education from the 1960’s. He greeted me loudly.

- Good morning, good morning, you must be the master of the Blue Mountains, Trekker!
- Welcome to Odin Cargo factory!
We shook hands. Mr. Tolle palm was unusual moist, considering it was not very warm, yet. But perhaps it was just a sign of high blood pressure.
- Thank you, nice to meet you!

- Please, Ping, bring Mr. Trekker’s briefcase in.

There was of course not any briefcase. Just a worn-out army surplus canvas bag and a dirty bucket. Ping browsed the items with disgust but brought them in without saying anything. I was ashamed of my shapeless suit but Mr. Tolle didn’t seem to notice it. He was hardly an example of high fashion himself, I noticed. He wore a light blue suit that would have been fashionable in East Germany in 1972, if at all.

We went in and straight into a closed and dim conference space. Hal Muller was already there. We shook hands. The man smiled broadly with his wet and flabby lips. His breath smelled of a mixture of old booze, cigarettes and instant coffee.

- I suggest we go straight to the agenda, Jan Tolle said glancing at his wristwatch. It was similar to an Omega I had got when I graduated from the high school. Some time later whilst poaching fish I dropped it into the icy river.
- Hal, turn off the light, please. I’ll show some slides to Mr. Trekker.
- These slides tell what we do and what we quote to the local Port Authority.

Tolle showed some seven slides to make it clear to me that they are planning to automate the whole logistics in the southern part of the harbour, called Haitian.

- And now you’re afraid that the project goes on the rocks if the Authority hears that the Odin employees are rebelling.
- Exactly. The authorities in all countries take no risks. All fear the superiors.

- And now we hope that you can somehow solve the situation. We would be just pleased to show the troublemakers the door if it only calms down the situation. The problem is, we don’t know who are the sources of the gossip. Suddenly Jan Tolle looked mean. He moistened his lips with his tongue.
- But if we knew, we would literally smash them on the asphalt. These guys deserve only the heaviest bamboo…
Tolle’s right leg shacked nervously under the table.

I was surprised by his reaction. I always favour plain force if needed. However, I didn’t know if hospitalising a few of the employees is the best tactic for killing the rumours.

- So, what do you know so far?
- Only that Mette worked mainly in Haitian harbour. The husband sold these damn horoscopes in a nearby church. And many of our factory employees go to the same church regularly.
- That’s understandable. Christianity is nowadays quite popular here.
- Yes indeed, because of the proximity of the Philippines.

This may explain the reactions of the employees. In the Philippines religion has strong animistic, even superstitious characteristics.



4. The Orchid Guy

After showing me the slides concerning the quotation, Jan Tolle returned to the agenda.

- Hal, you could show Mr. Trekker the factory. Tomorrow I can drive him to the Haitian harbour. I’ll introduce him to the police inspector who investigated Mette and her husband’s accident. Tolle wiped sweat from his face despite the air conditioning rattling loudly in the corner of the room.
Muller’s tobacco cough made a nasty whistling noise.
- Sure. And for tomorrow I have asked Nisse to pick up a temporary ID for the harbour area.

Tolle stopped shaking his leg under the table, stood up and puffed.
- Good. First of all, you could say hello to Felix.
- Who is Felix? I asked.
- Felix Verhoven, the guy who will continue Mette’s work. Felix protested, but we don’t have any alternative. The time schedule is very tight. There is no time to get somebody in from headquarters.

- Why did he protest?
- Well, Felix is almost sixty, as Hal and myself are. He is about to retire within two years. He has a hobby, photography. It occupies all his spare time and almost all his thoughts. He travels around a lot.
- I see. Understandable. These types of large construction projects consume a lot of time.
- True. We all know this painfully well. After all, we met each other many years ago in Africa. Development aid. Tolle straightened his voice that shook with emotion.
- We all are seasoned factory rats. He turned to Hal Muller.
- Hal, do you still remember when we loaded your tax-free car into a vessel in Dar es Salaam harbour? And it almost fell from the tip of the crane?

They laughed recalling past memories. Eventually, the car was in safe and the men had celebrated wasting away a lot of public funds in a lousy harbour saloon. At that time no one dared to ask how the taxpayers money was used.

