Sha Qing Chapter 10

"You're planning to release Clyde Brandy immediately?" Inside one of the offices at the FBI headquarters in Ohio, a confidential meeting was being held. The female agent, Thea, raised her voice into a shout upon hearing her colleague's p.r.o.nouncement; her gorgeous face twisted in disapproval.

With his arm folded across the cold tabletop, Leo calmly responded, "Since he is innocent, we cannot—or rather, shouldn't—detain him any longer."

"But if that's the case, it'll be as Biqing said: if Clyde's released, the murderer will most likely act as fast as possible within this short time period."

"Then all we'll have to do is act faster and protect our subjects and potential victims. We can send our subject to a specific location, and have our side scatter around the vicinity; this will increase our protection and surveillance at the site and ensure our subjects' safety, as well."

"And how exactly as we supposed to do that?"

"For instance, I could 'incidentally' slip Clyde information that someone on campus, who has never been on good terms with him, was the one to report him to the officers. That rich brat d.a.m.n well has a strong sense of vengeance; he'll be p.i.s.sed, and he'll certainly look for the man to get his revenge, which, in turn, will result in a ma.s.sive commotion, eventually attracting our murderer's attention. Our killer will definitely seize this chance to shift the blame from himself, once again."

"You…Have you gone mad?! You actually want to do something like this—use an innocent citizen as bait to lure our killer?!" Thea stared at Leo incredulously, as though she truly didn't know who the person in front of her was anymore. "Have you even considered the serious repercussions of doing this? If there's even the smallest gap in our protection or the slightest miscalculation on our end, it may endanger his life! We're talking about an innocent young man's life, Leo!"

"Then do everything you can think of to keep him safe, and protect him with whatever you can! Place our most advanced GPS trackers on him to keep tabs on his whereabouts at all time, monitor him 24/7, use rubber bullets or tasers when attacking our suspect—use every means we can think of!" Leo raked his fingers through his hair in irritation. "This is a perfect opportunity, and we'd be utter fools to miss it! If we do, that campus serial killer is sure to escape right from under our noses. He'll lay low for a while, then strike again and go on a killing spree. But by then, it'll be too late. Bodies will keep piling up, and there'll be even more than just three victims!"

"Oh, I know just how good of an opportunity this is, believe me. But that doesn't mean we should take advantage of it by using questionable methods! There are other ways to catch this b.a.s.t.a.r.d; it isn't necessary to bet on the life of an innocent civilian!" Thea roared fiercely, before turning to Rob. "You know what? Let's do it by majority rules, then. It'll be two to one; us two will vote against Leo, and Leo's proposition can just go to h.e.l.l with him!"

"Well, to be honest…" Averting his gaze, Rob hesitatingly admitted, "I believe that Leo's method is quite reasonable…"

"Y-you f.u.c.kers are colluding with each other, aren't you?!" Thea slammed her palms down on the table, hard, causing the ground to shake from the violent impact. Gnashing her teeth in infuriation, she aggressively spat, "d.a.m.n you, Leo, I didn't think you were this kind of person! I thought you were honest and uptight like a textbook, someone who abides strictly and righteously to the rules. But it looks like you're just a complete a.s.shole who doesn't give a single s.h.i.t about anything! Vile b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

Leo coolly stared down at her with his deep, indifferent blue eyes and slowly said, "By fair means or foul, I'll do everything I can to achieve my only goal—to bring all criminals to justice. If you have enough sense in you to speak civilly and perhaps offer constructive advice, instead of screaming and whining like a ranting child, I'll consider whether I should change my decision. Otherwise, there's no need to discuss this. Now, are you willing to have an actual conversation or not?"

Thea was choking in fury. She repeatedly opened her mouth, only to close it; no words would form. She turned her attention to the eldest investigator in the room. "Doctor…"

The silver-haired old man stopped studying the papers in his hands and raised his head. Pushing up his lenses until they rested on the bridge of his nose, he sighed, "I've already said that I am merely a researcher, someone who can only provide technical information or offer simple advice. As for taking action, that is something those who will be on the field should decide about. Now, how about you three come to an agreement, yes? Perhaps continue with majority rules?"

