The Brain Science Case 71

Chapter 71: Another Voice in the Brain – 8

“So you’re saying that Capgras thing…”

“That’s just an attempt to explain the behavior. Truly reliable evidence still requires a doctor’s diagnosis.”

Jinglin sighed. “If someone really did guide the professor to commit the murder, the assumptions about the scene would also change.”

“Yes, we’d have to start all over again…” She changed the subject. “By the way, you left in a hurry before noon. Did you get any news?”

Jinglin’s eyes curved into crescents. “Oh? I thought you knew everything.”

“I only know you left to investigate your aunt’s case.”

She really does understand me. Jinglin relayed the information to Tang Yingli. “…The more I investigate, the more frustrated I get. She was the person closest to me, yet I know less about her than anyone else. If that visitor was really my dad, why didn’t he acknowledge me? Why would Mom die clinging to this secret instead of telling me… why?” She bit her lip, the distinct bitterness of grapefruit on her tongue.

Tang Yingli put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I can only say that Boss Xu was right. If you keep investigating, you’ll definitely find the reason.”

“So now there are two targets: the owner of Givenchy, and Wu Jianxiong, who took my mom away.” Her voice was tinged with anger as she took out her phone. “Look, one is the person who took over the club, and the other is the person who killed her, yet they’re together, laughing and talking. Are they in on it together? Was it all a setup?”

Staring at the photo, Tang Yingli pondered for a moment. “You said he went to another bar after leaving the club?”

“Yeah, and without his men.” Jinglin swiped the screen. “He went here. The club manager followed him in but couldn’t find him.”

At first glance, Tang Yingli didn’t see anything unusual, until Jinglin held up the phone and said, “I don’t know what he was doing here… but this moose sign is so unique.”

Moose… sign?

Her expression changed instantly. “Let me see.”

“What’s wrong?” Tang Yingli didn’t answer, instead grabbing the phone and running back to the office. “Teacher? Wait for me.”

Chomsky’s laptop was still on Jian Minggui’s desk. Tang Yingli entered the password with one hand and re-entered his email inbox.

She stared at the photo on the screen, dumbfounded. “It’s the same…”

“What’s the same?”

The lighting in the photo was the dim, lazy glow unique to a bar. The camera was aimed at the bar, where two men were talking, each holding a glass of beer.

Pressing her rose-colored lips together, Tang Yingli placed her phone next to the screen for comparison. When Jinglin understood, she gasped.

The logo on the sign and the one on the beer glass were a perfect match.

**

Andrew Chomsky stared at the screen, his eyes bloodshot.

He hadn’t slept since the incident, working on a paper he was about to publish. But the tinnitus, the fatigue, and the uncontrollable thoughts in his head were constantly affecting his concentration.

‘She was the one who took the picture. She leaked your medical records… these strangers have a grasp on your every move.’

Was it Meta?

‘Absolutely. She definitely has ulterior motives. You’re twenty-eight years apart… for a woman her age, both your academic status and your money are a temptation…’

Chomsky clutched his head, the right side of the back of his head aching so much he could barely think.

‘The reason she was with you last night was probably to steal the data from your computer. In the past two or three years, when have you ever shared a room when you were out?’

But he had been too relaxed last night, completely drunk. Meta had been taking care of him, reminding him not to forget his speech the next day. She had even set his alarm clock for him…

And then, the situation had come crashing down like a tsunami. There was a knock on the door, and someone had come back to the room with another room key.

‘Professor? What are you doing here…’

‘Andrew!’

With her guard down, he had acted quickly. The woman had fallen, and warm blood had splattered all over his right hand.

‘It’s not safe yet. You go, I’ll take care of this.’

Would that work? Wouldn’t he get caught?

‘It’s fine, everything will be fine. We’ll be in touch. Remember not to keep your phone on all the time, it’s easy to track.’

He had fled in a panic, replaying the scene over and over in his mind. To calm his unease, he had told himself again and again—that person wasn’t Meta.

He was just deceiving himself. If it wasn’t Meta, who else could it be?

But she had taken that photo, the one that looked like she was being followed, and had sent it through another account that had been harassing him for a long time.

Chomsky ran his hands through his hair, saved his finished paper, and scheduled it to be uploaded. With a trembling hand, he logged out of the cracked account he had been using to hide and logged into his private database at Dartmouth College with his own username and password.

As if reviewing his life’s work, he selected all and deleted all his saved results.

