Profiler (Fang Mu Eastern Crimes Series Book 1) (15 page)

"For a moron like you, getting yelled at is a good thing." As soon as the words left Fang Mu's mouth, he couldn't help but laugh.

Tai Wei laughed as well, and then said, "It's actually not what you think. For some reason, the bureau director doesn't want you to participate in our investigations."

Fang Mu was about to ask why when Tai Wei pulled an envelope out of his bag.

"As for the reason I came, this letter's for you." He handed Fang Mu the envelope. Then his eyes narrowed and his expression grew serious. "It's from Ma Kai."

Fang Mu had been about to take the letter when he heard Ma Kai's name. Without meaning to, he drew his hand back and hesitated for a moment. At last he reached out and took it. 

It was a white envelope of the most common variety. Nothing was written on the outside; no recipient, no sender. The letter inside didn't seem particularly thick, and when Fang Mu held the envelope in his fingers it felt light enough to float away. Turning it over, he saw the envelope wasn't sealed.

"I swear on Chairman Mao I never read it," said Tai Wei. Then seeing the look in Fang Mu's eyes, he continued, "Ma Kai gave it to me and now I'm giving it to you; that's all."

He watched Fang Mu stare blankly at the envelope in his hands. "Well," he said, "you're not going to read it?"

Fang Mu didn't respond. He just kept staring at the envelope, not moving a muscle.
Ma Kai, what did you want to tell me?

Seeing that Fang Mu wasn't going to say anything, Tai Wei lost interest, stood up and said goodbye. Fang Mu still said nothing. When Tai Wei reached the door, he suddenly turned around.

"Ma Kai has already been sentenced to immediate execution," said Tai Wei. "He didn't try to appeal. Barring anything unexpected, he'll be executed this Thursday at dawn." Then he nodded at Fang Mu, opened the door and left.

The late-night rooftop was bathed in mist. There was no moon or stars above, only the dark canopy of heaven. The wind was strong, blowing the rooftop sand in all directions with a sound like soft footsteps. 

Fang Mu stood at the edge of the roof, silently gazing at the pitch-black campus. It felt as if he were standing before an endless abyss. He glanced at his watch. It was already 2:30 in the morning.
Ma Kai
, he thought,
has your execution already begun?

He looked as far as he could into the distance, his ears straining to catch any sound. Somewhere in the darkness ahead, Ma Kai was being led out of a police car. Maybe there was another prisoner with him, maybe he was alone. But either way, this was the end of the road.

…Ahead of him was a shallow sandpit. He knelt in it, feeling sharp bits of gravel press painfully against his knees. Three judicial policemen stood behind him, leveling fully-automatic Type 81 rifles at the back of his head, while 600 feet back, members of the People's Armed Police gripped Type 54 pistols, safeties off, and waited silently for the execution team to fire. In an instant his world would disappear, the good and the bad, things owed and things lent. All debts would be settled…

Fang Mu knew he would never hear the gunshot, but still he waited for the sound, his whole body taut.

And yet he himself wasn't even sure that's what he really wanted.

Suddenly, Fang Mu no longer knew how he felt about Ma Kai. Was he a homicidal maniac who deserved to be hacked to pieces, or just a poor sick man?

Without a doubt, Ma Kai had a very serious mental illness, but according to Chinese penal code, this had not affected his judgment or self-control in the least. Therefore, he bore full responsibility for his crimes and needed to accept the legal consequences.

Fang Mu saw Ma Kai's face. There was no trace of anger in his eyes, only fear and despair. He looked like some pitiful animal caught in a maze: smashing into walls, crying, bleeding from the head, trying desperately to get out. But there was no exit, and no one was coming to save him. Blood was the sweetest curse. Drinking it, he'd felt as if he'd gained something, though in fact he'd lost it forever. Fang Mu imagined Ma Kai waking exhaustedly from some unknown dream in that small room on
North Evergreen Street
, where the shades were drawn day and night. Opening his eyes, would he rejoice at being alive to see another day, or merely remind himself that his own death was soon at hand?

