Profiler

CHAPTER 10

It was the night of June 30th, 2002, and in Yokohama, Japan, Brazil was playing Germany in the World Cup finals.

From the start of the World Cup, all of the little restaurants outside the JiangbinCityUniversity campus gate had been showing the games. Since tonight was the finals, every single one was now overflowing with people.

Fang Mu and several of his classmates were eating at a Sichuan-style restaurant called Guang Yuan. On the table in front of them were a number of beer bottles, piles of peanut shells and edamame skins, and several plates of cheap fried food that had already been picked clean. This state of affairs was roughly replicated on all the other tables in the restaurant. Now all the customers were staring up at the 21-inch color TV hanging on the wall, while the owner stood behind the bar, obviously elated, his fingers flying over the calculator and punching the buttons like fireworks going off. The smug look on his face told everyone he wished there was a world Cup every month.

Du Yu, Zou Tuanjie, and Liu Jianjun had dragged Fang Mu along. Initially Fang Mu hadn't wanted to go, but after thinking about it he realized he didn't have anything else to do, and anyway it might be fun. However, he had one condition: no barbecue.

Naturally, the people at the restaurant were split into two groups. One supported Brazil, the other Germany. Fang Mu didn't really follow soccer, so aside from Ronaldo, he didn't know any of the other player's names. But seeing that Du Yu and the others were all rooting for Brazil, he decided that for the time being he might as well do the same.

Neither team was able to get much going on the field during the first half. On the face of things, Brazil had seemed a little passive, but Germany hadn't been able to score either, despite several good chances. At halftime, everyone in the bar began enthusiastically discussing the play up until then and loudly arguing over who would come out on top. A number of bets were made, with late-night snacks at stake, and it wasn't until the second half began that peoples' attention returned to the TV.

At first, Fang Mu had been rather bored. His first night as a soccer fan, and his team wasn't even playing well. But the crowd's excitement was contagious, and before long he found himself yelling along with everyone else.

After stealing the ball near Germany's goal, Ronaldo passed to Number 10 — "That's Rivaldo," said Du Yu — who then dribbled to the edge of the penalty box and took a long shot at goal. It was not a very powerful kick, and as Oliver Kahn, the German goalkeeper, grabbed the ball, he hardly looked concerned. Little did he expect, however, that a moment later the ball would pop out of his hands and back onto the field.

"You can't relax like that!" cried a tall, well-built young man at the next table. But before the words had even left his mouth, Ronaldo was on the ball like lightning, and without breaking stride he kicked it into the lower right-hand corner-goal!

Brazil had taken the lead!

At once everyone cried out in surprise. Then a second later the restaurant erupted in a flurry of cheers and curses.

"Kahn was way too relaxed," said the tall guy at the next table, shaking his head. "When the ball is kicked low like that, you should use your body to press it to the ground. Otherwise it can easily slip out of your hands. He's being overconfident."

"What a professional analysis," said Zou Tuanjie with a smile.

"Come on, man, you're my hero; don't let me down." The tall guy was staring at the screen, his expression as upset as Kahn's.

"That's Qu Weiqiang from the physics department," whispered Liu Jianjun to Fang Mu. "He's the goalie for the school soccer team."

"Oh, no wonder."

Germany now began going all out trying to score, but despite several near misses, they were unable to get the ball into the net. Then in minute 79, Rivaldo threaded a long, beautiful pass to Ronaldo at the top of the penalty box. Before anyone could stop him, Ronaldo turned and kicked it low and fast into the bottom right corner of the goal, making the score 2–0. Brazil's victory was now assured.

Germany's fans swore ceaselessly.

Heaving a deep sigh, Qu Weiqiang said, "Brazil definitely analyzed Kahn's technique before the game. Those kinds of low shots are his biggest weakness."

Before long the World Cup was over and Brazil was the champion. As confetti rained from above, Rivaldo sprinted around the field, holding his country's flag aloft.

As the game ended, the assembled students were either raising their arms in the air and shouting happily or hanging their heads, paying and leaving.

In a loud voice, Qu Weiqiang called out: "Hey, boss, give me four more beers. I want them to go."

