by Zhou HaoHui
Zeng rolled his eyes in exasperation. “If you’re going to keep playing dumb, I’m leaving!” He turned for the door, waving his hand in a lazy good-bye gesture.
Her heart leaping into her throat, Mu reached over and grabbed his arm.
“Okay, okay. Sit down and talk. You’re right. I did find a connection, but I don’t know what it means. All I know is that Xue Dalin was involved with both investigations.” She sat down on the sofa.
“That’s to be expected. But the connection you’re looking for isn’t anywhere in the files I printed out for you.” Zeng leaned close to Mu, and she could tell that he was attempting to show off. “I read through those files right after you left, and I came to the same conclusion. Only two words in those documents had any value: Xue Dalin. I ran a peripheral search for that name. And then things got interesting.”
Mu was glued to her seat. She hadn’t intended to bring in anyone else on her investigation of Huang’s lead, but now that Zeng was involved she couldn’t just turn him away.
“What did you find?”
“A woman.” He lowered his voice to a suspenseful whisper.
Mu rolled her eyes in irritation.
“You still remember Yuan Zhibang’s death notice, don’t you? What was the first crime written on it?”
“Womanizing.”
“When I checked the archives for records on students attending the provincial police academy in 1984, I found a file on a young woman who was abandoned by her boyfriend after she became pregnant. She eventually committed suicide by jumping into a river. Her name was Bai Feifei.”
The name sent ripples through Mu’s imagination. Gradually, the delicate silhouette of a young woman emerged in her mind’s eye.
“Bai had been preparing to graduate with a major in administrative management,” Zeng said. “She was interning at the city police department before her suicide. Her job was administrative secretary to Vice Commissioner Xue Dalin.”
Mu was unable to hold back her surprise. Bai Feifei, whom she assumed was only a minor character on the edges of one case, just became the sole juncture between the murders of both Xue Dalin and Yuan Zhibang. Her mind raced.
“When did she die?”
“The twentieth of March.” Zeng’s reply was quick.
Xue’s task force had successfully brought down Liu Hong’s drug empire on March sixteenth. Four days later, his administrative secretary, Bai Feifei, was found dead. Xue was murdered on April eighteenth. On that same day, Yuan Zhibang, Bai’s former boyfriend, and Meng Yun died in a warehouse explosion.
This is what Huang had wanted her to find—Bai Feifei connected the 3/16 drug case and the 4/18 murders. What did it signify? How had Huang known about the 3/16 case? And what had kept his lips sealed for the last eighteen years?
Questions wormed through her mind like creeping tendrils. Her thoughts were a jumble, and she was unable to form a coherent picture.
The doorbell rang. Zeng got up and opened the door.
Pei stood outside.
“Captain Pei?” Zeng asked, with more than a hint of surprise.
The captain glanced at both of them. His voice was low, almost suffocating. “Something went wrong.”
OCTOBER 25, 2:08 A.M.
NO. 1 PEOPLE’S HOSPITAL
After wading through crowds of late-night patients and their anxious family members, Pei, Mu, and Zeng finally arrived at the emergency room of Chengdu’s No. 1 People’s Hospital. The other remaining task force members were there, but they didn’t appear to notice the new arrivals.
Xiong’s death sent shockwaves through the police force, even in the middle of the night. Commissioner Song of the Chengdu Police Department and Xiong’s fellow SPU members had hurried to the hospital as soon as word of the captain’s fate reached them.
Liu’s eyes were bloodshot, and he sat silent and alone on a chair in a corner of the emergency room. The aura of smoldering grief and rage surrounding the SPU officer ensured no one dared disturb him.
Captain Han, team leader and coordinator of the operation, was nearing his breaking point. By the time he finished giving his situation report to Commissioner Song, his voice was barely more than a croak. The captain looked as though he had nothing left to give.
The commissioner looked almost queasy at the sight of the pain that Han, one of his favorite officers, was experiencing. Looking away from the captain, he said, “Go home and get some rest, Han.”