Wait a second; am I sympathizing with this guy?

Shaking his head, Fang Mu forced these thoughts from his mind.

Listen, that man was a crazed killer and you're a normal guy. You should be cursing him to hell!

But then, why am I standing here?

It was already 3:30 in the morning when, sighing, Fang Mu picked up a black plastic bag and then, as usual, walked over to the small sand pile on the northeast corner of the roof.

Once the fire had begun to burn, black pieces of ash floated into the air, fell, and then struggled aloft once more. Finally they spun out in all directions, settling softly and soundlessly on every dark corner of the rooftop.

Fang Mu took the still unread letter out of his pocket. He had originally wanted to say something, but when he opened his mouth nothing came out, so he simply tossed it on the fire and watched it twist in the flames. Soon the paper was ashes, no different than all the rest, and then picked up by the wind, they floated away.

Everything you had is gone now. You will never leave another trace on this world
.

At 7:35 that morning, Fang Mu was awakened by a phone call. It was Tai Wei. He said that Ma Kai had been executed at 2:50 a.m. One shot to the head. He did not suffer.

CHAPTER
11
Memory City

T
eacher's College felt deserted during summer break. Walking through campus with the hot sun overhead, Fang Mu passed familiar sights on either side; dormitories, dining halls, academic buildings and the track and field stadium. But there were unfamiliar ones, too, like brand new dorms where old ones had once stood. He found himself looking around as if it was his first time there, though it wasn't warm nostalgia he felt. It was loss.

Fang Mu had already been on break for three weeks. After returning home to
Changhong
City
, he had done his best to be an obedient son. His mom was delighted to have him around, and cooked a different, delicious meal for him every day. There never seemed to be much to do. If he wasn't online then he was watching DVDs with his dad or biking aimlessly through the streets.
Changhong
City
had changed enormously. Many of the places that he remembered so vividly now looked completely different, and he often ended up lost in areas that he used to know well. When some of his old high school classmates invited him to a reunion, he found an excuse not to go.

One day, while helping his mom to clean the house, Fang Mu found a bunch of old clothes and toys from when he was young. After much time and effort spent writhing about on the ground, he finally managed to squeeze into one of his old elementary school uniforms. His mom burst out laughing when he showed her. Then, when he was almost done straightening up, he happened upon the cane he had used two years ago. After thinking about it for a moment, he decided to take the bus to Teacher's College.

It had already been four months since he'd last visited. In that time, the school had built a number of new facilities. The old student club was now a four-story recreation center. Although it wasn't finished yet, it still looked very impressive. After standing outside for a while and looking up, Fang Mu decided to head in and check it out, but he was stopped at the entrance by several men wearing hardhats. Feeling a mix of disappointment and relief, he didn't stop to argue. Instead, he turned around and went straight to Dormitory 2.

Dormitory 2 was now a modern, seven-story student apartment building. As usual, Fang Mu sat amid the flower beds on a bench facing the front door and stared up at the huge structure. The faint fragrance of fresh, unknown flowers surrounded him. Occasionally a dragonfly would flit by, the bravest pausing to land on his body. The sun was blindingly bright, forcing him to squint as it flashed off the building's tiled exterior. On the left side of the third floor there had once been two ratty, wood-framed windows. Now these were made of steel and plastic and shut tight like all the rest since the students were away on break. Fang Mu took all this in for a moment, and then stood up and walked over to the building's main door.

The old iron doorway covered in peeling paint had been replaced by double doors of toughened glass. Walking inside, Fang Mu felt cool air wash over him. The floor was marble, shiny enough to reflect his face. Hearing his footsteps, a roughly 40-year-old woman holding a half-knit sweater stuck her head out of the on-duty room. Fang Mu nodded at her like a long-time resident and walked straight for the stairs. She watched him go for a moment, skeptical, but then shrunk back into her room.