At this, the lovely, petite young woman who had been watching the game with him whispered, "Don't drink anymore. You've already had a lot tonight."

Qu Weiqiang's eyes went wide. "You're going to tell me what to do?" he yelled. "After a game this depressing I'm not allowed to have a little bit to drink?"

Pouting, the young woman said nothing.

For his part, Fang Mu hadn't really cared about who won. His only thought was getting to a bathroom. Having drunk way too much beer during the game, he felt as if he were about to burst.

So, after paying, he rushed out of the restaurant and back to the dorm, where he went straight into the bathroom and relieved himself.

Feeling much better, Fang Mu walked cheerfully back to his room. He was surprised to find Du Yu standing in the hallway and using a rag to vigorously wipe something off the door.

"What's the matter?" asked Fang Mu, shaking his hands dry. "What are you wiping off?"

"I don't know who drew this," said Du Yu, pointing at the door, "but it seems we have a practical joker around here."

Fang Mu looked up. Several marks still remained on the door, seemingly drawn with a big felt-tip marker. It was a total mess.

"What was it?"

"It looked like a five-pointed star," said Du Yu, frowning. "Jeez, who could be that bored?"

"A five-pointed star?" Fang Mu looked down either end of the corridor. None of the other doors had anything written on them.

"You haven't erased it yet?" asked Liu Jianjun, sticking his head out of the doorway opposite.

"Almost." Du Yu redoubled his efforts, and at last the marks disappeared.

"Man, that was some freaky stuff," said Liu Jianjun, grimacing. "Sort of like Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves."

Fang Mu laughed. "In that case I'll go draw a five-pointed star on every door in the corridor!"

In the middle of that night, Fang Mu suddenly awoke.

Something was rustling in the dorm room. He forced his eyes open and scanned the small area by the light of the moon.

His breath caught in his throat.

Someone was standing in front of his closed door.

Fang Mu wanted to reach under his pillow and grab the knife, but his body felt frozen and he couldn't move an inch. He wanted to open his mouth and yell for Du Yu to wake up, but the words seemed trapped inside his throat and he couldn't make a sound.

Cold sweat dripped down his forehead. He stared at the intruder, struggling with all his strength to react.

The person stood with his back to Fang Mu, seemingly unaware that he was awake. He was drawing something on the inside of the door.

Flames burst from its surface following the movements of his hand.

No.

Fang Mu felt himself begin to shake. A scorched odor filled his nostrils.

A five-pointed star burned on the door.

The intruder slowly turned. In the light of the flames, Fang Mu could see Wu Han's ruined face.

No…!

Suddenly a blinding white light shined in Fang Mu's eyes. Du Yu's voice sounded in his ears: "Fang Mu, Fang Mu. Are you okay?"

Fang Mu opened his eyes. He could vaguely see Du Yu standing over him, a worried look on his face.

"What happened? Did you have another nightmare?"

Fang Mu struggled to sit up. He pushed Du Yu away from him and looked at the door.

Besides their class schedules, it was bare.

He had been dreaming.

Drained, Fang Mu lay back on the bed. The sheet beneath him was damp with perspiration. He reached down and felt it. Cold sweat soaked the bed.

"You okay?" Du Yu asked, handing Fang Mu a towel.

"Thanks," said Fang Mu. "I'm fine. You should get back to sleep." He took the towel and wiped his face and neck.

Du Yu pulled the cord on the lamp and the room returned to quiet darkness.

But Fang Mu couldn't sleep.

It was obvious that this nightmare was completely different than the one he was used to.

A five-pointed star? What did it mean?

The five-pointed star was one of the earliest symbols of nature worship in the world. It was also one of the purest, most perfect geometric shapes. At first it represented the female sex; later it became a mark of paganism, and more recently it indicated warfare.

Does this mean someone's offering me a challenge? Fang Mu thought about this and found it ridiculous. Don't worry about it, he told himself. Didn't you just promise yourself that you'd be an ordinary person?

After that Fang Mu slept very deeply. If Du Yu hadn't woken him up for breakfast, he might have slept all day.

