“How do you know it’s the owners?”
“Usernames. One is a company account, and the other is Massayu’s. There’re no other usernames in the logs. It looks like the laptops were never used for communication.”
“It was used only to upload the videos?”
“That’s what the logs show.”
“I hope you two have better luck,” Sherry says to Johan and Deena.
“Records called, said one of the fingerprints lifted from the Apple laptop matched Azuandin but not the Ape-Man. Two more sets are unknown.”
“Sherry, can you get Massayu’s prints for matching so we can identify the two unknown prints? Ask her if anyone else used her computer and get their prints, too. I don’t like loose ends. What about the contact numbers?”
“We’ve almost finished capturing them,” Deena says. “I should have listened to my mother and taken up typing, it’s definitely a required skill for a police officer,” she quips.
Mislan pulls Sherry aside.
“We need to try some other way to make them talk.”
Sherry looks at him suspiciously.
“No, I don’t mean beating the shit out of them. That would be very un-police like,” he says.
“Then what?”
Detective Dorai enters the room beaming and hands Mislan a small black plastic bag. Mislan peeks at the contents and smiles.
“You can have them after I’m done with it.”
“No, thank you. Not my cup of tea,” Dorai says.
“Can you organize a computer?”
“On it.”
“Let me know when you’re done,” Mislan tells the detective.
Sitting next to Sherry, Mislan explains to her what he has in mind. Sherry gazes at him skeptically.
“You think it’ll work?”
“I don’t know. Worth a try to see the reaction.”
“You’re desperate, aren’t you?”
Mislan nods.
“I don’t know if I can pull it,” she admits.
“Do the best you can. Work it out with Deena.”
“OK, let me discuss it with her.”
Sherry gestures to Deena to follow her to her office. Johan looks at her, then his boss questioningly. When Sherry and Deena leave, Mislan explains to Johan what he has in mind.
“Jo, I’m willing to try anything to break these bastards,” Mislan admits.
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“We’ll think of something else.”
“Ma’am knows about this?”
“Does she need to?”
“I don’t know, does she?”
Mislan shrugs.
“You’re already in deep shit with ISCD. Won’t this makes it worse if they knew about it?”
“One additional charge won’t make any difference to the outcome, would it?”
“If you say so.”
He walks to Sherry’s office to find her with Deena intensely discussing their roles.
“You follow my lead.” Sherry says, “and don’t you go overboard.”
“But if I’m to be your bitch, I’ll have to be lovey-dovey don’t I?” Deena insists playfully. “Otherwise, he’ll see we’re faking it.”
“It’s nice to see you both getting into your roles. Make it casual, a slight touch of the hands, a TLC glance, a whisper, a light brush of the lips on the ear,” Mislan suggests. “Don’t come on too strong. You girls are conducting an interview. It has to look real.”
“Wow, never would’ve thought you’d know so much about it,” Sherry mocks him.
Mislan smiles. “I’m good to go. Can you girls finish your rehearsals soon? I want to do it simultaneously.”
“Give us five,” Sherry says.
Mislan sits facing Azuandin, while Johan takes the DVD out of a small black plastic bag and slots it into the computer drive. He clicks play and lowers the volume. The suspect watches with unblinking eyes.
“I brought you a treat,” Mislan says.
The image of a woman touching herself appears on the monitor. After a few minutes, another woman appears and they start caressing and kissing.
Mislan notes the suspect looks uneasy, his breathing labored, face contorting, and eyes narrowing. Mislan sees rage, burning rage. The suspect turns his head away from the monitor and screams, “Shut the bloody thing off, you disgusting bastards.”
Mislan laughs. He’s got the suspect’s attention. Johan stands behind the suspect, holding his head firmly, and turns it to face the monitor.
“What’s the matter, you don’t like seeing sexy naked women?” he asks.
“Go to hell,” the suspect curses, shutting his eyes tight.
Mislan increases the volume, and the room is filled with the moaning of pleasure from the two women in the video.
The suspect shakes his head wildly and screams. “Go to hell, traitor of your race and religion, you shall burn in hell. You and the rest of them.”
“Not before you,” Johan mocks him.
“Them, who are them?” Mislan asks. “The women you raped?”
The suspect continues to swear at them, screaming for the video to be turned off, accusing them of being heathens and committing mortal sin by enjoying deviant sex.
“How dare you call yourselves Muslim? It’s people like you, and those deviants, who defile our religion. Infidel … infidel. Lesbian lovers … infidels!” he sneers.
Mislan and his assistant watch in disbelief as the suspect yanks at the handcuffs, trying to break loose, wailing and cursing. Shit, this guy is a lunatic. He’s willing to break his damned hand to get at the computer. He signals Johan to turn off the computer. Instantly, the suspect stops yanking at the cuffs and stops swearing, opening his eyes.
Mislan motions to the suspect’s bruised hand.
Johan shrugs. “He did it to himself.”
Mislan’s cell phone rings.
“Mislan.”
“Inspector Mislan, Fakurrulah here. Are you still at the office?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’s something that might interest you. I’ll be there in twenty.”
“Sir, we’re at D11.”
