Chapter Ten: Potential

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Kang Ning watched as the watermelon vendor turned the corner, then lowered his head to devour the remaining slices with ravenous haste. Suddenly, several shafts of flickering light appeared five hundred meters to the west, sending a chill of terror through him. Ignoring the pain wracking his body, he sprang to his feet and pressed himself against the wall, speeding eastward. As soon as he peeked out, he halted abruptly and ducked back—under the towering lights of the freight yard, nearly ten armed officers were racing toward the spot where he was hiding, about a hundred meters north.

Kang Ning cursed inwardly, the feeling of despair closing in on him, with nowhere left to run.

Just as he was paralyzed with indecision, a train to the east let out a whistle that started slow and grew urgent as it accelerated. Elated, Kang Ning leapt from the platform, crouched low, darted across two sets of tracks, and charged directly toward the oncoming train, heedless of the shouted warnings from the police behind him threatening to open fire. In the instant the locomotive bore down, he hurled himself across the rails, so suddenly that the engineer, continuously sounding the horn, squeezed his eyes shut in fright.

Over forty officers converging from three directions watched in shock as Kang Ning risked obliteration to cross the tracks. They stood stunned in the deafening blast of the horn—such scenes were only ever witnessed in movies, now unfolding vividly before their eyes. How could the police not be shaken?

“Quick! Fan out and search both sides, bend down and look under the train, keep a close eye on the other side, move!” shouted Gong Wei, the station police chief assisting in the manhunt. But the rumble and gusts whipped up by the train drowned out his voice.

Seconds later, the train passed. Within a hundred meters across the tracks, the space illuminated by dozens of police flashlights was empty; even seventy meters away, the tall perimeter wall revealed nothing at all. Gong Wei raised his voice again: “The southern wall is a kilometer long, the fugitive can’t escape that way. He must have climbed onto the train. Are there officers posted at Xinyang Station up ahead? This train will reverse direction toward Wuhan after coupling cars at Xinyang.”

“There are!” responded Yang Yong, captain of the second criminal investigation squad, unhooking his radio and calling loudly, “This is O2, O3, do you copy? This is O2, O3, do you copy?”

“O3 copies, O3 copies!” After a burst of static, a jumble of voices came through.

“The fugitive may have boarded the train bound for your location, the fugitive may have boarded the train bound for your location! Keep a close watch, search carefully, keep a close watch, search carefully!”

“O3 understood! O3 understood!”

Yang Yong breathed a sigh of relief, turned to Gong Wei with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Brother Wei! Will this freight train stop again after leaving Xinyang?”

“No, it won’t. I suggest you notify the police at Lingli Township, twenty-five kilometers north. The train will couple two cars carrying green peppers there. I’ll alert the Lingli Station staff to assist with inspection—it’s safer that way. If you catch the fugitive at Xinyang, we can cancel orders later.” Gong Wei, a native of Shandong, thought it through thoroughly.

Yang Yong thanked him earnestly, then immediately reported to headquarters by phone. Deputy captain Liu Weiqing came over, handed Gong Wei a cigarette, lit it, and asked, “Brother Wei, do you think the fugitive might jump off the train midway?”

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“It’s possible, but I’d say it’s unlikely,” Gong Wei replied, blowing out a puff of smoke. He explained, “After the tracks pass the elevated railway bridge up ahead, they rise five or six meters above ground. Both sides are fully enclosed by five kilometers of iron mesh, followed by a fifteen-hundred-meter iron bridge with cement-lined ditches—very solid. Two years ago, a dispatcher made a bet and jumped, ended up dead. The only reason I say it’s possible is because the fugitive’s leap in front of the locomotive was extraordinary. I’ve worked the railroad over thirty years, never seen such a formidable fugitive.”

Liu Weiqing sighed, “Broke two ribs and still that fierce, damn impressive!”

“What? The fugitive broke two ribs? How—”

Liu Weiqing grabbed Gong Wei’s hand to cut him off, glanced at Yang Yong calling nearby, then lowered his voice, “Brother Wei, I won’t hide it from you. I heard the fugitive, despite serious injuries, knocked down four people in ten seconds—one was the infamous underground boxing king, Huang Kebin, the fourth Huang, you’ve heard of him. The other two were our own men, all three are hospitalized at the armed police hospital, and the last was Blue Mayor’s only son, Lan Tao. The case is complicated. Forgive me for not saying more.”

