by Zhou HaoHui
‘Mission accomplished, SPU Captain Liu!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s all over!’
SPU Captain Liu looked closely at the man in the doorway. No one had ever survived beyond the date printed on a death notice from Eumenides – no one, that was, except Du Mingqiang. ‘So it would seem,’ he replied, and then directed Du to stay still while he checked for cuts or other injuries. He found none. Except for his drunken slouch, the journalist was in fine shape.
Liu took out his radio. After adjusting it to the correct frequency, he raised it to his mouth and said, ‘Delta One, Delta One. This is Delta Three.’
‘Go ahead, Delta Three,’ Captain Pei replied.
‘We’ve passed the deadline. Situation normal.’
The line was silent for a moment. Finally Liu heard the words he’d been waiting for.
‘Return to headquarters.’
‘Yes, sir!’ he replied.
‘Wait – let me say something!’ Du exclaimed, reaching for the radio.
Liu hesitated, but he presumed that Du merely wanted to thank the police, so he controlled his temper and handed over the radio.
‘Hey, is this Captain Pei?’ Du asked, giggling excitedly. ‘I’m still alive! Eumenides didn’t even show up!’
‘That does seem to be the case,’ Pei said happily. ‘You go ahead and get a good night’s rest.’
Du wasn’t ready to end the conversation just yet. ‘Do you know why he didn’t come?’
‘Why’s that?’ Pei asked, humouring him.
‘Because of my article. It was a masterpiece! I made one of the country’s most infamous serial killers lay down his weapon. Name another journalist with that kind of talent! You can’t, can you?’
Du didn’t hear Pei’s response because Liu had already snatched the radio away from him. Liu glared at Du and suddenly the night air felt much chillier.
‘I’d drink to your health,’ Liu said, ‘but I can see that you’ve already done that.’
Du blinked and before he knew it the SPU officer was gone. Moments later, the stairway lights flashed off and the hallway was in darkness.
Alone, Du returned to his home of broken glass.
*
1 December, 8:07 a.m.
Criminal police headquarters
With his hands clasped behind his back, Captain Pei watched the guard open the iron door to the holding cell. Seconds later, the guard dragged out a dark, skinny man with a sour look on his face.
After two weeks in lockup, it was Chen Tianqiao’s first taste of freedom. He squinted as he peered at the room’s wide window, savouring the sight of the morning sky. ‘It’s almost winter, but the sun still feels good on these old bones,’ he said.
‘Chen Tianqiao,’ Pei said, drawing closer to the man, ‘having arrested you on suspicion of fraud, we’ve found that we have insufficient evidence with which to charge you. We can’t detain you any longer.’
Chen’s raspy snicker sounded like nails dragged against sandpaper. ‘Like I said, no matter what you brought me in for, you were always gonna have to let me out sooner or later.’
Pei waved his hand to get the guard’s attention. ‘Bring him his things.’
Chen chuckled as he came closer to Pei. ‘I’ll never see the inside of an actual prison, no matter what you think I’ve been up to. You know why?’
Pei glared silently at him.
‘Because I’ve never broken the law. I know what I’m doing, and I know the legal system better than any of you!’
The guard handed Chen a plastic bag containing his possessions. Chen set it down on a nearby table and rooted through the contents. Seconds later, he swaggered off speedily in the direction of the exit.
‘You’re letting him go just like that?’ Lieutenant Yin asked, visibly disgusted.
‘What would happen if we kept him here – would you punish him, like Eumenides?’ Pei put his hand on his assistant’s shoulder. ‘Try not to dwell on it too much. The rest of the team is waiting for us.’
Ten minutes later, Pei and Lieutenant Yin joined Ms Mu, TSO Zeng, SPU Captain Liu and Huang in the conference room. It was there that the captain made an unexpected announcement to the task force.
‘As of now, I’m temporarily dissolving the April 18th Task Force.’
