The Brain Science Case 69

Chapter 69: Another Voice in the Brain – 6

Lifting her long skirt, Tang Yingli, in her high heels, stepped into the passenger seat.

“So what happened?” Jinglin couldn’t contain her curiosity.

“Let’s drive first. We’ll talk on the way.” She buckled her seatbelt and suddenly covered her mouth and shouted, “Ah.”

Jinglin slammed on the brakes. “What’s wrong?”

“Do we need to buy lunch first?”

She instantly blushed. “I’m not going to faint again.”

Tang Yingli gave a teasing smile. “Then let’s go.”

The laptop was unlocked, and the most important information was that Chomsky seemed to have been targeted by someone—or rather, some organization—in Taiwan.

“An organization?” Jinglin frowned in confusion.

“Yes. At first, it was mostly probing and persuasion, but in recent letters, there have been words that sound like threats.” This must have put a lot of pressure on Chomsky.

“A criminal group… but why would they threaten a scholar?”

“He’s not just any scholar,” Tang Yingli crossed her arms, “he’s a leader in the study of criminal psychology and a pioneer in using brain imaging to find the brain activity of criminals. Part of the reason I was able to become a trainee agent was thanks to the professor’s research.”

“Thanks to him?”

“Yes, I’ve read almost all of his published papers. Simply put, the bureau was interested in my academic and professional background, and my ability to interpret the brain data of criminals.”

“Then can he use criminal profiling to solve cases like you?”

“I don’t think so.” After all, this technique was part of the agent training. “But his reputation has clearly aroused a high degree of interest in someone. Perhaps someone intends to obtain his research results and improve their criminal methods.”

Since Chomsky’s research has already been put into practice, why not just grasp the core concept? And even use it to make him one of their own?

“Will he?” Jinglin accelerated through an intersection. “I mean, will he be recruited by that organization?”

“Before today, I would have said ‘impossible.’ But after the case, I’m very worried about this possibility.” Tang Yingli pushed up her glasses. “A person will do anything to survive.”

Ten minutes later, Jinglin pulled up to the hotel entrance.

“You go directly to Ms. Müller’s room and check on the investigation.”

“What about you?”

She squinted and pursed her lips. “I’m going to meet my advisor.”

Without needing to say more, Jinglin understood that she intended to meet with Miller alone. Indeed, she couldn’t help in that kind of situation.

“Okay, we’ll act separately.”

After parking the car, Jinglin ran up to the sixth floor.

“…Yes, the teacher went to meet her advisor,” she reported to Fang Zijun.

‘Probably to find out more about that professor’s daily behavior. Ah Gui has dug up some more emails about his appointments with a psychiatrist, but they don’t detail his condition.’ It had to be said that their protection of patient privacy was thorough.

“Yes, this professor really needs treatment.” This was her sincere opinion.

‘But T University, really. To invite someone with an unstable mental state to give a speech?’

She gave a dry laugh. “Maybe the university didn’t know he was so sick.”

Putting on her gloves, Jinglin crossed the police cordon, greeted the officers on the scene, and began to collect evidence.

Meta Müller’s room was 614, next to Chomsky’s. Her suitcase and other personal belongings were easily found in the storage cabinet and closet. Her toiletries were also left in the bathroom. According to the university, they had only checked in the day before the incident, which meant they had only spent one night here.

No signs of use in the shower? Jinglin searched the drain and the trash can, but they were all clean.

“Did the hotel staff… clean it?”

“What are you talking about, Little Zhou?” the investigating officer laughed. “It’s been sealed since this morning.”

She glanced at the sink. The private toothbrush was still wet. “I was just asking.”

Coming to the inner room, the quilt was clearly rumpled. The phone was on the table.

“After brushing her teeth this morning, she went next door to wake him up…” It was understandable that she hadn’t taken her phone with her, as she had probably expected to be back soon.

But something felt strange.

Staring at the quilt, her index finger on her lips, she realized she was subconsciously imitating Tang Yingli’s thinking pose and quickly let go.

The curtain was pulled back a little. The rain had gotten heavier. She approached the window next to room 613 and reached out to open the window lock, but her hand met empty air.

“Huh? It’s not locked…”

She quickly ran to room 613. The window that had been open was now closed. She ran to the other side—the window next to room 614, and pulled open the curtain.

The investigating officer was taken aback by her. “Little Zhou, what are you doing?”

She stared at the window lock, pulled it open, and carefully examined the window groove.

“So…” she widened her eyes and smiled as if she had found a treasure, “so it’s here.”

**

Compared to the wet and cold outside, the coffee-scented interior was much more comfortable.

“Andrew and I have known each other since college. We both got scholarships to Dartmouth. At eighteen, he was already very strong, six-foot-four, two hundred and twenty-five pounds. He was a monster on the football field. He could do anything.”

