He knew he must find this person as quickly as possible. He must not allow any further mishaps to occur prior to his trip abroad.
The huge conference room felt empty with only the three of them – Zheng Lin, Bian Ping, and Fang Mu – sitting around the table. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and each man's ashtray was nearly overflowing with cigarette butts. On each of their faces, written clearly despite the haze, was a profound frustration.
"So, that's where we are at the moment, in a nutshell." Fang Mu stamped out his cigarette butt and waited quietly for his two superiors to say something.
Bian Ping turned to Zheng Lin. "What do you think, ol' Zheng?"
Zheng Lin frowned and stabbed his half-smoked cigarette tip-down into his ashtray. "Apply for a warrant to search Yang Jincheng's place."
Fang Mu shook his head. "It would be no use. Yang Jincheng was right; he is perfectly capable of making sure we don't find a thing. In fact, if he's smart – and he is – then he's probably already taken precautions to that end."
"Well, then what the hell else do we do?" Zheng Lin exploded. "Dr. Yang
has
to be our Mr. Z! Who else would have such expert knowledge of psychodramas? He's scared someone might leak data from his precious Indoctrination Field experiment or whatever, so he's killing them off to shut their mouths forever!"
Bian Ping shot a glance at Fang Mu. "I think ol' Zheng might have a point, you know."
"Well, then why would he want to use psychodramas to treat those people in the first place?" Fang Mu asked.
At a loss for words, Zheng Lin looked at Bian Ping.
Bian Ping stared at the table for a good half a minute. The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. "Well, maybe he did it to get those former test subjects to trust him, so they would willingly go along with his plans to have them kill the volunteers. The advantage would be, even if Jiang Dexian and the rest did end up finding out Yang Jincheng had just been using them the whole time, they wouldn't dare go to the police for fear of being given the death sentence themselves."
Fang Mu shook his head. "No; I think it's unlikely Yang Jincheng would do that. According to what Zhou Zhenbang said, the only ones who know about the entire scheme are Yang Jincheng and himself. And Yang Jincheng had absolutely no need to tell those –"
"Which means Yang Jincheng has motive to get rid of Zhou Zhenbang!" Zheng Lin interrupted. "If the only other person who knows about it is dead, and can never reveal any secrets, then in the future when Yang Jincheng publishes the results of his so-called scientific research, he can just sit back and relax and enjoy the spoils!"
"So why would he want to kill Luo Jiahai?"
"Luo Jiahai was different from the others. We don't have enough evidence to permanently hold Jiang Dexian or Qu Rui, but we had plenty on Luo Jiahai. Once he was arrested, there would be no way for Yang Jincheng to guarantee he wouldn't spill his guts!"
Zheng Lin's analysis was clear and logical, but Fang Mu stuck to his guns. Seeming to sense the tension between them, Bian Ping was quick to interject.
"
All right, let's not get too excited," Bian Ping said. " Luo Jiahai said Mr. Z was an expert on psychology and could easily have kept track of Yang Jincheng's and Zhou Zhenbang's whereabouts. Even if Mr. Z isn't Yang Jincheng, he could very well be someone else at the Institute of Psychology. Since Yang Jincheng has not provided us any leads, it's only right that we expand our investigation to include everyone there."
Zheng Lin balled his hands into fists, causing his knuckles to crack. "In any case, Lu Xu will not have died in vain, if I have anything to do with it!"
"Fang Mu." Zheng Lin looked up. "Keep a close eye on Zhou Zhenbang, and for the time being, keep him well under the radar. If Yang Jincheng
is
Mr. Z, then sooner or later he'll try to take out Zhou Zhenbang. Even if he's not, then this Mr. Z is bound to make another move at some point."
"Yes, sir," Fang Mu said and got up to leave.
"Where are you going?" Bian Ping asked.
"The hospital," Fang Mu said over his shoulder. "I'm going to pay Tan Ji a visit."