The primitive music had grown louder and louder. The native dancers wriggled in a violent rock and roll on the tables. Their black naked bodies glistening with sweat. Liqueur and beer flowed freely and copper coins flew in the air. They laughed heartily reflecting the good memories. Then Muller started to cough again.
- Until you had enough of booze and fell under the table! And we had to carry you to the hotel; he laughed between the fits.

Tolle came back to reality.
- But listen, Felix still has a mini exhibition of his work in the cafeteria. There are many nice photos in his collection. Go and visit it first. The big red one is my favourite; he added and winked at me smacking his lips.
- Good idea said Hal Muller to Jan Tolle and turned to me.
- Then, let’s go. I’ll show you the way.

Tolle remembered something.
- By the way, Trekker. Tomorrow I will have a small barbecue party at my place. I considered cancelling it in light of Mette’s accident. But on the other hand, the show must go on. If you have nothing else, my wife and I would be glad to invite you along, too. Only a small group is coming. Other than us, Felix and Nisse, the man who will bring you the harbour ID will be there. And of course the wives, too.

I had of course nothing else to do and accepted the invitation with pleasure.
- Sounds nice. Thank you very much.
- Great. I’ll let my wife know and tomorrow we can agree the final details.

We went out with Hal Muller and headed to the cafeteria. There were large colour pictures of orchids. I understood right away why Mr. Tolle had smacked his mouth wantonly when he recalled the big red one.
- Really impressing, I commented.
- Yes, Felix is almost professional, nodded Hal Muller and continued,
- Especially that red one…
He didn’t finish his sentence. I think he understood that I don’t see everything through the same sexist glasses as the generation born right after the war.

- Um-m. And now we say hello to the photographer himself. Muller stepped heavily in the corridor. The corridor was grey and as joyless. It was as quiet as a graveyard. Muller banged on the door. Someone shouted from inside.
- Come in. I am here.

We went in.
- Hi Felix. This is Mr. Krem Trekker, the consultant who is supposed to advise us how to make our quotation environmentally friendly.
A tall wrinkled and a very thin man stood up behind the desk. He was very, very pale. Like he had no blood at all. Like the transparent, blind crabs found by scientists in the deep caves somewhere of Inner Mongolia.

At the same time there was a loud bang. A small black bird had flown against the window. It died in a second and fell with a quiet thump on the lawn. Somehow I felt very uneasy. Muller and Verhoven seemed to pay no attention to the incident. Felix Verhoven stretched out his hand.
- Nice to meet you, Mr. Trekker. I just heard yesterday that we’ll get an adviser here. Which is very good. All helping hands are now needed, the man said.

- Nice to meet you, too. Then I delivered a small speech about how the government pays steadfast attention on environmental questions. Pollution will be blocked on every front. This generation will give their children a cleaner world than they inherited themselves! and so on. I had learned these phrases by heart from a government bulletin.
- Yes, yes, of course, nodded the pale man. As usual, he didn’t listen to my declaration. I changed the topic.

- Very nice photos there in the cafeteria!
- Oh, they brought you there already? Felix Verhoven looked happy and smiled broadly with his false teeth.
- I’m pleased if the pictures bring some happiness in the midst of our problems.
- Yes, a very sorry accident indeed. But on the other hand, you have two weeks to give the final quotation. I think that things can be settled well before that, I said.
- Yes, two weeks, but on the other hand, the trip I have booked…

Muller stiffened and his eyes narrowed.
- What? Are you serious? Can a holiday trip not wait? Are flowers really more important than the jobs of two hundred people? Man, you must be kidding!

Suddenly Mr. Verhoven looked very anxious. He looked like a child who has lost his candy. He spoke very quickly with tears in his eyes. He started to stammer.
- Wait and wait! Can-cancel the ho-holidays and wo-work around the clock! And I a-ask you what does the co-company give in exchange? Heart con-condition and an early gra-grave! His voice rose.
- A pa-pacemaker to keep you ti-ticking, da-damn it!

I also thought that the rainforest could well wait a couple of weeks. Muller looked surprised, too.
- My good man. We are talking about two weeks! Two weeks!