Fifty-year-old Gong Wei’s mouth hung open, his eyes filled with incredulity...

Clinging to the exterior of the speeding freight car, Kang Ning panted heavily, the wind whipping his head straight back and stinging the wounds on his forehead and eyebrows. Yet he gripped the iron handrails tightly, terrified that a slip would mean certain death.

Soon the train crossed the Yongjiang rail bridge, the storm of wind so intense Kang Ning struggled to breathe. He peered ahead desperately, suddenly recalling that after the bridge came the fully enclosed Xinyang Station, where police surely awaited him. Anxiety gnawed at him as the huge steel structures flashed past, but he lacked the courage to jump off.

At last, the train entered a curve and slowed. Kang Ning clearly saw the tall walls of Xinyang Station two hundred meters ahead. No longer caring about the perilous terrain, he fixed his gaze on a lush mango tree approaching, braced himself, and leaped from the car. His body sailed several meters through the air, his weight and momentum snapping branches and scattering leaves, but the elastic limbs cushioned the impact, dissipating most of the force. Still, the main trunk, as thick as his arm, fractured and toppled.

Gritting his teeth against the pain in his abdomen, Kang Ning clung to the broken trunk, lowering himself slowly. When he was about two meters from the ground, he let go and dropped, sending a spray of leaves and branches bouncing back up into the night air.

He scrambled up, ignoring the blood streaming from his split palms, and jogged hunched over the gravel bed, cautiously scanning both directions. Just then, a train slowly departed Xinyang, whistling as it accelerated toward the city.

Kang Ning hesitated about whether to climb aboard again, but aside from the tall iron mesh, there were only two options—one, the perilous Xinyang Station, or two, the recently escaped Lanning Station. Both routes were fraught with danger.

While he vacillated, the train had already passed his hiding spot, picking up speed toward the city.

In a desperate rush, Kang Ning made the right choice. He stood and ran alongside the train, and after missing one car, finally grabbed a handrail on an open car, pulled himself up, swung twice, and found a foothold.

Steadying himself, Kang Ning surveyed the car—an open wagon. Boldly, he climbed atop, only to be startled by what he saw: the dozen cars ahead carried large cannons covered by tarpaulins, while behind him were a mail car and a locomotive, and the car he was in, as well as the one beneath, were packed with water buffalo.

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Kang Ning could only choose to jump into the car. After finally steadying himself, he pushed aside a pile of straw among the herd, indifferent to the stench, and collapsed, gasping for breath. Checking his wounded palms, he leaned weakly against the boards, closed his eyes, and pondered his next move as the train raced toward Lanning Station.

Meanwhile, Yang Yong and his criminal investigation squad, stationed by order at Lanning, saw a train approaching from Xinyang and immediately turned to Gong Wei: “Brother Wei, is the train returning?”

“Not so quickly, but this train isn’t on the dispatch schedule!” Gong Wei’s assistant stepped forward, “Chief, this is a military train from the Pingxiang border. I meant to report it to you, but in the rush I forgot.”

Gong Wei shot the assistant a glare, then explained to Yang Yong, “Such special trains usually don’t stop here. If they don’t stop at Changgangling to the north, they’ll run straight through to Litang.”

“So did it stop at Xinyang?” Yang Yong asked anxiously.

“No, Xinyang is purely a civilian freight station. All major enterprises’ warehouses are there, and security has always been robust, with an armed police fire brigade stationed as well,” Gong Wei answered carefully.

Yang Yong relaxed. Watching the military train pass, each flatcar carrying cannons guarded by armed soldiers, he felt reassured, joining his colleagues in quietly watching the train disappear into the distance.

Nearly an hour later, Yang Yong’s radio crackled: “O2, this is O3, do you copy? O2, this is O3, do you copy?”

Yang Yong picked up and replied, “O2 here.”

“At a point one hundred twenty meters from the Xinyang Station wall, traces left by the fugitive have been found. At seventy meters, traces left by the fugitive have been found. We are currently searching along the tracks toward your location, requesting cooperation, we are currently searching along the tracks toward your location, requesting cooperation, over!”

“O2 understood!”

Yang Yong turned to Gong Wei, but found him facing away, silently gazing in the direction where the military train had vanished.