Lei Mi - Profiler

Fang Mu walked quietly farther into the room. Everyone was watching Tai Wei with bated breath, so not a single person noticed him.

"Can you guarantee that this is the killer?" asked one of the listeners, a stern-looking man with a beer belly.

"I can!" Tai Wei's voice and expression were both resolute. "First of all, we discovered that he had indicated the number seven on the victim's door; second, one of my men from the special investigation team recently finished checking the scene — including the suspect's room — and he just called me to say they made a huge discovery."

Several female officers now rushed over and handed several thick stacks of documents to Tai Wei. After briefly flipping through them, he turned to the fat, grave-faced man and said, "Director, we can begin."

The director nodded. "Then let's get started."

Everyone turned toward the glass wall. Not daring to get too close, Fang Mu did his best to catch what was happening through a space in the crowd.

The wall was actually a one-way mirror. On the other side of it was the interrogation room.

Inside that room, it was sparsely furnished, containing only a single table with a lamp, two chairs on one side and one on the other. Two policemen sat side by side, one flipping through the documents that had just been given to him, the other writing something on a piece of paper. The chair opposite them was fixed to the floor, appearing horribly cold and uncomfortable. A camera monitored the scene from the ceiling. It was equipped with a microphone, which amplified all the sounds within the interrogation room and transmitted them to the room on the other side of the glass wall where the onlookers observed.

The small door on the right side of the room opened and Meng Fanzhe was led in by two policemen. His hands and feet were shackled.

He kept his head down and appeared extremely weak, swaying when the police forced him into the chair. The blood had already dried around his mouth and his face was covered with dark red splotches.

The two policemen stared at him for several seconds. Then the older one said: "Name?"

Keeping his head down, Meng Fanzhe made no response.

The other officer turned the desk lamp to face Meng Fanzhe. Enveloped by the bright light, Meng Fanzhe's body made a twisted shadow on the back wall of the room.

"Name?"

Meng Fanzhe still said nothing. He was so motionless he could have been sleeping.

The older officer calmly lit a cigarette and opened one of the files in front of him. "Where were you on the morning of July 1, 2002, between one and three a.m.?"

No response.

"Where were you on the morning of August 10, 2002, between eight and nine a.m.?"

Still no response.

The other officer looked at the mirror on the wall behind him. He knew that many of his colleagues as well as the director himself were all watching from the other side. Turning back to Meng Fanzhe, who was still sitting as lifeless as a block of wood, he couldn't help but be shamed into anger.

Slamming a fist down on the table, the interrogator yelled, "Meng Fanzhe! Don't think that if you stay silent everything will be okay. According to the code of criminal procedure — "

Before he could finish what he was saying, Meng Fanzhe's head suddenly jerked up. Although he was facing the bright light, his eyes were wide open. If looks could have killed, the two officers opposite him would have been dead instantly.

"Aghh!" The same wild howl that Fang Mu had heard in the hallway roared again.

Although shackled to the chair, Meng Fanzhe struggled forward with all the strength he had, looking like he might snap his fetters at any moment and leap on the two officers. The younger one was so startled by the outburst that he recoiled back in his seat. The two cops standing behind Meng Fanzhe hurried to hold him down, but in that moment he seemed to have acquired superhuman strength at odds with his feeble appearance. Despite their superior size, the cops were unable to control him as he thrashed about in his confines, and one was nearly bitten in the commotion.

One of them pulled out a police baton and raised it.

Behind that two-way mirror, Fang Mu was in motion. "No!" He suddenly dove against the glass and pounded it with his fists.

Everyone observing froze at his outburst. After standing there stunned for two seconds, Tai Wei blurted, "Fang Mu?"

Fang Mu spun around and grabbed Tai Wei's arm. "Don't hurt him…"

"Who are you?" asked the director, cutting him off.

"Oh, he's the one that the suspect attacked," said Tai Wei quickly. "I asked him here to take his statement." He turned around and whispered to Fang Mu, "Go downstairs, I'll be there in a little bit."

"Tai Wei," said Fang Mu, pulling on his arm almost entreatingly, "let me talk to him. I'm positive something's up. There's no way he's the killer."

"Absolutely not!" Tai Wei threw him off and then whispered sternly, "Where do you think you are? Get downstairs now."

Fang Mu was adamant. "It can't be him; he's nothing like the person I predicted…"

The director, who had been standing to the side and aloofly watching all this, now spoke: "Tai Wei, is this the so-called genius you told me about?"

Realizing that it was already too late to hide anything, Tai Wei had no choice but to tell the truth. "Yes, sir." he said. "This is the one."

The director snorted disdainfully and turned to look into the interrogation room. Meng Fanzhe was still struggling, and had thrown both the cops off of him. One took out his electric baton, turned it on.

"Get out of the way!" he yelled to his comrade. Barely had the other officer moved, than the first officer pressed the baton against Meng Fanzhe's shoulder.

At once Meng Fanzhe's eyes went wide and his body bent like a bow as the current surged through him. The cop prodded him several more times, and after each Meng Fanzhe howled in pain and writhed like a fish on a chopping block. In moments he was no longer struggling, just slumped over in his chair, his whole body shaking.

With a hard look on his face, the observing director said, "We won't interrogate him tonight. Just lock him up for now; tomorrow we'll get some experts over here to give him a psychological assessment." He turned and walked out, glaring furiously at Tai Wei as he passed.

Tai Wei tried to explain, but the director had already passed. Helplessly, he just shook his head and turned back to the interrogation room where Meng Fanzhe was being dragged out of his seat like a dead dog. For a moment Tai Wei stood there with his arms crossed. Without turning his head, he said, "Take him back."

"Yes, sir," said Little Zhang. He grabbed Fang Mu's arm. "Let's go!"

Fang Mu tried to argue, but the cop pulled him roughly away.

The whole way back to the dorm, Little Zhang didn't say a word, just sped through the city streets. Fang Mu didn't want to talk either. He stared at the ink-black sky through the car windshield, his mind blank.

Arriving at the campus, Little Zhang tightly gripped Fang Mu's arm and marched him swiftly up to the third floor of Dormitory 5. By then Fang Mu's whole body ached and he had long since given up resisting.

The hallway was filled with noise and packed with onlookers. Some were students wearing nothing but underwear and a blanket over their shoulders; others were campus security guards who had just heard the news. Through the crowd, Fang Mu could see that all the lights in Meng Fanzhe's room were on and he could hear one of the cops standing outside yell repeatedly for everyone to move back.

The number for Room 313 had already been taken as evidence, and when the cop escorting Fang Mu tried to open the door, he found it was locked.

"Who here lives in Room Three-Thirteen?" Little Zhang yelled into the crowd.