The two roommates walked leisurely to the dining hall, chatting all the while. Frequently, however, people would rush past them, and though at first Fang Mu took little notice of this, he soon realized that something was amiss. Everyone on campus seemed to be hurrying toward the same place: the track and field stadium.

"What's going on?" asked Du Yu, pulling aside a foreign language student.

"I'm not totally sure," the student said. "But I heard there's a dead body on the soccer field."

The track and field stadium was located at the northwest corner of campus. At its center was a regulation-size soccer field covered with artificial turf, a rarity at the time, surrounded by a synthetic track. When Fang Mu and Du Yu reached the stadium, over a dozen police cars were already parked outside, lights flashing. Walking inside, they saw at least a couple hundred people crowded around the northern goal. Frightened yet excited students packed the surrounding stands.

Before they had reached the front, Fang Mu spotted Liu Jianjun's tall frame squeezed into the crowd. He was up on his tiptoes and doing his best to see what was happening. Fang Mu walked over and, putting a hand on his shoulder, asked: "What's going on here?"

Liu Jianjun almost jumped with surprise. When he turned around and saw it was Fang Mu, he laughed and said, "Ah, so the master sleuth has arrived."

Ignoring him, Fang Mu stood on his tiptoes and looked toward the center of the crowd. "I heard someone died. Is that true?"

"Yeah, but I don't know who it was. There are too many people."

As those at the back jostled to see, several of the students in front of Fang Mu were almost knocked over. Turning around, they were about to complain when they saw Fang Mu. Much to his surprise, they spontaneously opened a path for him to get by, looks of awe on their faces.

Feeling a little embarrassed, Fang Mu was about to turn and leave when Du Yu and Liu Jianjun seized the opportunity and pushed him deeper into the crowd.

The scene was already sealed off with a police cordon. Compared to the crush outside, the area within the cordon looked almost empty. Lying face down beneath the goalpost was a corpse. Based on its build, it appeared to be a man. His face was pressed against the turf and couldn't be made out, but there was something extremely strange about the length of his arms extending to either side.

As several medical examiners in white lab coats bustled about the body, one carefully lifted a pale object from beside the left goalpost and examined it closely.

The surrounding students gasped in terror. It was a hand.

Several policemen who appeared to be part of the evidence unit combed the area surrounding the goal, while nearby an officer holding a notebook was interviewing a male student dressed in gym clothes. The student's face was deathly pale, as if he might faint at any time.

Not long after, the medical examiners turned the dead man onto his back, revealing his frozen face. Several of the students nearby cried out in alarm.

"Who is it?" asked Liu Jianjun, craning his neck to see. "Why does he look so familiar?"

Fang Mu also felt the dead man's clothing looked very familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen him before.

"I'm going over there to take a look," said Liu Jianjun. He began squeezing his way through the pack toward the area just opposite the corpse. A few minutes later, he looked back at Fang Mu and Du Yu. His face was pale.

"It's Qu Weiqiang," he said to them. "His hands have both been cut off. It's horrible."

That day, every corner of campus was buzzing with discussion about the murder on the soccer field. Frequently people would come and ask Fang Mu for news on the case. The subtext was clear: If you don't take care of this, who will?

Fang Mu was soon fed up. After turning a contemptuous look on the nth visitor, he couldn't take it any longer and left the dorm to find somewhere to hide out.

It was already 8:30 p.m., but still the campus was busy with students hurrying to and fro. Wanting to avoid the crowds, Fang Mu made sure to stick to the darkest corners. Before long, he had inadvertently arrived at the track and field stadium.

This was normally the top spot for couples wanting to meet up after dark, but tonight it was completely empty. Everyone was scared away by that morning's tragedy. Evidently, now that this arena of romance had been transformed into a crime scene, wandering the track and whispering in a sweetheart's ear no longer seemed so pleasant.

Fang Mu climbed down the stadium steps to the edge of the soccer field. Then stepped onto the soft turf and walked slowly toward the north goal.

The turf around the goal had been trampled out of shape. Before it, the chalk outline of a figure lay in silence, its two shortened arms pointed at either post. Fang Mu stood and looked at the outline for a long time before walking slowly over to the left goalpost. That morning, one of Qu Weiqiang's hands had been found here. The killer had left the other by the right post.