The doctor was not very optimistic about Tan Ji's prospects for recovery. He had not shown any signs of regaining consciousness. Because of his status as both a suspect and a potential victim, police officers had been specially assigned to guard his ward day and night. Apart from his immediate family, medical staff, and the members of the task force, no one was allowed near him.
Fang Mu sat on a chair next to his bed and stared at his sleeping face for a long time. Unlike most people in a comatose state, Tan Ji had not gained any weight; on the contrary, he was skinny to the extreme and already looked like a completely different person. The doctor said he was in the process of fading away to nothing.
Soon enough, Tan Ji would no longer be in danger of getting snuffed in order to be silenced. Fang Mu wondered if this would be a better ending for him; after all, if he knew how much Mr. Z had used him and the others, he might not go so peacefully.
In a way, he was the same as Huang Runhua and Luo Jiahai had been; both
despicable
and pitiable.
Both a monster and a lamb.
There was a sudden commotion at the door. The deep voices of the police officers guarding the room could be heard shouting over the top of a young woman on the verge of tears.
"Please,
please
…just let me see him for a sec… I can just stand and look at him from the doorway…
please
…" she pleaded.
Fang Mu stood and walked over to the door. Through the thick glass window he could see Qu Rui, hair completely disheveled, struggling to get past the two officers whose job it was to protect Tan Ji. As soon as she saw Fang Mu's face, she seemed to recognize him as one of the cops who had arrested her that night. Her movements eased a little, but the look in her eyes grew even more plaintive.
Fang Mu watched her in silence for a few seconds, and then opened the door and spoke to her. "Take off your jacket and empty your pockets."
The guards had a stunned look on their faces, but Qu Rui quickly did as she was told. She tore off her jacket and dumped it with her purse on the floor, then turned her jeans pockets inside-out to show him that she had nothing in them.
Fang Mu winked at the guards and said slowly in a stern voice, "Don't try to go near him, and don't even
think
about touching him. Understand?"
Qu Rui nodded urgently as she reached up to smooth her hair and wipe the tears from her eyes.
Fang Mu shifted his body to the side. "Come in."
The private ward was very small; after only a few steps, Fang Mu was back at the side of Tan Ji's bed. He turned to find Qu Rui still standing in the doorway, one hand covering her mouth, staring at Tan Ji where he lay completely still on the bed.
She started to shake like someone experiencing a
malaria
attack. Tears rolled down from both her eyes as she choked out a string of sobs. She seemed to be having a hard time believing what she was seeing, and at the same seemed too timid to get close enough to confirm it. Very cautiously she took a tiny step into the room, and then another. Her eyes never left the gaunt face on the bed.
The grief she had been suppressing for so long finally burst forth and the room was filled with thin, penetrating sobs. They sounded like a dying man scraping his fingernails across a pane of glass, completely wracked with horror and despair.
Several times she reached a hand out toward the bed, as if wanting to touch the face of this man who was now both a lover and stranger to her. Or perhaps she wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull with all her might, wrench him away from the clutches of his impending doom. But every time, she seemed to feel Fang Mu's cold, vigilant eyes on her, and she again would drop her arm to her side; weak, a portrait of utter despair.
Finally, unable to hold herself upright anymore, Qu Rui leaned her back against the wall and slid to the floor.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
Five minutes later, Fang Mu was handing Qu Rui's jacket and purse to her where she sat in shock on a padded bench in the hallway. After considering her for a moment, he went into the room and came out with a tissue, which he handed to her.
"Thank you." Qu Rui forced a smile. "What should I call you?"
"My surname is Fang."
"Thank you, Officer Fang."
Fang Mu watched her as she very ungracefully blew her nose into the tissue. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"
Qu Rui's mouth twitched into a wan smile. "I know what you're getting at. Thank you for letting me see Tan Ji, but I'm sorry, I have nothing to say."
