Death Notice

by Zhou HaoHui

  On her way back to the entrance, she noticed something odd about the lobby. She could see herself wherever she looked. She stopped in her tracks, and then it came to her—seamless mirrors stretched along the length of each wall. It made the lobby appear much larger than it actually was, and it also gave her the unsettling impression that she was being watched.

  Setting aside this uneasiness, she wondered how she could go about meeting the commissioner. Through the academy president? Or should she set this angle aside for now and return to Huang empty-handed?

  Footsteps clacked behind her.

  “Excuse me, Officer.”

  Mu turned and saw a security guard. “Yes?” she asked.

  “Mr. Deng has agreed to meet with you. Come with me, please.” The guard turned and pointed beyond the reception desk.

  Mu tried to mask her surprise. Over at the desk, the receptionist was watching her with the receiver pressed against her ear, and when she noticed Mu looking at her, she quickly hung up.

  Mu wondered why Deng—or “Brother Hua”—had had a sudden change of heart. She had little time to ponder, though, before she and the guard arrived at the elevators.

  “Please go to the eighteenth floor, Officer. There will be someone to help you once you arrive,” the guard said respectfully.

  The elevator arrived at the eighteenth floor, and sure enough, another athletic man in a tailored suit was waiting for her when the doors slid open.

  He stood ramrod straight and towered above Mu. Around thirty years old, he had a square face and large eyes set below thick eyebrows. Mu recognized him as the man who had emerged from the Bentley. Most likely, he was Deng’s head bodyguard.

  Mu extended her right hand. “My name is Mu Jianyun. I’m a lecturer at the provincial police academy and a member of the city police department’s task force.”

  “A pleasure.” The man shook her hand, and looked her over. “Please call me Hua,” he said.

  Mu grinned. “ ‘Brother Hua’ fits you better.”

  Hua remained stone-faced. “Please follow me. Mr. Deng is waiting.”

  The eighteenth floor was quiet and pristine. While the walls here were not reflective, Mu spotted curved mirrors mounted high at each bend in the hallway, letting her glimpse around every corner. She did not see a single company employee as they walked down the hall, apart from Deng’s fit bodyguards stationed in pairs at several points along the way. Mu concluded that this level served as Deng’s exclusive office space. Brother Hua led her around a corner to a burnished metal door, with a guard on either side.

  Hua entered first. An alarm beeped as Mu followed him, and the two guards immediately held out their arms to bar her way.

  “My apologies. Please hand any metallic objects on your person to these two members of our staff. They’ll safeguard them for you until you leave,” Hua explained.

  It was a metal detector, Mu realized. Since she was standing in the heart of her host’s territory, she saw no option but to follow his rules. With a resigned shake of her head, she handed her purse to one of the men.

  The alarm went silent. With a satisfied nod, Hua turned and pointed ahead. “Mr. Deng is in the office at the end of the hall. I’ll meet you back here when you two finish your conversation.”

  Mu finally approached Deng’s office. The door was unlocked. She knocked gently, and a deep voice answered.

  “Come in.”

  Mu opened the door to reveal a cavernous room. Twenty meters deep, it resembled a lecture hall at the police academy more than an office. The red carpet below her feet was immaculately clean. Tables, chairs, and dressers lined the carpet neatly. Each piece of furniture was black with slight hints of red. A luxurious, European-style chandelier hung from the room’s ceiling. The office’s most extravagant feature was the layer of crystal glass that completely covered its walls, which reflected the room endlessly upon itself. The effect was dizzying.

  “Please have a seat.”

  The man’s speech was piercing and commanding. Mu looked, and saw the imposing executive desk at the office’s end. There sat a dignified man with eyes like a tiger. She recognized him as Mayor Deng.

  Even for a psychologist, this environment was unnerving. She knew she had to move forward, and she strode over to the chair facing Deng. Composing herself, she sat down and sized up the man sitting in front of her.

  “Your office is truly one-of-a-kind,” she said.

  “I don’t want so much as a single shadow to exist in my room,” Deng answered calmly. Indeed, the glass covering every wall ensured that he could survey the entire room with a single glance.

  “From a psychological point of view, this would seem to imply that you’re afraid of something. You’re afraid to lose sight of the people and things around you, and in particular you’re afraid of losing control.”

  “What’s your name, Officer?”

  “Mu Jianyun. I’m a lecturer at the provincial academy and member of the 4/18 Task Force.”

  “Oh, the famed ‘4/18 Task Force,’ ” Deng said, nodding. He snickered. “After eighteen years, you people are still stuck on that investigation. That’s police efficiency, I suppose.”

  The man’s frank remark left Mu nonplussed. Blinking away her hesitation, she decided to be equally blunt.

  “We have several new leads that could give us a valuable edge in breaking the case. However, we need your assistance.”

  Deng tilted forward in his seat. “Let’s hear it.”

  “We believe there’s a hidden connection between the 3/16 drug bust in 1984, the warehouse explosion one month later, and the murder of Xue Dalin.” Mu scanned his expression when she mentioned this name. She was hoping for a reaction, but she saw none. The man was harder to read than a statue. “That’s why I’d like to ask you a few things about the situation surrounding the case you were personally involved in,” she said.