‘What?’ SPU Captain Liu gasped in astonishment. ‘But we haven’t caught Eumenides yet!’
‘And how are we supposed to catch him?’ Pei replied equitably. ‘The past two weeks haven’t exactly been productive. We’re at a standstill.’
Liu threw up his hands, while TSO Zeng simply shrugged. Ms Mu watched Captain Pei carefully, displaying no visible reaction.
‘As far as we know, he’s already given up,’ Pei said. ‘We have no usable leads. We have no idea what his public identity is, and besides his general height, weight and some grainy footage, we have no clear idea what he looks like. Now that Du Mingqiang’s deadline is past, it’s time we cut our losses.’
‘But what about Chen Tianqiao?’ Liu asked. ‘Why haven’t we assigned someone to keep an eye on him?’
‘There’s no need. Wen Chengyu has already let Du live. He won’t go after Chen. He isn’t Eumenides any more.’
‘So that’s it? This investigation is over, just like that?’ Lieutenant Yin’s face was long with disbelief.
Pei shrugged again. ‘All we can do now is put the investigation on hold indefinitely. At least until another death notice appears.’
‘I don’t think we’ll see another one of those,’ Ms Mu said, shaking her head. ‘It seems he’s already given up the Eumenides role, so why would he return to it?’
‘So the band’s breaking up?’ TSO Zeng asked, stretching lazily in his seat. ‘I’m not heartbroken, to be honest. These last few weeks have been exhausting. It’s time we all got some rest.’
The team members exchanged silent glances as they thought about all the work they’d put into this investigation. Eumenides, it seemed, was finished. While their collective efforts hadn’t resulted in failure exactly, after six weeks of sweat and tears they couldn’t help but feel short-changed by such an abrupt and unsatisfying ending.
Could it truly be over?
22
FATE
9:37 p.m.
The Green Spring
After she’d finished the violin piece, Zheng Jia slowly stood up and bowed to her audience. Although she couldn’t see, she instinctively angled her body towards a certain table. It was where a certain man used to sit, but she didn’t know when or if he would ever return.
She was greeted by the refined aroma of fresh lilies. Her heart pounded and she straightened up. She heard incoming footsteps – the heavy clack of hard-toed shoes – and felt a waiter press a bouquet into her hands.
‘Where’s the customer who sent these?’ she asked, unable to restrain her excitement.
‘He didn’t come in.’
‘Oh,’ she said, her shoulders drooping slightly.
‘But he said you’d know where to find him,’ the waiter added cheerily.
*
One hour later
Zheng Jia opened the café’s glass door and the familiar smell of freshly ground Arabica coffee and sandalwood incense wafted over her. She took a seat at the same table as the last time.
‘Are you all finished?’ she asked, unconsciously adopting a quiet, affectionate tone.
‘I believe so,’ the man answered a moment later, his voice as gentle as hers.
When they’d first met, she’d deflected his advances with polite, guarded smiles. Over time, that had changed. Today, she hid nothing and beamed openly at him.
‘I’ve already contacted a doctor in America. I’ll take you there and you will have that operation.’
‘Really?’ Her voice cracked. Stay composed, she thought. ‘Why are you doing all this for me?’
As she waited for him to answer, she listened to the sounds around her. Clinking ceramic, the hiss of an espresso machine.
‘Maybe it’s fate.’
She frowned. ‘Do you really believe in that?’
‘In fate?’
‘You don’t strike me as the superstitious type. Although it is strange, come to think of it…’ She tilted her head slightly to the right.
‘Hmm?’
‘Just over a month ago, before we met, I was standing beside my father’s grave as his coffin was being lowered into it and I met someone – someone… strange. He gave me a gift.’
‘What do you mean by “strange”?’ the man asked suspiciously.
‘He had a very raspy voice that was almost painful to listen to, but there was a weird charisma about him. With every word he said, I found myself oddly drawn to him. I didn’t want to walk away. He must have looked very special, too. It’s too bad I can’t really describe him to you. I’ve never met anyone with that kind of power before.’
