by Zhou HaoHui
Like a reprimanded dog, Sheng obediently lowered his head.
Vice President Lin looked at Brother Hua and chuckled. ‘After all the years you spent at Mayor Deng’s side, you have a stake in the company too. By all means, speak your mind!’
‘I have no interest in this,’ Brother Hua said quietly. ‘All I care about is finding that man.’
The room fell quiet.
‘Regardless of what happens today,’ Brother Hua went on, ‘I don’t want to see the Longyu Corporation tear itself apart from the inside. This is no occasion for schemes and power grabs. If we can’t stand united at a time like this, I can assure you this company will be finished a year from now.’
Vice President Lin and Vice President Meng both shivered.
*
9:30 a.m.
Criminal police headquarters
Lieutenant Yin was standing outside Captain Han’s holding cell. ‘Bring him out,’ he said to the officer on duty.
The officer opened the thick iron door and walked over to Han’s camp bed. ‘Han…’ he began, but before he could say another word, Han had sprung up and hurried over to Lieutenant Yin, stony-faced and silent. He practically led the way to the interrogation room himself. After all, in his time as police captain, he’d walked countless criminals down that same route.
Once they’d reached the main office area, he stopped and turned to Lieutenant Yin. ‘My stomach’s acting up. I need to use the bathroom.’
Lieutenant Yin frowned. ‘Why didn’t you use the toilet in your cell?’
‘You expect me to go like a common criminal? I’ve had enough humiliation for one day, Lieutenant Yin.’ He glared at him, and the young officer buckled.
Lieutenant Yin and another officer accompanied Han to the bathroom. Once Han was inside a cubicle, the officer unlocked the cuff from his own right hand and relocked it over a nearby pipe. Then he and Lieutenant Yin waited outside the bathroom.
Han knew the building like the back of his hand. Naturally, he was aware of the eighty-square-centimetre opening in the ceiling above him, which was used for inspecting the pipes. He also knew that this opening led directly to the sewer behind the building’s southern wall.
He pinged open his pendant and retrieved the length of wire from behind his son’s photograph. Within seconds, he’d snapped open the cuff around his left hand.
*
Several minutes later
Lieutenant Yin knocked on the cubicle door. ‘Captain? Captain Han?’
There was no answer.
Lieutenant Yin’s brow creased. He lowered himself to the floor and peeked under the cubicle door. There was nothing there except the base of the toilet.
He jumped up and kicked the door open. The cubicle was empty save for the pair of handcuffs still swaying gently from the pipe.
Captain Pei was there within minutes. He stared in disbelief at the cubicle, then spun round to face Lieutenant Yin, eyes blazing.
‘How were these cuffs opened?’
‘I… I don’t know,’ Lieutenant Yin stammered.
‘Did he have something on his person? Did you even search him?’
‘Just a pendant,’ Lieutenant Yin said, forcing each word out from the pit of his stomach. ‘There was a photo of his son inside.’
Pei shook his head and muttered under his breath. He crouched down and picked up something off the floor of the adjacent cubicle.
‘This one?’ He held the object in his fingers out to Lieutenant Yin. It was a small photograph of Han’s smiling son.
Lieutenant Yin’s face went pale. He nodded.
Rather than rebuke him, Pei immediately began barking out orders. ‘We need to move as fast as possible. Alert all transport stations and ports within a ten-kilometre radius and monitor his friends and family members. Han has no money on him and no phone – he can’t have got far.’
Lieutenant Yin stared blankly at the captain.
‘Lieutenant Yin!’ Pei bellowed, thumping him on the shoulder.
The lieutenant gave a start. ‘You mean me?’ he asked, stirring to attention.
‘Who else would I be talking to?’ Pei said incredulously.
‘Yes, sir!’ Lieutenant Yin exclaimed, his face flushing red. He snapped Pei a crisp salute and marched away.
2:26 p.m.
When Ms Mu returned to police headquarters, she headed straight to Captain Pei’s office to submit her report.
