“No, I mean, yes … no … I was looking through some reports,” Sega stutters, going red in the face. “Inspector, Sergeant, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Please sit down. How may I assist you this time?”
His eyes flick from them to the monitor, and his hand gets busy with the mouse and the moaning stops.
Johan places the printout from the CCTV recording on the table. “Do you recognize these boys?”
Gunasegaran’s shaky hand picks up the photo for a closer look. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Is there any way to identify them? Your student records, perhaps.”
“I don’t think I can, not without the administrator’s permission. I suggest you write officially with your request.”
“Mr. Sega, all we need is the identities of the students. We’d like to talk to them. I’m sure you can assist us without making us go through the red tape.” Johan says.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you, Sergeant. You have to—”
“I thought I heard a woman moaning when we entered,” Mislan says to his assistant, cutting Gunasegaran off. Turning to the assistant manager, he says, “Were you watching porn on your computer?”
“I thought I heard it, too,” Johan says.
“I bet our IT guy will be able to get into the history log and tell us just how many times he’s been jerking off watching porn with the college’s computer. Maybe he’s also got some downloaded. Isn’t that an offense under the Multimedia Act, Jo?”
Mislan sees Gunasegaran squirming.
“But we don’t want to do that, do we Jo? We don’t care what the Student Affairs assistant manager does in the privacy of his office, right Jo? We just want the particulars of the students in this photo.”
Gunasegaran picks up the photo, saying, “Let me see what I can do,” and leaves the office.
Mislan grins at Johan.
While they wait for him to return, the inspector’s cell phone rings.
“Mislan.”
“Afternoon, Inspector. Chew, Forensic.”
“Yo, Chew. I hope you have some good news for me.”
“How about half-good?” he says jokingly.
“I’ll settle for any percentage.”
“The blood trace on the street at the Setapak Jaya flat is not of the same blood type as the murder victim. I sent it for DNA analysis and told them to rush it.”
“That’s something to look forward to.”
“The debris was from a motorbike indicator light. We managed to piece it together and obtained a partial manufacturer’s serial number. It’s from Yamaha. That’s all we can establish.”
“That’s not much to go on. When can we get the DNA results?”
“Tomorrow morning, earliest.”
“Let me know when you get them, please.”
“You’ll be the first. Hey, Sai told me you have a third case. That makes it serial, doesn’t it?”
“Legal definition, yes.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll get them soon.”
“I hope so.”
Gunasegaran returns with two printouts and gives them to Mislan.
Reviewing them, he asks, “Are they here in the college now?”
“Yes, but I’d like your cooperation and agreement not to pick them up here,” he pleads. “Their lecture will be over in about thirty minutes. Perhaps you can detain them outside the college.”
“Since you’ve been so cooperative, I think we can do that.”
“Jo, why don’t you wait outside the class and whisper to them to come for a drink with you.” And to Gunasegaran, he says, “Thank you.”
Gunasegaran scratches an imaginary itch on his head and mumbles, “About the moaning …”
“What moaning?” Mislan grins and turns to leave.
“Thank you, thank you,” the assistant manager says.
Mislan heads for the mamak restaurant, orders an iced black coffee, lights a cigarette, and waits for his assistant to bring the students. His cell phone rings. It’s Inspector Sherry.
“Yes, Sherry.”
“Spoke to Massayu. She identified the backpack as hers but doesn’t know who the boys are.”
“Great. Ask her if she has a picture of her with the backpack showing the teddy bear. If she does, get one.”
“OK. Where are you?”
“Having a smoke and drink outside KLCAC.”
“You want me to come around?”
“I’ll meet you in the office. Hey, have you contacted Selangor’s D11?”
“Yes, they’re sending a copy of their report over. ASP Luan is the IO. By the way, ma’am wants a sit-down at 2:30.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
Mislan makes a call to his assistant and is told the class just ended. He watches as students pour out of the building, and some of them walk into the restaurant: teenagers and young adults, male and female in torn jeans, printed crewneck T-shirts, baseball caps worn backward, branded sneakers—kids from well-to-do families. Kids who couldn’t get a place in public universities for whatever reason but with money are enjoying a Western university’s lifestyle in a private college. None of the bullshit government-imposed activities and dress codes. He spots Johan with a young man walking toward the restaurant.
Johan tells the young man to take a seat and introduces him as Khairol.
“Where is the other one?” Mislan asks.
“He didn’t show up today.”
Mislan spreads the photos on the table. “Do you know who this is?” He taps the baseball-capped head in the picture.
Khairol picks up the photos for a closer look. “That’s Wahab, a former student. Why?”
“Former? What was he doing walking with you in the college?”
“He said he was going to the bursary.”
“Was he in your class?”
“Yes, in the first semester. Then he dropped out.”
“Why did he leave the college?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was he expelled?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s his full name?”
“We only knew him as Wahab.”
“Do you know where he’s from, or where he lived?”
“No.”
“Does he have a motorbike?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have his contact number?”
“No.”
