The Blade of Silence (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 3)

by Mi Lei

  After a while, Fang Mu left the deli and made his way round back. He entered a nearby residential building and climbed up the stairwell. On the top landing, he opened a window, and then pulled out his binoculars and began his surveillance of the back of the office building and the truck yard.

  The building itself appeared to be almost deserted. All of the blinds were tightly drawn. Fang Mu could only glimpse the occasional lone silhouette wandering down the building's corridors. After a few minutes, he turned his attention to the truck yard.

  Next to the trucks parked in the yard he could also see an old, rundown van. The van's license plates were covered in dirt and grime, making them impossible to read. Fang Mu was just adjusting the magnification to get a better look when the back door of the office building opened. A security guard emerged. After checking the truck yard and its surroundings, he waved to someone waiting inside. At his signal they filed out the back door.

  The breath caught in Fang Mu's throat.

  The first man out was doing his very best to hide his face behind a low drawn baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, but it took Fang Mu only a glance to be absolutely certain that it was Jin Yongyu. The next one wore a similar disguise, but was even easier to identify. The cast around his leg gave Peng Zhongcai away.

  The men quickly got into the van. As soon as they were seated, the guard hurried over to the truck yard gate and opened it.

  Fang Mu felt the blood rush to his head. He threw the binoculars into his bag and dashed down the stairs.

  By the time he finally reached the street below the van was already gone. He was about to give chase when he realized that the security guard was staring at him. Jaw set in determination, Fang Mu decided that the only way to avoid suspicion was to run for the bus that was about to depart across the street and took off in that direction. He just managed to scramble onto the bus. As he took his seat, he noticed the other passengers staring at him. For a brief moment he wondered what was so special about him running to catch a bus, but in truth he couldn't have cared less.

  He never realized that his face was covered in tears. The passengers' hushed whispers passed him without comprehension.

  Only the dead men's roar from the mill thundering in his ears drowned out all other sound.

  Fang Mu barely slept that night. He was busy writing a report that detailed all the information he had gathered in the past few days. Even though the police were currently searching the entire city for Jin Yongyu and Peng Zhongcai and were carefully watching all roads out of the city, he knew that it was only a matter of time before someone somewhere let his guard down and let the two escape. He had to act quickly and immediately get Liang Sihai investigated. If he could just convince the Bureau to focus its resources on that one task, they would finally have a real chance at cracking the case.

  Fang Mu drove to the Bureau early the next morning. He all but ran up to the commissioner's office. When Fang Mu pushed his door open, the commissioner was just in the middle of a conversation with Bian Ping.

  Fang Mu was in no mood for a chat. With a quick nod to Chief Bian, he let his backpack drop onto the desk and pulled a file from it.

  "Commissioner, I have something to report..."

  He didn't notice the dark shadows shrouding both the commissioner and Bian Ping's faces.

  "Old Xing's case is linked to an international child-trafficking ring," Fang Mu explained. "This ring—"

  "Fang Mu," Bian Ping interrupted, his voice grave, "Old Xing is dead."

  A jolt shot through Fang Mu's entire body, freezing him on the spot. Seconds passed before he slowly lowered his head and placed the file on the table. "The ringleader's name is Liang Sihai. He operates a freight company, Sprint Logistics. The address is—"

  "Fang Mu, Old Xing is dead." Bian Ping's face contorted as he tried to control his emotions.

  Fang Mu didn't look at him. He was flipping through the file, doing his best not to listen. His voice grew louder in a vain attempt to drown out Bian Ping's words. "The address is Sprint Logistics Company, One-Eight-Four Zhujiang Road—"

  "Fang Mu, stop it." Bian Ping took Fang Mu's hand. "Stop."

  Fang Mu wrested his hand away. If I can drown out your voice, can I pretend I never heard your words? Did all this never happen? He was shouting now. "Liang Sihai is kidnapping underage girls, then—!"

  "Enough!" The commissioner jumped to his feet. "Right now, none of that matters. We'll talk about it after Old Xing's funeral."