The pale man looked like a fanatic lay preacher I had once seen in Taiwan. He lifted his bony fist and almost screamed.
- I have made my fi-final de-decision. I need a short break! I be-beg you, only three days! O-only three days. He sunk in the chair. His voice broke down into a desperate whispering.
- Ple-please…





5. An Unexpected Invitation

We left the pale stammering man in his agony and continued the round. Hal Muller told me that the next room was his and the third one had been Mette’s.
- You can have a look in there later on. Perhaps you will find something. However, the local police were in there with me but we didn’t notice anything worth mentioning.
- An accident quite clearly, I answered.
-Yes, but such bad luck that the employees are so damn superstitious!

We went through a small office with open cubicles. There were broad desks full of technical drawings, copiers and computers everywhere. Muller explained.
- All R&D is centred in our headquarters. We only have a couple of engineers here who interpret the drawings and give orders to the factory.

Muller pushed open a revolving door but bumped into a slim girl who wore thick glasses and a traditional brown female servant dress. Her hair was in a loose ponytail resting on her neck. She dropped a pile of folders on the floor. I squatted down to help her to gather them.
- Sorry, said Muller.
Then we continued.
- She is our intern. Miss Li, I think. She is here once or twice a week. She’s a business student at Jimei University, one of the best in this province. The late Mette had got to know her in the local church community.

The factory was not the windowless cave I had imagined. In fact it was well lit, clean and comfortably cooled. There was some light machinery, drills, welding equipment and so on. Someone hammered, another carried iron profiles.
- The parts are not made here. We import almost everything, Muller explained.
- We just fit the parts together and make the final assembly, as Tolle already told you.
- In this way the products become local.

The production was quite uninteresting but the ultimate goal was to introduce me to the employees. They seemed to be used to the fact that there were different types of specialists and paid little attention.
- People look quite calm to me, I said.
- That’s right. Let’s hope that the crisis is soon over. However, the production output has not yet recovered.
- But it soon will, I’m completely sure of it, I comforted.
- If there are no more accidents, growled Muller and pushed a heavy factory door open. We went to the factory yard. Muller lit a Camel and inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs.

We walked around the corner and back to the office wing.
- If you like, you can have a look at Mette’s stuff. I’ll go to see Tolle and ask him to get some lunch for us. Are dumplings ok? Half an hour?

Mette’s room was a typical engineer’s room. Filled with drawings, of course, some manuals, and a few personal items. No mysterious notes, not that I had expected to find some. There was a white worn-out wedding bible. Surprisingly, it was open. I looked and noticed that she had underlined with thick red lines the 18:10 of the fifth book of Moses. Obviously, the deceased had qualms about the horoscopes that her husband had made and she supported by promoting them in the church community…

I had an odd feeling as if I saw a shadow in the corner of my eye. Was it a bat? Or then it was only my imagination, because I couldn’t hear anything. The silence was somehow unnatural.

In the corridor there was a cork bulletin board. I browsed the information someone had pinned there. One notice was dated two days ago. It told that a sea biologist is coming to help the factory to win the Port Authority project. It took me a while to understand that it was about me.

There was also an advertisement about a fancy dress party. The theme was “The Natives of the Americas”.

Unanticipated, I heard a clear-cut voice behind me.
- I have never been to a fancy dress party! Would you like to take me there?

I turned around. It was the intern who had dropped the folders.
- Me, um-m, I said. The young woman was not exactly my type. In Shanghai or in Guangzhou no one under seventy wore a servant’s dress with a high collar like this. In addition, because of the thick cheap spectacles, she had strange owl’s eyes. I made a sad face and cleared my throat.
- Unfortunately, Miss, I have no time to find a proper costume. Thus, I’m very sorry…

The intern was surprisingly decisive.
- The costume is not a problem. I have a friend who works in the wardrobe department of a local theatre. She owns me a small favour and I think we can get a suitable costume for you from there.
I felt she was a little bit too pushy and this irritated me.





6. Dance of Death

I had actually no other choice than to accept the company intern’s proposal. I consoled myself thinking that I might get some valuable information from the young woman.
- Well, okay in that case. No problem, I commented plainly.

