Chapter 60 Chapter 60 Looking Back

On Du's 22nd birthday, he got drunk with three of his best friends and a full platoon of buddies in a small bar in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.The bar has white walls, Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling, and lots of waitresses walking around you.What happened next completely ruined the party.As Du staggered off to pee, he heard a dull explosion and a scream or two.He was so drunk that he didn't realize what was happening, but when he emerged from the toilet, he was wide awake by what he saw. On the white wall hung large chunks of bones and strands of hair, and some blood-stained strands of hair were oozing blood drop by drop.A well-dressed seven-year-old girl walked into the pub and ignited the handmade explosives in her backpack. The blood and hair belonged to his friends and the girl.

The sad accident that year was the first thing he thought of when he walked into Perry Darcy's apartment.There was blood on the walls, on the floor, on the furniture.The kitchen floor looks more brownish red than white.Even the kitchen table was stained with blood, some slowly dripping down the edge and drying onto the thick brown marble floor.The apartment was filled with police officers from Ann Arbor, as well as some state troopers and workers from the Turner coroner's office in Washington. "Is this a big case?" Du looked over at local coroner Matt Mitchell who escorted him to the crime scene.Mitchell forced an unnatural smile, a fake eye that never seemed to be looking straight at things.He smirked, and seemed to be waiting to see if Du would spit out the bloody scene.

Du turned his head to the corpse, "Have you found out the identity of Jesus on the sofa?" "Jesus on the sofa?" Mitchell looked at the corpse with a smile, then turned to Du and said, "Hey, that's an interesting name." "Thank you," Du said, "I still have a lot." Mitchell glanced quickly at the notepad. "The victim's name was Bill Miller. He was a colleague and friend of Darcy's—they went to college together." "Can't a victim shed so much blood?" Mitchell looked at Du in surprise, but this time, there was a little more surprising respect in his eyes.

"You have good eyesight, Agent Phillips. Not everyone notices that. Have you seen anything like this before?" "Oh, once or twice." "We're still doing blood typing. There's also some blood in the bathroom and bedroom. Not all the blood is from the victim. You hit the nail on the head." Mitchell walked carefully into the kitchen, trying not to disturb the technicians who were gathering to collect evidence samples from the floor and tables. "I think there's another victim that we haven't identified," he said. "Another victim? You mean Darcy killed another man, and he took that body with him?"

Mitchell looked around the apartment, "Otherwise, how can you explain so much blood?" "Is it possible that it was Darcy's own blood?" Mitchell smiled. "Yeah, yeah, from the criminal's own blood. I want to see who can keep playing after losing so much blood." "Did you find anything else?" Mitchell nodded and pointed to the kitchen cabinets.On it was an evidence packet containing a haphazardly folded map. "Maybe, maybe not. The criminal put it on the cabinet. There are some bloody fingerprints on it, so it can be inferred that he has seen this map not long ago. And he circled Wagamega on it."

"Is that a town?" Du asked as he picked up the evidence package.Wet fingerprints stained the plastic bag.On the map, it is barely possible to see a sentence "this is here" written indiscriminately. "Yeah," Mitchell said, "well, it's about an hour and a half by car." "Have you notified the police in Wagamega to be on alert?" "The town is too small to have any police, but we've notified the Tuskola County Sheriff's Department. After all, where the hell isn't the police on alert in the country?" Du nodded.Maybe there is, maybe not—as Mitchell said, but Du is more inclined to find some clues—fools can imagine that Darcy didn't circle Wagamega on a whim.

A muscular man in a brown sport coat struggled his way through the crowded apartment, dodging photographers and another cop, and made his way to Du and Mitchell.His thick chin makes him look a lot like Jay Leno.He held up a crumpled piece of paper and seemed unhappy. "Are you Phillips?" Du took out his ID card from his jacket pocket.The man looked it over carefully and returned it to Du.Now, he looks a little more relaxed. "I'm Detective Bob Zimmer of the Ann Arbor Police Department. I'm in charge of this investigation." Du shook his hand. "Mr. Phillips, we don't have many federal investigators here."

"I don't understand why this happened," Du said. "It's a cozy town." "There's a lot of criminal record on this guy Darcy," Zimmer said. "We can't imagine having an international terrorist around. Hope you guys can help us stop things from getting worse." "Believe me, Bob, this is what we all want." Mitchell took out a piece of paper and looked at it.But Du didn't intend to disturb him, because he already knew what was written on it.Darcy committed the crime of violence and his sentence was suspended.The content on the paper was done in advance by the computer experts under Murray's command according to Du's meaning: When the local police and National Guard collected Darcy's records, they found that he had a long history of violence and had suspicious ties to "Al Qaeda."The CIA even included Darcy in the list of extremely dangerous elements.After seeing the condition of Bill Miller's body, the local police were even more convinced of the false charge.

Mitchell blew a long whistle, "The damn extremist terrorist military organization?" "That's right," Du said. Zimmer's face sank, "Then the fuck did you let that guy run away?" He was a solid man, his voice sounded as thick as his pec Distrust of things seen or discovered. "Do you think the CIA is going to fucking call me and tell me there's a terrorist in this town?" "Bob, he is what we often call a 'dark horse,'" Du said. "He has an ordinary identity, does an ordinary job, and kills people without blinking an eye. It is what terrorists who incite hatred want most. The type to want. They want him to stay here, live in this society until they need him, and he blows up."

Zimmer pointed to Bill Miller's impaled body, "Then why is he blowing up on this guy?" "How the hell do I know, officer?" "Please call me Detective Zimmer." "Okay, of course, officer, whatever you say," Du said, "make sure you get the message across to your men. You tell them the giant son of a bitch is a big problem—they'd better shoot first Ask more questions. If Darcy bumps into any of them, they'll probably never get another chance to hear you call them stupid pigs." Mitchell raised his head, "Why would a white-collar worker who graduated from college become a terrorist?"

"Like everybody else," Du said, "for the money. Let's just say Darcy was supposed to make 20 million a few years ago playing in the NFL, but he had a knee injury and lost opportunities and things like that It hurt him a lot. Then he was persuaded by some smooth-talking people, accepted a lot of cash, and started playing for his new team." Mitchell nodded, and it seemed that this explanation was very convincing.He handed the paper to Zimmer, nodded to Du again, and then continued to start his evidence collection work. Zimmer stared at Du. "I'm telling you right now that I'm sick of it," he said. "There's a guy dead in this town and he's still on the loose. If you'd let us know ahead of time that you were watching this guy, everything would have been okay. avoid." "We've got to figure out who's contacting him, who's supporting him," Du said. "It's uncomfortable, Bob, but they're going to be screwed. The important thing is we don't want a second victim." .If you want to save someone, you just need to figure out what kind of person your subordinates are going to deal with. Sorry now, I have to make a few phone calls, excuse me." Du walked out of the blood-stained apartment, leaving Bob Zimmer brooding alone.