“What about this guy? Who is he?”
“Richard, he’s from Sabah.”
“Are you two close friends?”
“So-so.”
“Was he close to Wahab?”
“I don’t think so.”
“OK, thanks, you’ve been very helpful.” Mislan indicates the interview is over and signals the waiter for his bill. “Jo, get the particulars of this Wahab from the college. When you’re done, come back to the office. Ma’am wants a meeting at 2:30.”
33
THE HEAD OF SPECIAL Investigations and the head of Sexual & Child Abuse Investigations arrive together. Sherry greets them and starts her briefing immediately. With the help of the now almost fully covered whiteboard, she updates them on the discoveries at the Setapak Jaya City Hall Public Housing and the CCTV recordings from KLCAC.
“Anything from Forensic?”
“The blood from the street isn’t that of the murder victim. DNA results will come in tomorrow morning. Forensic managed to put together the debris collected from the secondary scene and have obtained a partial manufacturer’s serial number of the motorcycle indicator light cover, a Yamaha, but without a complete serial number, there’s no way of identifying the model.”
“What about the college? Any luck there?” Samsiah asks.
“Mislan and Johan spoke to one of the students, and he identified the baseball-capped guy as Abdul Wahab Majid, a former student who was booted out for failing to pay his second semester fees. His last known address is in Hulu Kelang, and the task force detectives are paying him a visit as we speak.”
“Did the DG’s daughter identify the backpack as the one she lost?”
“Yes, and the teddy-bear keychain as well.”
“What about the third rape?” Lillian asks.
“The MO is similar. ASP Luan is the IO, and she’ll keep us informed of any development.”
“I heard you’re thinking of a copycat rape. What is your theory based on?” Samsiah asks Sherry.
Just then, the door swings open, and the bulky figure of a fuming Senior Assistant Commissioner Burhanuddin Sidek fills the doorway, startling them all. “Why wasn’t I informed of this meeting?” he roars.
“We’re getting an update to brief you later,” Samsiah answers for the rest. “But since you’re here, do join us.”
Sherry is asked to start again from the beginning. Mislan excuses himself for a call of nature, getting a suspicious glare from Samsiah and Sherry. He winks at Sherry, steps out of the task force room, heads for the emergency staircase, and lights a cigarette. He calls Johan, tells him to come into the task force room in five minutes and ask for permission to speak to him.
“Why?”
“I need to get out of there.”
“Why can’t you just tell ma’am?”
“Because the OCCI just came in.”
“Oh, OK.”
Mislan squashes his cigarette and goes back into the task force room, with Samsiah’s eyes following him. After a few minutes, there is a light knock on the door and Johan appears with a serious expression.
“Sir, may I speak to Inspector Mislan?” he addresses the OCCI and, without waiting for an answer, walks toward Mislan and pretends to whisper in his ear. Mislan nods several times, and Johan makes a quick exit. Mislan leans toward his boss. “I need to organize a stakeout for Wahab, the former student.”
“Can’t Jo do it?”
“I don’t want to chance it.”
“Go, make the arrangement, and come back.”
“I may be late.”
“I want you back here. Go give your instructions to Jo, and come back here,” she whispers firmly.
Mislan takes his leave, annoyed with his failed ploy to escape some verbal diarrhea. He goes to meet Johan, who is waiting for him outside. He shakes his head.
“Didn’t work.”
Johan laughs, “You’ve used that trick too often. What now?”
“She wants you to organize the stakeout for Wahab.”
“Where did that come from?”
“I told her there was some problem and that I needed to organize a stakeout.” Mislan chuckles. “Instead, she wants you to handle it.”
Johan shakes his head.
“Anything from the detective?”
“They’re still looking for him. He’s not staying at the given address anymore. Syed says they’ve got a lead and are following up on it.”
Mislan goes to the emergency staircase and lights a cigarette.
“I thought you’re trying to cut down.”
“Gave that up. Jo, I need you to do a background on the Shah Alam vic. Focus on her sexual orientation.”
“You think she is, you know?”
“Two vics with the same sexual orientation may be a coincidence. Three … I’d say we’re on to something.”
“What about the stakeout?”
“What stakeout?”
Mislan’s cell phone rings. It’s Daniel, and he’s excited. “Daddy, I got number one.”
“Number one what, kiddo?”
“I topped my class. Teacher put the results up, and I’m the first in my class.”
“Congratulations, kiddo, Daddy is proud of you. Have you told Mummy?”
“Why?”
“I’m sure she’d like to know, too.”
“OK.”
“Hey, I’m proud of you, my number one kiddo.”
34
MISLAN REENTERS THE TASK force room just as Sherry is finishing her briefing. The room is silent as they wait for Burhanuddin’s comments.
“This case is going to hit the news tonight and the press tomorrow. I still have nothing to give them. Do you know how bad that makes me look?”
“We do have a suspect.” Samsiah says. “However, I do not recommend this information be revealed to the press just yet.”
“When can you bring him into custody?”