‘The girl’s mental state has already stabilised quite a bit,’ she told him. ‘But her recollection of the details of the murders is rather fuzzy. That’s not unusual for someone who’s been through such a traumatic experience.’
Pei detected something in Ms Mu’s voice. ‘Give it to me straight,’ he said. ‘What have you learnt?’
Ms Mu smirked. ‘During the meeting earlier, there was some confusion as to why the young woman survived despite having received a death notice. Well, now I know why Eumenides spared her. Before leaving the hotel room, he told her that in a sense she had already died.’
‘A metaphor, I take it?’
‘Think about what she’d just witnessed, Captain. Two of her close friends were murdered in front of her. Her teacher cut off his own hand to save her. In Eumenides’ mind, this was her punishment, just meted out in a different way.’
Pei considered this. ‘It doesn’t sound like his usual style,’ he said finally.
‘It’s also the first time he’s acted entirely alone. We can presume that this change in methodology is just one example of how the master and apprentice versions of Eumenides differ. Given the right circumstances, this new Eumenides seems capable of one thing his predecessor lacked – forgiveness.’
‘An excellent analysis.’ Pei stroked the stubble on his cheek. ‘Go and take a break – you’ve earned one. And then meet me at five; it’s about time we paid Teacher Wu a visit.’
‘You think he’s ready to see us?’
‘According to the doctors, the operation to reattach his hand was successful. And considering his age, as well as the fact that Eumenides never directly threatened his life, his mental state should be more stable than the girl’s. With a bit of luck we’ll be able to pick up a new lead or two.’
‘Are you sure about that? It may not go the way you hope.’
‘What do you mean?’ Pei asked, surprised.
‘Firstly, let’s not forget that the man was forced to chop off his own hand,’ Ms Mu began. ‘Secondly, Teacher Wu is far from what you’d call the epitome of bravery. His co-workers have generally described him as quite timid. Remember how he acted in the video? So, in my view, him saving the girl’s life could have produced one of two outcomes. Either he’s had a personal breakthrough and shed his former cowardice or he’s become even more down on himself for having failed to protect the lives of two of his own students.’ She shook her head. ‘If it turns out to be the latter, we really will have our work cut out for us.’
‘Let’s hope it’s the former then.’
‘What about Lieutenant Yin? Isn’t he responsible for getting in touch with Teacher Wu?’
‘You haven’t heard? Captain Han escaped!’
‘What?’ The blood drained from Ms Mu’s face.
‘Lieutenant Yin’s currently in charge of the search for him. I’ve been helping him coordinate it when I’ve had the time.’
‘Have we located him yet?’
Pei massaged his temples. Fatigue was finally catching up with him. ‘We haven’t made any progress yet. It’s all taking far too long – I’m worried that Han might have already made it out of the city.’
Surprisingly, Ms Mu smiled. ‘Han won’t leave Chengdu.’
Pei’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Why not?’
‘Because Eumenides is still here. Captain Han’s not the kind of person to give up on a grudge. And after what Eumenides did to him, do you think Han would let him go that easily?’
Pei nodded and silently berated himself for having failed to realise this earlier.
&nb
sp; ‘I recommend you keep an eye on Han’s family,’ she continued. ‘Han’s not very good at controlling his emotions, as I’m sure you’ve experienced firsthand.’
Pei thought back to the photo he’d found in the bathroom. ‘Yes, and I know who he’s going to make contact with first.’
*
4:09 p.m.
Chengdu PSB archives
Without a doubt, it was the loneliest office in the whole city. The archives of Chengdu’s public security bureau were not housed within the actual PSB building but were instead tucked into the northeast corner of the building that contained the municipal archives. The entire staff consisted of just one employee. The lone receptionist sat at the desk at the end of the room.
Due to a recent reduction in funding, the PSB had been forced to hire a temp as a receptionist. It was Ms Zhu’s second week in the job and at this particular moment she was filing her nails in what seemed to be a futile effort to keep herself from falling asleep with boredom.
