by Zhou HaoHui
His murder was a dagger through the heart of every police officer. For Han, this blade plunged deep.
Once inside the police car, Han turned his attention to the officer waiting at the wheel.
“Step on it!”
The car became a flashing blue-and-white blur as it shot down the road, sirens blaring.
Two years prior, Zheng had moved his family out of police housing to a quiet new apartment far from the tumult of downtown Chengdu. Rather than let the aging police apartment lie idle and unused, Zheng still spent nights there whenever he worked overtime. It allowed him to keep in touch with colleagues, and helped to avoid disturbing his sleeping wife and daughter. He called it his second office.
Zheng now lay dead in his second office, virtually within spitting distance of the police station. With the help of the driver’s lead foot, Captain Han reached the apartment in under ten minutes.
The apartment was located in a quieter section of the city in a cluster of small, old-fashioned brick and concrete buildings. A young officer from the police station stood watch at the street entrance. Han opened the door and jumped out before the patrol car had even come to a complete stop. In seconds, he was jogging up the stairs.
When he reached the third-floor landing, he spotted two officers standing guard outside the door to the apartment. Both recognized the captain at once. A tone of respect marked their greetings.
“Why are you both standing out here?” Han’s expression was stern. “What’s going on?”
The younger officers looked embarrassed. One scratched his head.
“We’re not too clear about that. There’s a cop in the room, and he won’t let us inside. He said we had to stand guard out here.”
The two officers explained that they had rushed to the apartment immediately, but the man who had called the emergency dispatch center was already inside the apartment. Both were shocked when he flashed a police badge and refused to allow them inside. Seeing no other option, they called in their report to headquarters while they waited outside.
Han gritted his teeth. Instead of questioning the officers further, he entered the apartment to see for himself.
The residence was a pure example of function over form. The living room on his left contained a sofa, a wooden coffee table, and a dark television set. He stepped into the kitchen on the right, absently taking note of the pile of empty instant-noodle packages on the counter. Then the smell hit him.
The room reeked of blood, thanks in no small part to the building’s poor circulation. Zheng Haoming lay on his back on the living room floor. Judging from the large crimson pool beneath the sergeant’s neck, Zheng had been dead for at least several hours. Next to the corpse was a man crouched on one knee. He was examining a cleaver on the floor.
“You’re the cop from Longzhou?” Han demanded.
Yin Jian entered the apartment as Han spoke, and he took his place behind the captain.
The stranger looked at both of the officers with a gaze that could cut steel. He wore a windbreaker that hugged his thin frame, and he appeared to be around thirty.
He raised his left hand, the palm facing out toward Han and Yin. At the same time, he drew a badge holder from his chest pocket with his right hand. He tossed it toward Han, who snatched it from the air.
“Captain Pei Tao,” the man said. “Longzhou Police Department.”
After glancing at the man’s ID, Han passed the badge to Yin. “Verify his credentials,” he ordered.
Squinting, Pei sized up the two officers.
“I take it one of you is in charge of this investigation?”
Yin gestured toward his superior. “This is Captain Han Hao, Chengdu Police Department,” Yin said.
Pei nodded. “Then I’m sure you’ve investigated plenty of crime scenes like this one. Just take care not to disturb any potential evidence around the body.”
Han’s face soured. He dismissed Yin with a wave of his hand. Yin left the room, shaking his head. There was an unspoken rule among the members of Chengdu’s criminal police force: no one gave orders to Captain Han.
Han aimed his finger at the younger officer. “Captain Pei, why exactly are you here?”
Pei stiffened. Judging from his expression, he had just realized that his previous comments had not been well received. He promptly stood up.
“I came here on a private matter with the sergeant. I had no idea that he—”
“Since you came here due to personal matters,” Han coldly interrupted, “you must leave the scene immediately. Report to Officer Yin outside. He’ll record your account.”
Pei fixed his eyes on the tall, athletic police captain. Han reciprocated with a steely gaze of his own. Voices filled the hallway outside; seconds later, there was a flurry of uniforms and equipment as the forensic scientist and other investigators filed into the apartment.
“Get moving,” Han said. “I don’t want you interfering with our work.”
With a curt nod, Pei strode away from the body of the sergeant. He stopped in front of Han.
“I’ve already found a few leads. Perhaps we could exchange theories on how the sergeant was murdered.”
“Make no mistake, Captain Pei. As a witness, and as the one who reported this crime, you’re legally obligated to cooperate with our investigation. But I’m sure you already know that. You must have investigated plenty of crime scenes like this one.” The faintest hint of a smirk crept over Han’s lips.
Yin poked his head through the doorway. “Officer Pei, please come this way.” His demeanor was a welcome contrast to Han’s. Seeing a chance to extricate himself from an awkward situation, Pei nodded and left the room. As he did, Han began his inspection of the crime scene.
* * *
Yin led Pei away from the apartment and over to a quieter section of the hallway. His gaze lingered on the fist-sized patch of blood staining Pei’s left pant leg.
