Chapter Nine: The Pursuit

One hour later, the streets and alleys of Fucheng were filled with a continuous stream of police vehicles. Armed officers stood guard at every major thoroughfare, station, and dock across the city. The flashing red and blue lights atop various police cars cast harsh beams through the night. Vehicles were stopped at makeshift roadblocks, subjected to meticulous inspection.

Inside the 110 Command Center, the city's Public Security Bureau Chief Jiang Shangwu, Political Commissar Shen Tiejian, and over a dozen mid- and upper-level officials were gathered together, anxiously staring at more than twenty display screens. The air was filled with the constant ringing of telephones, radio transmissions, and the voices of 110 operators relaying orders.

At that moment, Detective Squad Captain Wei Mingzhong hurried into the command center with a stack of documents. Jiang Shangwu immediately ordered everyone to take a seat at the hastily arranged long table and motioned for Wei Mingzhong to present his report.

The short and stocky Wei Mingzhong stood and addressed the room: “The fugitive, Kang Ning, male, born December 21, 1970 in Lanning. Graduated from Lanning No. 93 High School in 1987, entered Shanghai Medical University the same year, graduated from the Department of Surgery in 1993, and began working at the Affiliated Hospital of the Autonomous Region’s Medical College that August. He received his master’s degree in May 1997. The incident occurred in the early hours of the twenty-first of this month, and he escaped from the Chengnan Sub-bureau at 1:40 a.m. today.”

Wei Mingzhong paused and raised his voice, “Attention, everyone: according to our newly gathered information, the fugitive is tall, strong, and exceptionally intelligent. In the spring of 1986, he won first place in Xingyi Boxing at the Guangxi Wushu Championships. Our own Detective Squad Deputy Captain Zhang Jianhan is his senior fellow apprentice. I just spoke to Zhang Jianhan in Guilin, and he confirmed that Kang Ning’s martial arts skills are no less than his own. All officers must be informed to proceed with extreme caution.”

An outcry rippled through the room. Everyone knew Zhang Jianhan had been the district's Sanda champion for four consecutive years. Two years ago, he’d been the only representative from Guangxi to win a national ranking in the police martial arts competition, taking third place in the sixty-eight kilo category— the only one in fifteen years from the province to have done so. Now, realizing the fugitive matched Zhang Jianhan’s prowess, many present were visibly shocked.

After the room settled, Wei Mingzhong continued, “There’s another matter to report: During high school, Kang Ning was on both the track and soccer teams, and played in many matches for our city team. He’s also a member of the city’s off-road vehicle association and was a top driver in last year’s Guangdong rally, finishing second out of over three hundred competitors. That concludes my report.”

As Wei Mingzhong sat down, Jiang Shangwu noticed his subordinates anxiously discussing the situation. He tapped the table to speak. Just then, the voice of a female operator came through, “Report: The micro-police vehicle, license 8149, driven by the fugitive, has been located behind the Xinyang Road Petroleum Building. The Western District Sub-bureau is currently searching the area.”

Jiang Shangwu strode to the large city map, studied it for a moment, then turned and commanded, “Three hundred meters west of the Petroleum Building is the Western Suburb Long-Distance Bus Station; north is the rail marshaling yard. Immediately instruct the Western District Sub-bureau to reinforce searches in both directions. Also, contact the railway police and request their assistance.”

“Get a full list of all passenger and freight trains leaving Lanning Station in the past three hours. Additionally, order the suburban sub-bureau to strictly check all vehicles and pedestrians on every road,” Commissar Shen Tiejian added decisively.

Wei Mingzhong wiped the sweat from his shining forehead with a handkerchief, then dabbed his round nose. Half-closing his small eyes, he smiled and said, “I agree with the chief and commissar’s assessment. I request permission for my squad to focus our main efforts on the train station’s major freight yards and marshaling areas.”

Jiang Shangwu, realizing the logic, immediately agreed. With orders in hand, Wei Mingzhong headed to the command platform.

Jiang Shangwu’s feelings toward his forty-eight-year-old, unremarkable-looking subordinate were mixed. He admired Wei’s wealth of experience and keen, meticulous judgment, which had helped crack many major cases under his direct leadership. Yet he was vexed by Wei’s lack of ambition. Jiang had hinted at promotions for years, but the veteran cop—who’d transferred out of a reconnaissance company in 1982—always responded with a sheepish, smiling air, claiming he was too old and uneducated, not wanting to block opportunities for others. As a result, Wei Mingzhong was the most well-liked officer in the bureau, if not the entire provincial police system.

