The door had opened, and as they turned to look, Lu Xu's mother and father walked in, with the captain of his precinct right behind them.
"It wasn't your fault, Lu," the teary-eyed captain said. As Lu Xu embraced his parents, the captain thumped him on the back with his hand. "We'll find that gun sooner or later. It's your safety that matters most."
Yang Jincheng stood quietly and signaled for Fang Mu and Bian Ping to follow him out of the room. He closed the door behind them as they left.
All of the actors were clustered in the hallway. They fell silent when they saw Yang Jincheng come out. Suddenly, Constable Duan began clapping, and soon the corridor was filled with the sounds of their applause.
"Very well done, Dr. Yang." Little Yu shook Yang Jincheng's hand. "It worked much better than I thought it would!"
Smiling, Yang Jincheng raised his index finger to his lips and nodded at the door behind him.
"You did a great job, too, Little Yu." He patted the back of Little Yu's hand. "In the future, when you've retired from the force, you should consider becoming a movie star."
Everyone laughed at the idea. Then the door opened.
Lu Xu, his parents, and his captain all walked out and began shaking hands with Yang Jincheng as they wiped the tears from their eyes.
"Thank you, Dr. Yang." Lu Xu gripped Yang Jincheng's hand firmly and pumped it up and down. "You've given me the courage to face what happened."
"I am honored to have been able to help."
"I have a request," Lu Xu said, his jaw set with determination. "Next time I want to be the one to play myself."
Yang Jincheng studied Lu Xu's eyes for several seconds. When he spoke, his tone was kind and deliberate. "Officer Lu, you'll make us all proud."
CHAPTER
18
Lost and Validated
N
o progress had been made on the labyrinth murder case. No progress had been made on the Fushima Mall murder, either. For each case a very thick folder had been compiled, full of all sorts of evidence and background data, but neither of them contained a single clue of value.
In November 2004, the Public Security Bureau held a national symposium on homicide investigation work in the city of Nanjing in Jiangsu province, during which the guiding principle, "Murder Cases Must Be Solved," was introduced. The slogan and the agenda it implied were rapidly put into action by public security organizations across the country. Even the provincial-level PSB got directly involved, attaching great importance to two particular murder cases that cropped up during the first phase of the scheme and classifying them as cases under PSB jurisdiction. The guiding principle still held to present day, but because of the negative impact a prison break had on the PSB's public image, apprehending Luo Jiahai had been deemed a matter of much more vital importance.
While continuing their search operations in Changhong City, the local police requested the assistance of their counterparts in Jiangbin City. Due to the fact that Luo Jiahai had been born there and that his parents were still living, the authorities in Jiangbin City had been closely monitoring their apartment and all of their comings and goings ever since the convict had escaped. There still had been no sign of Luo Jiahai, however; as far as anyone could tell, he had not even tried to contact his parents.
Fang Mu listened as Tai Wei outlined the results of the joint investigation over the phone. When he was finished he told Fang Mu, and not without a certain degree of embarrassment, that lately a large number of vicious crimes had been cropping up all over Jiangbin City. Because of this, their local PSB lacked the manpower required to give the Luo Jiahai case their full attention, and they had to rely on local precincts to do most of the investigation work. But as soon as he heard anything, Tai Wei assured him, Fang Mu would be the first to know.
After hanging up the phone Fang Mu felt down but not dispirited. The news had not been surprising; no matter where Luo Jiahai went, he would not be stupid enough to show up at his parents' apartment.
In view of Fang Mu's mistakes, the Bureau instead appointed Bian Ping to draw up a psychological analysis report on Luo Jiahai. In his report, Bian Ping took Fang Mu's advice and proposed that it was highly likely that the escaped convict was still hiding in the city somewhere. This made Fang Mu feel very grateful, because it meant that Bian Ping still trusted his judgment.