She heard a sharp but suppressed intake of breath from across the table.
‘What did he give you?’ His question came out unexpectedly choked.
‘I don’t know,’ she said with a teasing smile. ‘He wouldn’t let me open it. He told me I had to give it to you.’
‘To me? But you didn’t even know me back then.’
‘That’s what’s so strange. He told me that I might one day come across a certain man who would get very close to me but that it would be hard for me to get close to him. Sounds a lot like you, doesn’t it?’
‘What else did he say?’ he asked with trepidation.
‘He said that if the man really wanted to be with me, I should give him this.’ She took a small box out of her handbag. ‘I’ve been bringing this with me to the restaurant for the last few days, but I was starting to worry that I’d never actually get the chance to give it to you.’
He took the box from her and she heard him open it.
‘He also told me to tell you something. Come to think of it, it’s really similar to what you just told me,’ she exclaimed enthusiastically.
‘What did he say?’
‘He said that it’s your fate.’
He looked down. Inside was a microcassette tape. As he pondered what it could be, the memory of a raspy voice echoed in his ears. ‘It’s your fate – it was set in motion eighteen years ago.’
*
10 December, 7:21 p.m.
Haikou, Hainan Island
The city of Haikou, located at the northern tip of Hainan Island, was well known as the premier place to retire in China. Chen Tianqiao had always loved its breathtaking views and balmy weather and was very pleased to be back after two weeks spent locked up in Chengdu.
He was at his favourite outdoor beachside restaurant for another evening of celebration, savouring his freedom and relishing each scallop and every mouthful of fresh crab as he sat there in the warm sea breeze. He liked to treat himself. Chen’s philosophy of life revolved around eating, drinking and women. Everything should be enjoyed to the fullest, he thought. Personal pleasure was paramount, far more important than morals or friendship.
He’d already gone through most of his life that way, with no friends or family to speak of. That didn’t bother him. The only thing that mattered was wealth, not sentiment. Money had allowed Chen to live out his final years in a seaside paradise and he was happy.
When those police officers had come to his home, they’d given him a fright. For a while he’d wondered if they’d somehow got hold of some incriminating evidence. In the end, though, they’d been unable to pin anything substantial on him. When he’d walked out of the police headquarters in Chengdu, it had taken all of his willpower not to throw his head back and laugh at the sky. He knew he’d won; he had triumphed over every single person he’d ever done business with, and in the end he’d even triumphed over the law.
Chen no longer had any worries.
Content, he polished off the last piece of crab on his plate. As he dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, he raised a hand and called out, ‘The bill!’
A tall waiter strode over to his table. Chen glanced at him and saw a beard and a mane of dark hair. It was hard to judge the man’s age. ‘New here?’ he asked, and belched. ‘Haven’t seen you before.’
Smiling politely, the waiter respectfully used both hands to give his customer a small leather folder. Chen put on his reading glasses and scanned the piece of paper inside. His hands began to shake.
Death Notice
THE ACCUSED: Chen Tianqiao
CRIME: Homicide
DATE OF PUNISHMENT: 10 December
EXECUTIONER: Eumenides
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ he asked incredulously. He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it at the waiter.
The balled-up death notice struck the waiter’s face, but the man barely seemed to notice.
‘It’s time for you to pay,’ the waiter said coldly. His right hand lunged at Chen and swept across his face.
Chen felt something cool running down his neck. Panicking, he tried to yell. No sound came out.
The waiter watched as blood poured from Chen’s throat.
Chen gurgled and clutched at his neck. He pulled his hands away and gaped dumbly at the blood covering his fingers.
‘This is a debt you’ve owed me for eighteen years,’ the waiter said emotionlessly.
Eighteen years? Chen tried to remember where he’d been eighteen years ago.
