by Song Ying
“He looked the same that day at the Landmark Building,” Xiaochuan said casually, but it struck Nie as not necessarily an innocent comment.
“Which day was that?” Nie asked.
“When Officer Yao and I went to Landmark the second time. It must have been Wednesday, June twenty-eighth.”
“Can you describe the visit?”
“A Boeing 747 was on its final approach outside the window, coming in quite low. When we checked with Huangtian Airport, we found that it was a China Southern flight, and that no one on the plane had any connection with Zhong Tao. In any case, we came up empty. But then Officer Yao recalled another scene—scraps of paper floating down from a building across the way, in the direction of Zhong’s gaze.”
“Scraps of paper? Are you sure?”
“I must say, it was weird,” Yao Li said.
Nie gave the new information some thought before asking: “Where were the three of you sitting at the time?”
Xiaochuan told him.
“What time was it?”
“Five minutes till six.”
“How can you be so precise?”
“I glanced up at the wall clock.”
“Hmm.” Nie looked at his wristwatch and sat quietly thinking. “About the same time as now,” he muttered to himself.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Let’s take another look.”
Xiaochuan had to stay to keep an eye on Zhong, so Nie Feng hailed a taxi and went to the Landmark building with Yao Li.
Ah-ying was surprised to see them.
“Officer Yao, is there something I can do for you?”
“Mr. Nie and I would like to see Mr. Zhong,” Yao said.
“He went out this afternoon.”
“Could we wait for him in his office?”
“Sure,” Ah-ying said, and asked someone to open Zhong’s door. She went in with them.
“Would you like me to call and ask him to return?”
“No need,” Nie said. “Oh, and please don’t mention that we were here.”
“I see.” Ah-ying nodded, and seemed to understand what was going on. “Please make yourselves at home.” She turned and left the office.
Nie walked over to stand behind Zhong’s desk.
“That’s it. That’s where he was standing,” Yao Li said.
He looked to the southwest and saw a red sunset outside. It was like bright red blood, or a raging fire.
He was speechless from the sight. Before him was a sea of fire. Now he knew—Zhong had seen fiery burning clouds.
“That must have been like fire. Fire,” Nie said.
EIGHT
Tip of the Iceberg
— 1 —
That night, Zheng Yong and his Squad One partner kept watch on Zhou Zhengxing.
At ten o’clock, Zhou arrived at the Opera House. He got out and his driver drove off. Zheng assumed that Zhou was there to see a performance, but he didn’t even enter the grand structure. Instead he hailed a taxi, climbed in, and headed down Shennan East Road.
Zheng and his partner took off after the taxi. Under the evening sky, flickering neon lights turned the city of Shenzhen into a place of prosperity and splendor.
The taxi turned abruptly onto Jianshe Road, heading south toward the train station. Zheng Yong stayed with Zhou all the way to the end of Jianshe Road, where the Yellow Lo Wu Control Point Building by the train station came into view. To their surprise, instead of driving into the station, the taxi stopped in front of a brightly lit building at the intersection.
Zheng looked up and saw that it was the Shenzhen Emperor Hotel.
Zhou Zhengxing, wearing a brown sport coat, stepped out of the taxi and was greeted by a pair of doormen in red uniforms as he walked into the lobby, his steps light and springy. Zheng snapped off a few quick shots of Zhou entering the hotel, then told his partner to park across the street while he jumped out of the car, raced across the street, and ran into the spacious, splendidly decorated lobby.
“This is official business,” he said to a tall woman at the registration desk who appeared to be the manager, showing her his badge.
“May I ask what this is about?” she asked.
“The man in a brown sport coat who just came in. Which room is he staying in?”
“Oh, you mean Mr. Zhou of Landmark. He’s not staying here.”
“Is he here to meet someone?”
“Landmark has a business suite here.”
“What’s the room number?”
“It’s a luxury suite, 1618.”
“Thank you.”