Fang Mu knelt and looked at the grass. It was too dark to tell how much blood there had been, but he doubted it was a lot.

Most likely, Qu Weiqiang's hands were cut off after he was already dead.

He walked back to where the body had lain. Copying its position, he spread his arms wide. In a flash, he felt himself go so lightheaded that he nearly fell over. Steadying himself, he quickly stepped back.

The goal stood in silence beneath the night sky, Qu Weiqiang's chalk silhouette prostrated beneath it. The combination somehow made this normally unremarkable goal seem incredibly dangerous, as if it was death's gate itself, and this empty outline the last thing the victim had left of himself before leaving this world.

Fang Mu took a careful step forward, and then another and another. Holding his breath, he stepped over the police cordon and inside the goal.

Nothing happened. Rather than being met by the raging flames of hell, Fang Mu saw only the dark and empty stadium. Flickering stars still filled the night sky above him. He took a deep breath. There was no hint of blood in the dry air.

Then he turned and hurried out of the stadium, thinking, Fang Mu, you are goddamned crazy.

On July 1, 2002, a dead body was discovered on the JiangbinCityUniversity soccer field. A male student who had gotten to the field early to run spotted the body lying face down beneath one of the goals. As soon as the crime was reported, the PSB's State Enterprise and Nonprofit Institution Investigative Division rushed to the scene and got to work.

The victim was found to be one Qu Weiqiang, a 19-year-old physics major from LinjiangCity in Jilin province. Cause of death was a blow to the head, most likely from a hammer or similar weapon. The body was found placed beneath the soccer field's northern goal, with the head pointing south and the feet north. Both the victim's hands were chopped off and left beside either goalpost. Based on a preliminary examination of the body and the scene, it was determined that the victim was most likely killed at another location and then transported to the soccer field.

According to their initial interviews, the police discovered that the victim had been assigned to Dormitory 4, Room 611, but that he had been living off-campus with his girlfriend in a rented apartment since the beginning of the semester. With the help of the victim's former roommate, the police found the apartment. They knocked on the door for a long time but received no response. After locating the landlord, they were let inside. The scene was unimaginable, but it was also exactly what they had expected.

Wang Qian, Qu Weiqiang's girlfriend, had been killed as well, and the apartment was thick with the smell of blood. After entering the bedroom, the police found her naked corpse lying on the floor. Her head pointed north (toward the bedroom door) and her feet south (toward the open window), and her limbs were spread-eagled on the floor. After taking a closer look, the police discovered that the body had been hacked into six pieces (head, torso, legs and arms) and then pieced back together as if still whole. Even though a medical syringe was found inserted in the victim's chest on the underside of her left breast, the medical examiners determined that the actual cause of death was mechanical asphyxiation-seemingly by hand, based on the marks on the victim's neck. According to the autopsy, the victim had long since lost her virginity. There were also signs that she had been violently raped prior to her death, but there was no trace of semen in her vagina, meaning that the killer must have used a condom.

The murder scene was located in a residential area near JiangbinCityUniversity. The couple's apartment was on the left-hand side of the second floor of a small, three-story building. Their bedroom window had its screen torn open and overlooked a bicycle shed. Because of the hot weather, all the windows in the apartment had been open on the night of the murder, which had allowed the killer to climb onto the bicycle shed, break through the screen and then sneak into the apartment. On the bed were found a large amount of blood, hair, and skull fragments. These were brought in for testing, and identified as belonging to Qu Weiqiang. As a result, it was believed likely that this had been the scene of his murder. But even though two people had been killed here and one of them hacked apart, the apartment hardly resembled a slaughterhouse, and not a single fingerprint or footprint was found. Someone had cleaned the place well.

Because the murder was committed on the anniversary of the Communist Party, the director of the PSB initially took great interest in it. However, once it was clearly established that the crime had no political undertones, it was handed off to the State Enterprise and Nonprofit Institution Investigative Division.

