The Crucible of Solitude (14)
Of course, the half-smashed cell phone had to remain at this "accident scene" as well. Evidence for data analysis? This was China. All the texts sent and received would be stored on the telecom company's servers anyway, and accessing them under the Public Security Bureau's name would face no restrictions whatsoever. I'd already secured the device's number when sending that PDF file earlier. Cross-referencing the decrypted code with the phone's past location history would squeeze out nearly every bit of info a lowly errand boy could provide. And if I borrowed the Public Security system's resources to analyze all data transmitted in this area, I'd likely reel in a whole chain of them like potatoes on a vine.
Conveniently, real power in the city Public Security Bureau was now concentrated—at least temporarily—in Gao Xusen's hands. So all I'd collected was suspiciously clean stacks of bills. Staring blankly at Mao Zedong's massive printed face on each one, I lit them up like hell money and scattered them into the dry wind. They wouldn't be short on pocket change for the afterlife.
Next, using the same ignition incantation, I scorched the asphalt to leave skid marks like from a hit-and-run. That made for a pretty convincing scene. I'd disguised subordinates' deaths as traffic accidents plenty of times before to avenge them, so recalling the skid patterns was child's play.
Now what...?
The outpost's defenses could be breached easily with the firepower I'd brought. But charging in after finding just one base would waste opportunity costs. Once attacked, the rest would swap codebooks immediately. Better to extend the current codebook's lifespan, lure the Black Sea Party into diverting more explosives a few times, then decide on a plan once I had intel on multiple sites.
So I left eight watchers behind and headed back. The winding detour I'd taken coming out felt short as a straight shot on the return.
Arriving at the Patrol Detachment's on-site command post, I could tell at a glance that the detectives had done solid work. Gao Xusen, lounging in a chair, greeted me with a much brighter face than before.
"I've been waiting! How was it—any results from your personal recon?"
"Of course."
"Oh! You found that vicious assault team's base?"
This guy had no clue about the trucks I'd chased. Instead of excessive courtesy, I gave a vague affirmative.
"Something like that. What's the situation here?"
Gao Xusen waved a hand at my question.
"Don't ask. With our forces already stretched thin, riots breaking out all over the city at once—it's chaos. Can't even shift command HQ to bureau central with no tolerance for a leadership gap."
His words said one thing, but he couldn't hide his elation.
"Sounds like you've seized control successfully."
"What else? Those thorns in my side—the other bureau chiefs and standing committee members—are all dead, injured, or sacked for accountability. Sure, the vice mayor still nominally heads the bureau, but with Political Department and Inspection Office in my pocket, what more is there to say? A few more merits here, and I can lock in this advantage for good!"
"Good for you. Well done, Secretary."
"This is nothing for me!"
I didn't mind the noble's swagger. No matter how favorable the situation, he'd pulled off the best outcome through his political maneuvering.
The city Public Security Bureau's Political Department—alongside the Patrol Detachment—was one of the rare departments headed by a secretary-level official. Like commanding political officers in the People's Liberation Army. If the Patrol Detachment head was the pinnacle of police operations, the Political Department head was the pinnacle of inspections. The structure balanced them to check each other.
So Gao Xusen simultaneously heading Patrol Detachment and Political Department was extraordinarily irregular—near-emergency staffing. And not just titles; he'd seized the Political Department's blade, the Inspection Office. That made even the city Public Security chief a figurehead before him. Of course, the vice mayor's influence wasn't limited to the bureau, so Gao Xusen would still need some concessions. But our cover identities—mine and my crew's—were now even more secure.
We'd been playing plainclothes cops so far, but actual authority for that came from the separate Plainclothes Investigation Detachment, not Patrol.
Gao Xusen leaned forward.
"Anyway, where do you think the enemy's base is? You said it's similar to what you've found, so at least some suspicious spots?"
"Too early to say for sure. More checks on the leads will confirm it. Which brings me to this: is citizen comms surveillance handled by the Science and Tech Communications Office or Cyber Police Detachment?"
"Depends, but usually the Science and Tech side."
"Then secure firm control over their ops staff today if possible. I've got work for them."
"Queries leaking elsewhere would be trouble, eh?"
"Exactly. Sooner the better."
"Got it. Time to show my capabilities again."
Just then, his phone rang. "Excuse me," he said, stepping aside to take it. While his underlings handled ops, he juggled calls with other nobles. Everyone in their role.
In the gap, I scanned the situation board, absorbing new info, when detective Hushan Liang approached politely.
"Deputy Director."
"Speak."
"Pardon, but do you know anything about drug trafficking in this area?"
"...My company doesn't deal in drugs. Why ask?"
Hushan Liang glanced at my face before continuing.
"Sorry if it offends. The Black Sea Party's drug source is still unknown, so I wondered."