Energized by a premonition, Zheng walked outside and got back into the car. “Something may be up tonight,” he told his partner, barely able to conceal his glee.
At that moment, a red BMW glided over from the opposite direction and stopped at the hotel entrance. The driver stepped out, a woman in an orange evening dress, holding a handbag. She had a nice figure and a pretty face, even in profile. A valet came up, took her key, and drove her car to the underground parking lot.
Zheng had an unobstructed view of her face as she turned to enter the hotel, and nearly cried out in surprise.
It was Landmark’s current chairwoman, Hu Guohao’s widow, Zhu Mei-feng. Luckily, his partner snapped off a few shots before Zhu disappeared inside. Zheng picked up his walkie-talkie and, like a hound in a foxhunt, reported the latest development.
“Chief, this is Squad One. Target entered Emperor Hotel room 1618 a few minutes ago. We’ve had an unexpected sighting—Phoenix has just flown into the hotel.”
“Got it. Don’t lose them. I don’t want any screwups.”
“Understood.”
Before he finished, Zheng saw a white van drive up and park a few meters away. It was Squad Two. He rolled down the window and signaled to them; both surveillance teams were elated when they realized why they were meeting here.
Now they knew that something was definitely up and they could barely control their excitement. All eyes were on the hotel entrance.
The residents of Shenzhen, a city that never slept, were obsessed with merrymaking and pleasure seeking. Traffic flowed up and down the streets as music lingered in the night sky. The police spent the night cooped up in their vehicles till 5:06 the following morning, when, in the early light, they saw Zhou Zhengxing come out and get in a taxi, which headed in the direction he’d come from the day before. About fifteen minutes later, Zhu Mei-feng’s red BMW emerged from the underground garage and quietly drove away.
* * *
Eight a.m. The officers, including those who had stayed up all night, gathered in the conference room to discuss this explosive development. Team Leader Cui presided, with Bureau Chief Wu in attendance. The room brimmed with high spirits; it was as if the officers were soldiers who had just taken an enemy fort.
Zheng had obtained a surveillance video from the hotel and was playing it on a big screen. It showed all the activity in the sixteenth-floor corridor from ten o’clock the night before till six o’clock that morning. A dozen pairs of eyes were glued to the screen.
—A man in a brown sport coat opened the door to 1618 with a key card and entered. The timer in the lower right corner showed JULY 7 22:28. Ten minutes later, a woman in an orange evening dress opened the door with a key card and went inside. The police checked the faces carefully; the man was Zhou Zhengxing and the woman Zhu Mei-feng.
—July 8, five o’clock that morning, Zhou walked out of room 1618. Ten minutes later, the door opened again and Zhu emerged. She closed the door behind her and walked to the elevator.
No one had expected an affair between Zhu Mei-feng and Zhou Zhengxing. The news injected a jubilant air into the room.
“This is a breakthrough,” Chief Wu said. “Nearly two weeks have passed since the June twenty-fifth murder, and even though we’ve zeroed in on a few suspects, we haven’t been able to find any solid evidence. In other words, we’ve been spinning our wheels. Then two days ago, Hong Yiming was poisoned, which further compli
cated our case. I know you’ve all been under a lot of pressure, but so am I. So this unexpected development from last night could be just what we need to move beyond this impasse. What’s your view on this, Dajun?”
Team Leader Cui was clearly energized.
“I agree with Chief Wu. This truly is a breakthrough. First, though, I want to thank everyone for working so hard over the past few days. We’ve been stumbling in the dark since Hu’s death, but this discovery of a secret relationship between Zhou Zhengxing and Zhu Mei-feng should go a long way toward providing some answers. For instance, in addition to knowing why Hu’s body had algae from the water in Nan’ao, we now have an idea why Zhu reacted so coolly to Hu’s death, and how Zhou could so easily take over Landmark’s Board. All this was carefully planned, and it worked perfectly.” Cui lit a cigarette and took a long drag before continuing:
“First, it shows that Zhou had two motives to commit the murder—power and romance. Eliminate Hu Guohao, and he would gain the long coveted position of Landmark CEO, and get Zhu Mei-feng in the bargain.”
