Chapter 1

A particularly serious crime had shaken the city.

When a bus driver braked suddenly, a passenger lost his grip on a cloth bag. Its contents rolled onto the floor.

The other passengers looked closer.

It was a bloodied human head.

Panic erupted. The driver opened the doors, and everyone fled—but the man took the driver hostage.

Now the bus had left the city and was speeding deep into the mountains…

1

Our branch responded immediately, setting two tasks in motion.

First, we used nearby traffic cameras to establish the hijacked bus’s route.

Patrol cars had intercepted it within minutes of the hijacking. At a railway crossing, however, the bus smashed through the barrier. An approaching train cut off the pursuing police.

We needed to locate it again.

Second, we sent officers to the bus company’s dispatch center to obtain the live surveillance feed from inside the vehicle.

The driver was still a hostage. His life was in danger. We couldn’t afford to lose a minute.

In the case analysis room, everyone was working flat out.

I went quickly through the witness accounts gathered by officers on the ground, trying to suppress my impatience.

The statements were confused and often contradictory. Only a handful of points were useful.

One: the offender was an adult man, though not elderly. Estimates of his age varied wildly, from twenty to fifty.

Two: he had taken a knife from the cloth bag. Witnesses thought it was a kitchen cleaver. It was covered in blood and might well be the murder weapon.

Three: when he boarded, he had behaved normally enough that no one noticed him. But once the head fell out, he lost control, waving the knife, threatening everyone, and ordering them not to move. He seemed highly aggressive.

That information gave me a headache.

An unstable man with a knife, fresh from a killing, was extremely likely to attack again.

With the driver still in his hands, there was no guarantee of the hostage’s safety. If he killed the driver and took the wheel himself, he might do something even more dangerous and claim further victims.

I was captain of the criminal investigation squad at the Xicheng Branch of the Yinhai Municipal Public Security Bureau. If we mishandled this and allowed more casualties, I wouldn’t escape responsibility.

My career would be finished.

2

Before long, both teams reported back.

First came information about the bus.

It served Route 617-1, an urban-rural service running from Dagang Town east of the city, through the center, to Lam Ao Village in Guangqiao Town.

Beyond Guangqiao Square, the route entered the mountains. The remaining stretch to Lam Ao ran along mountain roads with little traffic.

After the hijacking, the bus had continued toward Lam Ao without deviating from its usual route.

It was already in the mountains.

Unlike city streets, mountain roads offered few junctions and limited choices.

That meant we could concentrate our officers on a handful of roads rather than scatter them across a sprawling network.

But the terrain brought obvious disadvantages.

If cornered, the offender could simply drive off the road and take the driver with him. We would have no way to stop it.

And if he got off and vanished into the mountains, finding him would become much harder.

We also obtained the onboard surveillance footage.

It covered the period from the man’s arrival to the hijacking. Afterward, he had physically damaged the connection between the cameras and dispatch, cutting off further pictures.

Even that limited recording contained a great deal of information.

First, he had boarded at the No. 5 Middle School stop.

Second, the camera had captured his face clearly. A database comparison was already running, and we should soon have his identity.

Third, it had recorded the victim’s head. The hair was in a ponytail, suggesting the victim was probably female. But the face appeared to have been slashed beyond recognition.

Fourth, although he had immediately threatened the passengers with his knife, he hadn’t struck anyone, even as people fled past him at close range. When he forced the driver to continue, he merely pointed the blade at him.

At least during the recorded period, he retained some reason. He hadn’t begun attacking indiscriminately.

But being rational now didn’t mean he would stay that way. His mental state was clearly unstable. Once he attacked the driver, we might have no chance to save him.

Our immediate priority was to stop the bus.

Guangqiao police station had mobilized its officers. Patrol cars from different local posts were clearing and blocking four junctions ahead of the bus. If absolutely necessary, those officers would attempt to stop it by force.

A drone was already airborne to track the vehicle.

