“Legally or illegally, they do exist,” Audi persists, unhappy with the answer.
Faridah ignores her. “Yes, what’s your question?”
“I’m Cindy from the NST. The rapes seem to be happening two to three days apart. Are they all committed by the same individuals?”
“We’re still investigating that, and we hope to announce our findings soon. OK, one last question.”
The announcement draws disgruntled murmurs from the crowd, and hands start waving wildly to attract her attention.
“You sir, in the front row.”
“I’m Liew from Sin Chew Daily. Why was SAC Burhanuddin the OCCI taken off the case?”
“SAC Burhanuddin has not been taken off the case. The Director of CID is of the opinion that this case should be handled by Bukit Aman.” Faridah picks up her notes and says, “Thank you very much for your time, and I would like to remind you that no information discussed today will be printed or broadcast. Again, on behalf of the police force, I thank you for your understanding and cooperation. Have a good weekend.”
As they leave the meeting room, the head of Public Affairs asks, “You think they’ll hold the story?”
Faridah gives him an “are-you-naïve” look.
“So what was that all about?” he asks, jerking his head back toward the meeting room.
“Buying time.”
Faridah walks into her office and makes a call.
“Where are we with the gag order?”
“All signed and ready. The men are hand-delivering copies to all print and electronic media.”
“Good, well done.”
59
IT IS 3:20 P.M., and the hunters are nowhere near their quarry. Halil, the man Pak Non claims to be his controller, hasn’t been found. The cell phone number Pak Non provided turns out to be a phantom prepaid line. A check with the telco reveals the number was last used four weeks ago. No one from the mamak stalls and restaurants where Pak Non claims to have met Halil for teh tarik remembers them.
“Who the hell is this guy?” Mislan says to no one in particular.
“I can’t understand how a person like Pak Non can take instructions from this Halil person without even knowing who he is! He’s not an uneducated man. He also holds a good position in the government,” Johan wonders aloud.
“Being educated doesn’t mean you can’t be fooled or just be stupid,” Dr. Suthisa comments. “People like Halil can easily spot weakness in their prey.”
“Jo, bring Pak Non into the interview room. Let’s have another crack at his memory on this Halil,” Mislan instructs. “Sherry, in the meanwhile, tell the team to keep at it until we can get something.” He takes a deep breath. “We’ve got about forty-one hours left to get closure.”
Dr. Suthisa and DSP Chandaramala look at one another, and then at Sherry.
“He’s got forty-one hours left before he’s taken off the case,” Sherry explains.
“Why’s that?” asks Chandramala.
“It’s a long story. The OCCI wants him suspended for the raid at Pelita.”
“I wasn’t told about this.”
Mohamad Zainon a.k.a. Pak Non slumps glumly on the hard steel chair, his eyes on the floor as Mislan tells him that Halil doesn’t exist.
“Who else knows this Halil?”
“The people at the rally, I saw him talking to them.”
“What’re their names?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did you know about the rally?”
“I heard about it from some students.”
“What students?”
“I’m in charge of Student Affairs for Higher Education. Sometimes, we’d hear of their activities and we’d do some inquiries. I heard that some students were going to hold a rally to protest against Seksualiti Merdeka. I went to the rally to gather information, and that’s where I met Halil. We spoke and exchanged telephone numbers.”
“Was he alone or with a group?”
“I don’t know. I only spoke to him.”
“When you met for teh tarik, was there anyone else with him?”
“No, he always came alone.”
“How about his car, do you remember what car he drives?”
“Harrier, black, I don’t know the plate number. All I can remember is that it’s the new model.”
“When was the last time you met him?”
“Ten, maybe twelve days ago.”
“Where?”
“Bangi Kopitiam at Bandar Baru Bangi, Section 9. He said he was around the area and asked if we could go for a drink.”
“Did he drop names?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Did he ever mention names of prominent individuals or politicians and claim to be close to them? Individuals who are supporting the movement or are backing and protecting him?”
Pak Non’s forehead wrinkles as he searches his brain. “He did mention YB this, YB that, but never mentioned names.”
“YB meaning a state assemblyman or member of parliament? What did he say about this YB?”
“He sort of insinuated that the YB is backing the movement. But he didn’t say how.”
“You said you met him at the Sexuality Rights protest rally.”
“Yes.”
“I want you to try and remember: who else that you know saw you there or spoke to this Halil?”
Mislan leaves the interview room and calls his boss. “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. I need a favor.”
“You’re still at the office?” She sounds concerned.
“Yes. Ma’am, can you ask ASP Fakurrulah if the SB took videos or photographs at the anti–Seksualiti Merdeka protest?”
“Why?”
“Halil, the man Pak Non claims to be his handler, is like a ghost. Pak Non says they met at the protest rally. If the SB has videos or photos, there’s a chance this ghost would be on them. If Pak Non can pick him out, at least we’ll have a face to work with.”
“Let me call Fakurrulah and find out. Hey, Lan, in the meantime, why don’t you and Sherry get some rest?”
