Chapter Six
6 June 2019
Interstate 5
En route between Los Angeles and San Diego,
United States of America
Chang finished his tale by telling Halls: “There was another murder a week later of Harold Tsing in San Francisco.”
“That one, I remember.” She slowed down as she came up upon a car that was only traveling at fifty miles per hour in the left lane. “Got stabbed through the eye with a letter opener?”
“Through the nose. And it was not merely a letter opener, but one that had a handle made from ivory that had been poached from Chad.” Chang finished his cigarette and tossed it out the window. He would have preferred not to litter, but Halls had said that they weren’t allowed to let cigarette butts collect in the police cars, and then she had added that “it can keep company with all the other dead ciggies on the 5.”
“Right, I remember, they couldn’t find any prints or DNA or blood that didn’t belong to the victim.”
“Yes, he was very careful.”
“And that was the same guy who killed the poachers and the guy in China?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“That’s a shit-ton of travel in, what, a week?”
Chang nodded. “The killer obviously has significant resources.”
“Yeeeeah.” Halls shook her head. “And he wore the elephant mask for each one?”
“Of those three murders, yes. He wishes to complete the circle on behalf of the animals who have been wronged. That is why for your murders, he wore a bovine mask.”
Halls gave Chang a sidelong glance. “Look at you with the impressive adjectives. Not bad for someone using his second language.”
“In fact, English is the fourth tongue of the nine languages I speak.”
“Fancy fancy.” Halls blew out a breath. “All these animal masks—it’s reminding me of something, but I’m damned if I can remember what. I’m sorry, it’s something niggling the back of my head. Could be nothing.”
Chang suspected it was very much something. Halls may have been inexperienced with solving murders, but he saw in her the instincts of a detective. If she was reminded of something, then there was something there. But it did no good to fret about it. It would likely migrate to her conscious mind in due course.
“Okay,” Halls said, “so what exactly does ‘complete the circle’ mean in this context?”
“I am fairly certain that the killer was raised as a Buddhist, or at the very least embraces Buddhist teachings.”
Halls asked, “And being a Buddhist has what to do with this?”
“Are you familiar with the concept of karma?”
“Sure. So that’s what he’s doing, goosing karma along? He’s making what goes around come around by completing the circle, like you said?”
“Something along those lines, yes. There are other similar cases around the world over the past two decades.”
Halls whirled her head toward Chang for a moment, then flicked her eyes back to the road. “Wait, twenty years? What the fuck, Interpol?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but if it took me twenty years to close a case, they might seriously consider firing me with cause.”
Chang allowed himself a small smile. “I have had other cases in the ensuing time period, Detective.”
“That’s a relief.”
“In addition, Interpol’s policy is to build casework, which requires time and effort.”
“Yeah, I get that, but twenty years? That’s the time it takes to build a pension, not a case.”
“I have exaggerated a touch,” Chang admitted. “While I have attempted to solve these murders in my spare time, it did not truly become my most important case until three years ago.”
“Bosses didn’t take it seriously until then?”
Chang was pleased to see that Halls understood. “Yes, exactly. It has been difficult to convince my superiors that these murders, which go back at least as far as 1997, are a single person.”
“At least?”
“The only murders that I have documentation of date to then. And there is little pattern to the duration between the murders, which has made it difficult for authorities to determine that there is a singular presence.”
Halls snorted. “You’d think the masks would clue someone in.”
“Yes, and no. One reason I have been able to make this case a priority is the improvement in technology. There was a gap of twelve years between killings. Indeed, I had thought—had hoped—that the murders had stopped after 2004. Those deaths were also in several countries, including South Africa, where forensic practices were very much behind the times, shall we say. With the improvements in evidence-gathering and DNA analysis, not to mention more common surveillance, it became a simpler task to gather intelligence. Indeed, were it not for the surveillance footage from MCD showing the killer in a mask, this would not have obviously been part of my case.”
Halls put on her turn signal to pass a sedan on the right that was apparently not going at sufficient speed to suit her. “Slow down, Interpol. I’m not a hundred percent convinced this is part of your case. And our surveillance footage sucked big green rocks through a straw.”
“Colorful metaphors notwithstanding, when he began his—his crusade, for lack of a better term, forensic science was far more primitive, particularly in parts of the world where many of his targets ply their trade.” Chang took out another cigarette and lit it. After inhaling, he mused, “Perhaps that is why he stopped when he did. He feared discovery. At least until 2016, when he could no longer stand idly by.”
“That was when you got your bosses to take the case seriously?”
Chang nodded. “Indeed. Since then, I have been able to gather evidence from other cases, but much of it was not catalogued or stored properly. However, I have been able to test some biological residue from previous murders, and the DNA evidence has proven that, for at least some of the cases, it is the same killer.”
Halls let out a bitter chuckle that bespoke experience. “No, wait, let me guess—there was no match in the system?”
“Correct. Which simply means he has not been convicted of a crime in a country where they have DNA evidence of criminals, which is an alternate theory to the twelve-year gap.”
“So what dragged him out of retirement in 2016?” Halls asked.
“Men in India who were skinning tigers.”
“Wait, those four guys who were skinned alive next to a pile of tiger pelts in Kolkata?”
Chang was surprised. Outside of India and Bangladesh, and wildlife conservation circles, he did not believe the case had attracted much attention. “Yes, that’s the one.”
Halls nodded. “My ex was seriously into tigers. Carried on about that case for weeks. She kept trying to show me the pictures of the dead bodies and the skinned tigers, but I refused to look. I don’t remember anything about a tiger mask, though.”
At the use of the feminine pronoun to describe Halls’s ex, Chang shot her a glance, but said nothing. In his experience, American police were among the most conservative, and it was rare to find one who was openly homosexual. But then, mores had been changing in that regard in the States with great rapidity, and perhaps Chang’s assumptions about US cops were out of date.
Aloud, he said, “Only one witness mentioned an animal mask, and that detail was deliberately withheld from the press.”
“Right.” As a matter of course, police often withheld one detail from the press as a fact that only the perpetrator would know, making it easier to separate false confessions from real ones.
“There was no surveillance, unfortunately, which was likely a precaution on the killer’s part.”
“Yeah, that case was revolting.” Halls visibly shuddered. “And I guess we’re lucky he wasn’t so smart about MCD, huh?”
“Or perhaps he is getting sloppier with age.”
Halls nodded. “He hasn’t been caught for twenty-three years. That makes a guy cocky sometimes.” She had been cruising in the center lane for some time, but now signaled and moved back to the left lane. “What was the last case before the break? That was, what, 2004?”
“Yes. There were two, in fact. The first was in the Congo, then another in South Africa.”