The local station alone wasn’t enough. Officers from our branch were heading to Guangqiao, led by the branch chief himself. Our deputy captain, Hoang, was among them and would assist with negotiations.

The case had also been reported to the municipal bureau, and reinforcements were hurrying to the scene. An advance tactical team would arrive by helicopter. If an assault became necessary, they would subdue the offender and rescue the hostage.

I remained at the branch. My job was to establish the suspect’s identity quickly and supply the frontline teams with information for negotiations or an intervention.

Soon the facial comparison was complete.

His name was Ma Huc, a local man, married, both parents deceased. Thirty-five years old, he lived in Apartment 406, Stairwell 3, Building 5 of the Hoa Ha residential complex in An Khang Subdistrict. He worked as an electrician for an interior renovation company.

He lived with his wife. They had no children, and her parents lived in the countryside.

Her name was Chung Lien, thirty-three, a teacher at a primary school near the complex.

Crucially, Hoa Ha was close to the No. 5 Middle School stop where he had boarded.

Put together, those facts suggested something dreadful.

The victim might well be his wife.

I immediately assigned the next task.

“Luc, contact An Khang station. Have them send officers to his home. If no one answers, force entry. Tell them to preserve the scene as far as possible. I’ll contact Chief Ho about the search warrant, so they needn’t worry about that. Take a team over yourself. Whatever they find, you’re in charge of the search.”

“Yes, sir.”

Luc immediately gathered his people and left.

But Hoa Ha was on the city’s outskirts, a long way from our branch. We couldn’t expect an immediate report.

To get a basic picture quickly, I had officers call Chung Lien, her parents, and her school.

At the same time, others tried to contact Ma Huc’s employer.

As expected, we couldn’t reach Chung Lien. Her parents and school, however, answered.

We didn’t explain the case, merely said she was connected with an incident.

A few simple questions brought more information.

Her parents had last spoken to her yesterday. Nothing had seemed unusual. They hadn’t contacted her today and knew nothing about what had happened.

Asked about the marriage, they said the couple were very close and had no serious disagreements. They thought highly of Ma Huc: an exceptionally honest, devoted husband, though rather solitary. He rarely even greeted acquaintances in the street.

The school said Chung Lien had asked to leave sometime after nine because of a matter at home. They knew nothing beyond that.

His company had little to offer either. He seldom came into the office, going straight to construction sites when there was work. Their impression was of a solitary man who paid little attention to colleagues unless work required it. Mostly, he kept his head down and got on with his job.

The caller could say only that no one at the company had a grudge against him. They weren’t close enough for that.

Had he worked as usual today?

He had arrived at a site, but left midway through the morning after taking a call.

His explanation was simple.

“Someone at home is ill.”

With Chung Lien’s fate still unknown, that was probably just an excuse.

The call had come at about 9:50 a.m.

That was significant: after Chung Lien had gone home.

But we didn’t know who had called or what had been said.

The investigation seemed to have stalled again.

Then fresh news arrived from the field. The drone had found the bus on the mountain road toward Thien Nham County in the neighboring city.

The hostage complicated everything. Any attempt to stop the bus had to avoid killing or seriously injuring the driver. Otherwise, who knew how many people in the city administration would be held responsible?

On dangerous mountain roads, with such a large, heavy vehicle, that was difficult.

The safest option would have been a comprehensive barrier and protection system: tire-deflation strips, arresting nets, sandbags, specialist vehicles with stopping and impact-absorption equipment. We needed to minimize collision damage and secondary dangers such as a fall into a ravine or a fire.

But Guangqiao station had limited equipment, and reinforcements couldn’t arrive quickly enough. For now, tire spikes were the only available means.

Limited options or not, they had to act soon.

The offender’s behavior was unpredictable. The longer this lasted, the less secure the driver’s life became.

After assessing the situation, the municipal bureau decided to use the terrain at a particular stretch of road and attempt a stop with the spikes alone.

Satellite imagery and computer analysis identified the best location: a level stretch after a series of bends. A cliff face stood on the left. To the right was a small clearing villagers used for drying grain, with mountains beyond it. The road had no significant gradient on either approach.

