On the eighth day, the watcher on the east bridge disappeared.
Shen Bao noticed at midmorning and came to the house by the side entrance, arriving with the practiced casualness of someone who had spent years managing the appearance of casualness. He sat down in the east garden while I had tea and told me what he had and had not seen.
The position had been occupied every morning and afternoon for four days. The man was consistent — different clothes on different days, varying his approach from the north or the south, but always the same individual, same method, same quality of careful non-watching that only made sense as deliberate surveillance. And then, on the eighth morning, the position was empty.
"He withdrew," I said.
"Or was withdrawn."
These were different things.
