The Killing Time

by The Killing Time (retail) (epub)

  Despite the cuts and bruises, Danilov recognised the man.

  It was the same monk Strachan had chased that morning.

  40

  The morgue was as cold and unwelcoming as ever.

  Danilov and Strachan had driven there after receiving an urgent message from Dr Fang. Chief Inspector Rock had not been happy at their departure.

  ‘This is your case, Danilov.’

  ‘I believe this man is a Japanese national, sir. It should be Inspector Nakamoto’s investigation.’

  Rock looked at the rumpled clothes and the Japanese tattoo. ‘I suppose you’re right… ’

  Danilov left before he could change his mind.

  Now he was faced with an impatient Dr Fang.

  ‘Do hurry along, gentlemen. It’s late and I still have a client found floating in Soochow Creek to look at this evening.’ He gestured for them to approach the steel table. ‘I’ve performed autopsies on both bodies. I know you need the results as quickly as possible.’

  The doctor drew back the sheet covering the young girl’s body.

  A sharp noise came out of Strachan’s mouth. Her body had been opened in the traditional Y shape, with the arms of the letter resting between her shoulders and the long tail stopping below her belly button. The incisions had been neatly sewn back together with dark thread.

  ‘Sorry,’ spluttered Strachan. ‘She just looks so small against the stainless steel of the table.’

  Dr Fang stepped back and tilted his head. ‘I suppose she does. She only weighs forty-five pounds, underweight for a girl of her age. I would estimate she was nine years old.’

  ‘Eleven. Her birthday was in December, according to the parents.’

  ‘Eleven? She’s definitely underweight and underdeveloped for her age. Common in poorer families in Shanghai.’

  ‘But not in those who can afford to send their children to private school?’ asked Danilov.

  ‘It’s not normal, no.’

  Danilov rubbed his nose. He was dying to light a cigarette, anything to rid himself of the smell of death that pervaded the place. But it wasn’t allowed. Instead, he pressed on. ‘Cause of death, Doctor?’

  ‘I think it is fairly obvious, Inspector. Look here if you will… ’ Fang pointed to the area around the neck. ‘There is definite bruising consistent with someone placing his hands on either side with the thumbs placed over the Adam’s apple, breaking the hyoid bone. Whoever did this knew how to strangle someone.’ He reached over and gently pulled back each eyelid in turn with his forefinger, revealing bright red eyes.

  ‘The blood vessels burst?’

  ‘The classic evidence of death by asphyxiation. The girl also evacuated her bowels. From the traces on her clothing, she probably had a rather thin rice gruel for breakfast.’

  Danilov didn’t want to look at the body any longer. ‘Anything else, Doctor?’

  ‘A couple of interesting things.’ Fang raised the girl’s right hand from the table. ‘Firstly, you may have noticed that the index finger of the right hand has been removed.’

  ‘Why?’ Strachan blurted out.

  Dr Fang pushed his glasses back up his nose. ‘I’m afraid, Detective Sergeant, such a question is beyond the scope of this autopsy. I think that is your area of expertise, is it not?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  Danilov held up his hand. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘One other thing. This young girl did not go quietly into the dark night. She put up quite a struggle. We found traces of skin between her front teeth. From my experience, this skin comes from the webbing attaching the thumb to the index finger. My hypothesis is that her killer came at her with his hands in this position.’ The doctor touched the ends of his thumbs together and spread his fingers. ‘She must have lunged forward to bite him just here.’ He pulled the webbing forward. ‘An extremely painful injury for the man given the amount of skin she had between her teeth. He will have bled profusely. You’re looking for a man with an AB blood group, in case you were wondering, Inspector.’

  ‘Is there any connection with the murder of the boy you examined two days ago?’

  ‘The same cuts across the face; from their depth and size probably done with the same knife.’ He pointed to the bruising on the girl’s neck. ‘In addition, the way the strangulation was performed and the width between the contusions on the neck suggests the same perpetrator. But don’t quote me.’ He held up her hand. ‘Finally, the same plaster was found beneath her fingernails.’

