by Mi Lei
Fang Mu had just flipped open his lighter when he heard the scraping of foot-shackles on the floor outside the door. He raised his head and what he saw froze his gaze and made his body go rigid in shock. The flame of the lighter flickered, forgotten, in his hand.
Xing Zhisen's was dressed in a prison uniform, sagging over his bent and broken body. As he slowly shuffled his way toward the table, Fang Mu could see that the commissioner's face was covered in cuts and bruises. When he noticed Fang Mu's shocked expression, Xing Zhisen squeezed a small smile from in between his countless contusions.
"Commissioner Xing..." The cigarette tumbled from Fang Mu's mouth and onto the table. "You..."
"Never mind." Xing Zhisen managed a pained laugh at Fang Mu's dismayed shock. "It's nothing." He let his hand glide over his battered face. "There are a few fellows in here I personally put away." He was in obvious pain, but still attempted another low laugh. "Don't they say that old enemies will always meet again?"
"Fuck!" Fang Mu leapt to his feet. He stormed to the guards standing at the door. "Get me the director!"
"Fang Mu!" Xing Zhisen glowered at him. "I didn't call you for this! Sit down!"
Fang Mu gnashed his teeth and glared at the two guards, eyes burning with rage at them. The guards just turned away without acknowledging his request or indignation.
Fang Mu pushed the anger down as he forcefully sat back down at the table.
"Give me a smoke," Xing Zhisen requested, stretching his hand toward him. Fang Mu quickly pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it for him. Xing Zhisen took it and inhaled deeply. "I could stand getting out of here."
"Commissioner Xing, what is going on?" Fang Mu almost whispered as he leaned in close.
Xing Zhisen raised his head to meet the younger man's eyes. He took another slow drag and emphatically asked, "Fang Mu, do you believe me?"
"Of course!" Fang Mu immediately replied. "I absolutely believe you!"
"Very good." Xing Zhisen smiled. His face quickly darkened as he continued. "Did they find the woman's remains?"
"No," was all Fang Mu could offer.
Xing Zhisen frowned, but only for a moment. "Fuck, that son of a bitch knows what he's doing!"
"What really happened that day?" Fang Mu needed to know.
"I walked into a trap," Xing Zhisen replied with a sigh. He went on to tell him what had occurred in the hotel that day, recounting every detail.
Fang Mu took it all in. "In Room Six-Twenty-Four," he said, pausing to carefully go over it again in his mind. "They found no bloodstains whatsoever?"
"Yeah." Xing Zhisen lowered his head. "I mean, I imagine there could be a short window to move the body after the stabbing, before she actually bled-out. It would explain the lack of evidence." He shook his head. "But that of course would have required someone on the scene to clean it all up."
Fang Mu let the timeline play through his mind: There could have been no more than four minutes from the moment Old Xing left the room until the police arrived to search Room 624. That was only enough time for someone to scrub the scene if they had prepared the entire operation beforehand. Fang Mu's heart began to pound as he reeled at the implications.
"Did they get the security footage from the hotel?" he quickly asked.
"We tried, but the staff told us that the system was down for maintenance that day," Xing Zhisen answered glumly.
Fang Mu silently cursed. "Do you believe it?"
"No," Xing Zhisen said.
The two looked at each other. They both knew that a plot as sophisticated and wide-reaching as the one facing them could not be good.
"There's one more thing," Fang Mu said, pausing as he lowered his voice. "Why were you at the Bay City Hotel that day?"
For a moment the two men held a stare, then Xing Zhisen pushed his hand across the table, motioning Fang Mu to do the same. Xing Zhisen put his hand in Fang Mu's and traced a simple Chinese character with his finger. It was just two lines, 丁, 'Ding'. It could mean a name, a man, the fourth in a series of something, or perhaps a reference to any number of words formed with the character.
Fang Mu answered Xing Zhisen's questioning look with a quick nod as he began to contemplate what exactly the commissioner was trying to tell him.
Xing Zhisen smiled. "Do you remember when you were still at university?"
"Why?" Fang Mu raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I remember, but—"
"My partner back then…" Xing Zhisen's eyes fixed on Fang Mu. "Do you remember him?"