  Fang Mu fell silent as he blankly stared at the commissioner. Then he turned his empty gaze to Bian Ping. Brutally forcing a smile onto his face, he said, "Not funny… Now… Now, is not the time for jokes…" His pleading eyes went from Bian Ping to the commissioner and back again. Any moment they would smile, clap him on the shoulder and say, 'Just kidding. Got you!' And he would laugh at their dopey prank.

  And then it made impact.

  The light finally drained from Fang Mu's eyes and he hung his head. He futilely pushed his file back and forth across the desk. "How can...? He's still waiting for me… Just need to wrap this up..." he mumbled to himself. He suddenly raised his head to stare right at Bian Ping. His eyes were desperate for something – anything – to hold on to. When he spoke, his voice was a strangely harsh, tight whisper. "All right?"

  Bian Ping turned away. He couldn't bear to meet Fang Mu's gaze.

  "This has to stop." The commissioner gathered the scattered pages of Fang Mu's file into a neat stack. "Old Xing is dead. It's over now. There is no sense in continuing the investigation. I have already lost three men and I do not plan on losing..." He stopped in mid-sentence as he saw Fang Mu stumbling backwards. "Are you all—?"

  Fang Mu's face had turned a deathly shade of pale as his entire body began to shake.

  Before the commissioner could finish his question, Fang Mu collapsed to the floor.

  That night, a serious incident had occurred at the Dinglong City lockup facility. An argument had led to a physical altercation between five detainees that resulted in one death and two minor injuries.

  The detainee killed was Deputy Commissioner Xing Zhisen of the Changhong City Municipal Public Security Bureau.

  The entire incident was witnessed by a number of detainees. According to their testimony, it was close to lights-out when Xing Zhisen began arguing with someone named Kang, a detainee on death row.

  Xing Zhisen continued to viciously insult Kang until the argument escalated into a physical confrontation. Three other detainees attempted to break up the fight, but they were immediately attacked by Xing Zhisen. In the melee, Xing Zhisen was stabbed by Kang. When the guards arrived, they were able to defuse the situation and rush the severely injured Xing Zhisen to the nearest hospital. There it was discovered that Xing Zhisen's carotid artery had been punctured. The resulting blood-loss led to hemorrhagic shock and death. Xing Zhisen's fatal injury had been caused by a sharpened toothbrush handle.

  Kang readily confessed to the murder. When asked about his motives, he claimed that it had been "a spur of the moment decision". As the facts were not in dispute, the police immediately transferred the case to the Procuratorate for examination and prosecution.

  With the death of the only suspect, the Bay City Hotel homicide case was withdrawn. The deceased's family was contacted and agreed to have the remains transferred to the Dragon Peak Funeral Home for cremation.

  The day of the funeral was cold and cheerless. Only a tiny handful of mourners had come to pay their respects. Most arrived, bowed, said a few words, and then left as quickly as propriety would allow. Only Bian Ping and Han Weiming, the polygraph expert from Shenyang City, remained at the side of Xing Zhisen's widow throughout the proceedings. That Xiao Wang decided to stay after offering his condolences was the only glimmer of solace for Yang Min's broken heart.

  As Xing Zhisen was still considered a suspect at the time of his death, the Bureau refused Yang Min's request to cremate him in uniform. Xing Zhisen lay in repose under the glass cover of
the coffin wearing only a simple suit. While Yang Min was powerless to prevent this final insult, she had still brought her husband's uniform. He couldn't wear it, but she would at least place it in the crematorium alongside his body.

  As the ceremony neared its end, the commissioner arrived. He stood before his old partner and solemnly bowed three times. He walked up to Yang Min and without a word took her hand. Then he, too, turned away and quickly left.

  Yang Min opened her hand and tears began streaming down her face.

  In her palm was Xing Zhisen's service ID.

  After the ceremony, Bian Ping went outside to look for the one person he had been sure would come, but he was nowhere to be seen. For a while he continued to wait, but to no avail. Yang Min and Han Weiming were also exchanging puzzled looks.

  Finally, Bian Ping impatiently called over to Xiao Wang, "Did you see Fang Mu?"

  "No." Xiao Wang offered him a helpless smile. "I haven't been able to get a hold of him for days now."

