Chapter 5 Section five

Nieman winked: "It's just women, Yu Sinuo. Look, this is action." The sky was dull and dark with drizzling rain, and the asphalt road snaked through the entire campus, leading to each pale gray building with blue windows and rust.Nieman took the school floor plan and drove slowly along the road leading to the Independence Stadium.He came to a brand new building.The building stood there more like a bunker than a gymnasium.He got out of the car and took a deep breath. He looked at the campus and buildings hundreds of meters away.Once, his parents were also teachers, teaching in a small school in the suburbs of Lyon.He doesn't remember anything, though, or rather he's been trying to forget.Soon, the bondage of the family seemed to him a weakness and a lie, and he realized that he should fight independently, the sooner the better.From the age of thirteen, he asked to live in school.He decided to leave home, and no one dared to refuse his request.But he also remembered his mother weeping softly behind the partition of his room, a voice in his head and a feeling, a dampness and warmth on his skin.He escaped.

Four full years of boarding life, four full years of loneliness and physical training, and likewise, four full years of courses.At that time, all his hopes were directed towards one goal, one thing: the army. At the age of seventeen, Pierre Nymann took part in a three-day pre-selection assessment for enlistment as an honorary graduate for the Police Academy.When the army doctor told him he was cut out and explained the sentence to him the CSO, the French enlistment pre-selection center, conducts a three-day selection of young men for enlistment.During these three days, applied psychology tests and physical examinations are conducted to determine whether enlistees are eligible for military service.

When it came to why, young Nieman understood: his overt ambition had betrayed him.He knew that his fate would be a long corridor, immaculate but covered with blood, and mad dogs barking at the end of the darkness... If other young people would have given up long ago, they would have listened obediently to the psychiatrist judge.But Pierre Nyman would not, he persisted tenaciously, continuing physical training with double passion and will.The young Pierre, who never became a soldier, chose to engage in another kind of combat, that is, the unsung struggle against everyday evils in the streets.He wants to dedicate his strength, his soul, to this war that has neither glory nor pennant, but he is sure to persist to the end.Nieman wants to become a policeman. With this goal in mind, he has been training for years and months to cope with the mental test in the future.Next, he was admitted to the Cannes-Eclus Police School.Since then, a period of intense training has begun, and he has achieved excellent marksmanship training.Nieman constantly improves himself and strengthens himself, becoming a policeman unparalleled in the world: tough, violent, and rebellious.

He first joined the ranks of the neighborhood cops and then became an elite shooter with the brigade.This brigade later became the BRI (Investigative Intervention Police Brigade).Special operations have begun.He kills the first person.At that moment, he secretly made an agreement with himself, this is the last time to face his own bad luck. No, he was never a haughty soldier, nor a valiant police officer.He is a warrior of the city, fanatical and stubborn, drowning his fears in the violence and mania of the streets. Nieman took a deep breath of the mountain air.He missed his mother who had passed away for many years and the past, and his thoughts seemed like a raging canyon.Memories begin to crack, then disappear, crashing into pieces in front of oblivion.

Suddenly, Nieman heard a sound of trotting, as if in a dream.The dog was muscular, with short hair that shone in the drizzle.Its eyes, like two small balls painted with gray paint, were fixed on the sheriff. It moved closer, wiggling its hips slightly.The officer remained motionless.The dog took a few steps closer, its wet nose trembling slightly.Suddenly, it screamed, its eyes were shining, and it felt fear, the fear of the sheriff. Nieman froze.His limbs seemed to be imprisoned by an inexplicable force, and somewhere in his abdomen began to twitch, seeming to drain his blood.The dog barked, curling its drooping lips.Nieman knew what was going on.Fear activates the olfactory molecules, and the dog has fear and hostility, and fear breeds fear.The dog barked for a while, then a gurgle rolled in his throat and his teeth rattled.The policeman drew his pistol.

"Clarice! Clarice! Come back, Clarice!" Nieman recovered from his frozen state.He saw from a distance, on the other side of the red veil, a gray-haired man in a pullover was walking quickly. "Are you crazy?" Nieman muttered. "Police. Get out of the way. Take your dog." The man is intimidated. "Damn it, I don't believe your nonsense. Come on, Clarice, come on, little..." The owner and his dog walked away.Niman wanted to swallow, but his throat felt dry, like a furnace.He shook his head, reinserted the gun, and walked around the building.When turning to the left, he tried to recall: How long has it been since he saw a psychiatrist?