  ‘How do you remain so cold, Doctor?’ asked Strachan suddenly.

  ‘We have the latest refrigeration from America. It keeps the morgue at a constant four degrees.’

  ‘No, I meant—’

  ‘I know exactly what you meant, Detective Sergeant. How do I stay so detached? So dispassionate? So… unemotional?’

  Strachan nodded. ‘It’s the body of an eleven-year-old girl.’

  Danilov watched them, wondering whether to intervene but deciding not to. It was a question he should have asked Dr Fang himself.

  The doctor took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. ‘This young girl would gain nothing from me being emotional or outraged. In fact, exactly the opposite. In an emotional state I might miss a vital clue, preventing you from finding her killer. It is this knowledge that allows me to do my job, Detective Sergeant.’

  ‘Thank for your time and your work, Dr Fang,’ said Danilov.

  ‘One more piece of information I have discovered through doing my job dispassionately, Detective Sergeant.’ Fang lifted his head and stared directly at Strachan. ‘This young girl was not sexually molested, before or after she died.’

  Danilov had to end this confrontation. ‘The other boy, Doctor?’

  Dr Fang put his glasses back on and shuffled across to the next table, picking up a clipboard lying on top of the white sheet covering a small body. He removed the sheet with a dramatic flourish.

  ‘This is a young boy, approximately seven years old… ’

  The boy lay naked on the table, a Y incision separating his body into two equal halves. His eyes were closed, no longer staring out at a friendly world.

  ‘… another strangulation. See the marks on the neck. Again the same slashes across the face. Not as neat this time, as if the killer had less time, or was more frenzied.’

  ‘The time of death?’

  ‘Sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier for the girl, too.’ He picked up her clipboard. ‘She was killed at least twelve hours before her body was discovered. Could be longer, but I don’t think so.’

  ‘Could it be later?’ asked Danilov.

  ‘A hour, maximum two. But not any later than eight p.m.’

  ‘And the boy?’

  ‘Much later. He had only been dead a short while when he arrived in the morgue. Not more than four hours.’

  ‘Killed at different times. I wonder why?’

  ‘Again, Detective Sergeant Strachan, it is my job to give you the facts, yours to find the answers.’

  Strachan was about to reply when Danilov stopped him. ‘The same knife cut both victims?’

  The doctor looked down at the bodies. ‘The same or similar.’

  Danilov nodded. ‘Please carry on.’

  ‘Not much left to say. I’ll point out a couple of differences between the two victims. Firstly, I found traces of opium in the mouth and on the lips of the boy.’

  ‘Recent?’

  ‘If you mean was this boy a regular user of the drug, I would say no.

  ‘Strange.’

  ‘Indeed, Inspector. Secondly, no body part has been removed. This particular client is completely whole, nothing missing.’

  ‘And the third thing, Doctor?’

  Fang pushed his glasses upwards again. ‘Ah, Inspector, you know me so well. The third discovery is that there was no plaster beneath his fingernails.’

  ‘That is interesting.’

  ‘I agree. As he was only kidnapped yesterday morning, it would lead me to conclude
that this boy, unlike the others, was drugged but never incarcerated in a cell. There, Detective Sergeant Strachan, I have broken a lifelong rule for you.’

  Strachan raised an eyebrow, refusing to be baited by the doctor any more.

  ‘I have just posited my first hypothesis based on supposition rather than fact.’

  41

  ‘If there is one thing I am certain of in this case, Strachan, it is that these are no ordinary kidnappings.’

  ‘Why kill them without demanding a ransom, sir? It doesn’t make sense.’

  Danilov took a long drag on his cigarette, expelling the smoke into the cold night air. ‘I don’t know, but I mean to find out. They were snatched in broad daylight. There was no contact with the parents. No ransom demands.’

  ‘And the first two had a finger and an ear removed, whilst the third had nothing done to him.’

