Chapter 70: Another Voice in the Brain – 7
Leaving the coffee shop, Tang Yingli took the initiative to hold the umbrella for him. Miller smiled. “By the way, do you want to come back and chat? I really want to know what you went through during your agent training.”
She looked apologetic. “I’d love to, but I still have to continue to track down the professor…”
“Ah, alright. Also, I’ve already asked the society to postpone the seminar to the last day. Let me reorganize my thoughts…” Miller wiped his face. “I hope that by then, the case will have been solved.”
The academic conference lasted for four days, and the last day was Sunday.
“Does that mean you’re giving me three days to solve the case?”
Miller laughed. “Ha, no, no.”
They shared an umbrella, and although they were not far apart in height, Tang Yingli was still careful to watch his step and to give him more of the umbrella.
“Although the possibility of the professor being involved is high… I still believe he’s innocent.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Just a hunch.” She shrugged with a smile. “Or rather, it’s my personal hope.”
Miller nodded with satisfaction. “I hope so too.”
Arriving at the hotel entrance, Tang Yingli watched Miller walk to the main door. “If I can, I’ll be there on Sunday.”
“I look forward to seeing you.” Miller pointed up. “I’m just staying in the room next to Andrew’s. You can come and find me anytime.”
“I know.”
Looking at Miller disappear from view, her expression was tinged with a hint of sorrow. She took out her phone to contact Zhou Jinglin.
“I’m at the entrance.” She let out a puff of white smoke. “How are things on your end?”
‘Pretty good. I got a lot.’ Jinglin’s tone was cheerful. ‘What about you, Teacher?’
“Yes, let’s go back to the office. The priority now is to find Chomsky.”
**
After a journey of about forty minutes, Chomsky followed the stranger who had picked him up to an old apartment building. There was no elevator, and every breath was filled with a thick smell of mildew.
“This place is a little shabby, but it’s hidden and suitable for hiding. After the news reports… now the whole of Taiwan is looking for you.”
Ignoring his teasing words, Chomsky leaned against the door on guard and at the same time reached for the folding knife in his pocket. “Why did you bring me here?”
“I already explained when we got in the car. We need your research. Only you can accurately interpret the data… to know who is qualified to be the coldest warrior.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Chomsky was adamant. “My research only focuses on the abnormal areas of the criminal brain and the psychological and mental impact of their upbringing on them.”
“The triangle theory,” the person said suddenly.
Chomsky trembled.
“Abnormalities in the areas that control emotions, such as the temporal lobe, the orbital cortex, and the amygdala; high-risk genetic mutations; and physical, mental, or sexual abuse in childhood. This is the criminal triangle theory you proposed, and none of them can be missing.” The stranger shrugged. “As for how to control the variables, to detect the abnormal areas in the brain scan, and to accurately grasp the personality, isn’t that your specialty?”
This guy… has he really read my papers?
“You’re surprised? If I didn’t have this much understanding, I wouldn’t have invited you here.”
“If you call all that stalking and harassment an invitation.”
“No matter the process, you’re here…” the stranger smiled, “and as a fugitive murderer.”
Chomsky’s vision blurred for a moment. The woman who looked so much like Meta had her neck cut, and his folding knife was on the carpet, stained with her blood.
She was dead, lying in his room.
‘She’s a fake. A fake…’
A loud roar echoed in his mind, followed by a ringing in his ears. He let go of the folding knife in his pocket. The stranger seemed to have noticed his hesitation and continued, “There’s a computer here. We’ll help you hack into the database of your research institution. As long as you don’t deliberately expose your whereabouts, no one will know you’re here. To help you complete your mission, I’ve assigned some people to assist you.”
Three young men silently appeared in the living room.
This was a complete and suffocating surveillance.
“As for whether you want to cooperate with us, you have three days to consider.” The stranger turned his back to him and placed something on the table. “If you agree, then we’ll talk about the next step.”
A revolver.
“This is for you.” The stranger took off his hat and bowed. “I’ll be back in three days. Goodbye.”
As soon as the stranger left, Chomsky immediately heard the sound of the door being locked. He picked up the revolver to check, and there was only one bullet in it.
The three young men stared at him with distant and cold eyes. One of them nodded to him. “The three of us will be responsible for protecting you. I’m the only one who speaks English. You can tell me if you need anything.”
Great, just great, Chomsky thought.
He had already thought of a use for this bullet.