Surprise raised Fang Mu's voice a notch. "Eh? Are you saying that...?"
Ding Shucheng. Only Xing Zhisen's sudden, stern glare stopped Fang Mu from blurting out the name for the entire room to hear.
"Help me find him," Xing Zhisen simply asked of him. "The sooner, the better."
His mouth still open, Fang Mu fell silent. Ding Shucheng had been one of Old Xing's most-trusted subordinates. A few months ago, however, he had been dismissed from the force under accusations of favoritism and misapplying the law. After his dismissal, Ding Shucheng seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. It was even rumored that he had never turned in his service weapon. Back then, there had been plenty of talk behind Xing Zhisen's back, accusing the deputy commissioner of judging Ding Shucheng too harshly. Fang Mu had also felt deeply unsettled when he learned how the dismissal had played out. Could it really be possible that this entire mess was somehow connected to Ding Shucheng?
Seeing Fang Mu's shocked expression, Xing Zhisen motioned him to lean closer.
"I sent him undercover to infiltrate a crime ring," Xing Zhisen whispered. "On that day, he contacted me and gave me notice to meet him at the Bay City Hotel."
"What?" Fang Mu's eyebrows shot up as he digested the news. "He betrayed you?"
"Not necessarily," Xing Zhisen said deliberately. "That was my first assumption as well, but the way this entire situation has developed makes me think that we should not rush to judgment. If he's been turned, then he probably set the entire trap himself. But if he hasn't, then..."
"Then it means that his cover has been blown," Fang Mu finished. "And that he is in grave danger."
"Finding him and finding him quickly will be key." Xing Zhisen nodded. "If he has turned on us, then we can clear all of this up as soon as we have him. If he hasn't, then we need to protect him. And reinstate him."
"And what about you?" Fang Mu asked.
"I'll figure something out," Xing Zhisen muttered. "Find Young Ding. It was me who sent him undercover and got him involved in all of this. I cannot just give up on him now."
Fang Mu could tell that deep inside Xing Zhisen was convinced that Ding Shucheng had not betrayed him. He carefully considered this new twist. He whispered another question. "The group he infiltrated," he posed hesitantly, "what sort of crimes are they involved in?"
"Cross-border child-trafficking," Xing Zhisen replied flatly. "In the past few years, missing Chinese children have begun to crop up in other countries. The local police suspect that they are being trafficked for the sex trade. Most of these children were taken from around here."
Fang Mu nodded. "Who knows about the operation?"
"Only me and Young Ding." Xing Zhisen's brow furrowed. "He gave his all to infiltrate that ring. He was still lying low, slowly working his way into the deep layers of the organization." He paused. "I would've never imagined it would go so very wrong."
Fang Mu felt his heart grow heavy as he listened to Xing Zhisen. The deputy commissioner had clearly been framed and the only person who could prove his innocence had quite possibly betrayed him. On top of that, his situation was extremely precarious. Xing Zhisen was facing wrongful conviction and both he and Ding Shucheng were likely in mortal danger. Already, Xing Zhisen had suffered painful beatings and possibly worse. But despite it all, he seemed to care only about Ding Shucheng's safety. In the face of Xing Zhisen's unwavering commitment, Fang Mu felt a surge of courage rise from deep within.
"Why me?" he asked.
<
br /> Xing Zhisen spoke carefully, gaze on the table between them. "This matter is of grave importance. It's about more than me; the success of the entire operation is at stake. I need someone who not only has the guts to do what it takes, but also has a good head on his shoulders." He looked up at the young profiler. "And that is why I picked you."
Fang Mu clenched his fists under the table. "What should I do after I find him?"
Xing Zhisen was about to answer when one of the guards interrupted them. "Time's up," the man said. He abruptly walked over to the table and dragged Xing Zhisen to his feet.
Xing Zhisen could only stare at Fang Mu, his final instructions unspoken and unheard. He uttered a single word as he was dragged off. "Please."