  Deng shook with scornful laughter. “Given my reputation, I don’t think it’ll come as a surprise that I’m quite well-informed as to the details of both cases. I might know a bit more than you, in fact. Rest assured, there’s no connection between them. The 3/16 drug bust was the most successful operation of its kind in the history of the Chengdu police force. It was a proud moment for the department. The 4/18 murders, on the other hand, were the crazed actions of an abnormal, overinflated ego. The fact that the case remains unsolved to this very day is a mark of shame for the Chengdu police. How could you possibly link these two cases together?”

  Mu laid it all out. “One of the victims who died in the explosion on April eighteenth was named Yuan Zhibang. His ex-lover was Bai Feifei, who was Xue Dalin’s administrative secretary at the time. Not long after the narcotics seizure on March sixteenth, Ms. Bai committed suicide by jumping into a river. Don’t you think the connection is worth looking into? What if Ms. Bai’s death was not a suicide, but some sort of prelude to the 4/18 murders?”

  A stretch of time passed before the man spoke again. Mu observed his reaction closely. While years of experience had taught him to keep his emotions buried, a sense of surprise still leaked through the filter separating mind and body.

  “What else have you found?”

  “I was hoping that you could tell us more. Anything you can recall concerning the narcotics seizure of March sixteenth would greatly aid our investigation.”

  Deng sneered. “There’s no reason for me to waste my time on this. I have neither the need nor the obligation to assist you.”

  “And yet, here I am. You’ve already decided to waste your time,” Mu said with a smile. “Why else would you have asked me to come to your office?”

  Deng shook his head several times, as though admonishing a child. “No, no, no. That’s incorrect.”

  Mu felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

  “I didn’t allow you to see me so that I could h
elp you. I did it because of this,” Deng said.

  He flung a sheet of paper onto his desk. Mu leaned in to read:

  DEATH NOTICE

  THE ACCUSED: Deng Yulong

  CRIMES: Premeditated murder, racketeering, drug dealing, extortion

  DATE OF PUNISHMENT: October 25

  EXECUTIONER: Eumenides

  “While you were fumbling around in my lobby, my assistant received this fax. And I changed my mind.”

  The smile vanished from Mu’s face. “The twenty-fifth—that’s today!”

  Deng simply watched her, a subtle smile on his lips.

  “Mr. Deng, I need to make a call,” Mu said. She swiftly took out her cell phone and called Han’s direct line.

  “Officer Mu?” the captain answered. “You aren’t answering your phone. I need you back at the station immediately. We’re about to have an emergency meeting.”

  “Yes, sir. Eumenides has revealed the name of his newest target. It’s Deng Hua, the head of Longyu Corporation.”

  “How do you know that!?” Han exclaimed. “We’ve only just received the death notice minutes ago.”

  “I’m meeting with Deng Hua at his company headquarters at this very moment.”

  Mu could sense Han’s astonishment on the other line. “You’re with Deng Hua right now? What are you doing all the way downtown?”

  She could lie to Han. But what would be the use?

  “I’m following a lead. I needed to ask Deng some questions,” she admitted.

  Mu heard a sharp breath in her ear. She expected a barrage of reprimands from her superior. At the very least, she would be in for it when she returned to headquarters. But Han’s response was calm, his tone businesslike.

  “You and Deng are to stay put for the time being. And tell Deng to keep himself inside and safe. He is not to set foot outside. Am I clear? We will be there any minute.”

  “Understood,” Mu said, and she hung up.

  The knowledge that officers were on the way helped ease her nerves, and she was able to start thinking about the implications of the new death notice. It had arrived almost concurrently with her discovery of Deng’s connection to the 3/16 drug-trafficking case. And the execution was scheduled for this day! It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  Deng focused his sharp eyes on her. “Officer Mu, if my hearing hasn’t failed me, it would seem that this visit of yours wasn’t authorized by the investigation team at all.”

  “That’s correct,” Mu answered. “I have a personal informant and my own leads. I do have the authority to investigate independently.”

  “An informant?” Deng chuckled. “I’m almost impressed.”

  Mu took the matter more seriously. “My colleagues will be here soon to protect you. Before they arrive, you are not to leave the building. Once our people are here, they’ll provide you with a detailed security plan.”

  Deng appeared indifferent. “So in other words, my actions need to fall in line with your orders?”

  “It’s a request, but I strongly advise that you comply.” Her eyes went again to the death notice on Deng’s desk, and to the date written on it. “At least for today.”

  “Officer Mu, there are a few things you should understand,” Deng said. “First, no one can order me around. My daily itinerary is prepared long in advance, and any changes will interfere with my subsequent plans. This is unacceptable. I’ll remain in my office until this evening, at which point I’ll leave for the airport and take my 8:40 flight to Beijing.”

  “But today is unique,” she said, pointing to the death notice. “Do you understand what that is? Someone is planning to murder you. This is an extremely dangerous killer.”

