After hearing these astonishing words, the circle of clear-headed people all looked at Captain Huang, eyes wide and mouths hanging open.
Captain Huang paid no attention to any of them, irritably pacing a few circles around the room with his head down.
Just then, someone quietly said, "But he's from the City Bureau…"
These people had neglected their duties, bent the law for their private ends, harbored criminals, and collected illicit money from all of this. Of course their hands weren't clean. But taking money and keeping your mouth shut was one thing; killing someone with your own hands was another. The people in this room for the most part hadn't been mixed up in any concrete affairs; they'd only had to turn a blind eye, sit and wait for their hush money to come in. Meanwhile they still went to work, still collected their wages. At most they received some gray income, occasionally went out to some "recreational" social engagements. None of them thought of themselves as utterly evil.—Moreover, having been deeply influenced by Wang Hongliang's worldview, they unanimously believed that while the deaths of a few prostitutes and delinquents didn't amount to anything, raising their hand against a member of their own profession? Now that was going too far.
When the eyes sitting under someone's forehead are looking directly ahead or looking up, they often think that what they see are humans.
Looking down, however, they often think that what they see are animals, beasts of burden.—Those without power or influence, drifting in the current of events and struggling for survival, the old, the weak, the sick, the crippled, for the most part belong to this category.
Looking at animals, a human thinks they also know what it is to be comfortable and well-fed, what it is to be warm or cold, but no more than that. So it's all the same if they die. After all, the idiom only says that "human life is beyond value"; other lives don't hinder the affairs of heaven.
The death of a Chen Zhen was an accident, a mistake—but the death of a Luo Wenzhou, now that was a major event.—Everyone more or less had something of this mentality; only Captain Huang with his bear's heart and leopard's guts was unexpectedly distinguished.
"Captain Huang, that won't do, that really won't do." Another person opened his mouth. "If you ask me, all right, what's-his-name's dead, we'll take care of the body. If Luo Wenzhou can't find a trace of him dead or alive, what's he going to do?"
"What's he going to do? He knows the brat disappeared here." Captain Huang's teeth were tightly clenched, his words squeezed out from the crack between them. "Today he'll go home empty-handed, but what about tomorrow? What about the day after that? Are you planning on doing nothing but squatting here waiting for him twenty-four hours a day, idiot? Can you guarantee that everyone here will keep their mouths shut tight? Business is business. Now there's been a death, never mind him, if we tell Director Wang what happened today, even he may not be willing to protect you!"
The person spoke falteringly: "They're…our own people…"
"Our own fucking people are exactly what I'm worried about! On the night of the twentieth, why did a dead man inexplicably turn up in 'that place?' You were all there, did any of you see? Even if it was just some asshole killing someone and dumping the body, what kind of coincidence made him throw the body there? It's like…it's like 'marking' us out on purpose!" Captain Huang gave a shudder at his own words and exerted himself to swallow a mouthful of saliva. "And that brat just now, popping up out of nowhere asking about 'that place,' which one of you's going to tell me how he knew about it? If it hadn't been caught on the security cameras, if I hadn't just been there, tomorrow you'd probably have been wearing those handcuffs in your pockets! How does a kid who drives a black cab get in touch with the captain of the City Bureau's Criminal Investigation Team, huh? Do you know? No, you don't. You all fucking understand shit!"
Someone had turned off the music in the room. The ones who had taken drugs were all still muddle-headed, but the sober ones were dead silent.
"There must be a connection between the the '520' case and what happened today. We must have a mole." Staring at the security camera image, Captain Huang took a deep breath and spoke one word at a time: "I'd meant to trap that brat Chen, give him a taste of the good stuff, get some use out of him… Forget it, now that we've been pushed to this, we'll have to get rough and ready. What do you say, are you guys up for it?"
At first no one answered.
Captain Huang sighed heavily. "Fine. You're a useless bunch. Do whatever you like, then; go and turn yourselves in. Go on, maybe you'll get leniency."
Just then, the person who'd just had liquor splashed in his face opened his mouth. "I was the one who gave him the shot."