Something was blocking her light. Ms Zhu looked up and saw a man standing on the other side of her desk. She gasped. ‘You scared me half to death! I didn’t even hear you come in.’
The man’s forehead was furrowed as though he was in pain. He covered his mouth with a handkerchief and coughed twice. ‘The sign says that visitors are supposed to stay quiet,’ he rasped.
‘You’ve got a cold, huh? I’ve only just got rid of one myself.’
She extended her right hand and the man passed her a PSB identity card. When she ran it through the reader, a police officer’s face appeared on the screen, along with several lines of biographical information. Xu Zhankun, Dongcheng Substation, the screen read.
As she looked up to compare the man’s features to those in the image, he sneezed. Despite the handkerchief he held in front of his mouth, Ms Zhu still felt flecks of saliva spatter against her face. She recoiled in disgust.
‘Sorry!’ he said. Turning to one side, he sneezed a second time.
Ms Zhu tossed the card back at him and gestured hurriedly towards the door. ‘Go ahead,’ she said, wiping her face with the sleeve of her other arm. She had no desire to catch another cold, especially not so soon after her last one.
Ten minutes later, Officer Xu emerged from the archive room with a stack of folders in his hands. ‘It would be great if you could make copies of these for me,’ he said, still holding the handkerchief over his mouth.
As Ms Zhu took his paperwork, she experienced a newfound loathing for the archive’s policy prohibiting the removal of any original documents from the building. This man had picked out a dozen or so folders. Altogether she would have to copy several hundred pages.
Nearly twenty minutes later, Ms Zhu placed the still warm stack of papers onto the desk, along with a printed list of the copied materials.
‘Seventy-nine yuan for the copies. Sign at the bottom, please.’
The man handed her several crisp bills and signed his name. She studied his signature curiously. If she hadn’t seen him physically sign it, she would have sworn that the characters had been printed by machine.
She glanced up to get a better look at the man, but he was already striding out through the exit.
7:02 p.m.
After receiving a high-level report from the PSB archives centre, Captain Pei was forced to alter his original plan to accompany Ms Mu to the hospital.
At around three o’clock that afternoon, a police officer from the Dongcheng substation named Xu Zhankun had been ambushed in the street by an unidentified individual while conducting a plainclothes investigation. Subsequent analysis revealed that Officer Xu had been injected with triazolam, a sedative typically used to treat severe insomnia. Xu reported the ambush to his superiors immediately upon awakening and initially believed it to be related to another investigation. When he returned to his station’s cafeteria at approximately six o’clock that evening, he discovered that his ID card was missing. Only then did he begin to suspect his attacker’s true motive.
Armed with this information, TSO Zeng had tracked down the card’s recent activity and discovered that someone had used it to retrieve a large number of documents from the PSB archives that afternoon. But it was the card-bearer’s signature that really shocked TSO Zeng. Those perfectly defined characters… They were uncannily similar to the handwriting on the death notices.
Captain Pei and TSO Zeng immediately rushed over to the archives, where they met with Officer Xu and with Ms Zhu, the receptionist who’d been on duty in the afternoon.
Since Officer Xu had been ambushed from behind in an out-of-the-way area, he was unable to be of much help. Ms Zhu, on the other hand, could at least report that the man in question had been rather tall. She was unable to describe the rest of his physical appearance, due to the large handkerchief that he had used to cover most of his face.
Pei held up the files that Eumenides had copied and eyeballed TSO Zeng. ‘Tell the team to meet me back at headquarters in an hour!’
*
8:46 p.m.
Conference room, criminal police headquarters
Each member of the task force took turns flipping through the files that Captain Pei and TSO Zeng had brought back to headquarters.
Lieutenant Yin was the last team member to arrive. There were bags under his eyes and his fingers were twitching.
‘How’s the search for Han progressing?’ Pei asked him.
