The Secret Cardinal

40

Ke Wen-An could not feel his arms. The thin steel cable from which he was suspended dug deeply into his wrists like a dull saw blade. At first, the pain was excruciating, but numbness brought some relief. Blood streaked down his arms from where the skin had given way, the deep red trails dry and hard in the hours since the wounds were fresh.

The ordeal began late the previous day, when the police arrested Ke, along with his wife, his father, and his young daughter. Initially, they thought they were just one of the many families of Roman Catholics detained by authorities for questioning, but a unique interest in them became quickly apparent. Over the past twelve hours, the gray concrete interrogation room became hell for Ke and his family.

Ke’s feet dangled just inches from the floor, and he wondered if the weights strapped to his ankles would eventually lengthen his body enough to gain even a meager foothold. The floor was close enough to tempt him with the possibility of a respite, but the price to end his anguish was still too high.

Blood and saliva trickled down Ke’s throat, triggering a spasm of coughing. His body reflexively fought to prevent fluid from collecting in his lungs to avoid drowning, but with each breath his exhalations weakened. Carbon dioxide, the waste product of normal breathing, was slowly building to toxic levels inside Ke’s body.

And he was naked. Not that Ke cared at all about his state of undress — agony has a way of rendering the superficial concerns of modesty irrelevant. Bruises mottled his flesh — whorls of blues, blacks, and sickly yellows — a visual record of abuse by clubs, batons, whips, and fists. Burns scarred his flesh where cigarettes had been extinguished and firecrackers detonated. Blackened stubble was all that remained of the tufts of hair that grew in various places on his body. And when the fire beneath his arms failed to elicit the information his interrogators demanded, an accelerant was applied to his genitalia to assure adequate fuel for the flame.

As a physician, Ke understood the trauma his body was enduring. Injury and reaction. Cause and effect. And little by little his body’s defenses were failing, unable to keep up with the increasing scope of damage. He was past the tipping point and knew with all certainty that he would never recover. Not that he wanted to.

Ke was not tortured alone. The body of his wife lay atop a large table in front of him. In between his own beatings, he was forced to watch as the woman he loved and the mother of his child was tormented, her body defiled with vicious depravity. A succession of guards raped and sodomized Gan Yueying, splaying her nude body across the table for their warped, deviant pleasure. The last wrapped his meaty hands around her delicate throat and nearly strangled her to death as he climaxed.

The worst torture came from the man who led the interrogation. When his wife’s ravaged and beaten body no longer amused even the most cruelly imaginative of the guards, Liu questioned Ke again. With each refusal to answer, Liu severed another piece of Gan’s body.

Gan was never allowed to lose consciousness for long, and once she revived, Liu would cut her again. Digits littered the floor amid pools of blood, vomit, and waste. The skill with which he amputated her breasts with a balisong knife bespoke experience unimaginable. Gan screamed in agony as she was dismembered, but between her wails she locked eyes with her beloved husband and urged Ke to remain strong, to keep their faith.

Ke never imagined he would pray for his wife’s death, but when it finally came, he wept tears of joy. Her suffering was over. On the journey to heaven, he would not be far behind.

Liu leaned against the wall as the police doctor vainly tried to revive Gan, but finally the doctor shook his head and retreated from the interrogation room. Ke’s father and six-year-old daughter wept in the corner of the room, the old man trying to console the horrified child, unwilling witnesses to the barbarity inflicted upon the couple.

‘One less whore,’ Liu sneered.

The butchered remains of Gan Yueying barely looked human. Liu moved close to the old man and his granddaughter like a stalking animal approaching prey. He towered over Ke Tai-De, showing nothing but contempt for the old man and his family of cultists.

‘It’s not too late to save your son,’ Liu said.

‘He, and my family, are already saved,’ Ke Tai-De replied stoically. ‘Nothing you do changes that.’

‘We’ll see, old man,’ Liu replied.

Liu slowly walked around the table to where Ke Wen-An hung from a metal pipe in the ceiling. With each feeble breath, the physician swung lightly, and the cable around his wrists dug in a little deeper.

‘So, doctor, as a Catholic,’ Liu hissed the word, ‘I’m certain the irony of your situation isn’t lost on you. Much of what you are experiencing, medically speaking, is what that criminal you worship felt after the Romans nailed him to a tree. Did you know that it normally took days for a crucified man to die? The Romans often broke the prisoner’s legs to hasten death by suffocation or shock-induced heart attack. Do you think, doctor, that such an injury would have a similar effect on you?’

Liu pulled out his pistol and gripped it by the barrel. Crouching down, he grabbed one of Ke’s ankles, straightened the leg, and swung the pistol like a hammer onto the kneecap. The triangular bone cracked, and an electric jolt of pain rushed through Ke’s nervous system. Pleased with the effect, Liu swung again and shattered the other knee. Ke’s head slumped, and Liu sprang to his feet.