“I’ll tell Sherry. As for me, I can sleep all I want come Monday,” he says, chuckling. “Thanks, ma’am.”
Mislan walks to the task force room, and Saifuddin tells him he managed to obtain the particulars of the blogger and two followers.
“How accurate is the information?”
“There’s no way of knowing until you visit the address. Many give false details when registering on social networks. There’s no way for the networks to verify the information.”
“Jo, send a detective to check them out.”
“And if it’s them?”
“Persuade them to come in for a chat.”
Sherry and Johan laugh.
“Where are DSP Mala and Dr. Sophia?”
“They’ve gone back to freshen up. They’ll come in around seven. Why?”
“Just asking. Why don’t you go home, too, and get some sleep? Freshen up and put on some fresh clothes. You look like—”
“An old hag,” Sherry finishes his sentence for him.
“I was about to say, like you need sleep, but old hag sounds better,” he kids her.
“Like you don’t need some sleep.”
“I’ve got a change of clothes in my car. I’ll freshen up in the toilet and change into a clean shirt. I’ll hold the fort. You take off and come back around seven. I’ll call you if something comes up.”
“Promise?”
Mislan laughs. “Yes, Inspector Sherry, I promise. Now, get out of here.”
“What about me?” Saifuddin asks.
“If the toilet is good enough for Jo and me, it is good enough for you.”
His cell phone rings.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Fakurrulah says they have many videos of the protest. Can you send someone to pick them up from his men?”
“Sure, who do we ask for?”
“Sergeant Jhoti.”
“Thanks, ma’am.�
��
“What was that?” Sherry asks.
“I’ve asked ma’am to get some videos from SB on the anti–Seksualiti Merdeka protest. Hopefully, Pak Non will be able to identify this Halil.”
“You want me to stick around and help you view them?”
“No, you go home and get some rest. We may need your fresh eyes later.”
“OK, see you at seven.”
60
SAIFUDDIN SETS UP THE biggest monitor he has and runs the video. Deena is tasked to sit with Pak Non.
“Pause it when he recognizes the ghost,” Saifuddin says. “I’ll crop it out.”
“Once we identify him, do we still view all the other videos?” Deena asks.
“You have to check that with your boss.”
“There are what, five DVDs? It’s going to take all night.”
“Can’t help you there,” Saifuddin says, leaving the interview room.
Turning to Pak Non, she asks, “You ready?”
The suspect nods.
Images of young men holding placards and banners and shouting slogans pop up.
“Do you want the audio?” Deena asks.
Pak Non shakes his head, and she mutes the audio.
“Let me know when you see him,” she says, already losing interest in the images of shouting, jeering, and booing hooligan-like students.
Pak Non notices her disinterest. “You one of them?”
“One of who?”
“Them … you know.”
“What gives you the idea?”
“Your uncovered hairstyle, the way you dress and talk. You act like you’re one of the men.”
“You’re extremely judgmental, aren’t you? Typical. Just because I dress or act differently, and not the way you and people like you want me to?” Deena rebukes him. “Anyway, so what if I am? What’s it to you?” Pak Non opens his mouth to answer, but Deena snaps at him, “Take care of your grave, and I’ll take care of mine. Now shut up and watch the video.” She abruptly stands and drags her chair away from the suspect. “People like you make me wish I were a lesbian so that I could give you all bloody heart attacks,” she scorns.
Mislan is taking a catnap in the task force room when his cell phone rings.
“Hi,” he answers sleepily.
“Hi, where are you? Why so quiet?” Dr. Safia asks.
“In the office.”
“You’re working today?”
“No, but we’re working on the cases, you know.”
“Just heard there was another one this morning. There’s talk going around at the hospital that night-shift nurses aren’t coming to work for fear of being attacked.”
“It’s that bad, ah?”
“Any progress so far?”
“Some, but could do with more. Fie, tell the nurses there’s nothing for them to fear, OK?”
“You know something?”
“Yes, but I can’t reveal it. Just tell them there’s nothing to fear, and don’t spread panic among the staff. That’ll only play right into his hands.”
“I can try, but I don’t think it’ll do any good. It’s the only thing they talk about. Anyway, you take care, OK?”
“Always. Catch you after all this is over.”
“Miss you.”
Hanging up, he says, “Sai, you want to take a shower?”
“With you? No thanks,” Saifuddin sniggers.
“Why? Afraid you can’t fight the temptation of my gorgeous bod?”
“I’m straight, OK?” he says.
Mislan laughs and goes to the washroom.
Johan is waiting for him when he returns. He tells Mislan that the detectives came back empty-handed. None of the addresses exist.
“I wasn’t hopeful. Sai, what about the IP addresses? Or better still, work your magic and get the MAC number.”
“Got the IP addresses but still working on the MAC number.”
“Let me know when you get them. How are Deena and Pak Non doing?”
“They finished the first video and are just starting on the second. Did you know there are five videos altogether? It’ll take a while.”
“Jo, why don’t you go and freshen up before the women come back? You, too, Sai. You two are beginning to smell.”