  ‘That was strange wasn’t it? The kidnappers sent an ear and a finger, but if it was a threat of worse to happen if the family didn’t pay up, one would expect a ransom demand too.’

  ‘The Chen family said there was no communication. I wonder if they were telling the truth.’

  Danilov thought of Mrs Chen and her aching sadness. ‘I believe them, Strachan. I’m sure they would have told us if there had been a demand. There seems to be no logic behind the removal of the body parts.’

  He paused for a moment, the red glow of the end of the cigarette illuminating his face. ‘All three were placed – exhibited would be a better description – where they would be found almost immediately.’ He stared past Strachan out into the night. ‘Why?’

  Strachan looked over his shoulder, imagining the inspector was talking to somebody behind him.

  There was nobody there.

  Danilov carried on. ‘The only thing they have in common is that their parents are members of the same political committee.’

  ‘Which suggests the Japanese are getting revenge, sir.’

  ‘But why children? Wouldn’t it be easier to simply kill the adult members?’

  ‘Perhaps the point was to frighten them into stopping, sir.’

  ‘Stopping the boycott?’

  Strachan nodded.

  ‘It hasn’t worked. The boycott is stronger than ever.’ Danilov crushed the cigarette against the wall, placing the end in his pocket.

  ‘And what about the monk, sir? He was our only lead.’

  ‘Even I can’t believe a Buddhist sect would allow the torture and murder of children as part of their rituals.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘But if that’s true, why did the monk run?’

  ‘Do you think he was the killer, sir?’

  ‘I don’t believe so. He was involved in the kidnappings, though. His description matches the one given by the teacher, Miss Turner.’

  As he spoke, Danilov rolled another cigarette, carefully laying the strands of blonde tobacco along the white paper, rolling it with a quick shuffle of his fingers and placing it between his lips without lighting it.

  ‘How can you be sure he wasn’t the killer?’

  ‘When I looked at his hands, there was a tattoo and a ring… ’

  ‘The teacher had the mark of a ring on her face.’

  ‘… but there were no bite marks. If Dr Fang is right, and he usually is, the man who strangled our children should have a bite in the webbing between his thumb and index finger.’

  ‘If the doctor was right… ’

  ‘And there’s more. There were slashes across the monk’s face too.’

  ‘The same as the children?’

  Danilov nodded. ‘Dr Fang will be able to tell us more when he completes the autopsy.’

  ‘You don’t think he was killed by a Chinese mob?’

  ‘I’m sure he was. But it’s too much of a coincidence that the one person we want to interview is then murdered in broad daylight.’

  ‘There were hundreds of witnesses, sir.’

  ‘What better place for a killer to hide than in the middle of a murderous mob?’

  Danilov lit the cigarette.

  ‘Three children dead, Strachan; there can be no more.’ He thought of his own wife, still suffering, still mourning two years after their son’s death. Would these parents be the same? What could he do to help Maria?

  ‘I’ve decided I’m going home, Strachan. There’s nothing more we can do tonight.’

  ‘If it’s OK with you, sir, I’ll carry on. I need to show the morgue attendant’s daughter the mug shots. She might be able to recognise the men who threatened her.’

  ‘We also need to show the pictures to the teacher and the other twin, but we can do that tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Danilov began to walk away from the entrance to the morgue, before stopping and turning back. ‘I remember you wanted to ask me something.’

  Strachan shook his head. ‘It can wait, sir. Would you like a lift home?’

  ‘Not tonight. I need to think. I believe I know what’s going on, Strachan. I just need to get it clear in my mind. We’re so close to stopping the killers.’

  ‘Will they strike again, sir?’

  Danilov nodded. ‘If we don’t catch them, there will be more victims. There have to be more victims… ’

  The detective sergeant watched as Danilov placed his faded hat on his head, pulled the lapel of his coat up around his ears and slipped away, the sound of his footsteps gradually receding into the Shanghai night.

