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TWENTY-TWO
DATE: 10 April
TIME: 1600 hours
I wasn’t going to make the same mistake as last time. This time I’d use my tranquilizer gun. No direct contact. No threats at knifepoint. I’d render her unconscious from a distance, firing one simple tranq dart. Then I’d drag her body into the woods, tie her up, and bind each leg to a tree. I’d wait until she came to, then make her feel the pain of her betrayal.
I raised my weapon—and stopped.
She was stretching before she got started on her usual jog around Lake Ceva. Two solidly
built guys arrived simultaneously, one settling himself at the far end of the lake with a textbook, the other strolling the perimeter, drinking in the fresh air. Then a third guy showed up in shorts and a T-shirt. He joined Tyche in her run, keeping a comfortable pace beside her.
Their disguises were pathetic. Even a moron could tell they were cops.
So I went away, returning now, with my tranquilizer gun, when classes are over and she’s back in her dorm.
Biao zhi.
Campus police pretending to be college students, sitting in the archway outside each building entrance.
I watch the real students exiting the building, complaining as they walk. Having campus security posted outside Tyche’s door, 24/7, is screwing up their social lives. Their parties are all on hold. No one wants to risk sneaking alcohol past the cops. So they’ve been going to other dorms to party. And it’s really starting to piss them off.
I almost laugh aloud at the absurdity of their concerns.
I’m surprised by my own reaction. I should be enraged over wasting my time, and furiously planning how to outwit the cops and get into her room.
But I’m not.
She’s simply not worth it. My knowledge is greater now, my understanding deeper.
It isn’t true evil that courses through Tyche’s blood. It’s ignorance and unworthiness. She isn’t the same kind of filth as the ji nv I eliminated the other night. She’s just a stupid biao zhi, who will never know what she just sacrificed.
The loss is hers. Let her remain in this ugly world, full of diseased and soulless people. While I and the true goddesses soar to Mount Olympus.
That’s the greatest punishment I can impose upon her, after all.
FBI New York Field Office
26 Federal Plaza, New York City
5:15 P.M.
Jeff rounded the corner and strode into Derek’s cubicle, ignoring the fact that his partner was hunched over the keyboard.
“I just got a call from the Fifth Precinct,” he announced. “Another prostitute’s been murdered. Butchered, from what they said. Details are sketchy right now. But it sounds like the same MO. Naked, tied up, throat slashed, coin placed right beside the body. The M.E. put the time of death on Tuesday, sometime between two and five in the afternoon. The body was in a tenement on Eldridge—not a warehouse this time, a resting house. The NYPD got an anonymous tip about the body. The caller was female and could barely speak English.”
“One of the victim’s friends, coworkers, or roommates,” Derek said grimly. “And if the cops found her in a resting house on Eldridge, you know she’s one of Xiao Long’s girls.” He threw down his pen in frustration. “Shit. This is the last thing we need. Xiao Long was on the verge of having his gang declare all-out warfare on the Black Tigers. Last time, we narrowly avoided a war. This time, we’re going to have to do major damage control. And I mean major.”
“I know.” Jeff gave a sober nod. “The M.E. said he’d move as quickly as possible on the autopsy. They’re doing a drug screen to see if she’s got ketamine in her system, like the others. And they’ll check to see if the Unsub abused her sexually—and, if so, if it was as vicious as the slashing. Because, like I said, this one was really brutal.”
“Our psycho’s had too much time between prostitutes,” Derek said in a dark, sardonic tone. “He stored up his hatred and his swimmers.” A disgusted sound. “These days all I do is deal with psychos. And I’m not getting any closer to tracking them down.” He glanced at the database he’d been accessing, then logged out, mentally putting the Truman case on hold. “This is going to be an all-weekend deal,” he informed Jeff.
“I expected as much. When I spoke to the Fifth, I asked for their help. Until we can convince the Red Dragons and the Black Tigers that neither of their gangs is involved in these murders, we’re going to have to turn Chinatown into a police state.”
“And deal with the fallout from that, too.” Derek reached for the phone. “I’d better call Sloane and tell her that I won’t be seeing the light of day—or her—this weekend.”
“Yeah. I’d better make a similar call.” Jeff headed off. “I’ll be back in ten.”