The intern made a call from the company phone in Mette’s old room. I waited in the corridor until she returned.
- It’s all arranged. You can take a cab to the wardrobe department. The address is here. And the name of my friend, too.
- Good, I said monotonously.
- And where and when should I pick you up?
- I’ll come over to your place one hour before the party starts. Where do you live?
I gave her my address and mobile number. She wrote it on a small piece of paper and stuffed the paper in her front pocket and left. Before disappearing around the corner she turned around and said with a lively voice.
- By the way, my name is TingTing.

The next morning Jan Tolle and the driver picked me up. We drove along a broad bridge from the mainland to the island, where Xiamen City was actually located. The worst morning rush was already over and the car easily reached 85 km/h well before we passed the large 60 km/h sign. After the bridge was a junction. To the left was the airport but we turned right towards the harbour.

After about ten minutes we arrived. There was a mobile green and white police station. Behind the station stood the huge gate of the harbour. Tolle explained.
- I called inspector Kang yesterday. He promised to meet us here. He has the investigation documents and Mette’s and her husband’s death certificates. Tolle stepped out of the car and limped to the police kiosk. He had either rheumatism or his legs were just stiff from sitting in the car. I followed him.

Inspector Kang was already in the office. He was perhaps in his early fifties, but looked much younger. He had a clean and pressed uniform. Tolle’s belt would go at least three times around his waist. He stood up and smiled in a friendly manner.
- Tolle, xiansheng, ni hao.
- Ni hao, inspector. May I introduce Mr. Krem Trekker. He is helping us to calm down the restless feeling in the factory. Did you bring the documents?

- Of course. Here. And please don’t hesitate to ask if something is unclear. He shook hands with me and gave me a thick folder. Then he turned to Mr. Tolle.
- I heard rumours that your position with the Port Authority is very strong. I’m very happy for you…

I opened the folder. I have seen many dead bodies, of course, but these corpses looked just terrible. Especially, because of the bizarre before – after pictures. A wedding picture of the deceased was on the left page and two blackened mummies on the right page. Yes, ancient Egyptian mummies were really the best way to describe these poor shrunken bastards!

There were also testimonies and a surveillance camera tape. The testimonies were from the waitresses of the Mandarin hotel where the young couple had had their last supper. No, no sign of any self-destructive behaviour.

Then the taxi driver had driven Mette and her husband home. They had a small house in the Huli district, near the Haitian harbour. It was eleven o’clock that fateful evening. Unfortunately, the driver had left right away and saw nothing. However, there was the tape. I put the cassette into the recorder.

First, the image was like a blizzard, and then the black and white picture trembled a little bit. Headlights appeared from the darkness. A taxicab stopped. A plump and pale woman in a cheap polyester dress came out and approached the camera. She was easy to recognise from the wedding picture. She was the dead engineer, Mette. I could clearly hear her footsteps on the pavement. This was no silent film but also had sound.

In the background I heard a weird noise. Not like the usual cicadas of a late evening. It was like an underground train somewhere deep below the earth. I increased the volume. A sound you don’t actually hear, but feel in your gut. It was, of course, the sound of the collapsed transformer; which delivered the power currency to the metal fence. The sound was quite eerie.

Then, the husband came into the picture and followed the woman. He was a slightly overweight lad with his trousers pulled up too high. Suddenly, he screamed. It sounded as though a living cat had been thrown into a barrel of boiling water. The man leaped ahead and took the woman’s hand. At the same time she appeared to touch the fence. It made a terrible sizzling noise as her hand burned on the metal. I saw bright sparks and could almost smell the burning flesh.

I watched mesmerised at this horrible nocturnal dance of death. Two phosphorous figures made sharp dissipated movements back and forth. Their feet lifted but a little because their rubber soles had melted into the asphalt. Their synthetic clothing disappearing in seconds left like sooty cobwebs fluttering on their exposed white flesh.

Their arms pumped up and down. The woman’s hair ignited with a crackling noise. The man’s change from the taxi fare was in flames in his risen left hand. He looked like a terrible Statue of Liberty greeting his master from hell.

The bodies vaporised within minutes into the evening sky and collapsed on the ground like two empty body bags. According to the death certificates both corpses were about one meter tall and weighed between 40 and 50 pounds...


The whole narrative can be obtained from: www.kremtrekker.net