"No need!" Thea angrily huffed. "I'll stand down for now and go along with the current plans. However, I get to report any misconducts that transpire during this period to the headquarters."

"Deal." Leo unhesitatingly agreed.

On his way to Portland's police station, Leo still felt the effect of Thea's enraged roars ringing in his ears. He strode towards his black Chevrolet SUV, before hopping in and igniting the engine. Rob, who was sitting in the pa.s.senger seat, shifted around nervously a few times, before opening his mouth and inquiring, "Do we really need to use that kid? I mean, I'm pretty sure the police chief will strongly oppose to this decision."

Without blinking, Leo replied, "Of course, I hoped it wouldn't be him in the first place, either. It'd be more than troublesome to involve someone whose family has connections with the police. But you saw what happened just now. With that little 'hint', Clyde immediately directed all of his anger at Quentin. He didn't even doubt the information or suspect anyone else. Those two had been in conflict with each other for ages, and they even fought right before he was convicted; hostility imbued deep into one's bones for that long is unlikely to fade anytime soon. Even if I want to shift his attention to someone else by giving him some other information, that stubborn rich kid won't believe it anymore. He already decided that the one who screwed him over was Quentin, and it's now impossible to change his mind."

Rob sighed deeply, "I can't even imagine how Officer Terry would react if he hears that we're involving his one and only beloved son in this, especially since that's the only family he has left to dote on, ever since his wife went on vacation a few years back, only to return with divorce papers in hand."

"Then we don't have to let him know—not at least until everything has been settled. Besides, it's already a done deal; we can't turn back now." Not even the slightest ripple of emotion could be seen on Leo's face with those dark shades he was wearing. "We need to mobilize special forces. I need at least ten people. We need at least two in the surveillance cars, and three directly on the site to protect and monitor 24/7. Before Clyde Brandy is released, GPS trackers must be installed in place to keep an eye on Quentin. We don't have the leisure for any errors or mistakes, understood?"

Rob nodded. "I'll head back and make the arrangements."

The release of Clyde Brandy was broadcasted on every news station, sparking another tempestuous wave of public dissent and outrage. The heated debate concerning the police's corrupt ways and whether the son of the renowned senator was truly innocent was the talk of the town. Reporters and journalists all flocked around the police station, tripping over each other and trying to push through Brandy's bodyguards, in order to get footage of Brandy Jr. and to gather even worthier news material. The instant Clyde stepped through the doors of the police station, he was bombarded by countless camera flashes and microphones.

"I already said I didn't kill anybody." Having seen the light of day after what felt like eons, the blond-haired, blue-eyed youth seemed to be in high spirits. "But this won't stop me from tipping my hat off to Interfector Rosa—yeah, that's right! Good job, my man! Keep at it!" He gestured wildly at the camera, shooting a thumbs up at it.

Anyone who was watching the television at this time, from those who were watching the hanging television in bars to those who watching through the windows of the malls, jeered angrily, booing raucously and hurling objects at the screen.

The second day after Clyde's release, another fight took place on the university campus. With their respective group of friends, the son of the police chief and the son of a member of congress both confronted each other. The two sides were evenly matched, just as fierce and powerful as one another. Nevertheless, if the clash continued as so, one of them would've been bruised and beaten, had the campus security not arrived at the scene on time.

The university could no longer turn a blind eye to this commotion. In order to avoid further rousing the noxious mayhem that haunted the campus grounds after the murder cases, the two students were suspended for three days; supervisors contacted each household, saying that such behavior would not be tolerated at the university, and asked their parents to bring their children back and educate them properly for the next couple of days.