Fang Mu lit a cigarette and stood smoking in silence. As she slowly put her arms through her jacket sleeves, he suddenly said, "Luo Jiahai is dead."
Qu Rui froze, one arm halfway through her sleeve. Quickly, however, she set her jaw and slowly, painfully, finished putting her jacket on.
"It was Mr. Z who killed him."
Qu Rui did up her buttons one by one, her face completely blank. She pulled her hair out of her collar, drew the strap of her purse over her right shoulder, and stood. Then she gave Fang Mu the slightest of bows and walked down the hall, and soon had vanished around the corner without turning her head once.
Fang Mu's eyes lingered on the spot in the hall where she had disappeared for a while, then glanced at the officers standing to either side of Tan Ji's door. He suddenly felt a profound sadness.
Angel Hall.
It was the middle of the night, and all the lights in the two-story building were out. Still, however, the loudspeaker that had been installed in the tree out front continued to jabber on and on. It was hard to imagine that anyone could be sleeping peacefully.
All that clamor completely drowned out the minute squeak that came from the front door as it opened just a crack. A frail figure slipped out, dashed across the courtyard, and made its way straight to the front gate.
At the light pattering of her footsteps, another tiny figure stood on the other side of the gate. He had apparently been waiting in the cold for some time, for his body appeared stiff and was shivering.
Liao Yafan gripped the bars of the gate with both hands. Her chest rose and fell as she gazed earnestly at the child before her, her eyes reflecting the clear light of the moon.
"Can you really take me away from here?"
CHAPTER
35
Traps within Traps
F
ang Mu sat across from Teacher Zhou at a table inside a little bistro. Briefly, he explained Tan Ji's condition to the old man. As he spoke, Teacher Zhou gazed out the window with a blank expression on his face. The bottle of beer in front of him was more than halfway finished, but he had not touched any of the side dishes they had ordered.
After a long while, he asked in a hoarse voice, "Do you think…there's still a chance Tan Ji will wake up?"
Fang Mu hesitated. "There's very little hope of that."
Teacher Zhou's lips drew back in something that was either a bitter smile or a grimace. He picked up his beer bottle. Fang Mu was about to reach out and take it away from him, but Teacher Zhou had already guzzled down the rest of it.
Only a few days had passed since he last saw him, but Teacher Zhou seemed to have aged at least 10 years in that time. His usually bright, intelligent eyes had become dull and lifeless, and his body, which had always been thin and relatively fit, now appeared frail and emaciated.
Teacher Zhou reached for another bottle, opened it clumsily, raised it to his lips, and began to swallow slow gulps. Fang Mu stared as a dribble of beer oozed down the old man's stubbly chin and dripped onto his shirt. Unable to bear watching any longer, Fang Mu snatched the bottle from him. The movement caught Teacher Zhou off-guard, and he choked on the half-swallowed beer, sputtering violently. He began to cough, and suddenly he grabbed both corners of the table and vomited into his lap.
Fang Mu pulled out a 100-yuan note and slapped it on the table, and then pulled Teacher Zhou out of his seat by the shoulders. The old man leaned limply against him as he helped him out of the bistro.
He hurled in the snow for a long time, but all that came out was beer and stomach acids. Apparently he had not had anything to eat all day. When he finally finished, Fang Mu bought him a bottle of mineral water and supported his head as he struggled to swallow some of it down. The ice cold water seemed to sober him up a little bit and he was soon able to stand on his own.
In the car, Teacher Zhou gradually stopped shaking. A sheen of cold sweat glistened on his forehead, but his complexion looked a bit better.
Fang Mu judged him well enough to travel, so he said, "I'll take you home now." Teacher Zhou leaned against the seat without answering. Fang Mu sighed and started the engine.
Neither of them spoke on the way back to Angel Hall. When they were nearly there, Teacher Zhou suddenly broke the silence. "Can I do anything to help?"