“So what role has she played?” Zheng Yong asked.
“Given her relationship with Zhou, it’s very likely they planned it together. She was the prime beneficiary of Hu’s death and was resentful over Hu’s infidelity. So it’s only natural that she might plot her husband’s murder with her lover.”
“I want to hear what everyone has to say,” Chief Wu said.
Cui’s comments were based on unassailable logic, and were persuasive; the officers all spoke their minds, but were generally in agreement with Cui’s analysis and assessment.
Yao Li, who was known to have her own ideas and was not too timid to express them, spoke up. “I agree with Team Leader Cui that Zhou and Zhu could have planned the murder together. But I don’t think we’ve solved everything, especially when we consider all the twists and turns the case has taken over the past two weeks.”
“So tell us what remains unsolved,” Cui said as he handed a cigarette to Zheng Yong.
“I’m still trying to figure out why Hu’s briefcase showed up at the Nan’ao Elementary School. The Nan’ao Police Station talked to the school’s security guard, who said he did not see Hu come on campus. So, personally, I don’t think we know where Hu was murdered. Also, we’ve yet to identify the woman who ordered the strange wreath.”
That got everyone thinking.
“And what was the motivation for killing Hong Yiming?”
“Come on, everyone, share your views. Don’t hold back. We’ll have better results if we put our heads together,” Chief Wu said encouragingly.
“I have something to add,” Xiaochuan said. “There’s one major question, and that is, why did Hu Guohao and Hong Yiming both receive those paper notes? We haven’t given this enough thought. Mr. Nie said two days ago that this could be the key to solving both cases.”
“That Western Sun fellow again, still shooting off his mouth.”
Someone snickered, maybe laughing at Cui’s mocking comment, or maybe laughing at his mistake.
“When does Mr. Nie return to Sichuan?” Chief Wu asked.
“Tomorrow,” Xiaochuan replied.
“Hmm. A journalist might be able to see more than us professional investigators. Thinking outside the box, as they say. I think we should consider what Western Sun has to say.”
Now everyone was laughing.
“What? Did I say say something wrong?”
“It’s Western Sunshine,” Xiaochuan said.
“Oh.” Wu laughed with the others before turning thoughtful. “Indeed. We now have two directions of investigation before us—one, find out if Zhou and Zhu planned the murder together, and two, find out if Hu and Hong were murdered for the same reason. It’s important to determine which one to follow.”
The room went quiet; the officers were either considering both possibilities or they simply could not make up their minds. Finally Cui said: “I think we need to follow up on both.”
“That’ll work, too.” Chief Wu nodded.
“With what we discovered last night, Zhou could be the key to it all,” Cui said, exuding a bit of confidence.
“Bring him in then,” Wu said with a determined slap on the table.
“There’s something else,” Zheng added. “Last night we thought we saw another car following Zhu Mei-feng.”
“What kind of car?” Cui asked.
“A date-red VW Santana. It was tailing Squad Two’s car. And when Zhu Mei-feng left the hotel, it followed her.”
“Did you get the plate number?”
“We did. It was a Guangdong plate, B—XX118.”
“Find out who owns the car.”
— 2 —
That same afternoon. The police issued a formal summons for Zhou Zhengxing.
Zhou was “asked” to meet with the police in a small room on the sixth floor of the Y District Public Security Bureau. Cui Dajun, Xiaochuan, and Yao Li, all in uniform and unsmiling, sat in a row behind a brown desk. Zhou, seated three feet away, hardly resembled the carefree, springy image on the surveillance videotape from the night before.
Team Leader Cui asked about his connection to the case. At first Zhou was curt, with short answers, probably unhappy over the police summons; he had not wanted to come, but Cui was insistent and unyielding on the phone:
“Mr. Zhou, this is Cui Dajun, Team Leader of the Y District Public Security Bureau. Right. We have a few questions regarding the deaths of Hu Guohao and Hong Yiming, and would like you to come down to the district office this afternoon.”