Three days pa.s.sed within a blink of an eye, and the afternoon of the fourth day arrived. After cla.s.s, Quentin met up with his friends and headed over to a nearby club to catch up and have some fun. The group, comprised of six to seven college students, including Reggie. Almost all of them were drunk as h.e.l.l, to the point they didn't even know what was going on. Some could barely stand on their feet, while others were puking their guts out in trashcan in the lounge. Reggie was the first to throw in the towel and collapse; after unintelligibly shouting that he was going home, he drunkenly stumbled on his feet to the door, only to switch directions midway. Utterly dizzy and unable to recognize his surrounding, he knocked his head into a window and fainted. In the end, his companions had to call a taxi for him. Jabbering and hooting riotously, they sloppily stuffed him into the backseat of the taxi and told the driver his address.

The heavy ba.s.s quaked the ground, the blur of kaleidoscopic lights painted the unrestrained darkness, s.e.xy girls grinded on lively males; everyone was sweating, letting loose, adding even more heat to this wild, sensual night. Hours pa.s.sed, and amidst indulging in this intoxicating madness, Quentin received a phone call; he decided to step out for a while.

"What's up, Quentin?" A sober companion shouted at his retreating back. The African American boy held up a finger and said something, but his voice was completely drowned by the hypnotic electronic dance music rocking the entire club.

"He probably wants to throw up outside." Another tipsy friend slurred. "Just leave him alone for now. Come on, let's have some fun…"

"Our target has left the bar and has gotten into a car. He is now heading towards the university." In a large van, an FBI agent was wearing a headset and staring at the monitor screen. "He answered the phone before leaving; however, there was too much background noise interfering with the call, so we couldn't catch the conversation."

"Keep an eye on him." Leo's voice sounded through the headset. "Maintain a considerable distance, but don't lose him. Report back to me at all times."

"Yes, sir!" answered several voices, simultaneously.

In the dead of the night, a taxi stopped at the main entrance of the university. Quentin got out of the car, stretched out his arms, and belched loudly. The scent of the alcohol drifted with the cool, refreshing breeze of the night. He walked around for about twenty minutes and strolled through the vast, empty lawn, before entering a dark gymnasium.

"The target has been spotted at C10."

"Copy. Stay on alert and be prepared for any emergencies."

"Roger."

After stepping foot into the lounge area, the youth fumbled around in an attempt to find the light switch; but he soon found that there seemed to be some issues with the electricity. He then fished out his cellphone from his pocket, turned on the flashlight, and shined it around the room. A faint noise echoed from the innermost section of the room.

"Hey." It appeared as though someone greeted the boy and beckoned him over.

The monitors that were placed all over the vicinity transmitted the conversation to the agents hiding in the vehicles outside.

"I thought you went back early. What's going on? Why'd you call me out in such a hurry?" The loud sound of a palm smacking skin echoed through the empty gym, followed by the complaints of the African American youth. "G.o.dd.a.m.n, this place is so dark; I can't even see. And there are too many mosquitoes here!"

"Leave the mosquitoes alone, and they'll leave you alone. Anyways, check this out; I swear this is worth it. It's ten times better than going to the club to get drunk and pick up some thirsty b.i.t.c.hes." It was a male's voice. The other sounded very young, like a student. Hearing the other's voice, Leo was struck with an odd sense of familiarity, but he couldn't recall from where he heard this voice.

"Alright, what's up. Talk to me."

"So, I left Clyde a little note today. I pretended it was from the captain of the cheerleading team, you know that blonde chick with the huge t.i.ts. I bet Clyde's been dreaming of choking himself between those big-a.s.s knockers for the longest time."

"I'm guessing there'll be a good show to see then. So, what happened next?"

"So then, he came to gym at the appointed time, with his d.i.c.k all hard, probably thinking he was going to have the time of his life—you heard that thumping on the door to the locker room, right? I guess he's feeling a bit impatient now; I mean, he has been waiting this long."

"Bwahaha! You locked him the locker room? Man, you're a f.u.c.king genius, I tell you! I've been looking for the chance to give this motherf.u.c.ker a good beating!"

"Well, now you've got your chance. You haven't told anyone else about this, right?"

"Of course not. Didn't you tell me on the phone you wanted to keep this a secret?"

"Perfect. Come on then. Let's cover our faces first. The gear is in the bag on the bleachers."