“This is all standard operating procedure. Right now I’d like you to give me your account of what happened, starting from your arrival at the scene.” Yin took out his pen and notepad.
The whine of sirens crept in from the windows, and the two men saw several police vehicles pull up outside the building. Han’s reinforcements had arrived.
Pei waved his hand at Yin. “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss what happened later. Right now, there’s something more important. Do you have the authority to give orders to the officers who just arrived?”
Yin shook his head. “Captain Han’s inside the apartment. Why would they listen to me instead of him?”
“In that case, tell the captain that you need to begin a citywide search for our killer. He’s male, thin, and approximately five-foot-five. He may have a knife wound on one hand. The suspect was in this area sometime between eleven o’clock last night and two this morning.” His eyes gleamed as he rattled off each detail.
Yin fidgeted slightly. “There’s no way that the captain will agree to that.”
“You know I’m right.” There was an undeniable firmness and confidence to Pei’s words.
Yin forced a smile. “No, I’m afraid you don’t understand. It isn’t a matter of whether or not I believe you. You need to do as the captain says, not the other way around.”
Exhaustion soured Pei’s features.
“Fine. Just make sure that you take all this down. The reason for my visit here was a private matter. I called Sergeant Zheng’s office at 9:52 this morning. He didn’t answer. I got through to one of your colleagues, who gave me his mobile number. Again, no answer. I managed to reach an aunt of his who told me he often stayed at this apartment when he was working. I arrived here at 10:37.
“I knocked. No one answered, but I could smell a strong odor coming from inside. The door was unlocked. I opened it, saw the body, and reported it to the police. Then I carried out my initia
l investigation of the scene. The officers from the station arrived at 10:49—ten minutes after I called. In order to preserve the scene’s integrity, I didn’t allow them to enter the apartment. At five minutes after eleven, you and the captain arrived.”
Pei recited each piece of information with the fluency of an actor who knew his lines inside and out.
“9:52. These times are very…exact,” Yin said, with palpable suspicion.
The man from Longzhou gave him a grim look. “The times are accurate—you can trust me on that. My watch is precise to the minute.”
After double-checking everything he had jotted down in his notepad, Yin looked back up at Pei.
“Did you know Sergeant Zheng?”
To Yin’s surprise, Pei shook his head. “No.”
“Then why did you have private business with him?”
Pei paused. “It concerned the details of a separate case. A case that Sergeant Zheng was in charge of.”
“A case?” Yin scratched the tip of his nose. This answer only confused him further. “Wouldn’t that make it official business?”
Long seconds passed before Pei responded. This time he spoke much more slowly than before. “It’s an eighteen-year-old case. I was one of the people involved, before I joined the force.”
“That’s practically ancient history. Why would you suddenly want to go digging through the past all these years later?” Yin pursed his lips. “Let’s stick to the matter at hand. Now, describe the scene as you saw it.”
Pei looked startled. A chill came into his voice.
“I wouldn’t say that the cases are unconnected.”
Yin squirmed under Pei’s piercing gaze. “What is this case, exactly?”
Pei saw that the officer was nervous, unpredictable. After forcing himself to relax, he took a calming breath and asked, “How long have you been a police officer?”
“A little under two years,” the man answered honestly.
“Did you graduate from the Sichuan Police Academy?” Pei asked, referring to the province’s most prestigious law enforcement institution.
“That’s right. I majored in criminal investigation.”
“We’re practically classmates, then.” Pei smiled at Yin, his eyes gleaming. “I graduated from the academy in ’84. Same major as you. Does Wei still teach for the department?”
“He does!” The young officer’s head bobbed up and down. “I had him for a course on trace evidence.”
“Wei and I attended the academy together,” Pei said. He patted Yin on the shoulder. “Ask any of the old instructors in the department, and they’ll probably remember me.”
“Well, what do you know!” Yin made no attempt to hide his new sense of camaraderie.
Pei’s features hardened. “My sincerity should be clear enough. Am I correct in thinking that I can trust you? Because I need your help.”
Yin nodded immediately. Pei’s charisma was undeniable. He had swept away the young officer’s suspicions with an almost brotherly tenderness.
“Excellent.” Pei rubbed his jaw in satisfaction. His lips curled into a slight grin. “You don’t need to ask too many questions about that old case. Not for the moment, at least. Right now I have a few questions of my own. Did Sergeant Zheng exhibit any unusual behavior over the last few days? Did he say or do anything out of the ordinary?”
Yin wrinkled his brow in concentration and glanced down at his feet. “Anything unusual? Over the past few days, he did most of his work outside the station, but that isn’t strange. I’m sure you spent a lot of time on fieldwork as well.”
“How many cases was he working on, exactly?”
Yin shook his head.