Fang Mu slowed the jeep down, thought a moment, and laughed bitterly. "Even
we
can't do anything, let alone you."
Teacher Zhou returned his attention to the street in front of them and said nothing more.
A little ways away, a man wearing black clothing sat inside a black Honda SUV. As he put down the binoculars, an ugly grin split his face. The lack of a few front teeth lent him a sinister look.
As night fell, the suburban community became shrouded in darkness. A few days ago, Angel Hall and the surrounding neighborhood had suddenly and inexplicably suffered a power outage. When the Municipal Electric Company sent someone out to take a look, the outage was determined to have been the result of an act of vandalism. Everyone knew full well who had done it, and so they had filed a complaint at the local police precinct. But still the outages continued, and some of the local residents, finally sick of the disturbances, had gone ahead and signed the relocation contract and moved out. Those that still remained had thrown their hands up and turned to using candles and flashlights until it all got sorted.
In the stillness of the dark, a black SUV glided quietly along the street and parked without a sound outside Angel Hall's front gate. A few dark shapes filed out of the vehicle, leaped the fence, and ran over to the right side of the two-story building.
The only thing keeping the door to the boiler room closed was a twisted bit of wire looped around a broken latch. The man in front of the black-garbed group lifted it and sneaked inside, with the others close on his heels.
A few seconds later, dim light spilled out around the fingers of a hand that was cupped over the end of a flashlight. The man holding it shined the light on the boiler, chuckled softly, and reached up to shut off the water intake valve.
The shadowy figures were on their way back out the door when they heard something squeak in the direction of the main building. Quickly, they latched the door as well as they could and spread out to hide in the corners of the room. As they squatted there, they strained to see any sign of movement near the door while glancing nervously at the boiler whose roar was slowly rising in crescendo.
A faint yellow light streamed from the side door of the two-story building, and silhouetted against it was a swaying little figure. The child unzipped his fly and began to urinate from the threshold into the courtyard.
A couple of the black-garbed men breathed an audible sigh of relief, but the man who was their leader suddenly leaped to his feet. One of the other men shot a hand out to restrain him. "Wuzi! What are you doing?!" he hissed.
The man named Wuzi yanked the black mask up from his face, revealing a mouth whose missing teeth made it look like a shadowy cavern. "You guys go ahead. I need to take care of something."
The child finished peeing, and eyes half closed, turned around to go back inside. As he was stepping through the doorway he was suddenly lifted into the air by a strong pair of arms. He tried to holler out, but a calloused hand closed over his mouth as a gruff voice whispered into his ear. "Which one is old man Zhou's room?"
The boy struggled and tried to say something, but his words were muffled by the man's hand. He waved his arms in the air desperately. Glancing around warily, the man looked back at the child, from whose long sleeves emerged a pair of fingers in a sign for two.
The man snorted and hurled the child against the wall violently. The boy crumpled to the floor with a dull thud and did not make another sound.
Crouching as low as he could, the man crept along the corridor and up the stairs to the second floor. As he exited the narrow stairwell, he saw a room with its door open and light from an oil lamp flickering inside. The man held his breath and carefully sneaked across the hall, putting his back against the wall next to the door frame. Counting to three in his head, he craned his neck around to glance into the room and quickly moved his head back behind the door frame, all in a split second. The room was very small, with only a single bed. There was someone sleeping under the covers. The man thought a moment, and then quietly stole over to the next room over. As he gently pushed the door open, he saw that it was a larger room containing six bunk beds. The children in them were fast asleep, each curled in a different position.
He went from room to room, and in each the situation was more or less the same.
The man nodded darkly. He felt certain that the first room, the one with the open door, was the one for which he was looking.
Pulling up his face mask, he pulled a beer bottle from his inside coat pocket and lit the end of the cloth sticking out of its mouth. In the light of the flames that abruptly blazed forth, the man's face seemed to twitch with elation.