Captain Huang turned and gave him a sidelong look.
"I…I…I'll go!"
"You gave him the shot. And who else was there who touched the brat? When he made a break for it, who knocked him out?" Captain Huang indistinctly twitched the corners of his lips, his gaze sweeping over all of them. "Who tied him up? Who watched the door… Oh, as far as watching the door goes, I'd also like to know, since Xiao Song says he clearly only gave him a little bit, how'd he die, huh?"
They all shook their heads one after another, saying nothing.
"Anyone who thinks he's got nothing to do with this can go," said Captain Huang with a slight smile. "But when you're gone, be sure to watch your…mouth."
Everyone had a mouth, and anyone with a mouth had only to walk out the door to be a potential mole.
No one wanted to acknowledge himself as a "mole" in front of this savage.
Finally, no one answered.
"Be careful," Captain Huang said expressionlessly. "While investigating the '520' case in the West District, Captain Luo unfortunately ran into a crazed drug addict and died in the line of duty."
Luo Wenzhou looked at his watch. It was over twenty minutes since he'd called for outside help. The thick soundproofing material couldn't block out the music from next door, which sounded like a house being torn town. He was sitting across from a girl with a not especially dignified job, beside a table covered with alcohol worth the best part of his month's wages.
Maybe the air-conditioning in the room was too cold; a chill wind blew over his neck, and from out of nowhere Luo Wenzhou had a rather bad feeling. He then took up the heavy ashtray on the table and weighed it in his hand. To Wu Xuechun, he said, "You're still pretty young. Isn't there something else you can do? Do you want to change jobs?"
Wu Xuechun shook her head. She didn't respond, only rolled up the long sleeves of her dress and showed him the track marks on her scrawny arms, as well as the bruises left behind by inexpert injection. She was very pale, making the bruises look even more ghastly. Old habits are hard to break.
Luo Wenzhou was silent.
On such an occasion, it seemed that to accord with social custom he should act like a big brother, give her some words of consolation and encouragement. But some circumstances are extremely cruel. Had he been in her position, Luo Wenzhou thought he wouldn't have made wiser choices. Saying those customary words would have been just as offensive as telling someone with a terminal illness to "drink more water."
Having nothing to say, he had to shut his mouth.
Just then, the "wall-smashing heavy metal" next door came to the interval between two songs and briefly broke off. Luo Wenzhou's ears, recovering the ability to hear, picked up the sound of hurried steps outside.
He had no time to consider. He reacted subconsciously, blurting out a question to Wu Xuechun: "Where's Chen Zhen?"
Wu Xuechun was stupefied by his sudden question and blurted her answer as well: "In the second-floor west storage room."
She'd just spoken when Luo Wenzhou hauled her up and pushed her towards the window. "Run."
Wu Xuechun backed up a few steps and twisted her ankle on her high heels. She was still a little muddled; leaning hesitantly against the wall, she said, "I…"
She'd meant to say, "I'll be all right, I'm one of theirs, they won't do anything to me." But this lengthy speech hadn't yet set out when Luo Wenzhou decisively interrupted: "I'm telling you to run. Take off your shoes and don't waste words."
As he finished speaking, the door of the private room was kicked open. A few colorful young men charged in, bringing with them the thick smell of alcohol and another distinctive stench. They didn't say anything before attacking.
Luo Wenzhou hefted the expensive ashtray from the table. A reflection flashed at the corner of his eye. He reached forward to block with the ashtray, metal screeching against glass. A melon knife connected with the ashtray and slid off.
Luo Wenzhou brought the ashtray down, fiercely slamming the knife-wielder's wrist and forcing his arm back. He brought up his knee into the knife-wielder's underbelly.
The knife-wielder's stomach contents nearly came up at this blow. The melon knife slipped out of his hand, and Luo Wenzhou smoothly snatched it up, seizing the person by his yellow hair and shoving him against the wall. He crouched down to duck another attacker, picked up a bottle of possibly fake Rémy Martin cognac (30), and bashed the big frying pan-like bottle against the attacker's head.