Because he could do no more to help with capturing Luo Jiahai, Fang Mu decided he might as well refocus his energy on the recent pair of murder cases. He was hoping he could solve them as quickly as possible, not only to fulfill his professional obligations, but also to prove to himself that he could do it and to show Bian Ping that his trust had not been given in vain.
Bian Ping did not approve of his logic. He told Fang Mu that a cop's job was to solve the case, and nothing more; that he should not get emotionally involved, because if he did so he would find himself knee-deep in a whole pile of unnecessary troubles.
"Our duty is to protect the innocent, of course; and protecting the legal rights of suspects involved in a case is just as much part of our job. But you have to learn to draw a line." Bian Ping leveled a finger at Fang Mu and his voice took on a stern tone. "Your biggest fault is that you're too quick to act on your emotions. You'd be wise not to make any more mistakes like that. Like using your body as a meat-shield against a bullet meant for a convict!"
This was the first time Bian Ping had formally discussed the incident with Fang Mu. His concern for his safety went without saying. But the message Fang Mu heard loud and clear was the same as what Tai Wei had said to him: that he was the sort of person who got way too emotionally involved in his work.
Fang Mu knew very well that he was exactly that sort of person; otherwise he would not have had the constant nightmares the past two years; he would not have faced the Vampire alone; he would not have put a bullet through Sun Pu's forehead in that basement that time; nor would he have nearly gotten shot by one of his own in order to save Luo Jiahai's life…
Perhaps I'm not suited to be a cop after all,
Fang Mu thought sullenly.
But suited or not, he still had a job to do, and he had no choice but to do it. Fang Mu locked himself up in his office for the rest of the day and buried his head in the murder files.
The evidence in the labyrinth case was pretty straightforward; most of it seemed to point to a revenge killing. The trouble was no one among the people who had known the victim, Jiang Peiyao, seemed to have had even the slightest reason for such a motive. Tan Ji, the suspect the police had originally thought might have been the culprit, had proven that he hadn’t had time to commit the murder, and investigations into the people closest to him revealed that he was a man of very few friends who spent more time with his coworkers than anyone else. In his spare time, Tan Ji preferred to stay at home playing console games. To use a slang term popular at the time, he was a full-on
otaku
—a gaming addict. Because of this there was no way to prove Tan Ji had even conspired with another person to commit murder.
Fang Mu's gaze lingered on the crime scene photos. By some trick of the lighting at the time it had been taken, one of them looked a little like an oil painting. In the cramped gloom of the underground labyrinth, the prone body of the victim appeared quite innocent in death. It made Fang Mu think of a religious painting from the European Renaissance.
There was that ritualistic feeling again.
Fang Mu could not get the feeling out of his head. While still alive, the victim had been bound and repeatedly electrocuted. Judging by the autopsy reports, it had taken him a very long time to die. The shining sparks, the convulsions of the victim's body, and his gradually fading cries for mercy would undoubtedly have been the climax of an evil ceremony, and the way the body had been dumped deep inside the labyrinth would have been the perfect ritualistic ending. As he stared at the photos of the victim's body, Fang Mu felt as if he were standing right next to it. Dark shadows rose to either side, silent and majestic; their steady breathing was almost audible. Fang Mu felt he could even sense their serenity at having gotten what they wanted, and this corpse at his feet was no longer merely the body of the victim; it was an offering, a symbol of closure with which to end the ceremony.
Since ancient times, ceremonies had been used to symbolize emotions. So what exactly had this ceremony symbolized?
The body had been left in a room at the very center of the labyrinth, which was also its deepest point underground; when leaving the room, no matter which direction one chose, the tunnels all led upwards. If a person felt lost in the labyrinth, then that feeling would be strongest in this room.
Was this most profound sense of being lost something the murderer had felt? Or had he wanted the victim to feel that way? Or had both been true?
If the murderer had felt this way once before and so had wanted the victim to experience that deep feeling of being lost, too, then that would smack very strongly of revenge.
And so the symbol of the ritual was clear: Vengeance.