  19 January 1932

  The 338th Day of the Year of the Golden Goat

  42

  On his arrival at Central the following morning, Danilov found the whole place in an uproar. Armed officers were running around the corridors; sandbags were being placed on the steps facing Foochow Road, and on window ledges. Nobody was allowed into the lobby; even the hawkers had been banished from their usual places on the streets in front of the station.

  ‘What the hell is going on, Sergeant Wolff?’

  The bluff old-fashioned copper still sitting at the front desk shrugged his shoulders. ‘Haven’t you heard? The Japanese have attacked the factory where the monk was murdered. They killed some of the workers and took a lot more hostage.’

  ‘Japanese marines?’

  ‘Civilians, apparently, but if you ask me—’

  ‘Nobody is asking you, Sergeant Wolff, so please keep your opinions to yourself.’ The last order was spoken by Chief Inspector Rock. He was wearing a shoulder holster outside his jacket, the first time Danilov had seen him armed.

  ‘What’s going on, sir?’

  ‘It looks like the murder of the monk was the last straw. All hell has broken out in Hong Kew. Looting and burning. Murder and mayhem. Japanese marines have landed from their ships on the Whangpoo. The Chinese have responded by digging trenches and putting up barbed wire at the borders. They closed Shanghai North station; nobody can get in or out. It’s a mess, Danilov. A proper mess.’

  Danilov tried to edge past him to get to the detectives’ room.

  ‘No you don’t. You need to come with me.’

  ‘But sir, I need to—’

  ‘That’s an order, Danilov. Strachan is getting the car. All leave is cancelled. We’ve got to get between the warring sides before they start to kill each other.’

  ‘But sir… the investigation, the murder of the children… ’

  ‘Forget it, Danilov. If we don’t put every man we have on duty, the settlement will be lost.’

  ‘We’re so close, sir. I just need to make a phone call. One call,’ he pleaded.

  ‘You have your orders, Inspector Danilov. You’re coming with me to Dixwell Road station.’

  ‘I can’t, sir.’

  Chief Inspector Rock seized him by the arm. ‘If you want to stay in this police force, you will obey orders. Our job is to protect the lives and property of the people of Shanghai. Right now, all investigations stop. Is that clear, Danilov?’

  ‘But—’

  ‘THAT IS AN ORDER. COME WITH ME.’<
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  26 January 1932

  The 345th Day of the Year of the Golden Goat

  43

  For the last week, Danilov had been rushing from station to station, ordered to keep by the side of Chief Inspector Rock, following his every move.

  During this time, he had been everywhere in the International Settlement, doing everything but solving the kidnapping and murder of the children.

  They had been on the streets of Hong Kew with the Rapid Action Force, preventing the burning of Japanese businesses by Chinese mobs.

  They had been standing in front of Chinese areas as groups of well-trained Japanese thugs paraded the streets with baseball bats and spiked staves, threatening to kill every living resident.

  They had charged down Champoo Road driving rioters and looters before them, some so greedy they were arrested still carrying large wooden chests, stuffed pandas and, in one case, a baby grand piano.

  They had protected offices, homes, factories, trams, buses, depots, warehouses and hotels, being called out a hundred times a day to thousands of incidents.

  At one point, the situation had become so bad that they had escorted a party of Japanese residents to the docks, where they were taken in by Japanese marines.

  An hour later, they did the same for a group of Chinese besieged in a row of terrace houses on Range Road. These people they took to the border with Chapei, handing them over to the care of the Nineteenth Route Army.

  Through it all, Danilov had been thinking about the killing of the children. He knew he was so close: just a little further and he would solve it. Twice he had managed to lose the chief inspector, returning to Central. But each time, another crisis had reared its ugly head, dragging him away from the investigation.

  For the last week, he had not been able to go home, sleeping upright on a chair while Chief Inspector Rock dozed on the couch in reception, waiting for the next call.

  Somehow, they and the rest of the Shanghai Municipal Police had managed to keep a lid on the smouldering powder keg that was the city and the International Settlement.