Recalling his youth, George Miller was talkative. He reached for the table. “Huh? No sugar?”

“They don’t have sugar cubes here. They use this.” Tang Yingli handed him a long packet of fine sugar.

“Thank you.” He stirred his coffee, and when he looked up, she was already drinking hers. “You still don’t drink coffee with sugar.”

“To us, black coffee is without sugar.”

She and Miller had met at a coffee shop. The coffee had effectively closed the distance between them and had allowed them to relax a little.

But as soon as they started talking about their old friend who was involved in the case, Miller was still in disbelief. “…We all went hunting together. His marksmanship wasn’t very good, but his butchering and cooking were superb. You should have seen how he skinned a whole deer with a folding knife…” he shook his head, “why Meta? He would never do something like that… something must have gone wrong.”

“I contacted his family doctor, but he wouldn’t respond to anything about his condition. I had to call his wife.”

Elena Chomsky, his wife. “What did Elena say?”

Taking a sip of her coffee, Tang Yingli said, “The wife’s account is similar to yours. Disordered, out of control… I heard he has tinnitus, and the symptoms are getting worse?”

“Yes, he’s had it checked, but they didn’t find anything wrong,” Miller frowned. “I wonder if there are other hidden symptoms in his brain. The current MRI or brain imaging can only do so much.”

So it’s a psychological problem? She rested her chin on her hand. “Have you heard the professor complain about being followed or harassed by anyone recently, Teacher?”

“Harassed? Um… no particular impression.”

She pressed, “He didn’t mention receiving any strange emails?”

“No. What’s wrong?”

“Well, we unlocked the professor’s computer and found that the screen was on his inbox, and there were several strange messages. The content showed that someone was watching the professor’s movements, and had even followed him to Taiwan. I think this must have been very troubling for him.”

“Really? He didn’t mention it.” Miller looked surprised. “Ah, but when we went to the bar yesterday, he was very aware of his surroundings all night… I wonder if it’s related to this.”

Tang Yingli instinctively recalled the photo that had been attached to the email. Chomsky and Müller were sitting at the bar, laughing and talking. At least at the time the photo was taken, he didn’t seem to be on guard at all.

“About him and Ms. Müller, how much do you know about them, Teacher?”

Miller recounted that Müller had been an outstanding student, and after getting her PhD from Caltech, she had come to work as a research assistant for Chomsky. At over forty, she was young and vibrant, and Chomsky relied on her heavily, both academically and emotionally.

“Compared to his distant relationship with Elena, he was very close to Meta, and even let her come with us to the riverside cabin for hunting.”

“What’s your impression of her?”

“To be honest, I couldn’t understand Andrew’s affair at first. But after I actually met Meta, my opinion completely changed. She’s a very smart and considerate person,” Miller said quietly. “Charlotte, what do you think? Did Andrew really kill…”

“The possibility is high.” Putting down her empty coffee cup, she clasped her hands. “There are two major suspicious points right now. One, how did the professor mistake Ms. Müller for someone else? Two, did he run away, or was he kidnapped by the person who was following him?”

“His family doctor won’t reveal any details?” She nodded. “Damn confidentiality agreement. But the fact that he’s been receiving treatment is indisputable.”

“Even so, I didn’t find any medication in his briefcase.” Except for that suspicious bottle of aspirin. Tang Yingli pondered, “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless he was receiving simple psychological counseling.”

If Chomsky had a comprehensive delusional disorder, then he might have what’s called “Capgras syndrome,” a psychological state where the patient tends to mistake a close person for an imposter or a disguise. The cause may be an abnormal connection between the temporal lobe and the amygdala, which prevents the patient from having a normal emotional response.

“I’d like to ask you one more thing, Teacher. Has the professor ever mistaken an acquaintance for a stranger, or claimed that someone was an imposter?”

Miller considered for a moment. “No, nothing like that. At most, there have only been occasional episodes of disordered behavior.”

Her index finger on her glasses, “Mm… I see.”

“By the way, you really have started to assist the police with their investigations.” Miller seemed to have a new respect for her. “When you participated in the agent training, our jaws almost dropped. Does this have any special meaning for you?”

“Are you asking about becoming an agent or assisting the police with their investigations, Teacher?”

“Both.”

“It’s not really any special meaning.” She smiled shyly. “I was just deeply inspired by Professor Chomsky. You know, Teacher, I greatly admire his theories.”

“I know. I even complained to him once that he had stolen the heart of one of my outstanding students.” Miller pretended to be stern, then chuckled. “After all, you’re a testament to it, right? Proving that nurture is just as important as nature.”

She lowered her eyes and smiled. “Yes.”