Han nodded dumbly. Commissioner Song was right—he was exhausted. The events of the previous several hours haunted him, like a nightmare he could not awaken from. His pain seeped through every cell of his body.
Unable to find the words to respond to the commissioner, Han slipped out from the crowd in a trance. He spotted Pei, Mu, and Zeng, their faces ashen, but passed by without a word.
The commissioner drew a deep breath and yelled after him. “Captain Han!”
The yell drew stares from everyone. Han stopped and turned around, his eyes wide.
“The investigation team is still counting on you!” Commissioner Song’s voice boomed. “Don’t forget that!”
Han knew he needed to start over. There was only one way: Find the bastard Eumenides, and crush him. Anger turned to determination. He gritted his teeth, forced his aching back to straighten, and flexed his fists.
The commissioner nodded at Han with approval. “Get some sleep. The team will be waiting for you tomorrow.”
Eumenides will also be waiting. With that thought, Han turned and walked to the door.
Yin Jian watched as the captain left the room. Unlike Liu and Han, who had both succumbed to anger and fatigue, he had not experienced any sort of extreme emotion after the incident at the mine. On the contrary, the gears in his head were spinning at blazing speed.
Pei appeared at Yin’s side and patted his shoulder.
“Captain Pei…,” Yin said, his voice dreamlike. Pei’s touch seemed to have disrupted his train of thought.
“What the hell happened out there?” Pei asked, motioning to Xiong’s body.
Yin steadied his nerves and described how he and the team had entered the mine and found Peng, how they had been forced to split up so that Eumenides could kill Peng and Xiong right under their noses, and how they barely escaped with their lives. Pei listened with rapt attention, picturing each scene in detail.
Yin went on to explain that Captain Xiong Yuan had stopped breathing in the back of the police SUV, but Liu Song had insisted on driving to the hospital rather than directly to the forensic examiner. If nothing else, it gave them a small measure of comfort. The doctor on duty only needed to take one look at the gash in Xiong’s neck to declare the SPU captain dead on arrival.
Just as Pei had originally feared, the game had been nothing more than another meticulously laid trap. By abiding by Eumenides’s rules, the police had made themselves pawns in the killer’s plan. Yet Xiong’s death came as a great shock. Considering that they had dispatched four of their finest officers to the scene, Pei had assumed there would be no chance of a direct confrontation. Never would he have imagined that the killer would actually succeed in murdering the most formidable member of their team.
What’s Eumenides’s game? wondered Pei. Was this all just an elaborate provocation of the police? Eumenides had clearly intended for his plot to result in disaster for the task force, but what was his ultimate goal? To eliminate a player from the opposing side? But why arrange such an elaborate cat-and-mouse game, instead of simply killing Xiong like he had Sergeant Zheng?
They still hadn’t found the key they needed to understand Eumenides’s motives. Pei had already spent time pondering what they could be missing. By the time Yin finished his account of the night’s events, he had a new hypothesis. But it was too early and too bold to say anything yet.
He needed more evidence, and more time.
Yin stiffened, but he couldn’t refuse Pei’s request.
Exiting the hospital, the two officers found a secluded spot by a corner of the building.
“What do you want to ask me, Pei?”
“While you were at the mine, I was reading the files on the shootings at Mount Twin Deer Park. It says you were in charge of inspecting the scene.”
“Was there something you wanted to know about it?”
“I’d like to verify a few things. According to the description in the case files, Han fired three bullets in the firefight. Two of these missed their targets, but one struck Zhou Ming in the chest, killing him instantly. Before this, Zhou Ming had fired four bullets—one of which struck Han, another killed Zou Xu, and the other two missed. Zhou Ming’s accomplice, Peng Guangfu, fired one bullet that missed. Han’s partner was down before he even had a chance to pull the trigger of his own gun. Is that correct?”
Yin nodded. He had typed up those files himself. Even though the case was ten years old, the details were still crystal clear.