These attackers were all delinquents picked up from somewhere. Each one looked like a living ghost; drug users, to judge by their appearances. Luo Wenzhou was richly experienced in street brawls, he was young and robust, exercised regularly, and added an extra egg to his jianbing every day. Therefore he had the advantage in cleaning up this crowd of drug addicts.
He glanced back and saw that Wu Xuechun, heeding his roared command, had taken off her shoes and escaped out the window. Then he took a deep breath and headed towards the second floor storage room—why, after such a long spell of tranquility, had they suddenly attacked him?
He didn't have time to spare to think too much. In a few steps he'd leapt up to the second floor. An idea coming out of nowhere to seize his chest, he thought, Has something happened to Chen Zhen?
The little delinquents he'd knocked over banded together and came in pursuit, baring their fangs and brandishing their claws. An attendant delivering drinks was frightened into a shout and glued himself to the wall. Luo Wenzhou pushed him aside and saw the notice on the storage room: a mottled sign reading "Employees Only."
Luo Wenzhou backed up half a step, then quickly kicked the door. The rebound from the wooden door sent pain up his calf. He at once switched legs and again stamped heavily. This time his lower leg went through the door, leaving a hole.
Luo Wenzhou swiftly pushed open the door and saw a person lying unmoving inside. "Chen Zhen!"
He'd meant to go right in to have a look at him, but his legs had gone slightly numb and held him up for a moment. In that moment his brain, overheated from his fight and flight just now, slowly cooled as his breathing returned to normal. Luo Wenzhou suddenly came around—this was wrong. He'd been so direct about getting the location where Chen Zhen was being kept out of Wu Xuechun. There must have been someone watching the cameras then. So why hadn't they moved Chen Zhen?
As this thought flashed by, Luo Wenzhou backed up without even thinking. At the same time, the person lying on the floor leapt up without warning and stabbed a knife towards the side of Luo Wenzhou's neck. Luo Wenzhou had been wholly on the alert; he instantly raised his snatched melon knife to knock aside the person's wrist, grabbed the person's shoulder and shoved him towards the shelves to one side.
However, the other party was also very experienced. He drew back his shoulder to minimize the force of the blow and used the rebound of the shove to punch Luo Wenzhou under the ribs. Luo Wenzhou's breath caught, and the knife nearly slipped out of his hand. He narrowly dodged the other's grasp, grabbed him by the arm and spun him halfway around, then slammed his foot against the back of the attacker's knee.
The person shrieked and fell to his knees. By the weak light, Luo Wenzhou could at last clearly see who he was holding. He didn't know this person's name, but he'd seen him waiting upon Wang Hongliang.
Luo Wenzhou forced his head up by the hair. "Where's Chen Zhen?"
The person he'd kicked into a kneeling position was Captain Huang. He stared fixedly at Luo Wenzhou, entirely unrepentant; instead he laughed quietly. "Waiting for you up ahead."
Luo Wenzhou understood the implication. His pupils contracted. At the same time, there was a sound behind him, and Luo Wenzhou instinctively half-turned, raising his arm to protect his face. There was a loud and clear crash; a bottle of alcohol and Luo Wenzhou's left arm suffered nearly equal losses. The people waiting to take him unawares swarmed up from behind, armed with knives, bottles, cudgels and chains, all pelting towards him.
Hard pressed, Luo Wenzhou dodged left and right, wounds quickly blossoming all over him.
Before leaving, he'd actually requested a sidearm, but until his life was hanging by a thread, he didn't dare to take it out—because he wasn't at all sure that Wang Hongliang's hired thugs would be willing to behave and observe the "Five Prohibitions." (31) These people currently thought he was entirely unprepared and could be dealt with using cold steel; they also didn't want to create such a large disturbance in the middle of a crowded neighborhood, so they were willing to fight hand-to-hand with him.
On his own, it was better to fight hand-to-hand than to use guns; and moreover the Great Fortune Building was in fact close to a crowded area. The problem would get more serious if people were caught in the crossfire.