The shuffling footsteps indicated that someone was on the move; Quentin was heading towards the bleachers. He crouched down before the bag and slowly pulled on the zipper—

A sharp warning flashed though Leo's mind. In that split-second, Leo's heart grew tense and his body, cold. As he rushed from his hiding spot, he shouted through his ear set microphone, "Move in! Now!"

Three plain-clothed agents, who were trailing after Quentin, jumped out from behind the door. Aiming their weapons, they shouted, "FBI! Hands up! Don't move!"

The instant the agents stormed the area, the shadow also acted, catching Quentin completely off guard. The other suddenly wrapped his left arm around Quentin's throat from behind, putting the other in a strong choke hold. The weapon gripped in the other's right hand was revealed under the shine of the flashlights—a long wooden spear that was thicker than a baseball bat; if not all, its sharp tip was coated with a lethal wax.

Several bangs resonated throughout the room, and rubber bullets shot out of the barrel of the gun, whistling through the air.  Although the lights were fairly dim, because the agents were simultaneously shooting at close range, four to five bullets were able to hit the suspect. The bullets struck the suspect's non-vital parts; it was as though his entire body had been mercilessly bludgeoned with an iron club. A loss of mobility followed the agonizing pain from the rain of bullets. Temporarily paralyzed, he instantly collapsed to the ground with a sharp cry.

Leo promptly twisted the suspect's arms behind his back, restraining the other's movements, and slapped some steel handcuffs on the other, finally putting an end to this five-day chase.

Under the bright light of the flashlight, the agents had a full view of the suspect's visage.

"It's you…. Reggie Dunn." Leo frostily spat out his name; his dark blue eyes were ice-cold. "You're the true campus serial killer."

The Latino boy's eyebrows arched beautifully, and his eyes shined with a tenacious light underneath his disheveled black curls. Despite the constant pain he was currently experiencing, he curled his lips into an arrogant sneer, stubbornly refusing to show any signs of weakness. With slight strain, he casually greeted, "Why, good evening, Officer Leo! You're unexpectedly half an hour early."

"What a pity. I've always had the habit of being too punctual." Leo emotionlessly responded. He then ordered his men, "Read him his Miranda Rights1, and take him with you." As he pa.s.sed by the frightened African American youth, he gave a firm pat on the back, then added, "Bring him with you to the police station as well, and return him to Sergeant Terry. Oh, and tell him that the FBI thanks him for his cooperation."

"Let me out! I have claustrophobia…" The agent opened the secured door to the locker rooms. Almost immediately, the blond youth, who had been wailing hysterically and banging on the door, frantically scrambled out. "Kill you… I'll f.u.c.king kill you! You motherf.u.c.king sons of b.i.t.c.hes!"

Leo seized his collar and lifted him up, "Boy, imagine if the FBI hadn't been on the scene to ambush our suspect. Quentin would've been tortured and killed in the school gymnasium, and anyone who opened those doors would've been met with the tragic sight of a horribly mutilated body. At that moment, you would've just woken up and ran out, screaming like a chicken with blood all over you…such a thrilling situation, wouldn't you agree?"

Having finally come to the realization that he'd escaped the greatest danger in his life just seconds ago, Clyde's knees buckled underneath him, and he shuddered violently. Imagine if he hadn't escaped this deathly trap…he surely would've been given the death penalty!

"If this lesson doesn't teach you to keep a low profile from now on, then remember to ask Senator Brandy to hire a good lawyer for you next time." Leo disdainfully loosened his grip on the youth's collar, shoving the other backwards, then swiveled on his heels and exited the area.

Portland City Police Station.

"You d.a.m.ned b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Extreme wrath distorted the African American officer's face; the veins on his forehead bulged with rage. Without considering the consequences, he raised his arm and threw a hard punch at the FBI agent.