He climbed to the third floor. The hallway he arrived at was completely unfamiliar to him. Where Room 352 had once been there was now a stairwell, and all the dorm rooms on either side of the hall were hidden behind heavy antitheft doors. Fang Mu stood for a moment in the hallway, feeling rather at a loss. Suddenly, a door opened behind him and out scurried a shirtless young man wearing shorts and sandals and holding a washbasin. Seeing Fang Mu, he nearly jumped in surprise. Then he frowned and said, "Hey, who you are looking for?"

Fang Mu looked at the room the student had just left: 349.

"Where is Room Three-Fifty-Two?" he asked.

"Three-fifty-two?" said the student with surprise. "There is no Room Three-Fifty-Two on this floor. Look for yourself." He pointed at the rooms on either side of the corridor. "Three-forty-nine, three-fifty, three-fifty-one, three-fifty-three. There's no three-fifty-two."

"Why not?"

"I can't say for sure, but I did hear one of the older students say that in the old Dormitory Two, a bunch of people died in Room Three-Fifty-Two, so after the building was rebuilt they decided to get rid of it." He studied Fang Mu, his expression curious. "Are you looking for someone from that room?"

Fang Mu didn't answer, just turned and walked back downstairs.

One room, one number, four people. All lost to oblivion in the cold solidity of this new building.

They had knocked it down and built it back up, hoping to seal away those memories forever.

If only it were that easy.

Walking back through campus, Fang Mu happened to brush shoulders with a middle-aged woman who looked to be in a hurry. She glanced at him as she passed. Then a moment later she stopped in her tracks and called out: "Fang Mu, is that you?"

Fang Mu looked back. He recognized her. It was Librarian Zhao.

She smiled. "It really is you," she said, looking him over. "You're a little thin, but otherwise you look the same."

Librarian Zhao was the first familiar face Fang Mu had seen that whole afternoon. He too couldn't help but smile.

"How are you, Librarian Zhao?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I've heard you're attending graduate school at
Jiangbin
City
University
. How do you like it? Must be pretty exciting."

"It's all right."

As she gave his thin face a longer scrutiny, her tone softened. "I haven't seen you since you graduated," she said, sighing. "Though after what happened I can't really blame you."

Fang Mu looked down and said nothing. He could feel the warmth of her hand on his shoulder.

"By now that whole thing is almost a legend here. People are always asking about it, even over the past few days. Someone even wanted to know about you specifically." Taking no notice of his expression at this point, she continued. "I know it all sounds a little ridiculous, but college students are so superstitious these days; none of them would ever checkout that book anymore…"

Fang Mu frowned. "Someone was asking about me?"

"That's right. It was a man, a little over thirty. He seemed very professional. He even borrowed that book everyone is so scared of and read it for several hours."

Probably Tai Wei. What a snoop.

Seeing the look on his face, Librarian Zhao realized that it would be best not to bring all this up. Suddenly her voice became cheerful. "How about I treat you to lunch? As I recall, I still owe you a meal."

Fang Mu was about to decline when the cell phone in his pocket suddenly rang.

The phone, a gift from his mom, was a newer model Motorola and not cheap. Although this meant she could get in touch with him at all times, he knew that he was still young and she was obviously concerned about him, so he had gone along with it. After all, the thing
was
pretty cool.

Answering the phone, he heard his mom's voice on the other end. "Fang Mu, where'd you run off to now?"

"Oh, I just went to buy some computer games," he lied. "I'll be back soon."

"Was that your girlfriend?" asked Librarian Zhao with a smile once Fang Mu had hung up the phone.

"No, just my mom. She wants me to head home." The topic made Fang Mu even more uncomfortable.

She laughed. "Then you'd better hurry. Remember to look me up next time you stop by."

After spending another week at home, Fang Mu headed back to school early.

When he arrived at his dorm, he was surprised to find that the majority of students were already back. Du Yu had been the earliest. He had only stayed at home for a week before rushing back to school; though in his case it was because Zhang Yao was spending her summer break on campus, temping for a translation agency.