Gritting his teeth, Fang Mu watched as Xing Zhisen was hauled, step by stumbling step, toward the door. Unable to sit idly by, Fang Mu leapt to his feet and grabbed hold of the second guard. He leaned in close and whispered, "Help him… He's one of us… Look after him."
"One of us?" The guard callously pushed Fang Mu's hand from his shoulder. "No murderer is one of us."
As Fang Mu walked out of the lockup, he felt the glorious early autumn light bathe his entire body, but with it came a sudden bout of vertigo. His mind was twisting in turmoil.
Where should he look for Ding Shucheng? Even if the officer had not turned traitor, finding him now would be next to impossible.
There was certainly something wrong with the Bay City Hotel incident. Whoever had set the trap had chosen it for a reason. Fang Mu's thoughts tried to unravel the coils of chaos. Should he go and investigate the supposedly non-existent security tapes? Who was the dead woman? And how was she connected to Ding Shucheng and Hu Yingbo?
Hu Yingbo had just been another part of this murderous trap; a part willing to die to play its role. Why? Was that the first piece of the puzzle?
There were too many questions. For a moment Fang Mu was overwhelmed and uncertain. He got into his jeep and began planning his next move.
There was so much he still needed to know.
As he drove away, a deep blue Santana pulled out from the roadside and followed him. It kept a careful distance, stalking him like a strange, azure predator.
There was no hurry. It would wait and watch.
CHAPTER
7
Strangers
Liang Sihai sat in his lavish executive chair, impassively listening to the voice on the other end of the line. Then, the voice stopped, awaiting instructions.
Liang Sihai seemed more focused on his solid gold paperweight than the conversation when he ordered, "Now that she has been dealt with, there is no more need to keep him around. Finish it." He paused turning the paperweight. "Deal with it personally; you understand those things better than I do." He lifted the gold weight and studied it carefully. "Right, I can handle the costs."
A pleasant female voice notified him through the intercom on his desk: "Mr. Jin has arrived."
"Then it's settled." It was all Liang Sihai needed to say. He hung up, and then pressed a button on the intercom. "Let him in."
Several minutes later, a tall, athletic man walked into the office. He was followed by a petite girl. The man walked up to Liang Sihai and bowed deeply. Liang Sihai, however, looked right past the man. His entire attention was fixed on the girl. There was an air of sweet, rural innocence about her. Feeling Lian Sihai's eyes on her, the girl tensed and lowered her head. Her legs trembled as she wrung her hands.
Liang Sihai smiled. "How old?"
The girl mumbled a response, but Mr. Jin's reply cut her off. "Fifteen years, we're sure."
Liang Sihai slowly turned his gaze to Mr. Jin. "Can you guarantee that she is," he paused stressing his question, "inexperienced?"
"Absolutely, absolutely." Mr. Jin nodded in rhythm to his repeated assurances. "No problem there this time! None at all!"
Liang Sihai snorted. "If that son of a bitch had a first go again, I'm going to cut your balls off, too!"
"Yes, yes." Beads of sweat began to form on Mr. Jin's forehead as he shifted, legs crossing at the threat.
"Take her. Get her into a new outfit," Liang Sihai said, pointing at the girl's ill-fitting dress. "A school girl uniform!"
The girl looked up, a puzzled expression on her face. When Mr. Jin tried to push her along, she responded with a solid and utterly unexpected counter-shove.
"I am not," she began, swallowing hard. "I am not going to be a typist?"
"You'll be a typist," Mr. Jin answered off-handedly. "Now go. Go."
"You lied to me!" The girl began to struggle against his grip. "I won't do it! I want to go back to my family!"
Liang Sihai's face darkened as he looked on. As soon as Mr. Jin became aware of his disapproval, he quickly grabbed the girl harder and menacingly growled at her. "They took the money and now you don't want to work?"
"Let me go! Please, Uncle!" the girl sobbed. "I'll return the money..."
She was still putting up a fight, but the life and light seemed to be draining from her. When she raised her eyes, she looked right into Liang Sihai's face. She had not seen him move. But somehow, he now stood in front of her.
