The Poisoned Pen: A Guardian Story

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Last Confrontation

Shen Wei stared defiantly at the man in front of him and clutched at where an angry red line extended from his shoulder almost all of the way down to his elbow.  The slice was not deep, but it hurt like hell.

His plan to lock himself in the bathroom had quickly been abandoned.  He did not want to cower away like a frightened animal, he decided.  He would rather take his chances in a face-to-face confrontation.  If he was lucky, he might just be able to wrestle the knife away from Gao Han and put them both on a more even footing.  If not, well at least he would go down fighting which, having underestimated the other man's strength, was the prospect he was now facing.

Gao Han took a moment to stare at the traces of red on his weapon, a look of morbid fascination on his face.

"I was saving this knife just for you.  I promised myself that it would only be stained with your blood.  And now, promise made, promise kept."

He laughed.  It was a sound full of insanity and obsession, and Shen Wei immediately felt anger welling up inside of him.  Looking around, he saw a bronze statue of a horse sitting on the mantlepiece to his left.  Quickly reaching for it, he took the opportunity to lob it in Gao Han's direction.  It hit the ground with a thud, but not before it connected with the man's right shoulder.

The author watched with satisfaction as the journalist's face screwed up in pain, then decided that this was most likely his only opportunity to make an escape.  Dashing forward, he made a beeline for a gap next to the man's injured side, and launched himself into it, putting all of his energy into reaching the handle of his closed bedroom door.

To Shen Wei's horror, he was almost within touching distance when a strong arm circled his waist and pulled him back.  Immediately, he felt the impact of a broad chest and the prick of a sharp knife as it pierced the skin at his neck.

"Naughty naughty," said a voice, low and dangerous.  "You can't leave now.  We haven't finished playing."

The writer began to struggle, but it only made the point of the knife sink a little deeper into his neck.  It had not yet drawn blood, but it was only a matter of time.  Closing his eyes, he willed himself to stay calm while he waited for whatever twisted game the killer wanted to play next.

***

Zhao Yunlan stood outside Shen Wei's room, listening intently.  He had definitely heard the sounds of a scuffle, and then a male voice, but it was too quiet to make out the words.  In his head, he debated whether to go and find a police officer to give them strength in numbers, but by then it could be too late.  Then he wondered whether he should just throw the door open and charge in, hoping that he would benefit from the element of surprise.  However, he realised that was too risky.  If Gao Han already had a weapon on the writer, any sudden sound or movement could cause him to unintentionally lash out.

Decision made, the detective reached out a hand, turned the handle, then slowly opened the door, where the scene that greeted him was like something out of his worst nightmares.

Gao Han was standing in the middle of the room holding an exhausted Shen Wei by the waist in front of him, with his free hand clutching a glittering blade to the writer's throat.  One arm of the captive's white shirt was smeared red with blood, and the rest of it clung to his body with sweat.  His hair was dishevelled, falling down around his face and framing eyes that were full not of fear, but of something even more terrifying.  Resignation.

Zhao Yunlan gave the author a small smile of reassurance before he addressed the other man.

"It's over, Gao Han.  Three officers are downstairs and more will be here in moments.  If you release Shen Wei now, you might have a chance of getting away."