Around the second corner of the gym, the sheriff spotted the woman. Fanny Ferreira stood by the gate, sanding a piece of red foam.The police guessed that it was used for rafting, and she was sitting on it to rush down the rapids. "Hi." When greeting, he nodded. He regained his enthusiasm and confidence. Fanny raised her eyes.She should be in her early twenties, with dull skin, slightly curly hair, with tiny curls around the temples, cascading down to her shoulders.Her cheeks were dark and round, but her eyes were bright, almost too bright. "I'm Inspector Pierre Nyman. I'm investigating the murder of Rémy Gojois."

"Pierre Nyman?" she repeated incredulously. "Damn it, I can't believe it." "what?" She gestured with her head, pointing to a small radio on the ground: "The news was still talking about you just now. They said that you arrested two murderers at the Parc des Princes last night, which is good. But they also said that you will One of them was beaten beyond recognition, which is not good. Do you have a clone or something?" "I just ran all night." "What are you doing at our school? Aren't there enough police here?" "According to what they said, I'm here for reinforcements."

Fanny went back to work—wet the rectangular surface of the foam board and pressed it between her palms, crushing the crumpled sandpaper.Her body looked stocky and strong.Not smartly dressed—neoprene scuba trousers, sailor overalls, bright leather hiking boots tightly tied.The dim light sets off a gentle atmosphere for the whole scene. "You seem to be able to bear the mental blow." Nieman continued. "What hit?" "Uh...found..." "I just try not to think about it myself." "Would you mind bringing it up again?" "That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

She didn't look at him, her hands moved up and down along the floating board, her movements were stiff and rough. "Under what circumstances did you find the body?" "Every weekend, I go rafting..." She pointed to her small upturned kayak, "Sit on that. Around the campus, a natural dam formed by rocks blocks the river, so it's easy to get in. I'm moving the kayak When I was on the boat, I saw it..." "On a rock?" "Yes, on the rock." "No, I've been there. I've noticed that there's no room at all. Looking up the cliff, fifteen meters above the ground, it's impossible to see anything."