Pei grunted in affirmation. “The bullet casings were all collected from the scene. Three of them were crucial pieces of evidence—mainly, the ones that struck Captain Han, Officer Zou Xu, and Zhou Ming. The blood on each of these three casings verifies the timeline of the shootout, as established by Han’s statement.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a copy of one of the photographs from the case files.
“This is the bullet marked with Zou Xu’s blood. The ballistics report shows that it came from Zhou Ming’s gun. Can you verify this for me?”
Yin examined the picture. “The report says it came from Zhou’s gun. What’s your point?”
“I can tell a few things from this picture, but my understanding is hazy at best. I’d like you to try to recall what the actual casing looked like when you examined it ten years ago. Did the tip of the bullet show any signs of warping or abrasion?”
“If it did, all of those details would be inside the report.”
Pei grimaced to himself. He wondered if Yin was being difficult on purpose. Then again, this hadn’t exactly been an easy night for him. “There was a reflecting pool not far from the scene of the shootout. Did the blood spatter at the scene indicate that Han went into the pool?”
Yin sighed, and he slumped forward. “It did. Han ran after Peng Guangfu, despite his injury. He was too winded by the time he waded into the pool. He couldn’t go any farther.”
“I see. Thanks for clearing up those details,” Pei said, and walked away.
Yin watched Pei walk across the parking lot. When the captain’s silhouette vanished, Yin finally allowed himself to exhale.
OCTOBER 25, 4:20 A.M.
ZENG’S ROOM
“Is someone from Liu Hong’s old crew out for revenge?” Mu asked Zeng point-blank.
Zeng scratched his head as he considered this possibility. Mu had provided him with two compelling arguments. First, every one of Eumenides’s actions seemed to be directed at the police. Now that she had looked over the case files, it seemed that the victims he had targeted eighteen years earlier were also connected to the 3/16 drug bust.
“We can’t rule out that possibility. Why don’t we report this during our meeting tomorrow and start an official investigation?”
“We can’t,” Mu said.
“Why not?” Zeng arched his eyebrows in bewilderment.
She had not forgotten the promise she made to Huang. “I have…an informant who has certain reservations. If this information spreads to too many people, it could threaten his personal safety. I need to show him that I’m sincere about protecting him. That’s the only way I’ll get him to tell me more.”
“Suit yourself.” Zeng shrugged. That made himself Mu’s sole collaborator, and he had no objections. “What’s our next move?”
“I need to find Deng Yulong. He’s our only reliable source of information on this case.”
“Deng Yulong.” Zeng spat out the three syllables. He dashed over to his desk, navigating through the mess of wires that covered his floor, and opened his laptop. His fingers became a blur as he searched the police department’s databases. “Let’s see what we have on the guy.” In seconds, a file was displayed on his monitor.
Mu was already at his side. Her gaze was focused on a photograph of a middle-aged man on the side of the screen. He displayed a shrewd, confident gleam. The name next to the picture read Deng Hua. “It’s him!” exclaimed Zeng.
“What do you mean? The name is wrong.” Mu was taken aback by Zeng’s excitement.
“You mean you don’t recognize him?” Zeng tapped his finger against the table. “He must have changed his name!”
Mu shook her head.
“You’ve spent too much time cooped up in the academy,” Zeng said. “Even if you’ve never seen him before, surely you must have heard of ‘Mayor Deng’?”
That rang a bell. Mayor Deng had never held any actual political position, but his moniker was an accurate description of his status. In fact, he was probably more powerful than Chengdu’s actual mayor.
People in the city primarily knew Deng as a businessman. His enterprise spanned a whole array of industries: real estate, investment, international trade, dining, and even music production. His background was a mystery, but his wealth was unrivaled by anyone in the province of Sichuan.
It was less commonly known among ordinary citizens—but widely rumored among those in the know—that Deng had a wide net of connections in both legal and illegal industries. There was even a saying among locals of the province. “When Mayor Deng shouts, city hall shakes!”
