Chapter 6: Mangosteen

Chen Han made a sweeping grab, caught the back of Zhao Tai's collar, and hauled him out of the coffin like a stray chick.

"Get in there!" Chen Han flung him aside with terrifying force.

Zhao Tai screamed as his whole body slammed into the interrogation room.

His chin cracked against the cold concrete. He gasped, curling up in pain, and didn't get up for a long while.

Lu Zheng walked in and pulled the heavy iron door shut behind him.

*Click.* The lock engaged, sealing off every sound from outside.

The main lights were off.

A single low-wattage tungsten bulb hung overhead, stretching Lu Zheng's shadow long and warped across the dim yellow light.

Zhao Tai struggled to his feet and collapsed onto the interrogation chair.

He wiped the blood from his face. The terror in his eyes flickered—then steadied the moment he spotted the surveillance camera blinking red above him.

He wasn't afraid anymore. He even grinned, baring his teeth through the blood.

"Commissioner Lu. Quite the show of authority—daring to strike the Executive Deputy Commissioner."

Zhao Tai leaned back, crossed his legs, and raised his voice.

"What? Lock me up, try to rough me up? Take a look at that thing above my head—see if it agrees."

"I'm telling you, I know the law. You can hold me twenty-four hours, tops."

He got more worked up as he spoke, jabbing a finger at the metal table.

"The second time's up, my team of gold-medal lawyers walks me out that door."

"And when I'm out, we'll take our time. I'll show you who really runs Jianghai City."

His eyes burned into Lu Zheng with venom.

"You, this big idiot beside you, even that pretty cop—not one of you gets off easy!"

Chen Han's eyes went wide. His fist, big as a rice bowl, cracked knuckle by knuckle, and he stepped forward to swing.

Lu Zheng raised a hand and stopped him.

He pulled over an iron stool and sat down across from Zhao Tai, his expression calm enough to be terrifying.

No anger. No response to the taunts. He took a box of matches from his pocket and struck one, slow and deliberate.

A faint flame jumped, lighting the cheap cigarette he'd been chewing on for ages.

Lu Zheng took a deep drag and let out a plume of pale blue smoke.

"Chen Han."

"Boss?"

"Unplug the camera."

Chen Han grinned wide, two rows of white teeth. "Got it!"

He hauled a chair over, climbed up, grabbed the surveillance camera with one big hand, and ripped it down.

*Snap.* The camera tore free, wire and all.

The red light blinked twice and went dead.

Zhao Tai's grin froze. His face drained white in an instant.

"Wh—what are you doing? This is a police station! You dare shut off the cameras? That's a violation!"

His voice shook. He pressed his back hard against the chair, hunting for some scrap of safety.

It finally sank in: the man in the worn jacket didn't care about discipline.

"Rules?" Lu Zheng leaned across the table, cigarette between his fingers.

"I said it in the lobby. In here, my rules are the rules."

"Dealing with scum like you—that's the judge's job."

"My job is to send you to the judge. Or straight to the King of Hell."

He stood, walked around the table, and came up behind Zhao Tai.

"You know how we interrogate stubborn armed traffickers at the border?"

He yanked the expensive silk tie off Zhao Tai's neck and twisted it hard with both hands.

The tie cinched tight, crushing Zhao Tai's throat.

"Ugh—"

Zhao Tai's eyes bulged. His hands clawed desperately at the fabric.

His legs kicked wildly, the iron chair screeching against the floor.

Oxygen starvation hit his brain in a rush.

His face went purple-red before their eyes, his tongue forcing its way out of his mouth.

Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.

Just as his vision blurred and he was sure he'd die right there, Lu Zheng let go.

"Hah—cough, cough!"

Zhao Tai sprawled over the table like a dying fish, gulping down the stale air.

Tears and snot smeared his face. He was a wreck.

"That was just the warm-up." Lu Zheng's voice was cold as ice.

He glanced at the water dispenser in the corner.

"Chen Han. Ice water. As cold as you can get it."

Chen Han moved fast. Soon he came back with a full basin of ice and cold water, white frost clinging to the steel.

Lu Zheng grabbed Zhao Tai by the hair and forced his head up.

"That last one's called suffocation. Middling results. Now let's try something that'll really wake you up."