The bus would have to slow for the bends. Before it could accelerate again, the strips would gradually deflate its tires, reducing the risk of overturning.

At least that way, the driver wouldn’t be hurt by the bus going out of control because of our intervention. With mountains on both sides, there was no danger of plunging into a ravine.

The plan was reasonably practical and safe.

Guangqiao station had already delivered the strips by drone. Officers from a nearby police post were setting up the roadblock under video guidance from the municipal bureau. The station’s light Police Tactical Unit was also racing there, providing capabilities the local post lacked for a serious violent incident.

Even if the available officers couldn’t rescue the driver immediately, they should be able to hold the situation until reinforcements arrived.

Overall, the risk wasn’t excessive.

The bus would reach the roadblock within seven minutes.

The chief called me personally, pressing for a preliminary assessment to give the negotiators something to work with.

But Chung Lien was still missing. An Khang officers might not even get inside Ma Huc’s home before then. His workplace had provided nothing useful.

Finding more information in just seven minutes was a daunting prospect.

I was frantic.

Then an idea struck me.

“Call her school again. Ask whether Chung Lien had her hair in a ponytail today,” I told Gia beside me.

“Yes, sir!”

He called immediately.

The school found the teachers who shared her office. To our surprise, they all said she had worn her hair loose.

That complicated things.

The head had a ponytail. Chung Lien hadn’t.

Had we been wrong? Was the dead woman someone else?

Then why couldn’t we reach Chung Lien? Who else had been in contact with Ma Huc today?

My thoughts tangled.

With no alternative, I reported what we knew honestly to the frontline team.

The information fell into two parts: a brief account of Ma Huc’s identity, and our investigation into whether the victim was Chung Lien.

The chief was irritated by how little we had, but there was nothing else to do. We would have to see what advice the municipal bureau could offer the negotiators.

At least Ma Huc’s background had some value. He had no military experience that might improve his ability to resist police, and no known involvement with drugs or organized crime that might increase his aggression and dangerousness.

That would help officers assess the situation more accurately.

Seven minutes passed in a flash.

The drone and body-camera feeds showed the bus rounding the last bend and smashing through the obstacle in the road.

A moment later, its tires hit the concealed spikes.

As they slowly deflated, momentum carried it a little farther.

Fortunately, as predicted, it had been traveling slowly after the bends. It came to a relatively steady stop.

Then the next image sent everyone’s heart into their throat.

The front doors opened.

The driver ran out in panic, shouting, “Get away! The bus is going to blow!”

3

Chaos engulfed the scene.

The driver sprinted toward a police car, then stumbled and fell.

At his warning, some officers instinctively ducked behind their vehicles. Others ran forward, hauled him up, and dragged him back to cover.

A few villagers had gathered to watch. Despite repeated warnings before the bus arrived, they had refused to leave. With too few officers, too little time, and too much to do, no one had managed to clear them out.

Now, hearing there might be an explosion, they fled toward the village.

Municipal specialists shouted instructions over the radios. No one seemed able to take them in.

Two or three dogs that had followed the crowd were startled too. One ran wildly out onto the road.

The entire place was in uproar.

It took more than twenty seconds to settle. Those who could run had run; those seeking cover had found it. Everyone was somewhere they considered safe.

But there was no explosion.

Thirty seconds. Forty.

At fifty seconds, the officer beside the driver finally realized something was wrong.

“Did you actually see him set up a bomb? And where was he when you got off?”

“I… I…”

The driver was still shaking.

“Before he got off, he took something out and said it was a bomb with a special trigger. He warned me that once it was armed, it could detect the bus’s speed. If I stopped before reaching Thien Nham, it would explode…”

“You mean he got off?”

An auxiliary officer had caught the crucial point.

“Yes. He told me to stop, then got off and activated the thing. He threw it onto the bus and told me to keep driving…”

We could all guess roughly what had happened.