  Bian Ping frowned. He hadn't seen Fang Mu since he had collapsed in the commissioner's office. He'd tried to call, but Fang Mu had turned off his cell phone. Bian Ping could understand his grief and anger, but this was Old Xing's final journey. Fang Mu should have been there.

  Their time was up. An anxious staffer from the funeral home came over to urge Yang Min along. She did her best to stall, desperate to take in every last moment with her husband before he was reduced to a pile of ash.

  But now it was goodbye.

  The impatiently waiting funeral home staffer finally got his chance to wheel Xing Zhisen's remains to the crematorium. While he prepared to cremate the body, Yang Min hurriedly placed Xing Zhisen's uniform and police ID on his chest. Then, the body was pushed into the crematorium. Yang Min reached out to hold her husband's dead hand one last time. It struck her like a hammer-blow. This was goodbye forever; her tall, stoic husband whose brow she had never seen without deep furrows, was leaving her. Forever.

  Panic, despair, dread and regret…

  A thousand terrible emotions burrowed deep into her heart and ripped it apart. Slivers of unadulterated pain shot through every corner of her body, taking control of her. She needed her husband. The light had left her eyes; now only darkness remained.

  She fell forward.

  Shocked, the mourners stood frozen. Someone burst from out of nowhere, rushed forward and grabbed Yang Min. Holding on to the corner of the crematorium cart with one hand, he steadied Yang Min with the other.

  Bian Ping gasped.

  Was that really Fang Mu?

  He could have never imagined that a person could grow so haggard looking in such a short time. Thin and drawn, the good-natured, rather shy young man he had known now seemed to burn with nothing but hungry, ruthless hate.

  Without so much as a word, Fang Mu motioned Bian Ping and Xiao Wang to take hold of the unconscious Yang Min. Then, he turned and stared at Old Xing, his mentor, who had stood by him so many times.

  Who had done so much for Liao Yafan before she disappeared.

  Who had smiled, even through the scars and the pain.

  I will do this for you, by any means, at any cost.

  Bian Ping and Xiao Wang carried Yang Min out of the funeral home while Han Weiming called the emergency services. Suddenly he heard a noise from the crematorium cart behind him. When he turned around he saw that Fang Mu had vanished without a trace.

  CHAPTER

  23

  The Truth

  The VIP dining room of the Dingyuan Hotel was ablaze with light. Despite its massive size, the room was empty except for a large table in its center and a small stage. On the stage, several scantily clad women were writhing to the chaotic sound of pounding beats.

  Even though the men around the table were silently watching the dancers, it was more out of a sense of obligation than genuine interest. The real object of their attention sat at the far end of the table. Between sips from their glasses or while lighting another cigarette, they would steal a glance in his direction, hoping to get a better look at Liang Sihai.

  Their host seemed entirely relaxed, lazily reclining in his chair as he stared at the stage. He was also putting on a show. He knew that they were all watching him and of course they had doubts. He himself felt the strain of the many mishaps of the past few days. With all their problems, it hardly seemed like a time to celebrate, but his son had insisted on a formal gathering to announce his promotion. Liang Sihai was just hoping to use the occasion to boost his men's flagging morale.

  And one good thing had happened: That old cop, the one who had caused him so much trouble, was finally gone forever.

  The door opened and a young man, tall and athletic, entered the room, pulling a beautiful young woman behind him. He was smiling smugly as he waved to the assembled crowd. The men around the table rose one by one to greet him. Only Liang Sihai remained motionless. He hated his son's puffery with every inch of his being. He glared at the young woman.

  Of all the women, why did his son's girlfriend have to be a movie star? Liang Sihai was almost certain that she was the root of all his ridiculous love for pomp and circumstance.

  Still, he was his flesh and blood and clearly the fruit had not fallen far from the tree; after all, his son had come up with the plan that finally got rid of the old cop in lockup. Yes, Liang Sihai was certain that promoting him was the right move.

  Liang Sihai bowed ever so slightly and invited all of them to sit back down. As the chairs clattered, he signaled for the music to stop and waved the girls off the stage. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to him. He calmly took a sip of tea and with a mild smile, let his gaze sweep across the faces of his men.