Before the other's fist could connect with his face, Leo swiftly grabbed his extended wrist. Two agents instantly rush forth to suppress the livid officer who was now trying to pull his pistol out. As they tried holding him down, Officer Terry, who had long lost his rationality to emotions, struggled and snarled furiously, "You—you motherf.u.c.ker actually dared to use my only son as bait and throw him under that murderer's knife! How could you let him come close to that psychopathic killer! I'll f.u.c.king kill you!"

Leo slightly lowered his eyes. He stared at the other officer's boots, which reflected the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. It was as though this was merely the fragment of a miserable dream. Despite being confronted with the vicious roars of the seething officer, Leo's handsome face remained as grim and stoic as ever. With a deadpan tone, he said, "I truly apologize for not informing you in advance. However, this was the best opportunity to catch our perpetrator; I simply could not let this chance slip away. As a law enforcement officer, I believe you understand where I'm coming from. Furthermore, I took every measure possible to ensure the safety of your son. He is merely a bit frightened; just have him get some rest."

"That so-called protective measures of yours can go f.u.c.k itself!" Officer Terry gnashed his teeth. "That. Is. My. Son. I would never—absolutely never in my life—allow his life to be put in harm's way, no matter how small that threat might be or how much protection you might be giving him! If it was you, would you let your very own family be in a situation like this? Could you still let them stand at the edge of a cliff, where their life is hanging by a thread?"

"If, by doing so, I am able to save the lives of countless individuals—then, yes." Leo answered without the slightest hesitation.

"You f.u.c.king son of a b.i.t.c.h!" Lurid profanity spewed from the officer's mouth. Before he could struggle and pounce at the aloof agent again, he was dragged out of the room by a group of police officers, who were trying to calm him down.

Rob gazed at the other's retreating back. The usual unruliness and playfulness that normally glinted in his eyes had receded at the moment, and in its place was sobriety and concern.

"In my opinion, you could've spoken with a bit more consideration or tact. Maybe if you were a bit more euphemistic with your wording, he wouldn't have reacted so badly." He softly advised his partner. "We all understand that you had no better choice. We had to release Clyde Brandy sooner or later, whether it was today, tomorrow or days from now. If not all, the conflict between him and Quentin was inevitable; if they didn't fight today, they were bound to fight one day. Quentin had the greatest possibility of being the murderer's next victim. You only took advantage of this given fact to apprehend the suspect; besides, you tried everything in your power to protect the boy, and you did manage to protect him. From an objective point of view, you're certainly not in the wrong—rather, you're far from it. But, Leo, you have to understand that other people—or should I say, the vast majority—don't think this way; they can't see stuff objectively or think rationally, especially when it concerns things or people who are very important to them."

Surely, when you find something important that you hold dear, and you're faced with the same situation, you won't be able to give that same quick, stubborn answer that you unhesitatingly gave today. Rob added this final statement in his mind, before patting his partner's shoulder in comfort.

Leo glanced at him. His eyes flashed with a confused light, which soon vanished into the depths of his captivating blue eyes. For formalities' sake, he then told his partner, "I'll be heading to the interrogation room to make that guy talk. Are you coming along?"

"I thought we would be able to pop open a fine bottle of champagne in celebration, then head back home to get a good night's rest." Rob gloomily muttered. "Like a well-deserved reward, you know? I mean, we did capture another serial killer…"

"According to the general statistics announced by the headquarters, do you know how many active serial killers are currently running about, wreaking havoc, in the United States?"

"How many?" wondered Rob.

"About 300." Leo replied. "Let's say we decided to rest a bit. Exactly how many victims would desperately be crying out for help, while we take a break?"

"Alright, alright. We don't have to take a break, just changing our batteries and greasing our joints should be good enough." Crestfallen, Rob sighed dejectedly and spread out his palms in surrender. Once again, he was defeated by the black-haired agent's immovable halo of justice.

1A direct and concise statement: "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you." All officers who detain a criminal are required, by law, to read the suspect their Miranda Rights when in custody; in the case the defendant hasn't been read their rights, the prosecutor cannot use whatever they said against them or as evidence at trial. Of course, it is fairly more complex, and there are exceptions and such, but I'll not go over all the ins and outs of this right.