A double homicide. Immediately the case raised an uproar at JiangbinCityUniversity, and the school began actively cooperating with the police to help solve it. Campus security was also greatly strengthened, as was supervision of the dormitories. A direct result of this was that all the young couples who had been covertly living off-campus were forced to return to their respective dorm rooms. A less direct result was that all those students who liked studying in lonely corners of campus after dark were now often treated to live shows of a most intimate variety.

Uniformed police could often be seen on campus interviewing students, especially the victims' friends and classmates. More than once the school's soccer coach suggested that the police should investigate Jiangbin City's other university soccer teams. When they ignored him, he decided to hold a retirement ceremony for Qu Weiqiang's jersey on his own.

Even though everyone had finals, the jersey retirement ceremony still attracted a lot of people, Fang Mu among them.

It was held on the soccer field. Qu Weiqiang's teammates had formed two lines, and in front of them were the team captain, co-captain and two others, each holding the corner of a soccer jersey and walking slowly and solemnly toward the north goal, while everyone else followed. There a table had been set up, and on it stood a very large, framed picture of the deceased, a soccer ball, and Qu Weiqiang's old cleats. When the team members reached the table they lined up on either side, standing tall with their hands behind their backs. The team captain bowed three times before Qu Weiqiang's picture, and then withdrew a slip of paper from his pocket and began to read aloud.

The speech was mainly a retelling of how Qu Weiqiang had first joined the team and the "outstanding contribution" he had made. The wording was ornate and the content rousing, but it all did seem rather suspiciously over the top. For example, saying that the deceased was an "impregnable god of the goal" and "the future hope of China's soccer world" might have made onlookers think that Wang Dalei had died rather than Qu Weiqiang. Still, the speech was well-received, and by the end tears were rolling down the faces of all the straight-backed players. (Translator’s note: Wang Dalei is a young hotshot Chinese goalie.) Most of those in the audience were also drying their eyes.

When the speech was over, the team captain sprinkled some liquid over the jersey and then used his lighter to set it on fire. In an instant the "1" on the back was engulfed by flames. Before the team captain could react, the jersey had been reduced to a ball of fire, burning his hand and causing him to drop it on the turf. The smell of burning fabric and plastic filled the air. A moment later, the stadium manager cried out and came running over. When he reached the still-burning jersey, he stamped wildly on it until the fire was out. This upset the members of the soccer team, who immediately surrounded the manager and began shouting at him.

But the manager was just as angry himself. "You can have whatever ceremony you want, but don't start any fires!" he yelled. "If the turf is ruined, are you guys going to pay for it?"

Both sides continued to jostle and shout at each other until they had left the stadium, each saying they would be speaking with the university president to get the matter straightened out. Thus the ceremony ended, leaving only Qu Weiqiang's half-burned jersey smoking sadly on a patch of scorched turf. Glancing back at the ceremonial table, where Qu Weiqiang's picture had been knocked over in the confusion, Fang Mu laughed bitterly, and then followed the crowd out of the stadium.

Returning to his dorm, he was surprised to find Tai Wei sitting on his bed reading a book. At this point Fang Mu still bore a bit of a grudge against Tai Wei from last time, so he just ignored him.

But Tai Wei didn't seem to care. Grinning at him, he said, "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you all day."

"Is there something you wanted to say to me?" Fang Mu asked coldly. Still, in the back of his mind he felt a shiver of fear. What had happened now?

"Oh, nothing in particular. The bureau just sent us down here to investigate a case, so I figured I'd stop by and say hi."

"What are they doing sending you here?" Fang Mu paused to think for a moment. "Not for that double homicide? A case like that wouldn't normally belong to the vice squad."

"You really know a lot kid," Tai Wei said, chuckling. "Actually, that case belongs to the State Enterprise and Nonprofit Institution Investigative Division. When I heard some of them were heading down here to look things over, I decided to tag along. So how's it going? You doing all right?"

"I'm fine; thanks for asking," said Fang Mu brusquely, as he sat down in his desk chair.

Tai Wei laughed. "You're still mad at me, huh?" He asked, not seeming to mind at all. "I admit that what I did was perhaps a little bit less than ideal, but I figured that if I couldn't give you an award, then at least you should get some commendation from your school. I was taking a risk, too, you know. If the director finds out he's going to hit the roof."

"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.