There probably was no bomb. The offender had used something else to frighten the driver.

He was cunning. Apparently realizing we would focus our tactics on the bus, he had left it early. Afraid we would quickly find his position if the driver stopped, he invented the bomb and forced him to continue toward Thien Nham, drawing our attention away.

For safety, of course, no one could approach the bus yet.

Municipal commanders ordered officers to take the driver farther back and evacuate nearby residents. The PTU would arrive in a few minutes and use a robotic dog for an initial inspection. Municipal tactical officers would then take over and conduct a thorough search.

Those matters had little to do with our criminal investigation squad.

We now had two main tasks.

Identify the victim.

Find Ma Huc in cooperation with the other units.

The first was harder. According to the driver, he had apparently taken the head with him.

But he had taken only the head. The rest of the body might still be at home.

Once An Khang officers forced entry, perhaps we could establish who the victim was.

Meanwhile, we could analyze his escape route.

Honestly, failing to realize he had left the bus earlier was a tactical error.

The drone could have descended to inspect the interior. But commanders had worried its presence might provoke him into harming the hostage, so they kept it high.

There was sound reasoning behind that choice. Its consequence was equally clear: we never noticed the offender was no longer aboard.

The good news was that the drone had recorded no one getting off from the moment it located the bus.

He must have left before then. That substantially narrowed the search area.

The bad news was that our late discovery had given him time to move away from the road.

We questioned the driver briefly through an officer’s radio.

Unfortunately, he said he had been too terrified to notice the time on the smart display when the offender got off.

Perhaps that was why Ma Huc had demanded he drive to Thien Nham rather than for a fixed period: to keep him from paying attention to the precise time.

The driver could confirm only that they had already traveled some way into the mountains.

“Captain Doi, what next?” Gia asked.

“Which village is the roadblock at?”

“I think… Tam Nhan Tinh.”

“Everything from where the road enters the mountains to Tam Nhan Tinh needs searching. Hoang will coordinate that with the local station and municipal bureau. You send Ma Huc’s photo to the leaders of nearby villages. Tell them to watch for him. He probably took the bus intending to dispose of the remains. He’s been forced into the mountains without supplies. Before he’s publicly wanted, he may try to slip into a village to get some.”

“Understood. Anything else?”

“A mountain search takes manpower. Hoang’s team may not be enough, and they left in a hurry without much equipment. I want more officers sent out immediately.”

“All right.”

Gia went to arrange it.

Our public-opinion monitoring unit reported that the case was already causing a sensation online.

It was out. Concealing it was no longer possible.

The only way forward was to solve it quickly.

Yinhai had been developing tourism for years. Public safety directly affected visitor numbers. If we failed to crack this case fast, the city’s image could suffer badly.

Fortunately, the leads were at least fairly straightforward.

I sat down to collect my thoughts just as the command center received news from An Khang station.

Their officers had reached Ma Huc’s apartment and forced entry.

Inside was a headless body.

That was expected.

The next detail was not.

Both hands had been severed too. They were missing.

Perhaps they were in the cloth bag he had carried onto the bus.

Officers confirmed no one else was inside and briefly described the victim’s clothing.

I told them to secure the scene and not enter unnecessarily.

Then I contacted Luc. Besides examining the apartment and speaking to neighbors, his team needed to check nearby cameras: had Chung Lien entered the stairwell after nine, and had she left before Ma Huc?

If she had gone in and never come out, the dead woman might well be her.

I also had someone call her school again to ask what she had worn.

They quickly sent a surveillance still.

The image was clear.

Chung Lien wore a khaki coat over a white shirt and trousers. It broadly matched the clothing described by the station.

It seemed very likely she was the victim.

But if Ma Huc had killed her, why?

Her parents said they had a harmonious marriage and knew of no recent conflict.

Nothing we knew explained such a monstrous act.

I couldn’t find a motive.

And the severed head and hands were as bewildering as they were gruesome.

What kind of hatred could make a man kill his wife so brutally, then mutilate her body?