“OK.”
He tells Johan to organize for a standby detective to guard the suspect. They walk to Interview Room 2, and Mislan signals to Sherry and Deena to step out.
“How?”
“Not biting.”
Johan laughs. “Maybe you’re not convincing enough.”
“How to be convincing? I touch her a little, and she pulls away,” Deena complains. “How about yours?”
“Went berserk the minute Jo played the video. He condemned the two of us to an eternity in hell,” Mislan says, shaking his head. “It was unbelievable.”
“So why are we out here?” Sherry asks.
“Giving him a break, before we screw up his head again,” Mislan teases her. “ASP Fakurrulah is on the way here. He says he might have something that could help us.”
“I need some coffee. Is there still some?” Sherry says.
“I told Dorai to make a fresh pot.”
52
ASSISTANT SUPERINTENDENT OF POLICE Fakurrulah sips the coffee and frowns. “What’s this?” he says, holding up the mug.
“PM,” Deena laughs. “Police meth. It’s totally legit, designed to keep you awake and hyper all night.”
“I thought coffee this bad only existed on TV,” Fakurrulah jokes.
He puts the mug on the table and pushes it away.
“OK, going through our files, I noticed this. I thought it might be useful to you.”
He pulls out a file from his briefcase and slides it across the table to Mislan.
Sherry leans closer to Mislan, and reads it with him. Her eyes widen.
“How credible is this intel?” she asks.
“Low. It’s something we heard on the streets, but we’ve not assigned resources to it. You know how it is. We get information by the truckload every day. We don’t have the resources to foll
ow up on everything we hear out there. If there’s no threat against national security, it gets filed away, unless something else comes up.”
“You’re saying that anti-LGBT movements are not considered a threat to national security?” Mislan asks.
“Not as it stands.”
“What about this?”
“As I said, it’s something we picked up on the streets. No one gave it a second thought, and that was that.”
“What about those guys we picked up, you heard anything about them?”
“Rumors, street gossip, coffee-shop talk.” Fakurrulah takes another sip of the coffee and grimaces. “I’ll never get used to this. Who drinks this?”
All heads turn to Mislan.
“I guessed as much. You must have the taste buds of a crocodile.”
“I thought crocodiles didn’t have taste buds,” Sherry remarks.
Fakurrulah nods, grinning, and stands.
“You might want to get your men to dig a little deeper, see what comes up.”
Mislan closes the file and returns it to him.
“Keep it. That copy is for you. Good luck, and thanks for the coffee, or whatever it was.”
The room is silent after Fakurrulah leaves, as if no one wants to be the first to talk. Finally, Saifuddin breaks the silence.
“What’s in the file?”
Johan is unsure if Saifuddin, a civilian, is allowed to read a Special Branch file. He looks toward Mislan. Mislan nods, and Johan gives the file to Saifuddin.
“Wow,” he exclaims. “Is this for real?”
“I need to talk to ma’am,” Mislan declares.
“At this hour? Can’t we wait until tomorrow morning?” Sherry asks.
“I need eyes on him. Immediately,” Mislan says.
“You really think he’s involved?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances. You’re the lead: what’s your decision?”
Sherry stares at him awkwardly. “What would you do?”
“Go with it, but then I’ve got nothing to lose.”
The room falls silent again.
“I’m with Inspector Mislan. I say we go for it,” Johan says.
“OK, we put eyes on him tonight.” Looking at the clock, she corrects herself: “This morning. I’ll brief ma’am, first thing when she comes in. In the meantime, let’s use this info on our suspects to see their reaction.”
“Sai, I want you to search the net for everything you can get on him,” Mislan instructs.
“Like what?” Saifuddin asks.
“What don’t you understand about the word everything?” he barks. “The rest of you, this is on a need-to-know basis.”
Deena leans closer to Johan and whispers, “What about the team?”
“In order to be safe, not even them, unless you’re sure they’re in the loop,” Johan whispers back to her.
“Sai, what’s the outcome on cross-matching the phone numbers?”
“There’re twenty-two common numbers on the three phone lists.”
“That’s too many. Take out numbers belonging to women. How many would you have left?”
“Let’s see … nineteen.”
“Still too many. OK, get me the numbers calls were made to between midnight and morning, say around seven.”
“Why seven?” Sherry asks.
“That’s roughly after morning prayers. I figured, if they reported their deeds to anyone, that would be the time, just before or just after the morning prayer.”
“Hmmm.”
“Two numbers.”
“Sherry, can you get one of your men to get the details of the owners from the telco first thing tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll get Mokthar to do it.”
“You want to continue with Ape-Man?”
Sherry shakes her head. “I’d like to join you with yours.”
“Best if you keep at yours with the new info, see if he talks.”
53
MISLAN REENTERS THE INTERVIEW room and notes the time on the wall clock. It’s just after 3:30 a.m. He sits facing the suspect and nods to Johan, who in turn nods at the detective to leave the room. The suspect glares at them with bleary eyes, his fury still evident. He hisses at them and goes back to his original position, head resting on his folded free arm at the table. Mislan looks at Johan and gestures with his head toward the suspect. Johan takes a step forward and slams hard on the table with both palms. The impact makes the suspect jump off his chair, dragging the table with him with his hand still cuffed to it.
