‘Chief?’ It was Qian. ‘We’ve got a murder at the Forbidden City. Deputy Tao’s on his way.’
‘So why are you telling me?’ Li was irritated by the interruption. He couldn’t be expected to attend every murder in the city. And right now, he was much more concerned about Margaret.
‘I thought you’d want to know, Chief. Apparently the whole place has been closed down for renovation work. The company have a night watchman on site. He found the east gate lying open about an hour ago, and half a dozen tracks or more coming in and out. He called security, and several armed officers went in with flashlights and followed the tracks in the snow. They found the body of a young man with his throat slit in a courtyard outside the Chu Xiu Palace on the north-west corner. The night watchman recognised him as one of the workers employed by the company.’
‘Why would I be interested in this?’ Li asked impatiently.
‘Because the dead kid is the brother of the missing athlete, Dai Lili.’
III
The Donghua Gate was choked with police and forensic vehicles, blue and orange lights strobing in the dark. Several dozen uniformed officers were standing around in groups, smoking and talking and keeping a growing crowd of curious onlookers at bay. The floodlights had been switched on, and so the red walls and russet roofs that towered above them stood out vividly against the night sky.
Li’s Jeep came roaring up Nanchizi Street, lights flashing, and slewed around the corner into Donghuamen. He leaned on his horn, and the crowd parted to let him through. He jumped out and nearly fell in his hurry to get to the gate. He felt a hand reach out to catch him. A voice. ‘Alright, Chief?’
He pushed past the officers standing around the open gate and stopped in his tracks. There, leaning against the wall, was Margaret’s bicycle, with its distinctive strip of pink ribbon tied to the basket on the handlebars. Another bicycle was lying in the snow just a few feet away. Tao and Wu emerged from inside the Forbidden City as he looked up. Tao was surprised to see him.
‘What are you doing here, Chief?’ he asked coolly.
Li found he could barely speak. He nodded towards the bike with the pink ribbon. ‘That’s Margaret’s bike,’ he said. ‘Doctor Campbell. She left her apartment about two hours ago with Dai Lili’s brother.’
Wu said, ‘Shit, Chief, are you sure?’
Li nodded.
‘Well, she’s not with him now,’ Tao said grimly. ‘There’s just the one body in there.’
‘Yeh, but lots of footprints,’ Wu said, chewing furiously on his gum.
‘You’d better take a look,’ Tao said, and his concern appeared genuine.
Li was so shaken he could not even respond. He nodded mutely, and the three men went back through the gate and into the Forbidden City. The lights had all been turned on, and the roofs and walkways, and vast open spaces glowed in the snow like a mediaeval winter scene from some classical Chinese painting.
Fluttering black and yellow tape had been strung between traffic cones to keep investigators from disturbing the tracks left in the snow by the players in whatever tragic drama had unfolded here. A drama whose final act had led to the murder of Dai Lili’s brother. Tao said, ‘Unfortunately, the night watchman and the security people who originally came in did not take any care over where they put their feet. You can see where their tracks cross the originals.’ Some of the older footprints had been partially covered by snowfall but were still clearly visible. ‘Lucky for us it stopped snowing,’ Tao added. Li was feeling anything but lucky.
In the courtyard of the Palace of Gathering Excellence, the body of Dai Lili’s brother still lay where Margaret and his sister had found it. But here, the snow had been savagely disturbed and was difficult to read. The pathologist’s photographer had rigged up lights and was making a meticulous photographic record of the scene. Pathologist Wang stood smoking in the far corner in hushed conversation with Chief Forensic Officer Fu Qiwei. Li and Tao and Wu followed the tape around the perimeter of the square. Wang looked up grimly and took a long pull at his cigarette. ‘More of the same, Chief,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ Li asked.
‘Multiple stab wounds. Just like the girl at Jingshan.’
Li glanced at Tao. ‘I thought he’d had his throat cut.’
‘Oh, sure,’ Wang said. ‘That’s what killed him.’ And he motioned for them to follow him around to where they could look at the body without disturbing the scene. ‘The throat was slit left to right. So the killer was almost certainly a right-hander. Severed the jugular and the windpipe. You can see how the blood spurted from the way it fell across the snow. He’d have been dead within two minutes.’
‘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.’