Just then, Deena bursts excitedly into the room, and announces that Pak Non has identified the ghost. Saifuddin kicks back his chair and literally runs after her, followed by the two Special Investigations officers.
The three bend over the monitor.
Saifuddin inquires, “Which one?”
“The one in the white shirt,” Deena points out.
“This person?” Saifuddin hovers the cursor over the figure of a man.
“No, the other one … yes, him.”
Saifuddin notes down the time and stops the video. “I need to run it on my laptop. The software is on it.” He reaches out to eject the DVD.
“Sai, why don’t you bring your laptop here? Let him positively identify the ghost first,” Mislan suggests, jerking his head toward the suspect.
“OK, hang on.” Saifuddin heads for the door.
“Are you positive that’s Halil?” Mislan asks the suspect.
“Yes, I was standing alone when he came toward me. Back the video up a bit.”
Mislan drags the timer back, slowly.
“That’s me, and there, you can see him approaching me…. There … there,” the suspect gets excited.
“Good, let’s see if Sai can enlarge his face. What’s taking him so long?” Mislan growls impatiently.
Saifuddin comes back with Dr. Suthisa and DSP Chandramala.
“Saifuddin says the suspect has identified his handler,” Chandramala says, as they enter.
“It’s too small to see clearly, Sai’s going to run it on his laptop,” Deena answers.
“Where’s Inspector Sherry?” DSP Chandramala asks.
“I told her to take a break and freshen up. Deena, why don’t you call her? I’m sure she’ll want to be around.”
Saifuddin announces he’s ready to run the video on his laptop. He stops at the frame where the “ghost” appears. He crops the ghost’s face and zooms in so it fills the entire monitor.
“It’s him,” Pak Non exclaims.
“Sai, can you rewind the video a little? See if you can get a better image of him,” Mislan says.
Saifuddin drags the timer back a little.
“Pause … pause,” Mislan says. “Back a little. That’s a clearer image. Can you pull that up?”
Saifuddin repeats the cropping, and the image of the “ghost” once again fills the monitor.
“Anyone know who he is?” Chandramala asks.
“He looks familiar, but I just can’t place him,” Johan agonizes.
“Relate or associate him to a profession,” Dr. Suthisa suggests. “Police, customs, politician, it might be easier for you to recall who he is that way.”
Johan mumbles to himself, “Where, where? Arrrgh … I’ve seen him before, but can’t figure out where.”
“Relax. The more you torture your mind, the farther you’re going to push it away. Position his image in your mind and step outside, away from the distractions here,” Dr. Suthisa advises him.
All eyes follow Johan as he leaves the room.
“How about the rest of you, any idea who this ghost is?” Mislan asks.
They shake their heads.
“Sai, email the photo to me and print out some copies.”
Mislan calls the head of Special Investigations to update her.
“You have a face but no idea who he is?” Samsiah asks.
“That pretty much sums it up. Do you want to have a look at him?”
“Why not? Mail the image to me.”
“OK. Will do it now.”
“You may want to put out a bulletin to see if anyone can identify him. Do it internally. I’ll talk to SAC Faridah to see if she wants to make it public.”
“OK.”
“Tell the team they did a g
ood job.”
“Thanks, ma’am. I will let them know.”
Johan comes barging into the room, excitedly announcing, “I know where I’ve seen that face before.”
Everyone stops talking.
“Where?” Mislan barks at him when Johan hesitates.
“Oh, I thought I interrupted something, and you guys were annoyed with me,” he says, grinning. “Remember the murder case some time ago, where a pengkid killed her partner in the car?”
“Vaguely. It was in Kedah, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. I read the story in KOSMO, and I remember there was a side article about the decaying morals of our youth—by him. His picture was with the article.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Yes, because I discussed the article with my, you know, and she was really pissed off with some of the comments he made.”
“Call KOSMO. Find out who wrote that article,” Mala instructs.
“I found it on the net,” Saifuddin calls out. “It was last year. I have the article with his photo.”
They crowd behind him and peer at his laptop.
“Sai, print out that story and surf the net for any more information on him,” Mislan says.
Saifuddin does it immediately, and Mislan reads aloud, “Dr. Haliman Illyas. He holds a doctorate in social science.”
“He’s well-documented on Google,” Saifuddin announces with a whistle.
“Print out anything you can get on him.”
“On it.”
“Inspector, can I get a translated version of the stories?” Dr. Suthisa inquires. “I speak Malay, but I read better in English.”
Mislan turns to Chandramala just as Sherry appears at the door. They both look at her.
“What?”
“How’s your Malay?”
“Scored Al,” she declares proudly.
“English?” Mislan asks.
“What’s this all about?”
“Dr. Sophia needs a translation of this,” Mislan says, handing her the article. “I suppose you’re the most qualified candidate for it.”
“Why not you?”
“I don’t have the patience. Besides, I got a C in Malay,” he says.
Sherry looks at the article and says, “I’ll give it a shot. Can someone update me on what I missed?”
UTube Page 26