Before the words landed, Lu Zheng shoved Zhao Tai's head into the stainless steel basin.

*Glub glub glub—*

Zhao Tai thrashed wildly underwater, arms flailing.

Lu Zheng's grip pinned him like an iron clamp. He couldn't move an inch.

The bone-deep cold knifed through his pores.

Suffocation plus the shock of ice—it was enough to break anyone's mind.

A full thirty seconds passed before Lu Zheng dragged him back out.

Zhao Tai hung over the table's edge, gasping, shivering like a leaf, not a single coherent word left in him.

"Talk. The car accident that killed Old Man Qin's granddaughter—did you order it?"

Lu Zheng sat back down, eyes boring into him.

Zhao Tai's lips were purple, his teeth chattering.

Still he bluffed: "N—not me. It was an accident. The driver... the driver already turned himself in..."

Lu Zheng shook his head, as if the answer disappointed him.

He stubbed out his cigarette, stood, and clapped Chen Han on the shoulder.

"Looks like the Young Master's bones really are tough. Standard procedure isn't cutting it."

Chen Han rubbed his bald head. "So what do we do, Boss? Another cold shower?"

"No. Waste of time."

Lu Zheng walked over, grabbed Zhao Tai by the collar, and hauled him out of the chair.

"There's a police dog base in the back lot of the Jianghai City Bureau, isn't there?"

"Sure is. A dozen retired Tibetan mastiffs. Starving, eyes glowing green, mean as hell." Chen Han caught on and played along.

Lu Zheng nodded. A cruel curve tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Let's take Young Master Tai out for some air. Introduce him to the old boys."

Zhao Tai hadn't even shaken off the ice water before Chen Han dragged him out of the interrogation room like a sack of rags.

The back door opened. Night wind hit, carrying a thick stench of musk and filth.

A dozen massive reinforced iron cages loomed in the dark.

Low, bone-chilling growls rolled out of them.

Real beasts. Deliberately starved for days.

Hearing live human movement, the mastiffs threw themselves at the gates, claws raking frantically at the iron.

"Woof! Rragh—"

The barking was deafening, hammering at the eardrums.

Pairs of green eyes burned like corpse-fire in the dark. Drool dripped from their fangs. Their stares were savage beyond reason.

Zhao Tai's legs gave out. He dropped straight into the mud, swallowed whole by a wave of terror.

"Wh—what are you doing? Private punishment is illegal! My father will never let you get away with this!"

He screamed himself hoarse.

But the frenzied barking drowned him out completely. His voice sounded thin and useless.

Lu Zheng walked to the largest cage.

Inside was a purebred old mastiff the size of a calf, one eye blind, which only made it more grotesque.

Lu Zheng reached out and pulled the latch. The iron gate let out a tooth-grating *screech*.

The old mastiff lunged out—and jerked to a stop at the end of a thick iron chain.

Its gaping maw stopped less than half a meter from Zhao Tai's face.

Rank breath blasted his cheeks. He could feel the hot air from the dog's nostrils.

"Ahhh—help! Help!"

Zhao Tai lost control of his bladder and bowels. He scrambled backward, rolling and crawling, desperate to escape that blood-soaked mouth.

Lu Zheng walked over and planted one foot on Zhao Tai's chest, looking down at him.

"I'll count to three."

He drew his service pistol and pressed the muzzle against the lock on the dog's chain.

"After three, I shoot the chain. How many seconds you live—that's up to you."

His voice didn't rise or fall. He might have been stating an irrelevant fact. But it carried the dead weight of despair.

"One."

"Don't—don't kill me! I was wrong, I know I was wrong!"

Zhao Tai begged wildly, both hands clamped around Lu Zheng's tactical boot.

"Two."

Lu Zheng's thumb flicked off the safety.

The crisp *click* cut through the night wind—and it was the last straw.

Terror tore through the spoiled young master's last defenses.

That black muzzle. That beast ready to rip him apart. His mind shattered.

A warm liquid ran streaming down his pant leg.

"Three—" Lu Zheng's finger settled on the trigger.

"I'll talk! I'll tell you everything! Old Man Qin's granddaughter—the accident—I did it! I'll sign!"