“I’ve been awfully busy these past few days. I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it.”
“These are homicides I’m talking about. I’m sure you understand how serious that is. If you won’t cooperate with the police, we’ll be forced to take drastic measures.”
What Cui meant by drastic measures was the possibility that he would request a bench warrant to force him to report to the police. The Public Security Code for criminal cases stipulates that suspects who are summoned but fail to appear without good reason can be brought in forcefully to be interrogated at specified locations. In other words, the police would be sent to bring the individual in, and if he resisted, he’d be handcuffed.
“Is that so? I didn’t say I refuse to cooperate with the police.” In the end, Zhou came over soon after hanging up.
“Did you go to Nan’ao Elementary School the day Hu Guohao was killed?”
“I did, in the afternoon. I was there for a computer donation ceremony. I spent the night with my mother at my family home in Shuitou Village. You can check with neighbors.”
“But we found his briefcase on the school’s athletic field. How can you explain that?”
“I didn’t see him that day, and I have no idea how his briefcase ended up there.” He sounded as if he might be lying, but he could have been telling the truth.
“And where were you between twelve and one the next morning?”
“Your officers have checked that out. I was sleeping at my mother’s house.”
“Any witnesses?”
“My mother.”
“One’s mother doesn’t count. That’s common legal knowledge; you should know that.”
Zhou looked embarrassed, but quickly recovered. “What proof do you have that I wasn’t there?”
Touché! Cui changed the subject.
“The medical examiner has proved that Hu was drowned at Nan’ao.” He watched Zhou’s face very carefully. “And you were in Nan’ao that day. Is that a coincidence?”
“Wasn’t his body found at Lesser Meisha?”
“Lesser Meisha was where the body was dumped. We know he was killed in Nan’ao.”
“In Nan’ao?” Zhou looked genuinely surprised.
“Yes. And, we also know that you and Hu had not been getting along well lately. You wanted to take over as CEO.”
“Office rumor.” Zhou cracked a smile. “Things like that happen in every company. How could you believ
e that?”
“But someone heard you and Hu in a heated argument the day before he died.”
“There were things he and I disagreed on, but only about running the business. It was nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Mr. Zhou, were the problems between you and Hu limited to business?” Cui dragged out his voice.
“What are you implying?”
“What am I implying? You’re the one who should know that.”
Zhou’s face stiffened, as if sensing a trap.
“Where were you between ten last night and five this morning?” Cui decided to go on the offensive. Zhou froze and began to stammer, “That—that’s my personal business.”
“Oh, on personal business?” Cui said. “In luxury suite 1618 at the Emperor Hotel?”
Zhou’s face fell; his swarthy complexion began to turn purple.
Cui decided to launch the fatal assault and signaled Xiaochuan to start the video. Xiaochuan turned on a player they’d set up ahead of time, and the hotel corridor appeared on a small screen against the wall. He fast-forwarded to where Zhou was seen walking into suite 1618. He fast-forwarded again, this time to show Zhu Mei-feng, in her orange evening dress, opening the door and entering the same room.
Zhou looked completely defeated; he leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed.
“How do you explain this incredible scene, Mr. Zhou?” Cui asked pointedly.
Zhou was cornered. “I can’t deny that.” He squirmed in his chair. “You must promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to promise not to make this public.” He’d lost his composure but not his dignity. “My wife mustn’t know about this,” he pleaded softly, “nor the company employees.”
“They won’t.” Cui nodded and gave his word.
Zhou then told them about his affair with Zhu Mei-feng.
“When did it start?”
“Over two years ago.”
“Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘thou shall not fool around with your friend’s wife’?” Cui said, taking the moral high ground. “Hu Guohao might not have been your friend, but you’d worked together for nearly ten years. Don’t you feel bad about sleeping with his wife?”