Shortly before it was time to get off work, Fang Mu noticed that his cell phone battery was dead. He put away the dossier he had been studying, straightened his desk, and went home to his one-bedroom apartment to look for his phone charger.
In order to facilitate more centralized management, the Bureau had arranged living quarters for every cop who was single. When he had first started working there, Fang Mu had put in an application for one, even though he already had a place to live in the city if he wanted. At the time he had said it was so that he could get to work more conveniently, but the real reason had been that he did not want to live with his parents again; they had always been opposed to his wanting to join the police force, so much so that he had had a big row with them the night before graduation.
Fang Mu opened the door to his apartment and froze. The living room and its attached kitchenette, both of which had been a total chaotic mess that morning, were spotless. Through the door to the bedroom he could see that the books and magazines that had been scattered across his bed were no longer there. The bedspread that he had not changed in a month was gone, replaced by a brand new one, and the bookshelf was tidy and even seemed to have been dusted. His basketball shoes stood on the windowsill, washed and still dripping water. As his gaze fell to the coffee table, he saw a familiar cloth bag.
She's still here
, he thought.
"Out of the way!"
Fang Mu was still gawking at the bag when a tired-sounding voice rang out behind him and an elbow shoved him aside.
His mother came waddling in through the door, a grimace on her face, carrying a washbasin with both hands. She shoved the empty washbasin under the bed and plopped herself down on top of the clean new bedspread, chest heaving as she waited to catch her breath.
"Whose washbasin is that?" Fang Mu hurried into the kitchenette to look for a couple of glasses, which he then filled with water.
"Whose? I bought it!" his mother snapped as she unrolled her sleeves. "You didn't even have anything to wash your clothes in! How on Earth do you do your laundry?"
"I take it to the Laundromat."
"How do you expect to get it clean like
that
?" She jutted her chin toward at a folded quilt on the chair, her face a portrait of impatience. "Just look at how bad that old quilt cover of yours is! The colors have run and you've ruined it!"
Fang Mu pulled another chair in from the living room and sat facing his mother, a sheepish grin pulling up at one corner of his mouth. "How come you have all this time on your hands anyways, old woman?"
"Ugh. You think I wanted to come?" She rolled her eyes and glanced at her watch. "How long do you reckon it's been since you came home for a visit?"
Fang Mu hung his head and nodded, feeling suddenly guilty. A silence fell over the room.
After a while, his mother sighed. "Well, this is the line of work you've chosen I suppose, so your father and I have no choice but to accept it. But you shouldn't go for so long without at least dropping by to see us. And the last time I checked there was still such thing as a telephone, my son. We don't call much, for fear of interrupting your work. But I hope you know how much your father and I worry about you."
"I do." He took his mother's hand and squeezed it.
"You need to keep yourself safe, you hear me?" She rubbed the back of his hand. "Those two things that happened at the Teacher's College and at Jiangbin City University practically gave your mother a heart attack. If something else were to happen, I don't know what I would do."
"I'll be fine, Mom." He laughed. "It's not like I'm out catching murderers or anything."
"Don't you bullshit me!" she scolded. "I'm your mother. I know what sort of folks you deal with every day."
"I'll be careful. I promise."
She rolled her eyes and sighed again as she reached down absent-mindedly to smooth out a wrinkle on the bedspread. A moment later she pointed toward the living room. "I brought you some winter clothing in that bag on the table. Don't forget to put it on when it gets cold." She stood and pulled out a small stack of cash from her pocket and tossed it onto the bed.
"What are you doing?" Fang Mu picked up the money and tried to give it back to her. "Take it, Mom; I'm doing fine."
"Who do you think you're kidding?" She slapped his hand. "Don't you try and act like you're rich with me. You think I don't know when you're broke?"
She snatched the bills from his hand and shoved them under the pillow, grumbling obstinately as she did so. "I swear, boy; I have no idea how you manage to spend all your money."