As the blood continued to spurt from the gash in his throat, his senses gradually shut down. He fell forward onto the table, and one last thought filled his head before everything finally went black.
That was 1984, wasn’t it?
The other diners noticed Chen’s bloodied, lifeless body almost immediately. In seconds, the entire restaurant was in chaos. The waiter made his way out to the road with quick, bounding steps, removing his gauze gloves as he went. The streets were full of commuters on their way home and the traffic would provide him with plentiful cover.
As the waiter dashed into the street, the driver of a black Nissan looked up from his mobile phone in time to see him only a metre in front of him. In a panic, he slammed on the brakes. But he was already too close.
The waiter dove away from the car, but the middle finger of his left hand touched the side of the bonnet just before he tucked his head in and rolled across the tarmac. Ignoring the startled glances of several pedestrians, he quickly jumped up from the kerb and disappeared into the crowd.
Shrieks echoed down the street as more people spotted the dead man at one of the tables. Their piercing screams carried on the cool sea breeze.
*
10:40 p.m.
Haikou seaside bathhouse
He immersed himself in the steaming water, leaving only his head above the surface. The water scalded his skin, but he enjoyed the sensation.
The pool was almost completely silent; there were only two other bathers. He let his limbs float freely, suspended in the hot water. The rising steam clouded his vision and his thoughts grew hazy.
In his mind he could hear music – a sweet violin melody. At one time he’d been fascinated by that music. It was the closest he’d ever come to experiencing heaven. But another sound quickly overpowered those luxurious strains. This was the sound of an eighteen-year-old recording. A recording that told an ugly story and which had forced him onto a path that he would pursue for the rest of his life. His ears ached at the memory of those hissing words and the untold anguish they’d caused.
There were some things he wished he could forget. But no matter how painful the path, he could not turn back. It was his fate.
The initial scalding sensation had passed, giving way to a mellow numbness that now suffused his entire body. He propped himself up on the seat that ran along the inside edge of the pool. ‘Come and dry my back!’ he called out, waving his hand high.
‘Coming!’ replied the attendant from his bench outside the bathing room. But the attendant didn’t get up; instead, he turned to the older man sitting behind him, who was wearing a large towel around his waist. The sec
ond man smiled and gave the attendant a thumbs-up, then walked into the bathing room.
The attendant thought the older man was odd. Earlier, the man had handed him a hundred-yuan note and requested that when the young man in the bathing room asked to be towelled off, he should let the stranger do it. The attendant was thrilled. To have someone else both pay him and do his job – what could be better than that? He was surprised, but he happily agreed.
He didn’t judge, but he did watch curiously as the strange man pulled a hot towel from the shelf and approached the young man in the water. Clouds of steam drifted across the room, casting a ghostly haze over them both. Once he was behind the bather in the pool, the older man used his left hand to towel down the young man’s back; with his other hand, he held the man’s right arm.
The attendant on the bench shook his head. Amateur, he thought. The protocol was to dry a bather with the right hand and hold his left arm with the left hand. This man had it all backwards.
In the pool, the younger man sensed that something was wrong. He turned his head to the side and felt a sudden chill on his right wrist. He tried to move his hand away, but something heavy was pinning it down.
Click.
The man spun around and through the fog he saw a familiar figure. A pair of handcuffs gleamed in the moist air, linking their hands together.
‘Captain Pei?’ he said in shock.
Pei snapped the towel over their hands, covering the handcuffs. ‘If you try anything, you’ll attract the attention of the local police,’ he said, glancing over at the attendant on the bench. He removed the towel from his waist and joined his captive in the water. ‘Let’s have a chat.’
The young man’s shock had already faded. He grinned at the police officer. ‘You’re vacationing here as well, Captain Pei? What a coincidence.’
Pei returned his smile. He sat down beside the young man and lowered his left hand, submerging the handcuffs well below the surface. ‘So what should I call you – Wen Chengyu or Du Mingqiang?’