"Not from the Triads?"
"Yes. After the Hulong Bang incident, all bureau detachments cracked down hard, but... no evidence of systematic bulk supply. At least as far as we know."
"As far as we know" meant other departments might have intel but weren't sharing. The farmer-rebel artillery barrage had ended inter-departmental score-settling just two hours ago; consolidating data would take at least half a day. Holdouts among mid-levels could stretch it to days.
I asked indifferently,
"You know what drug they used?"
"Blood analysis results haven't come in yet."
"Nine times out of ten, it's ice."
A guess from what I'd seen. The detective looked puzzled.
"Why so certain?"
"It fits best."
Ice—methamphetamine. Formal name methylamphetamine, but usually circulated as crystalline hydrochloride shards like ice chunks, hence "ice poison."
Hushan Liang seemed troubled.
"I figured fentanyl. If they scored several kilos somehow, no resupply needed for a while, easy to transport and hide. Beats ice hands-down for distribution. And major production sites are close."
"Fair point."
Fentanyl. That "China White" El Fuego had cursed. A narcotic painkiller where 1 gram could turn a thousand troops into berserkers. Its potency so fierce that accidentally licking residue off your fingers could kill.
Too strong for combat drugs. After pondering phrasing, I laid out my reasoning.
"But consider: most rebels are low-education Black Sea heretics and farmer-rebels. Their mid-level handlers aren't exceptions. You think that group precisely doses micrograms every time?"
"Ah."
"From their view, fentanyl's too potent. Dosing hassles offset distribution ease. Even perfect dosing burns users out too fast. What's the point of berserker bursts if they last a month at best?"
This month estimate factored recent skirmish density and Awakened metabolisms. After, cumulative non-combat losses and morale collapse would shatter the group. Individual prowess maybe, but collective? Forget it. How do you control the brain-fried?
"Didn't think that far."
I nodded at Hushan Liang.
"I'd pick ice too. Dumb brutes can OD without issue, sustains discipline and combat power over a year, boosts personal ability beyond fentanyl. As you know, thought acceleration is ice-exclusive."
Meth users feel time slow. Not illusion—their cognition nearly doubles. Plus aggression, focus, drive; sans side effects, humanity's best awakening agent. This powered Black Sea Party's momentum against Public Security and regulars.
"Plus, ice lures starving masses better than fentanyl. Makes them forget hunger."
That explained the needle tracks on the dim sum owner's arm. If I'd spared him, he'd be a husk in two years as a dad. Drugs made a fine leash against minion betrayal.
Hushan Liang nodded now.
"I see. We'll recheck the ports."
"Do that. Shake down Port Supervision staff who inspected North Korean freighters—might yield something."
Why? North Korea was East Asia's top meth producer. Started importing, now self-sufficient. They wouldn't dare sell to China before, but now? Third-country brokers possible. Like how CCP used Triads to order arms from me.
North Korea's a hellhole anyway; caught, blame a rogue individual, execute with anti-aircraft gun. Done.
Conversation seemed wrapped, but Hushan Liang lingered. I furrowed my brow.
"More business?"
"Well... if it's alright with you, Deputy Director, my colleagues and I would like to visit your Becklux soon. May we?"
Deepening ties with me. The drug consult half pre-text. Strengthening detective bonds could quietly leash Gao Xusen usefully, but instead of instant yes, I deferred to boost my deployed subordinate's face.
"No idea what for, but talk to Director Park Miju first."
"Yes, sir."
She'd manage future networking here. He caught my hint, Chinese-style.
As he turned back, Gao Xusen—back turned, on calls—bellowed from afar.
"What?! Those filthy U.S. imperialists finally!"
He glanced around, flashed a casual smile like nothing, then stepped out to continue. I tuned my hearing.
"So you're flat broke now?"
"Told you. All accounts frozen."
"Kid, you must have cash stashed at home. I said always keep a million USD cash—who knows when trouble hits."
"How long would a measly million last?"
"Stretch it—maybe a year—"
"Ugh, seriously! A year of what? Can't go out, can't buy shit, just eat and sleep? Makes sense? You know how embarrassed I was with friends today? Christmas shopping, card dies—face burning, insane. Tried every card, all declined; the looks from friends, you should've seen—"
"Hey, kid... really sorry, but Dad's swamped right now? Call back later?"
"Busy? Work over family? How uneducated can you be? Know what time it is? Dark outside ages ago, and you're 'working'? Make sense! I called late on purpose!"
"Night there means day here..."
North American kid and dad. Qing bonds cash-out phase one underway. U.S. prez warned midnight 24th, but no way they'd act that late. Christmas Eve—Chinese gov probably hoped nah.
I smirked at the communist noble groveling to his brat. Most of the world's evil is ordinary folks' doing.