Liang Sihai glowered at her without saying a word. Even without speaking, his gaze was like a flood of icy water breaking over her head. Instantly she felt something deep inside of her begin to shiver. She felt it freeze her limbs and chill her heart. In the end, even her tears stopped falling.
A long silence passed before Liang Sihai quietly instructed, "Do not cause trouble. Obey."
The five words could just as well have been a spell. The girl did not make another sound. She did nothing but stare with her large, wide eyes. When Mr. Jin dragged her out of the door, she did not resist him.
Liang Sihai turned away and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. "Sir, the goods have been dispatched," he jovially told the person on the other end of the line. Smiling, he added, "Now, there is a little issue I would like to discuss."
Fang Mu forged ahead, through the labyrinthine back streets and alleys. It was a slow, disorienting journey. When he was not trying to figure out the next turn, he carefully examined the grimy plates hanging next to each dilapidated door. To his frustration, most of the house numbers had faded beyond recognition. He turned off a narrow alley and found himself looking down a lane almost broad enough to be called a street. The inhabitants had made good use of the space by setting up a game of mahjong in the middle of the lane.
As Fang Mu squeezed past a corpulent old lady, fully engrossed in her mahjong tiles, he caught sight of another readable house number. Taking a closer look, he realized that he had overshot his mark. He walked up to a man just pushing his bicycle onto the lane.
"Excuse me," Fang Mu asked. "Could you please point me to Hu Yingbo's home?"
The man gave Fang Mu a dubious look, but then pointed to a house on the other side of the lane. "Over there. What are you looking for him for?"
"Oh, just need to know something," Fang Mu said, deflecting the question.
"I'm afraid you will only find his little brother." The man turned and shouted at the mahjong players. "Yingwei, Yingwei!"
A young man squatting next to the mahjong table idly looked up. "Yeah?" He was wearing an unbuttoned suit jacket. His right hand, splinted and covered in dirty bandages, rested against his bare chest. A pack of expensive Chunghwa cigarettes was in his left hand. He was in the middle of extracting one of the cigarettes with his teeth.
"Someone's looking for you," the man with the bicycle called over.
Hu Yingwei immediately began to tremble. The cigarette he had just squeezed between his lips fell to the ground. Shaking, he looked up at Fang Mu with bulging eyes. After a second or two of silent staring, Hu Yingwei spun on the spot and made a run for it.
Fang Mu gave chase without hesitation, more out of instinct and habit than for any well-laid plan. Luckily for him, Hu Yingwei was not fast on his feet. Hobbling more than running, he did not make it far.
Fa
ng Mu caught hold of his collar and pushed him against a wall. "Why did you run?" he shouted.
"Hand, hand..." Hu Yingwei groaned in agony, cradling his bandaged right hand.
Fang Mu eased his grip and Hu Yingwei instantly sank to the ground. Huddling before him, he guarded his head with his left arm.
Fang Mu stood over the terrified man. He was just considering his next move when one of the old ladies rose from the mahjong table and pushed her way towards them. She bent down to examine Hu Yingwei's right hand. Once she saw that it was unharmed, she lifted Hu Yingwei to his feet and then gave him a forceful shove in Fang Mu's direction.
"Hit him! Go on, get it over with and kill him!" the old lady shouted at Fang Mu, anguish and anger mixing in her voice. "One is already dead. Go ahead and kill my other boy, too."
A cacophony of calls erupted from the mahjong table:
"Yeah, why don't you leave us alone?"
"Would a few days of peace really be too much to ask?"
"No matter how much you hate him, this has gone too far..."
Fang Mu was at a complete loss. As a last resort, he pulled out his police ID. "I'm with the police. I just want to ask him a few questions; there will be no beatings."
Instead of calming the situation, he had somehow managed to further fan their rage.
"What's wrong with the police?" one woman called. "You savages!"
"You people killed Yingbo..."
Fang Mu had had his fill. "Shut up! I am on official police business. You have to cooperate! And you…" he pointed at Yingwei's mother, "if you want this over quickly, just let me do my job!"
The words finally had the desired effect. With a sneer, Hu Yingwei's mother told the other women to return to the mahjong table. Moments later, the clatter of the game resumed.