Just then, a piercing police siren suddenly sounded. The crowd of people stiffened; only Luo Wenzhou reacted at once, pushing his hand up against the nose cartilage of the person blocking his path. He then quickly dodged a knife and a foot, and leapt out into the corridor.—He knew the police siren had to be fake. The West District's roads were hard to navigate, and it hadn't been half an hour yet; the backup he'd called wouldn't have come this fast.
Worried about an ambush, Luo Wenzhou didn't take the stairs. He burst into a corner bathroom, pulled open the window, and jumped down.
By this time, he had a gash down his back, not to mention the rest of the big and small cuts and bruises. He couldn't quite lift his left forearm; the bone may have been fractured. Two hours earlier he'd been speculating that the killer in the "520" case would take the bait of Zhong Donglai while "feeding the cat" in the dining hall, not expecting that two hours later he'd have been transported into an action film.
One's lot in life was simply as inconstant as Luo Yiguo.
Suddenly, there was a shout from behind him: "Dage, over here!"
Luo Wenzhou looked around and saw Wu Xuechun, barefoot, desperately waving her hand at him. Luo Wenzhou's scalp bristled. "Didn't I tell you to run? What are you still doing here?"
"That alarm device was me just now," said Wu Xuechun. "You don't know your way around; I'll lead you out. Did you find Chen Zhen?"
Before Luo Wenzhou could answer, the pursuing force arrived. "There he is, get him!"
Luo Wenzhou grabbed Wu Xuechun. Following her babbled directions they came to a short wall behind the Great Fortune Building. Luckily, Wu Xuechun was light as a feather. Luo Wenzhou hefted her up onto the wall, then jumped over it himself.
When he landed, the left arm he'd forced into use rudely went from a dull ache to an unbearable sharp pain. Luo Wenzhou furrowed his brow and hissed in a breath. A cool evening breeze blew, and the blood soaking through the back of his shirt chilled him to the marrow.
Under the street lamps, Wu Xuechun clearly saw his blood-stained condition and was scared out of her wits, nearly shrieking.
"Which way?" said Luo Wenzhou.
Shaking, Wu Xuechun pointed in the right direction; in the next instant, the man grabbed her and ran for it.
"It's all right," said Luo Wenzhou, casually consoling her. "They didn't get my face."
Wu Xuechun: "…"
The two of them went through several little streets; after a number of confusing turns, they actually saw the open road. Luo Wenzhou finally relaxed and said to the breathless Wu Xuechun, "For now come back with me to the bureau, then…"
His words came to an abrupt halt.
On both sides of the road, the clamoring vendor's stalls had backed up in a flash, and the pedestrians had dodged away even more thoroughly. Several rumbling motorcycles were blocking the end of the street; they had been respectfully awaiting him for a long time.
Luo Wenzhou glanced at his watch out of the corner of his eye—given the time, his backup should just about be here.
So he hid Wu Xuechun behind him and smiled at the leading motorcyclist, saying glibly, "Buddy, I think there's been a misunderstanding. Can we chat?"
But the leader didn't suffer from the Villain Dies By Talking Too Much disease. His icy gaze shot out from his helmet and fixed on Luo Wenzhou, and he quickly hit the gas, the motorcycle leaping up and heading right for them.
Luo Wenzhou had no choice; he grabbed the handgun in his pocket.
When he had yet to take the gun out, suddenly, an engine sound even more aggressive than the motorcycles's rumbles roared up.
The motorcyclists hadn't expected a brainless drag racer to appear in this place. They subconsciously panicked and dodged, immediately scattering. A sports car as colorful as a poisonous snake appeared out of thin air like a flash of lighting, executed a practiced turn, and brushed against the back wheel of the moving motorcycle, sending it and its rider flying up into the air.
Through the half-open window the side of a face, half-blocked by hair, appeared. The newcomer didn't look directly at Luo Wenzhou, only tersely said, "Get in."
------
Author's note:
(30) An illustrative screenshot.
(31) Internal restrictions carrying especially heavy penalties issued by the Public Security Bureau in 2003 to improve their image, including things like "follow all firearms regulations" and "don't use firearms when drinking."