“Fuck you!” the suspect screams at Johan, who steps back smiling and leans against the wall.
“No, thank you,” Johan says with a grin.
“Sit down,” Mislan says firmly.
The suspect keeps staring at Johan menacingly, ignoring Mislan’s instruction.
“Sit down,” Mislan snaps.
Azuandin turns his attention to him, staring like a cornered tiger standing his ground.
Mislan smiles at him, making him furious. “Sit down.”
The suspect remains standing, glaring at him.
“Suit yourself,” Mislan says and tells Johan to remove the chair.
Johan does as instructed and yanks the table back to its original position, tugging the suspect’s cuffed hand with it.
Azuandin growls at him.
“Who’s Pak Non?” Mislan asks.
“Your bastard father,” Azuandin sneers.
Mislan calmly lights a cigarette and takes a drag.
“Who’s Pak Non?” he repeats, unruffled.
“Your—”
“Don’t,” Johan cuts in before the suspect can finish answering. Stepping closer to the suspect, he says, “You don’t want to try me.”
The suspect makes a mocking face at him. With lightning speed, Johan’s hand digs into the suspect’s stomach, holding the flesh with his thumb and index finger. The suspect tries to pull away and Johan locks him in an embrace and twists the stomach flesh. The suspect screams. He turns his head around and tries to bite Johan’s arm. The detective sergeant twists the flesh harder, and the suspect finally gives in. His face turns red, then white.
“Don’t be disrespectful. Don’t ever bring family into this. Do you understand?” Johan whispers in his ears.
The suspect yelps, “OK, OK.” Saliva drools from his mouth.
“Good.”
Johan releases his grip and slowly moves back to his position against the wall without taking his eyes off the suspect. Mislan gives the suspect a few seconds to catch his breath and lick his wounds, before asking him again.
“Who’s Pak Non?”
“My uncle.”
“What’s his full name?”
“Zainon.”
“Zainon what?”
“I don’t know, just know him as Pak Non.”
“Where does he live?”
“PJ.”
“Where in Petaling Jaya?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did Ape-Man, I mean Radin, get to know him?”
Azuandin’s eyes widen.
“How does Radin know him?” Mislan repeats.
The suspect remains quiet.
“I’ll ask you again, who is Pak Non?” Mislan says, leaning across the table toward the suspect.
Johan straightens, cracking his knuckles.
Sherry pokes her head into the room. “Radin broke. He’s given Pak Non away.”
The suspect hangs on every word Sherry says. His head bows, and he stares at the floor.
“Great. Offer him a deal. We don’t need this fool,” Mislan says. “We’ll pin the murder on him and make sure the DPP asks for the death penalty.”
The suspect lifts his head.
“I didn’t murder anyone. You can’t frame me for that!” he yells. “I’ll talk, if you make me a deal.”
Mislan turns to Sherry and winks. She gives him the tiniest of grins and disappears. He places his digital recorder on the table, and Azuandin starts spilling
, and by the time he finishes, it is 5:55 in the morning. Mislan instructs Johan to arrange for the suspect to be remanded into custody.
“Get some rest. Tell the team we’ll meet at eight. I’ll call ma’am to see if she wants to join us.”
He goes to Sherry’s office and finds her napping.
She sits up with bleary eyes when she hears the door. “So, how did it go?”
Mislan slumps heavily into a chair. “Before I forget, that was a good bluff. Scared him shitless.”
“You said it yourself: TV is a good teacher,” she says with a laugh. “Did he admit to the rapes?”
“No, but he gave us many leads.”
“You mean more work,” she says and sighs. “And we don’t have much time left.”
“You mean, I don’t have much time left,” he corrects her. “Whatever happens, the case is in good hands. How did it go with Ape-Man?”
“Stuck to his earlier story like superglue.”
“Doesn’t matter, we’ll break him later. He’s just one of the procurement agents and a target spotter.”
“What do you mean by one of? How many of them are out there?”
“Azuandin doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the others. He only deals with Ape-Man and Pak Non.”
“What was his role?”
“It’s a damn labyrinth.”
54
THE SMELL OF FORTY-HOUR unwashed bodies, soiled clothes, cigarette smoke, stale coffee, and overnight nasi lemak is overpowering. Samsiah gags on entering the task force room. Saifuddin sleepily turns his head from the monitors, flashing her a smile. “Morning, ma’am.”
“Morning Sai. It smells like fish-manure in here,” Samsiah says. “I know you guys are exhausted, but you don’t have to look like bums.”
The bleary-eyed officers and detectives straighten up.
“Now that’s better,” she comments with a warm smile. “Take five minutes and go freshen up. Sherry, get some cleaners in here to clear the mess. I’ll stay and make sure they don’t get nosy.”
The officers and detectives file out, leaving Saifuddin alone with Superintendent Samsiah.
“Why’re you still here?”
The Forensic IT technician gawks at her.
“You’re part of the team, aren’t you?”
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