To Shen Tiejian, Wei Mingzhong’s playful exterior masked a veteran party member of outstanding professionalism and diligence, with exceptional leadership skills in addition to his remarkable investigative ability.

Since his promotion to Detective Squad Captain five years prior, the once-troublesome squad had been utterly transformed. Efficiency soared within six months, and countless cold cases were solved over the years, earning the squad repeated recognition as a model unit. Shen Tiejian’s only regret was that his old friend and drinking companion held only a high school diploma. When Shen’s own rank was too low, he couldn’t help; by the time he became commissar, Wei was already past the age of promotion.

Wei Mingzhong’s judgment was spot on.

Kang Ning, having spent years training alongside his sworn brother, Zhang Jianhan, had learned much about police tactics. He was acutely aware of his peril. Aimless, he sped away from the Chengnan Sub-bureau, but after crossing the railway bridge, realized that driving further would only lead to certain doom.

Decisively, Kang Ning turned onto a side road, parked the car in a small wooded area behind the inconspicuous Petroleum Building, locked the doors, discarded the key, and staggered through a garbage-strewn lot. He pulled back a wire fence and entered the railway freight marshaling yard.

In the darkness, Kang Ning spotted more than ten people loading watermelons onto several train cars. Thirsty to the point of agony, he braced himself and approached.

A middle-aged man, likely the boss, spotted Kang Ning limping over in police uniform. He picked up a large watermelon and greeted him cheerfully, “Officer, working this late? Here, have a watermelon to quench your thirst!”

Under the dim lights, Kang Ning was momentarily stunned before remembering he was still in uniform. He accepted the watermelon without ceremony and sat in the shadows by the railcar wall. The boss graciously found a foot-long knife and handed it to him, standing by with a friendly smile.

“Thank you. Go on with your work,” Kang Ning said, slicing the melon without looking up.

“No rush, no rush. We’ll finish loading soon, half an hour and this’ll be on its way to Wuhan!” The boss looked down at Kang Ning’s bare feet, surprised. “Officer, why are you barefoot? The ground’s covered with stones—doesn’t that hurt?”

Kang Ning swallowed a mouthful of sweet melon and sighed after a moment, “I fell while patrolling just now, tore my sandals. Decided to go barefoot. Thanks for the watermelon!”

The boss laughed, “I see! Must be tough for you. You’re much nicer than the other officers here—polite and easygoing. Are you new around here? Oh, wait a moment, one of my loaders has a spare pair of army shoes, size should fit you. I’ll fetch them so you can manage for now.”

Watching the boss hurry off, Kang Ning was moved. He resolved to remember the man’s appearance and repay his kindness if he ever had the chance.

A short while later, the boss returned with a pair of army shoes, setting them quietly before Kang Ning. “Wow, you’ve got a bump on your head too. You should head home soon. We’re finishing up the paperwork. Want me to help you up?”

“No, no, that’s fine. Thank you!” Kang Ning handed him the knife and, lowering his head, concocted a story as he pulled on the shoes, “You go ahead. My colleagues will be here soon to pick me up. I’ll just rest here and wait for them. Go on, thank you!”

“Don’t mention it. Well, I’ll be off then. Take care!” The boss waved goodbye, but after a few steps, turned back to check on Kang Ning. Seeing Kang wave, he returned the gesture and finally strode toward the distant exit.

Five or six minutes later, near Gate Six of the freight yard, the boss saw four fully armed policemen with flashlights approaching. He rushed forward to greet them, “Officers, are you looking for your colleague? Hurry, he’s hurt pretty badly—big bump on his brow and head, lost his shoes too!”

The four officers immediately surrounded the boss. One grabbed his collar and shouted, “Where is he? Speak!”

Terrified, the boss pointed in Kang Ning’s direction, stammering, “O-over there… right, under the wall between the seventh and eighth tracks. Turn the corner and you’ll see him…”

The officer holding his collar barked an order, “Team Two, leave one man to watch this guy. Team One and the rest, load your weapons and come with me!”