Peter May: The Runner

‘You said multiple stab wounds,’ Li said.

Wang nodded. ‘Somewhere between thirty and forty of them. If you look carefully, you can see where the knives have cut through his clothing. Of course, he was already dead by then, so there was no bleeding from the wounds.’

‘Knives?’ Li asked. ‘Plural?’

‘Both from the number of wounds, and the number of prints in the snow, I’d say there were several assailants. At least three.’ He glanced at Fu who nodded his silent accord.

‘Why would they stab him when he was already dead?’ Li said.

‘Death by a myriad of swords,’ Tao said quietly and Li looked at him. Tao glanced up. ‘Symbolic,’ he added. ‘Like leaving a calling card.’

Li turned to Fu Qiwei. ‘What do you think happened here, Fu?’

Fu shrugged. ‘It’s a matter of interpretation, Chief. Can’t guarantee I’m right, but I’ll have a go.’ And he took them around the courtyard, and through his interpretation of the events which had unfolded there. Tao and Wu had already been through it all, but tagged along anyway. ‘Looks like two people arrived here together first off. Partially covered tracks. One set of prints smaller than the other. Could be a woman. They went into the palace building there on the north side. At least, they stepped up into the shelter of the terrace.’

They followed him around and into the palace itself, now brightly illuminated. Fu pointed to the stuff lying around the floor. ‘Someone’s been living in here. For several days by the look of it. Empty tins, old noodle boxes. The clothes…’ he lifted up a pair or tracksuit bottoms with his white gloved hands, ‘…sport stuff. Unisex. But small size. Probably a woman.’ And he retrieved a long black hair as if to prove his point. ‘Oddly enough, we also found some of these.’ And he took out a plastic evidence bag and held it up to the light so that they could see several long, single, blond hairs. ‘So she had company. Maybe one of the two people who came calling tonight.’

Li’s stomach turned over, and he found Tao watching him closely.

‘The thing is,’ Fu said, ‘there’s a small heater, but no light.’ He paused. ‘But we found the remains of a smashed oil lamp on the other side of the square, near the body. For what it’s worth, here’s what I think might have happened.’ And he led them back out on to the steps. ‘You can see a single set of footprints heading off across the courtyard here. One of the older ones, partially covered. So I figure one of them went inside, the blond, and the other one, the victim, crossed the square where he was jumped by at least three attackers. They cut his throat, and when he was dead, they kneeled around him in the snow and stabbed him repeatedly in the chest and legs. The two inside heard something. They came out with the oil lamp and found the kid lying dead in the snow. Then they got attacked, too. Now, here’s the interesting thing…’ They followed him on the safe side of the tape across the square. ‘There’s been a hell of a ruckus here. Broken glass. Melted snow. We found shreds of burned clothing. And this.’ He glanced at Tao and Wu. ‘I only found it a few minutes ago, after you’d gone.’ He shone his flashlight on to a strange, blackened indentation in the snow. ‘Damned if it doesn’t look like a face print to me.’ And Li saw, then, the shape of an eye, a mouth, a nose. Part of a cheek, the curve of a forehead. ‘I figure somebody got that lit oil lamp full in the face and got pretty badly burned. We’ve recovered particles that I’m pretty sure are going to turn out to be burned flesh and singed hair.’

‘Fuck me,’ Wu said in awe, then glanced immediately at Tao, wondering if he would be fined another ten yuan for the swear box. But Tao hadn’t heard him.

‘Then there was a chase,’ Fu said. They followed him along the gallery and out into the narrow street at the end of which a mêlée of feet had emerged to leave their prints in the snow. ‘You can see these prints are quite different from the ones that arrived. Only half-prints, mainly left by the ball of the foot. They were running. The three bigger sets of feet after the two smaller ones, I’d say.’

With a heart like lead, Li followed the forensics man along the street, past palaces and pavilions, alleyways and galleries, illuminated now by floodlights, and up steps on to the wide concourse in front of the Qianqing Gate. Tao and Wu walked silently in their wake.

‘I guess that the two on the run were probably the women, from the size of their prints. They must have had a bit of a head start, because you can clearly see they went first to one of these copper pots, with one set of tracks leading to the other. They must have hidden inside them.’

Li closed his eyes, conjuring a dreadful image of Margaret crouched inside one of these pots in fear and panic. It was almost more than he could bear.

Fu said, ‘With all these lights, we can see their tracks quite clearly. Although it was dark then, I figure their pursuers must have been able to see them, too. The pots were no hiding place at all. You can pick out the other prints that followed them, straight to the pots, and then the scuffles around them where they must have dragged the women out. There’s some blood in the snow here.’

And they looked at a smear of vivid red in the frozen white. Li looked away quickly. What were the chances that he was looking at Margaret’s blood in the snow? He could not deal with the thought, and tried to keep his mind focused on the facts. Facts which gave him, at least, a little hope. There was only one body, after all. ‘What happened then?’ he asked, nearly in a whisper.

‘They dragged them off,’ Fu said. No one had told him that the blonde woman was almost certainly Li’s lover. ‘Back out to the Donghua Gate. Probably bundled them into a vehicle of some kind, then away.’

Away to where? And why? Li tried hard to think, but his concentration was shot. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to find Tao looking at him, concerned. Li wondered if it was really sympathy he saw in those dark eyes magnified behind thick lenses. ‘You okay, Chief?’ he asked. Li nodded. ‘We’ll find her.’ And there was an unexpected steel and determination in his voice.

They left Fu and walked back to the Donghua Gate in silence, Li trying to piece together in his mind what must have happened. Dai Lili’s brother had come to Margaret’s apartment and convinced her to go with him to see his sister. Anger flared briefly in his chest. Why in the name of heaven did she go?

The boy must have been hiding his sister in the Forbidden City, but it was hardly a secret that Dai Lili had wanted to talk to Margaret. He had, himself, told Supervising Coach Cai as much. Could Cai be involved as he had first suspected? Li cursed himself now for his indiscretion. They must have been watching Margaret, or the boy. Or both. Whichever, they had followed them to the Forbidden City. There, they had killed the brother and snatched the two women. Why had they not just killed the women as well? Why did they want them alive? Information, perhaps? To know how much was known and by whom? If only they realised how little Li really knew or understood any of it. But until they did, maybe there was still the faintest chance of finding Margaret before they killed her. As they surely would.

They emerged into the floodlights in Donghuamen. Outside the gate the crowd of spectators had swelled. There were more than a hundred of them now, straining to catch a glimpse of whatever might be going on, ignoring the barking of the uniformed officers trying to keep them behind the tape.

Li turned to Wu. ‘I want arrest warrants for Fleischer, and Fan Zhilong, the CEO of the OneChina Recreation Club. And also for Coaching Supervisor Cai Xin. Soon as we can get them, I want them held at Section One for questioning. Nobody gets to talk to them before me. Understood?’