‘There was a mugging by the river around noon today. A young couple called it in. Judging from the descriptions they gave, Captain Han was the perp.’
‘How much money did he steal?’
‘A little over six hundred. He also stole the male victim’s jacket, presumably in order to change his appearance. I’ve already added the jacket’s details to the bulletin.’
‘Take that out immediately,’ Pei snapped. ‘He’ll have already ditched the stolen jacket by now.’
Cupping the phone to his ear, Lieutenant Yin hurriedly relayed the captain’s instructions to the officer on the other end.
‘Right, let’s get started here,’ Pei ordered, and the team began studying the documents on the table.
Eumenides had selected a total of thirteen files from the PSB archives that afternoon. Pei gave the team ten minutes to read through them, then asked for their thoughts.
‘I can’t see any connection,’ TSO Zeng said. ‘There are literally no links between these crimes.’
The others all agreed. The thirteen files related to thirteen different cases. Most of them were murder cases; a few were robberies. The oldest dated back several decades, while the most recent had happened within the past year. None of the team members could see any link between the suspects, who were of different ages and genders. Some of the perpetrators were still in prison, while a few had already been executed for their crimes. The investigations had been carried out by completely different police stations or departments.
The task force was stumped.
Liu Song, the new captain of the city’s special police unit, spoke up in frustration. ‘So what was he trying to do? Each of these cases has already been investigated. The perpetrators have all been punished. Why would he risk so much for these documents?’
The others remained silent.
‘These files are so disparate,’ TSO Zeng finally said, ‘it’s almost as if he picked them at random, isn’t it? What if he was looking for one file in particular and the other twelve were simply meant to throw us off the scent?’
Pei nodded approvingly.
‘But how can we tell which of the thirteen was the one he was interested in?’ SPU Captain Liu asked, frowning.
Pei clasped his hands together so that the tips of his thumbs were touching. ‘Right, team, we’re going back to the archives.’
*
9:40 p.m.
Chengdu PSB archives
The room’s walls were lined with neatly filed documents that had been arranged in perfect chronological order. A thick layer of dust covered the spine o
f each folder, testament to the months – or even years – that they had lain untouched.
Captain Pei quickly scanned the piles of folders. The slots formerly occupied by the thirteen files stood out to him. Using a pen, he drew several circles around the edges of the folders adjacent to each of the slots.
‘Turn the lights off,’ he told TSO Zeng.
Zeng flipped the switch and a single beam of light cut through the darkness from the torch in Pei’s hand. Pei directed it at the circles he had just drawn, tilting his head to study the markings from different angles. After observing them for a full three minutes, he let out a long sigh of satisfaction.
‘Feeling confident, Captain?’ TSO Zeng asked, relieved by the change of mood.
‘Come and have a look at this,’ Pei said, shining the torch onto one of the lower circles.
Zeng squatted down and studied the illuminated files. They looked somehow different from the others, but he wasn’t sure why.
‘The dust has fallen off quite a few of the folders here. Which means that someone went through them recently. Just picture it: Eumenides flipped through each of these folders one at a time until he finally found what he was looking for. Then he plucked a single file from the stack.’
TSO Zeng grunted in agreement.
‘Now look at these other circles,’ Pei said, redirecting his torch beam. ‘The dust around the missing file is essentially undisturbed. Eumenides wasn’t searching for anything at all in these instances; he simply plucked a file at random. Since he couldn’t stay in the archives for too long, he moved quickly. In fact, he was rushing.’
Zeng snapped his fingers. ‘So he was trying to distract us with these random files, just like I thought. The one on the bottom left was his real objective.’
Pei grinned at the TSO. ‘Now let’s see what Eumenides was really looking for.’
TSO Zeng flipped the lights back on and rummaged through the stack of folders that he’d placed on a nearby table. He carefully checked the date on each label, comparing it against the date on the shelf from where it had been removed. He soon found the file he was looking for.