He was about to throw the bottle into the room when the person on the bed suddenly sat upright and called out in a voice full of hope. "Is that you, Weiwei?"
The man gaped stupidly at her. It was a woman!
The woman stared blurry-eyed for a second, then opened her mouth to scream. Just then the man shot into the room and had his large hand around her neck. In a low growl he said, "Don't make a sound! Where is old man Zhou?"
Unable to breathe, the woman's face flushed bright red. Flailing her fists at the man, she struggled to get up.
The man was still holding the Molotov cocktail, so he had to hold the woman one-handed. Quickly she broke free from his grasp and fell against the end of the bed. She cried out for help just as an enormous earth-shattering bellow sounded from downstairs.
At once the entire building began to shake and a picture frame fell from the nearby chest of drawers and crashed to the floor.
In a panic now, the man regained his balance, threw the bottle at the floor, and fled from the room.
The crisp sound of shattering glass rang out, and in an instant the room was ablaze with roiling hungry flames.
Several seconds later a mob of terrified children were stumbling out into the courtyard. Upstairs, some of the older ones, under Teacher Zhou's instruction, were already racing forward with buckets of water to put out the flames. Sister Zhao, paralyzed from shock, was carried out of her room. As she regained her senses, she reached toward Teacher Zhou, ignoring the fact that her pajamas were still smoking, and grabbed him by the arms.
"Old Zhou! A man was trying to kill you!"
The employees at the Institute were talking; everyone had noticed that Dr. Yang's behavior had been quite odd over the past few days. He would lock himself in his office and not come out, not even to make his usual daily rounds. So when Chen Zhe, who had also made himself scarce these past few days, showed up at the Institute, several of the researchers and staff surrounded him and began barraging him with questions. Chen Zhe simply smiled, not deigning to answer, and marched straight to Yang Jincheng's office.
Not even bothering to knock, he twisted the doorknob, strode across the room, and plopped himself down in the chair in front of Yang Jincheng's desk, where he stared at the director with a faint smile upon his face.
Strangely, the man's audacity did not seem to surprise Yang Jincheng in the least. He just sat there, perfectly upright in his leather chair, and returned his assistant's gaze with a blank look on his face.
His boss's bearing caught Chen Zhe off-guard. After staring into the doctor's eyes for a full 30 seconds, he blinked. Taking a moment to compose himself, he said, "Director Yang, I'd like a word with you."
"Go ahead." Yang Jincheng spoke slowly and deliberately, as if facing an interrogator.
Exasperation intensifying his resent, Chen Zhe got straight to the point. "I demand that you resign your position as director of the Institute and give it to me. Oh, and," he added, pleased with himself, "if you've already booked your plane ticket for next week's international symposium, you might as well hand it over to me while you're at it."
When he was finished, Yang Jincheng did not answer him immediately. Instead he took off his glasses and took his time cleaning them. At length he put them back on and looked up at Chen Zhe. "And why would I want to do that?"
"Because of this." Chen Zhe tossed a thick folder onto the desk right in front of Yang Jincheng. "The Indoctrination Field."
Chen Zhe had thought the words would shock Yang Jincheng senseless, but instead the man just smiled indifferently, picked up the folder, and weighed it in his hand. "So. Should I address you as 'Mr. Z'?"
The blood drained out of Chen Zhe's face. "Okay, now that you know, let's cut the bull."
The smile disappeared from Yang Jincheng's face. A hard light twinkled from the dark eyes behind the lenses of his glasses. "How did you figure out my computer password?"
"The password is Skinner's Box1990," Chen Zhe said, not backing down from the director's gaze. "It took me about a year to crack it. It wasn't until I discovered the copy of
Beyond Freedom and Dignity
by B.F. Skinner on your shelves and realized from the wear and tear on it that it was your favorite book that I finally got it. That, and Skinner died in 1990. Am I right?"
Yang Jincheng narrowed his eyes. "Just who in the hell are you?"