  "I don't need to tell you about the past few days." Liang Sihai paused. "We ran into a few problems and we've lost good men."

  They all listened with bated breath.

  Liang Sihai straightened his back and continued. "But no matter. Such trivialities won't bring us to our knees. We'll continue our work and we'll continue to reap its rewards. Old Jin and Old Peng will, however, for the time being, have to remain in hiding. Someone will have to take their place."

  Liang Sihai raised his head. He looked at his assembled men, making sure that every eye remained fixed on him. Then, he pointed to the young man, so eager to take his new post.

  "I would like to introduce you all to the man who will take their place, my son." His voice grew louder. "Liang Zehao."

  He wasn't even 30 and he had already made it so far. This had to be the best day of his life. Having them all bow and call him "Eldest Brother" was great, sure. But what really did it for him was the way his father was looking at him. The cold contempt he had suffered for so long was gone. Now he only saw confidence in his father's eyes.

  From today on, Liang Zehao thought smugly, the world is mine! Never again will I be the rich kid that everyone just pretends to fear and respect. Never again will they laugh behind my back. In this city, I will be an Eldest Brother, and soon, they will call me Eldest Brother in the entire province. No! The entire country!

  Intoxicated by his grand designs and the adulation of the others, Liang Zehao felt like he was walking on air. Caught up in the rush, he emptied one glass after another over the next few moments. Everything turned to a pleasant haze.

  That buzz didn't, however, stop him from noticing the playful looks the lead dancer was sending in his direction.

  Pei Lan was right at his side, but the moment the music stopped again, Liang Zehao stumbled over to the barely-clad girl. He pulled a fat wad of hundred-yuan notes from his pocket and stuffed it down the front of the lead dancer's skimpy top. She giggled and batted her eyes.

  Liang Zehao leaned in close and whispered, "The lobby."

  The girl nodded ever so slightly as she looked deep into his eyes. Then she walked away, an inviting swish in her hips.

  Liang Zehao returned to the table and downed another two glasses. As he emptied the second, he saw the raw resentment in Pei Lan's eye
s. For a while, he pretended not to notice, but to his annoyance, she kept staring at him.

  "What's wrong?" he slurred, patting her leg with his hand. "Something troubling you?"

  Pei Lan removed his hand and quietly said, "Liang Zehao, you can mess around whenever you like, but not tonight. Tonight, you owe me at least some respect. Just let me save face this once."

  "What did I do now?" He feigned indignation. "Don't be like that. Tell me, doesn't she look pretty?"

  Pei Lan angrily spun away in disgust.

  Finally free of her accusatory stares, Liang Zehao stood up and shouted, "Let's drink!"

  After a few more rounds, Liang Zehao's head was swimming in earnest and his stomach had begun to revolt. He was about to throw down another glass when he recalled his dessert waiting in the lobby. He'd need to sober up or he knew he'd have serious problems getting it up, and that would be no fun at all.

  Liang Zehao got up from his chair with a sway and a wobble. Struggling to keep the contents of his churning stomach down, he excused himself. He quickly decided against using the dining room's bathroom. Someone might see him in there and he didn't want to risk losing face on his first day as Eldest Brother. On his way to the door, several of his new followers approached with offers to accompany him. He waved them off.

  Liang Zehao staggered to the bathroom alone. He pushed the door open and immediately rushed to the nearest toilet. Hanging his head into the bowl, he let it all spill out. It made his stomach feel better, but his dizziness worse. He sank to the bathroom floor, closed his eyes, panting.

  He didn't notice that the bathroom door he'd left wide open was being pushed shut.

  Then, someone slowly stepped out from behind the door.

  Fang Mu was wearing a baseball cap. He had pulled its brim low, hiding most of his face. His clenching jaw line and pulsing veins in his neck, however, remained perfectly visible. Slowly and deliberately, he walked toward Liang Zehao, who was still limply hanging over the rim of the toilet. With every step, Fang Mu pulled the metal wire he was holding between his hands a little tighter.