‘Don’t pass out on me now, doctor.’

Ke’s eyes fluttered, his mind hovering on the border of consciousness.

‘Tell me what you know of Yin, and I will end your pain.’

Ke shook his head, conscious enough to reject the worthless offer.

Liu moved to Ke, his mouth near the dying man’s ear. ‘If you don’t speak, your daughter will be next.’

With every last bit of strength that remained, Ke raised his head and groaned, ‘Long live Jesus Christ.’

Infuriated, Liu drove the barrel of his pistol under Ke’s chin and squeezed the trigger. The nine-millimeter round ripped through Ke’s head, erupting from the top in a violent spray of blood, bone, and gore. Ke’s head drooped forward, much of the crown missing.

As the echo of the gunshot died down, someone knocked at the door.

‘What?’ Liu shouted angrily.

A uniformed police officer opened the door. Peng stood in the corridor behind him with several more officers.

‘Is everything all right?’ the officer asked.

‘Everything is fine’, Liu snapped grimly.

Liu holstered his pistol and wiped a speck of gray matter from his cheek, flicking it onto the floor. Peng peered into the interrogation room and saw the bodies.

‘How long has he been at it?’ Peng asked the officer softly.

‘Twelve hours. Since they were first brought in.’

If Liu heard Peng’s question, he ignored it. Instead, he pushed Gan’s mutilated remains off the table and onto the floor at the feet of her daughter and father-in-law. Peng leaned into the interrogation room and was immediately struck by both the horror and the witch’s brew of stench that lingered inside.

‘I have some information,’ Peng said, trying to stifle the rising contents of his stomach. ‘Perhaps this would be a good time for a break.’

Breathing heavily, Liu nodded. ‘Think about what I want to know, old man. When I come back, your granddaughter is next.’

Liu exited, leaving Ke Tai-De and his granddaughter alone with the mauled, desecrated bodies of their loved ones.

One of the officers handed Liu a small towel, which he used to wipe blood, sweat, and bits of tissue from his face and hands.

‘Report,’ Liu commanded.

‘The northern border is secure, and there has been no sign of any attempt to cross it. Troops are in position at critical points, and aerial reconnaissance is ongoing. I’ve received word from our people in Ulaanbaatar confirming that Kilkenny and another American entered Mongolia on a flight from Germany. Kilkenny was traveling with false papers, and we assume the same of his companion.’

‘What about the spy?’

‘Twelve days ago, Roxanne Tao flew to Shanghai from the United States and entered the country with a forged tourist visa. From there, she traveled to Beijing. She was not seen again until the twenty-eighth at the prison.’

‘Walked right through the front door,’ Liu spat angrily.

‘Her papers were quite good, and she has altered her appearance.’

‘They still missed her.’

Liu looked haggard and agitated, the skin around his eyes dark and swollen.

‘Have you gotten any rest since I’ve been gone?’ Peng asked.

‘I’ll rest after Yin and these foreign terrorists are dead.’

‘Have you learned anything from your interrogations?’ Peng asked.

‘Not much,’ Liu admitted, ‘but everything points to the old man — he’s an important figure in the illegal church in Chifeng. We know there was local support for the raid, so he must have been involved. Breaking him is the key to unraveling this conspiracy.’

‘And the rest of the family?’

‘All are members of the foreign cult, which is crime enough. I’m using them to break the old man down.’

‘But they are dead, and he has told you nothing.’

‘There’s still the granddaughter. Now that he knows how far I will go, I’m certain he will talk to save her.’

‘I am not so sure. The history of this religion is filled with revered martyrs, starting with the one they believe was the son of their god.’

‘Lunatics!’ Liu spat. ‘He will tell me what I want to know.’

Assuming that he knows anything himself

‘He knows.’ Liu paused briefly. ‘Anything else?’

‘Sweeps continue in the outlying areas around Chifeng, and troops are questioning herdsmen. We have found no sign of the raiding party,’ Peng said.

‘All the more reason for me to continue with the old man.’

‘You are exhausted. Would it not be wise to rest and let another interrogator continue? Perhaps a change of tactic to disorient the man.’

Liu waved his hand dismissively. ‘Anything else?’

‘No,’ Peng replied.

‘Perhaps you would like to assist me with the child?’ Liu said, almost taunting the younger man.

Peng felt his stomach rising once again at the thought of torturing a young child. ‘I think it best that I continue following other avenues of our investigation.’

‘Very well. Report back in a few hours.’

Peng bowed and departed. As he walked away, he wondered what hold the Catholic religion had on the Ke family. What was it about their faith that allowed them to die for a man they could not have known, to sacrifice themselves as a parent would to protect a child? At his sides, Peng felt his hands trembling.