“None. I mean, Zheng was no spring chicken. The department stopped putting him in charge of cases a while back. His work generally revolved around analysis and supervision. Still, he was always busy. Even if he hadn’t been assigned any work, he would venture outside the station fairly often. ‘Feeling the city’s pulse,’ ” Yin said. His eyes suddenly lit up. “I just remembered! I think most of his business over the last several days was about some kind of preliminary surveillance.”
Pei raised his eyebrows at this last revelation. “How do you know that? Did he discuss his work with you?”
“No, the sergeant always kept to himself. He wasn’t much of a people person. The only reason I’m guessing that he was doing surveillance work is because he took a digital camera with him on each of those days.”
“Was it a silver Nikon?” Pei raised his eyebrows.
“That’s right. All our cameras are the same model. How did you know?”
“There’s a Nikon inside the apartment. It’s on the living room table!”
Pei looked past Yin. A pair of stern new arrivals from the Chengdu police guarded the door. Pei’s chances of entering the apartment again were now slim to none. His best option was to turn to his new comrade for help.
“I need to see that camera right now,” Pei whispered. “Do you think you can get it for me?”
Yin hesitated. “Well…I’ll give it a shot. The captain has the final say.”
Pei nodded. As dissatisfied as he was, he knew Yin’s hands were tied. The officer was Han’s subordinate, after all.
Fortunately, Yin did not disappoint. Moments later the officer emerged from the apartment holding a dull silver camera in his newly gloved hands.
“I can show you the photos in the camera’s memory, but you can’t personally touch the camera. Captain’s orders.”
As Pei watched, Yin cycled through each of the photographs that Zheng had recently taken. Pei’s eyes were glued to the camera’s display. Occasionally, he frowned and asked Yin to stop on a certain image. Each time he did this, he would take out his trusted pen and notepad to scribble down a few notes. Half an hour later, Yin finally reached the last of the three hundred images stored on the camera.
Pei let out a long breath. “Okay. These photographs follow a very clear pattern. However, there are a few suspicious points worth noting. Most important, at least we have our hands on a valuable lead now.”
“Let’s see if I can figure out this pattern you mentioned. The photos were taken at several internet cafés. Zheng took these pictures from a concealed position, meaning that the subjects were unaware they were being photographed. I count a total of fifty-seven individuals, primarily teenagers and young adults. However, their ages seem to be all that they have in common. I wonder what Zheng was hoping to find by taking pictures of these people?” Yin’s eyes shone with an eager light. “Did I leave anything out?”
Without even realizing it, he had handed Pei the reins of the conversation.
“Your count was off by one. If you look through the photos again, you should find that Zheng photographed fifty-eight people in all.” Pei twirled his pen in his fingers.
“Do you mean I miscounted?” Yin gave Pei a puzzled look.
“No, you counted correctly. The images do show fifty-seven different subjects. Did you notice that every picture has its own file name?”
Yin fiddled with the camera. “You’re right. They’re all numbered.”
“Each picture is automatically numbered in sequence,” Pei said. “Now here’s the kicker—the six images that should be labeled 280 through 285 are missing.”
“You’re right,” Yin said. Realization dawned on his features. “It seems too deliberate to be a mistake. These images could very well have contained a fifty-eighth individual.”
“But who deleted them? And why?” Pei muttered to himself. “This isn’t as simple as it looks.”
“Are you suggesting that this is somehow related to Sergeant Zheng’s murder?” Yin asked. “Was the sergeant trying to track down this fifty-eighth person? In that case, wouldn’t you say we’re a little late? The culprit already deleted our most important clue. I
’m willing to bet that the other people in those photos don’t even have anything to do with this case.”
“But we still have other leads to follow. We can at least try to uncover what the sergeant was searching for in the first place.”
“How do we do that?” Yin asked, unable to restrain his curiosity.
Pei pointed to one section of the notes he had taken while viewing the photographs: Skyline Cyber Café, October 19, 3:47 p.m.
“In the last few photos,” Pei said, “the internet café’s window is visible behind the subject. The decal on the window says ‘Skyline Cyber Café.’ The time stamp indicates this was two days ago, in the afternoon.”
“I’ll pass this on to the captain,” Yin said, admiringly.
“Providing he’s willing to listen. Right now I need to follow up on a lead of my own.” Pei tore a sheet of paper from his notepad and scrawled out a phone number. “Please get in touch with me if anything happens.”
After giving Yin an amiable pat on the shoulder, Pei headed down the stairs.
* * *
Two hours later, the entire Chengdu criminal police force held an internal briefing with ranking officers from every station and substation throughout the city. A solemn mood had taken hold of the room. All eyes were focused on Captain Han. The man was ashen.
“As I’m sure everyone is aware, a brutal homicide took place this morning.” Han’s voice cracked, as he strained to control the grief and anger roiling in his heart. “Nothing further needs to be said about the victim’s identity. Now, the scene of the murder.”
Han’s assistant, Yin, was standing at his side. He turned on the room’s ceiling-mounted projector when the captain gave the signal. Photographs taken at the crime scene appeared on a large screen for all to see.