Mu never would have guessed that such an imposing figure could have emerged from such a sordid background. Nor would she have ever imagined that this same man had spent years as a common police informant. No wonder he changed his name from “Deng Yulong” to “Deng Hua”; he’d wanted to cover up a less-than-illustrious past.
It wouldn’t be easy getting a figure as powerful and connected as Mayor Deng to dredge up the facts of an infamous eighteen-year-old case. That would take a bit of effort.
CHAPTER NINE
BREAKING OUT OF THE COCOON
OCTOBER 25, 8:00 A.M.
THE LONGYU BUILDING
Located a short walk from the massive Tianfu Square at the heart of downtown Chengdu, the Longyu Building towered above its neighbors like a redwood among reeds. At twenty-seven stories, its height made it remarkable enough; its rounded edges and reflective black surface made it resemble a dark, massive crystal shard. The magnificent structure was the property of the Longyu Corporation, the vast business chaired by the man known as Mayor Deng. Its address, 888 Shuncheng Street, had been chosen for its auspicious connotations, as Chinese culture prized the number 8. The official explanation was that the Longyu Corporation had secured this address after a fierce bidding war. Rumor, however, said otherwise.
Mu stood in the plaza in front of the Longyu Building. She noted the similarity to its owner’s original name. Deng Yulong may have convinced the world that he was now Deng Hua, but it seemed that he wasn’t completely willing to give up his past.
Within minutes of arriving, she had already witnessed Deng’s trademark self-indulgence. As she climbed out from the taxi, she spotted a fleet of five luxury cars swooping into Longyu Plaza. They came to a halt at the plaza’s center, and over a dozen young men in black uniforms stepped out of the four Mercedes-Benz vehicles positioned to the front and rear of a Bentley in the center. Each of the men was athletic and imposing. They jogged toward the building’s entrance, forming two lines leading up to the front door. When the Bentley pulled up to the entrance, a particularly tall and thickly built man emerged from the front passenge
r’s side and opened a rear door. The security team stood at attention as their esteemed employer stepped out.
The man’s large frame suggested that he had once been muscular. Yet even though the majority of this bulk had long since turned to fat, he still carried himself with grace. He strode into the building with vigorous and forceful steps, flanked by a cadre of sleek bodyguards.
This was Deng Hua, the head of the Longyu Corporation. The person she had come to question.
Her police credentials granted her quick entrance into the building, but Mu found her path blocked when she reached the desk in the spacious first-floor lobby. The receptionist and security personnel required her to state the name of the person she intended to see, explaining that she would only be permitted to enter the building’s offices after obtaining permission via telephone.
Mu had no choice but to be blunt. “I’m here to see your employer, Deng Hua,” she said.
The receptionist was skeptical. “Do you have an appointment?”
Mu showed her badge again. “I need to speak to Mr. Deng immediately, concerning an active investigation.”
The receptionist kept a stern face, hoping her imposing manner would work in her favor. Mu did not budge. Finally, the receptionist reached for her headset and dialed an internal number.
“Brother Hua, there’s a police officer here who wants to see Mr. Deng…Yes, she says she’s here investigating a case. She wants to ask Mr. Deng some questions…Okay. I understand.”
The receptionist smiled apologetically at Mu. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Mr. Deng requires a letter of introduction first. You can come back once he’s spoken with the commissioner and arranged a proper time for a meeting.”
To ask for a letter of introduction may have been reasonable, but to demand that the police commissioner personally schedule a meeting? Deng’s nickname of “Mayor” had clearly gone to his head. Mu glared at the woman incredulously. Despite a cheerful smile, her resistance was firm.
If Mu had been sent here by Han, she would have pushed back. She had come here on the hunch of a man whom she wasn’t even sure she could trust. One wrong move could severely affect the path of her career. Given the circumstances, she decided to return to the station and try to recoup her losses.