  “Which brings me to my second point,” Deng continued. “Someone trying to kill me might seem extraordinary to you, but not to me. Everything I now possess was earned with my own sweat and blood. And I could fill an encyclopedia with the names of every person in the world who has wanted me dead. Do you know how much my head is worth to certain groups? A million U.S. dollars! That’s more than enough money to attract any top-notch international assassin. If I were to change my personal schedule every time someone made a threat on my life, Longyu would be in chaos.”

  Mu shook her head. On a certain level, Deng’s explanation made a great deal of sense. How many threats had the man survived during his transformation from small-time gangster to one of China’s wealthiest men?

  Indeed, an assassination threat would throw most people into a panic, but Deng had barely batted an eyelash at Eumenides’s note.

  “In spite of all those who would relish the thought of killing me,” Deng went on, “I am still very much alive. No matter the price on my head, I am not so easy to kill.”

  “Eumenides is not like the others,” Mu countered. “In the past few days, he’s killed three people right under the police’s very noses! It didn’t matter how watertight the police’s defenses were, he broke right through them! He—”

  Deng cut Mu off with a wave of his hand. “I know all about this man. He killed Ye Shaohong in the plaza in front of the Deye Building two days ago. Before sunrise this morning, he killed Peng Guangfu, the suspect from the Mount Twin Deer Park police slaying, inside a mining tunnel on the city outskirts. He also killed Xiong Yuan, the SPU captain who was guarding Peng. Apparently he’s killed some dozen-odd criminals who were previously wanted by the police.”

  Mu was amazed. As far as she knew, none of these facts had been leaked to the media. Han had insisted on an airtight seal around the investigation—which was why she had been so surprised at his apparent leniency toward this little venture of hers. Yet Deng knew almost everything. Almost.

  “I’ve been following this case ever since Eumenides made his first post online,” Deng said with more than a hint of vanity. “I’m quite a bit more capable than you have assumed. As far as I’m concerned, the city’s law enforcement system has no secrets from me.”

  “So you are aware of the first murder?” Mu asked. Leaning back in her seat, she allowed herself a satisfied smirk.

  Deng raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re referring to Ye Shaohong’s death?”

  With a feeling not unlike satisfaction, Mu told him about Zheng Haoming.

  “He was a highly decorated sergeant, respected all over the city. And he was murdered in his own apartment.”

  Deng narrowed his eyes. It was the first sign of vulnerability Mu had seen him display.

  “We can help keep you safe. This killer has made good on every one of his threats so far.”

  “Only because the police were too confident in their ability to protect the public. I won’t make that same mistake. You’ve seen the kind of capable people I surround myself with—these men will be responsible for my safety today. If the police want to stick their noses into this, they’ll only be allowed to do so if they play by my rules. I do not take orders. I give them. Once your people arrive here, they can contact my personal assistant Hua, and he’ll tell you what you need to do.”

  Mu thought back to the rigorous security measures she had witnessed upon entering the building. Deng’s confidence was more than an idle boast. Even if the police could protect him, despite their recent losses, how could they be more effective than the man’s personal security team? The black-suited bodyguards had been hired and trained specifically to protect Deng. They could remain at his side day in and day out—a task that would be impossible for the police.

  Deng simply had no reason to trust the police over his own staff in the wake of an assassination threat.

  A gentle tapping against the door broke the silence within the office.

  “Come in,” Deng announced, his voice having lost none of its dignity.

  Brother Hua entered the room. He walked with quick, firm steps, vigor radiating as he moved. When he looked at D
eng his face shone with near reverence.

  “Sir, the fax was sent from an imaging shop a few miles away, on Zhengtai Street. The employees there had no idea that anyone had used their fax machine. We did some digging and found a Trojan horse on their computer. It allowed someone to control the machine remotely. Whoever set it up did a clean job; it’s untraceable. This is a pro we’re dealing with.”

  “Yes. As expected.” Deng turned to Mu. “So, Officer, I believe I’ve made myself quite clear. Right now, you can wait for your people down in the first-floor lobby. I still have a great deal of business to take care of.”

  Hua walked her out of the office. Once Mu had reached the hall, the bodyguard disappeared back into his employer’s grand, shadowless office.

  * * *

  Deng stared at a surveillance monitor on his desk. The cameras followed Mu as she walked down the hallway and entered the elevator.

  “What do you think of her?” he asked Brother Hua.

  “Intelligent. Extremely perceptive. If she’s an ally, we should still keep a few things up our sleeves. If she’s an enemy, she’s going to give us a lot of trouble.”

  Deng gave a noncommittal nod. “We’ll see about that. She’s a member of the so-called ‘4/18 Task Force.’ She also dragged up another case from eighteen years back—the famous drug bust of March sixteenth, and ascertained that Yuan Zhibang, one of the corpses from the explosion in the warehouse that year, had an ex-girlfriend named Bai Feifei who also happened to be Xue Dalin’s administrative secretary.”

  Hua’s eyes narrowed.

  “She has an informant. This person may be aware of other things.” Deng’s voice darkened. “Find him.”

  Hua nodded.

  “Begin your search immediately.”