Fanny threw the sandpaper into the trash can, wiped her hands, and lit a cigar.These simple actions suddenly aroused a strong desire in Nieman's heart. The woman let out a long mouthful of blue smoke: "The corpse is on the rock wall, but I am not the corpse I saw on the rock wall." "Where?" "I saw it when I was floating on the river. Because it was reflective, a white spot was reflected on the water." Nieman's expression relaxed: "That's exactly what I thought." "Is this important to your investigation?" "No. But I like to figure things out." Niman paused, and then continued to ask: "Can you climb mountains?" "how do you know?" "I don't know...just, this place. Also, you look very...athletic." She turned and opened her arms towards the mountains rising from the valley.This is the first time she laughed. "This is mine, Sheriff! I know all the mountains from Belle Peak to the Big Luce. When I'm not rafting, I'm climbing the mountains." "In your opinion, to put the corpse on the edge of the wall, do you need to be able to climb mountains?" Fanny became serious again.She watched the burning end of the cigar. "No, not necessarily. The rocks make convenient natural steps. Still, it takes a lot of strength to carry a corpse of that weight without losing balance." "One of my officers thought the killer probably climbed up from the other end, where the slope was less steep, and then lowered the body tied to one end of the rope." "That's a long detour." Fanny hesitated for a moment, and then continued, "Actually, there is a third way. It's very simple, as long as you know some climbing techniques." "Please tell me." Fanny stamped out the cigarette butt with her foot, then picked it up and flicked it away. "Come with me," she ordered. They went inside the gym.In the shadows, Nieman saw piles of floor mats, straight shadows of parallel bars, poles, and knotted ropes. Fanny walked to the right wall and commented: "This is my den. In summer, no one will come here. I can deposit my belongings." She lit a lantern and hung it on the workbench.On the table were all kinds of tools and metal devices, with different points and blades, glowing silvery white or emitting high-pitched sounds.Fanny lit another cigarette.Nieman asked, "What is this?" "Some rollers, carabiners, transmission rods, walking sticks: climbing equipment." "So……" Fanny exhaled smoke again and pretended to cough a few times: "Then, Mr. Sheriff, as long as the murderer has these things and knows how to use them, there is no problem in transporting the corpse up the steep river bank without any difficulty." Nieman folded his arms and leaned against the wall.Fanny was fiddling with tools, a cigarette dangling from her mouth.These small actions of hers intensified the sheriff's desire, and deep down he liked the girl. "As I said," she said reproachfully, "the cliffs here seem to have natural steps. For a person who knows how to climb mountains or is used to hiking in high mountains, climbing is as simple as a child's play. " "and then?" Fanny grabbed a fluorescent green pulley dotted with tiny holes. "Then, you anchor this to the rock, above the crevice." "On a rock! How to do it? With a hammer? That takes a lot of time, doesn't it?" "You know next to nothing about mountaineering, Sheriff," the woman said, smoking a cigarette. She grabbed some hook screws from the table. "It's a nail. It goes into the rock. With a drill like this," she pointed to a black, oil-stained drill, "you can put a nail in just a few seconds. On the rocks. Then fix the pulleys, and then you just lift your body. This is the way we use to carry backpacks in narrow and difficult places.” Nieman curled his lips suspiciously: "I didn't climb up there, but, in my opinion, the stone crevice should be very narrow. I don't know how the murderer can get support on the cliff, and only use the strength of his arms to hold his body weight, and the space is so small. Or we assume, the murderer was a giant." "Who told you it was pulled up from there? To hoist his victim, the climber need only do one thing: slide down the other end of the pulley, and with the help of the pulley, the body will go up by itself." The police officer suddenly understood the technique and laughed: "But this requires the murderer to be heavier than the deceased, isn't it?" "Or the same weight. When you are suspended in the air, the weight will increase. Once the body is suspended, the murderer can quickly climb up the rough surface of the rock wall and insert the body into that exaggerated dent." Nieman looked again at the nails, bolts, and buckles on the table.He was guessing it was a burglar, but a special kind of burglar: a gravity driller who worked at heights. "How long does this operation take?" "For someone like me, less than ten minutes." Neiman nodded.The image of the murderer gradually emerged. The two left the gym.The sun shone through the clouds and fell on the crystal clear peaks. "Are you a professor at this university?" asked the sheriff. "Professor of Geology." "anything else?" "I'm teaching several classes: taxonomy of rocks, geological fault tectonics, and glaciology, the study of the evolution of glaciers." "You look very young." "When I got my doctorate at twenty, I was already a lecturer. I was the youngest recipient of the degree in France. Now I'm twenty-five, and I'm already a full-fledged professor." "What an academic animal." "Yes, an academic animal. I am the daughter and granddaughter of the emeritus professor at Ganon University here." "Then you are also a member of the club?" "What society?" "One of my lieutenants went to Ganon. He explained to me that the university has a special elite society made up of the children of university professors..." Fanny shook her head in a mischievous gesture: "I would rather say it was a big family. The children you mentioned grew up with schooling and culture and then achieved excellent grades. It seems natural. , isn't it?" "Even in sports?" She raised her eyebrows: "This is a gift from Dashan." Nieman went on: "You probably know Rémy Goyois. How is he?" Fanny replied without hesitation: "Aloof, closed, and always frowning, but very talented and well-bred. There's a rumor here... people say he's read all the books in the library. " "Do you think this rumor is true?" "I don't know, but he knows this library well. It's his lair, his sanctuary, his territory." "He's young too, isn't he?" "He grew up in a library, and his father used to be the university librarian." Nieman took a few steps: "I don't know this. Does the Goyowa family also belong to your 'big family'?" "Of course not. On the contrary, he reported hostility to it. Despite his culture, he never achieved the results he expected. I think...in fact, he is jealous of us." "What is his specialty?" "Philosophy. He's done a thesis." "What subject?" "have no idea." The police officer was silent, looking at Dashan.The mountains are getting brighter and brighter, like dazzling giants. "His father," he continued, "is he still alive?" "No, disappeared for a few years. Mountaineering accident." "Is there nothing suspicious about it?" "What are you looking for? He died in an avalanche, the Mount Allermont avalanche, in 1993. You're so dedicated." "We had two librarians who loved climbing mountains, a father and a son, and both died in the mountains. Such a coincidence should be taken seriously, shouldn't it?" "There is nothing to suggest that Remy was killed in the mountains." "Yes. However, he went hiking on Saturday morning. He must have been attacked by the murderer on the high mountain. Perhaps the murderer knew his route, so..." "Remy isn't the type to travel the traditional route, and he doesn't tell anyone about it. He's a very... mysterious person." Nieman bowed and said, "Thank you very much, miss. You know the procedure, and if you recall any details... you can reach me at one of these numbers." Nyman wrote down his mobile phone number and the contact details of the room the principal had given him at the university—the cop preferred to be on campus, not at the station. He whispered, "Goodbye." The young woman didn't look up.As the officer was leaving, she asked, "Can I ask a question?" Her clear pupils stared at him, and Niman felt a little embarrassed.Such irises are too bright, watery like glass, and as cold and hard as ice flowers. "Please," he replied. "On the radio, they say...well, you were part of the brigade that killed Jacques Merlin, is that true?" "I was young then. But, yes, it was true." "I want to ask... after that, how do you feel?" "After what?" "After something like this happened."