When Fang Mu opened the door, he again saw Du Yu and Zhang Yao hurriedly roll off one another. 

Jeez,
he thought,
it's the middle of the day.

Acting as if he hadn't seen anything, Fang Mu sat on his bed, took a bottle of meat sauce out of his bag and handed it to Du Yu. "Here," he said. "My mom made this especially for you."

But before Du Yu had a chance to take it, Zhang Yao grabbed it out of Fang Mu's hands.

"I'll hold onto this," she said, and then glanced to Fang Mu. "Your mom's meat sauce is so delicious."

Helplessly, Du Yu just looked at Fang Mu and smiled.

Fang Mu laughed. "You should have said something. I would have told my mom to make some more."

"Then the next time you go home you better not forget," she said.

"Deal." Fang Mu smiled.

Zhang Yao laughed. "You know, you're actually quite handsome when you smile. When I have time I'm going to find you a girlfriend."

Fang Mu just laughed and waved away the idea.

When Fang Mu went to the bathroom to wash his face, he ran into Liu Jianjun, who was hand washing a pair of pants in a big basin, with a rolled-up basketball magazine in his mouth.

"You're back?" he said, words garbled behind the magazine.

"Yep," said Fang Mu, splashing cold water on his face.

"Has the case been solved?"

"What case?"

"Qu Weiqiang and his girlfriend. The double homicide."

"How would I know?"

"Man, I don't know when they're going to crack that thing. Goddamn tragedy." With that, Liu Jianjun stumbled out, taking all of his things with him.

Back in his room, Fang Mu really wanted to give Tai Wei a call, but after hesitating for a long time, he abandoned the idea.

In fact, the case was far from solved. While Fang Mu was sitting around at home, dying of boredom, the officers of the Jiangbin City State Enterprise and Nonprofit Institution Investigative Division had been working day and night with little success. 

Over a month had passed since the murders, and in that time police had already traveled several times to both Linjiang City in Jilin province, the registered permanent residence of victim Qu Weiqiang, and Hegang City in Heilongjiang province, the registered permanent residence of victim Wang Qian. There they had investigated nearly a thousand people, and still the crime was no closer to being solved than on the day it was committed. Above all, the police were puzzled by a single question: what was the motive?

It was clear from the crime scene that nothing had been stolen. The several hundred renminbi lying in one of the drawers hadn't been touched, nor had the victims' cell phones, jewelry or other valuable objects. As a result, the possibility that this was a case of burglary ending in murder could essentially be eliminated.

Based on the brutality of the killings, revenge initially seemed a probable motive, but after repeated investigations, police could find no evidence that the victims had any enemies to speak of. Qu Weiqiang's parents were both laborers, while Wang Qian's father was a doctor and her mother a teacher. The possibility that some enmity from the parents' generation had led to the deaths of their children appeared unlikely.

If this was simply a forced entry, rape and murder case, then there were even more questions to answer. First, why dismember Wang Qian? If the reason was to conceal the body, why piece her back together and leave her lying on the floor? And what about the syringe in her left breast? Where did it come from and what did it mean?

Second, why bring Qu Weiqiang's body to the soccer field, cut off his hands, and then leave him there? The field was over a mile away from the scene of the crime and transporting him could not have been easy, so why go to all that trouble? If this was meant as a kind of challenge to the police, why not take the far lighter Wang Qian instead?

Although many questions remained unanswered, the police did feel certain about one thing: this was an exceedingly calm and intelligent killer. After breaking through the screen window, he had first killed the dead-drunk Qu Weiqiang (toxicology reports later showed the victim's blood-alcohol level to be extremely high) by striking him with a blunt object. Then he raped Wang Qian, strangled her to death, hacked her apart and pieced her back together, cleaned the apartment, carried Qu Weiqiang's corpse to the soccer field, and cut off his hands. From the state of the crime scene it was clear that the killer had been methodical in everything—even the bathroom where he dismembered Wang Qian had been scrubbed so clean that the police could not find the smallest clue.