“My men are tracking him down. Mislan has just arranged for a stakeout at his last known address,” she replies.
Oh boy, Mislan says to himself.
“So you still have nothing.”
“If you say so,” Samsiah answers defiantly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Burhanuddin snaps at her.
“We have a suspect. But if you feel that’s nothing—”
“I know what it means. You don’t have to be disrespectful. Lately, your attitude borders on insubordination. I told you to order him,” he points to Mislan, “to apologize to Datuk Yunus. But, what did you do? You went behind my back and called Datuk.”
Samsiah checks herself, not wanting to prolong the meeting.
“I want something that I can show the press. You’ve until tomorrow morning before I hand this case over to someone more competent.” The OCCI issues the ultimatum and leaves the room.
As the door closes behind him, Samsiah says, “OK, let’s get some work done. Sherry, you think the Shah Alam case is a copycat?”
“Yes, but Sai says the username of the person uploading the video is the same as in the previous cases.”
“And that makes you think this is not a copycat?” Samsiah asks, turning to Saifuddin, who is still in a daze from watching the OCCI’s performance.
“Ah? Sorry … yes. No two usernames can be the same on the same social network. The system will reject it and suggest additional numeric characters that could be added to differentiate it.”
Samsiah nods. “Lan, you’ve been very quiet. What do you think?”
“I think both Sherry and Sai are right.”
“I was afraid you might say that. So, you think there’s more than one team?” Samsiah sighs.
Mislan nods. “That would be the most logical explanation.”
“I don’t follow you,” Lillian says.
“If Sherry and Sai are both right, which they probably are, we are up against a gang that’s going around raping women. So far, we can safely say there are two rapists, but God knows how many more there are in the gang,” Mislan explains.
“Oh, my God,” Lillian gasps.
“Several things are bugging me. One is the time lapse between cases. Seven days between the first and the second case, and between the second and the third case was three days.”
“Explain,” Samsiah says.
“I may be wrong, and we all should be praying that I am. Based on the short time lapse, I believe the rapes were planned and scheduled. What was left is for them to execute it in accordance to the schedule.”
The room falls silent as they all realize the magnitude of Mislan’s hypothesis. All eyes are glued on him.
“You said several, what are the others?” Sherry asks.
“In the first rape the perp was seen kissing or sucking on the vic’s nipples. He was extremely lucky the vic showered and washed away the evidence before you arrived. In the second case, the perp didn’t repeat the same mistake, and I bet you the same for the third case.”
Sherry walks behind the IT tech and watches as he is already running the video while Mislan was explaining.
“Mislan’s right,” Sherry says, looking up from the monitors.
“Your point?” Samsiah asks.
“To me, it’s like they or someone is reviewing the video and pointing out the perp’s mistakes. Mistakes that could give them away through trace evidence.”
“You mean to say they’re trained, supervised, or coached?” Lillian utters.
“I’m not saying they were, but they’ve gotten better at what they do,” Mislan answers. “Another thing is their script or dialogue. I’ve not listened to the third cas
e, but the first two, the dialogue was almost the same. Like it was scripted and rehearsed.”
“Sai, can you transcribe the dialogue?” Sherry asks.
“I don’t want anything discussed here to leave this room.” Samsiah says firmly. “If the press gets wind of this, there’ll be nationwide panic.”
Everyone solemnly nods.
“I’d say our best bet for closure is the video man … the Emancipatist,” Mislan says. “He’s the link to the three rapes.”
“I agree with Mislan,” Sherry says. “We get him, we get them all.”
“Sai, can you monitor the username 24/7?” Samsiah says.
“Done. I’ve written a small program for the system to beep me when he’s logged on. I can program it to notify any of you guys, too, if you wish.”
Samsiah looks at the two investigators.
Both nod.
“What’s the status on the former student?”
Mislan shakes his head.
“Put him on top of your list. Get him, and I’ll let you smoke in your office for a week,” Samsiah says.
“Just one week?” he teases her.
“Get him before midnight, and you get a month,” Samsiah ups the bait and laughs. “And I’ll throw in a packet of cigarettes as a bonus.”
The meeting is adjourned, and, while walking out, Sherry asks him what his plans are.
“I’m going to get my one-month smoking privileges.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Don’t you have anything else to do?”
“For now, only this case.”
Mislan calls Detective Syed to ask for updates. Syed tells him they have information that Wahab works in a cybercafe called Hot Fingers in Bandar Baru Bangi. They are on the way there to check it out.
Mislan makes another call. “Hi, can you talk?”
“Yes, what’s up?” Dr. Safia answers.
“Do you know cybercafes in the UKM area?”
“No, why?”
“You lived … I mean, your mom lived there, didn’t she?”
“Yes, but my mom didn’t go to cybercafes,” Dr. Safia says with a chuckle. “You should ask students at the uni.”
“Thank you, you’ve been a great help,” he says sarcastically.
Dr. Safia laughs. “Want to meet later for dinner?”
“Love to, but can’t decide now. Let you know later,” he says and hangs up.
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