**
Returning to the station, the members of the division had already begun to try to track down Chomsky.
In the chief’s office, facing Jinglin’s report, Fang Zijun was surprised. “They slept in the same room?”
“This is the conclusion the teacher and I came to together.”
The night before, Meta Müller and Andrew Chomsky had returned to the hotel early. Although they had their own rooms, they had spent the night together.
The traces in the bathroom said it all. Müller’s room was clean, and the toothbrush was probably used when she had gone back to her own room to get ready in the morning. On the other hand, a strand of what looked like a woman’s hair was found in Chomsky’s bathroom.
“And then, I found traces of a possible escape from the window.”
There was a small balcony, just wide enough for one person, outside the hotel window. Müller, for this morning’s speech, had gotten up and gone back to her own room to get dressed. After washing up, she had returned to Chomsky’s room… for some unknown reason, Chomsky had killed Müller, and to avoid suspicion, he had climbed from the balcony to Müller’s room and had escaped. The other open window was just a decoy.
“I see. Then the alarm clock…”
Tang Yingli deduced, “It must have gone off at the set time after he had killed Ms. Müller and escaped, otherwise it wouldn’t make sense.”
He frowned and nodded. “So the killer is him… but why did he kill his own assistant?”
Jinglin looked at Tang Yingli. She rested her chin on her hand. “Although it’s still just a theory, I think Professor Chomsky may have Capgras syndrome.”
“Capgras… syndrome?”
“Yes, the patient’s temporal lobe and amygdala, which control emotions, cannot connect with the memory of that person, which causes him to remember the person but not be able to connect the person he sees with his memory, so the brain makes a wrong judgment, believing that although they look very similar, they are two different people… in a sense, it’s also a kind of face blindness.”
It was the first time Fang Zijun had heard of it. “It just happened at that critical point?”
“It’s not entirely a coincidence. It would be more reasonable to assume that he was stimulated by the content of the letters, and that his psychological pressure had accumulated to a critical point at that moment.” Her black-painted nails lightly tapped her lips. “But there’s still one thing I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Chomsky had been suffering from a delusional disorder before, and as his symptoms worsened, he was stalked and pressured, which led to him losing control and killing someone… if the killer was an outsider, then it would be very difficult to know so many details about his physical condition.”
“I think so too,” Jinglin agreed.
“And with that switched bottle of nutritional supplements, I can almost be certain of one thing.”
Fang Zijun clasped his hands. “Someone was behind this incident… right?”
“Yes, and it was someone very close to him.” She lowered her eyes with unconcealed disappointment. “Although the human brain seems difficult to control, if you guide and suggest it at the right time, people are indeed very likely to do certain things that others expect.”
“That person… do you have any idea who it is, Teacher?”
Her index finger on her glasses, she lowered her head. “In any case, let’s find Chomsky first. He’s the one who really killed Müller… I’ll also continue to try to persuade his family doctor, and I hope he can provide us with some relevant medical records and test reports.”
**
After the report, they went outside for some fresh air.
“Here.” Knowing she liked black coffee, Jinglin threw her a can.
Tang Yingli looked up and accurately caught the can of coffee. “I just had a cup.”
“Have another one, just to keep me company.” She chose a grapefruit juice and sat down next to Tang Yingli. “Teacher.”
“Hm?”
“Ever since the last case of Ou Anpo’s disappearance, I feel like you’ve been handling cases… differently.” She unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp.
Tang Yingli raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“During the investigation,” Jinglin pouted and poked her arm with her index finger, “you’ve clearly brought in more of your personal emotions.”
She didn’t answer, just ran her finger over the cold can.
“That question from the chief just now seemed to cause you a lot of pain… I think you must have an idea, but you chose not to say it because of your personal feelings.” Jinglin leaned back and crossed her legs. “But I think that’s a good thing.”
“A good thing?” she frowned.
“Yes, you’re much warmer this way.”
“Warmth?” she said with a half-smile, pushing up her glasses. “Are you sure you’re not being sarcastic?”
Jinglin retorted, “I’m serious.”
“So I’ve finally shed the accusation of being ‘cold-blooded’? Congratulations.” She opened the coffee with a smile and took a small sip.
“Teacher, the person you said was manipulating the professor, could it be…”
“I don’t know,” she interrupted. “Whether it’s Chomsky who killed Müller or the person who is trying to manipulate the case… I still haven’t grasped the exact reason.”