Then, he took the initiative to contact that person.

‘Professor, do you have an answer?’

Chomsky took a deep breath and said in a hoarse, trembling voice, “I agree to cooperate.”

‘Really? That’s great. We need you to provide the brain scans from your research on serial killers…’

“I’ll give them to you. But before that, I need you to take me somewhere.”

The person pondered for a moment. ‘I can… but don’t forget, the Taiwanese police are currently looking for you with all their might.’

Thump, thump… he could feel his blood boiling, and anger filled his body, making him forget his fatigue.

‘Kill him… kill him.’

Staring at the revolver the stranger had given him, he reached into his pocket and turned on his phone.

“I know… I’ll be very careful.”

**

For the Criminal Investigation Division, the task of finding Chomsky was gradually turning from difficult to nearly impossible.

They had compiled all the information they had, including the people who might have helped Chomsky escape, but he had vanished from the city as if he had evaporated. They had used every clue they had, but they still couldn’t find him.

Outside the chief’s office, Tang Yingli was still busy. She was trying to write a criminal profile and was continuously in contact with Chomsky’s family doctor.

Through her persistent efforts, the doctor finally relented.

‘He has tinnitus, and his hearing is also slightly impaired. It’s been going on for over half a year. I’ve examined his ear canals in detail, but everything is normal, and so are his brain CT and MRI. I finally concluded that it was caused by stress and told him to temporarily avoid stimulating foods, and to get more rest and some nutritional supplements and observe. After that, I rarely heard him complain about it again.’

Rarely heard? No. After accidentally taking aspirin, Chomsky would have definitely felt dizzy and nauseous, and the symptoms would have continued to worsen.

“So you were the one who prescribed him the nutritional supplements?”

‘Yes. Is there a problem?’

Tang Yingli jumped up from her seat. “No problem. Let me ask you, has the professor recently undergone any psychiatric evaluation or psychological counseling? All of his friends have pointed out that his behavior is abnormal.”

‘Yes, I did suggest he get a full psychological evaluation, but…’ the family doctor trailed off.

“Dr. William?”

‘He did it. Even the PCL-R—the Hare Psychopathy Checklist-Revised. But these things are distorted to some extent for him. You know the reason, Dr. Tang.’

Chomsky was an expert in the study of criminals. His understanding of neuroscience and psychology far exceeded that of the average person. Whether it was a test or a scan, he had not only done most of them, but had even participated in the design of some of the questions.

‘In the end, he kind of gave up on treatment, until he found emotional comfort, and then everything gradually returned to normal… I’ll fax you his recent medical records in a bit. You can judge for yourself.’

“I understand…” She shrank her shoulders and sat back down. “Thank you, Dr. William.”

‘Dr. Tang, no matter what the result, you have to believe one thing.’ Before hanging up, he pleaded in a serious tone, ‘Professor Chomsky is a good person.’

“He is.” She had always believed that. “Goodbye.”

Tossing the phone aside, she rested her chin on her hand and stared at the fax machine. It quickly came to life. She anxiously grabbed the papers, wanting to see all the contents of the medical records as soon as possible. Just then, Zhou Jinglin came to her side with a notebook.

“What’s wrong?” Tang Yingli was busy examining the medical records and could only spare an ear for her.

“I went to check that bar. The owner doesn’t know anything about Wu Jianxiong, but as for this photo,” Jinglin placed the photo printed from Chomsky’s email on her desk, “he does have a strong impression of this group of foreigners. They were sitting at the bar, chatting, and drinking one cocktail after another. He even said with confidence that he remembered which drinks they had ordered.”

“If Wu Jianxiong’s target was Chomsky, then he would have definitely been able to recognize him from so many people.”

Jinglin gritted her teeth. “In the end, we still don’t know his purpose for going to the bar… this is definitely not a coincidence.”

“I don’t think so either.” After examining the medical records in her hand, Tang Yingli carefully folded them. “Let’s not guess for now. Let’s just continue to investigate.”

“How are things on your end?”

“I got the medical records. Chomsky has so many health problems, it’s dizzying. I can’t believe he was still able to take on this speech…” Before she could finish, her phone rang. Tang Yingli glanced at the caller ID and switched to English again. “Hi, did you find anything?”

The caller was the system administrator from Dartmouth College. “…Really? Are you sure it’s his account?” her voice rose, and she gestured for Jinglin to write it down. “Okay, please give me the IP address…”