UTube

by Rozlan Mohd Noor

  “Tell them to get a buggy, go to whichever hole he’s at, and get it signed,” Faridah orders. “Tell them it’s urgent.”

  Detective Syed knocks on the door to tell them there are two men claiming to be from the Ministry of Higher Education waiting to see Inspector Sherry. “They want to speak to Pak Non.”

  “Tell them that today is not a working day and to come back tomorrow,” Faridah dismisses Syed. “Mala, organize the search team. I want the suspect to be present during the search. Get D6 to be part of the team.”

  “Ma’am, may I suggest we get Forensic involved as well? Dust for prints at all locations to match those of the suspects or future suspects. Any match can be used against him,” Mislan says.

  “Good suggestion. In the meantime, show his photograph to all the suspects. See if any of the others know him. Samsiah, direct all inquiries to my office. I’ll stall them as long as I can.”

  64

  THE TASK FORCE LED by DSP Chandramala, accompanied by personnel from Technical Aid and Forensic, ask Dr. Haliman to lead them to his study, if he has one. The suspect leads them to his bedroom, and Chandramala tells the suspect to sit on his bed and signals to the team to start. Mislan leans against the door, studying the suspect. Technical Aid personnel photograph the entire room while the Forensic team dusts doorknobs, the desktop, and every other item for fingerprints. The suspect appears unconcerned with the search. The only time he turns to look at them is when he’s attracted by the sound of something falling. After a few minutes, the suspect says, “I’m tired and sleepy. Is it all right if I lie down?”

  “Suit yourself,” Chandramala says bluntly.

  The suspect lies down, closes his eyes, and crosses his arms over his face. Mislan watches him, wondering if his supercool demeanor is an act or if he really has nothing to be afraid of. The suspect opens his eyes and asks if he can switch on the air conditioner.

  “Don’t get too comfortable. After we’re done here, we’ll want you to come with us to search the rest of the house,” Mala says.

  “I know you want me to be present during the search, but I’m waiving my rights to be present. I trust the integrity of the police. Wake me up when you’re finished,” he says smugly.

  Mislan signals Sherry over, and they step out of the room.

  “We’re wasting our time here,” he says.

  “Why?”

  “Can’t you see how confident he is?”

  “But you’re the one who said he’s the type who’d document his activities,” Sherry reminds him. “He could be trying to fool us.”

  “I still believe he documented the events, but I doubt the evidence is here.”

  “I’ll talk to DSP Chandramala, but since we’re here, we might as well carry on.”

  “OK, I’ll hang out in the living room and have a smoke. Make sure there’s someone with him at all times.”

  Mislan steps out to the living room, lights a cigarette, and walks to the front door. When he opens it, the bright late-morning sun hits his face. His body feels sticky and his face oily. The heat dissuades him from going outside to smoke. He flicks his cigarette out, closes the door and walks back into the living room; switching on the ceiling fan, he slumps heavily onto one of the sofas. Its soft comfort, the dimness of the room, and the silence soothe his exhausted body.

  Mislan sees himself walking into the ego-chamber. The OCCI is standing in the middle, waving a piece of paper and laughing like a villain in a low-budget movie. He frantically waves and calls to the Mislan he sees, urging him to get out of there. The Mislan smiles at him and calmly continues into the ego-chamber, stopping face-to-face with the OCCI. Burhanuddin leers, his eyes lighting up with triumph as he bellows: I got you, you are hereby suspended. Out of nowhere, two bulky policemen appear, grabbing him by his arms. Mislan sniggers at the OCCI as he’s escorted out. In the general office, a group of officers are gathered, among them Superintendent Samsiah, Inspector Sherry, Detective Sergeant Johan, and the entire task force. Even Dr. Safia is present. They jeer and shout angrily, You let us down, you’re a disgrace to the team. The elevator door opens, and he is shoved in. The elevator cab is pitch-black, and as he falls, he realizes it’s bottomless. He screams in horror.

  “Sir, sir, are you all right?”

  Mislan twists on the cushion, mumbling, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He turns, kicks, and struggles upright on the sofa. He takes deep breaths to calm himself, trying to recollect where he is.

  “Are you all right?” Johan asks.

  “Yes, yes. Why, what happened?”

  He notices the entire team and the suspect standing in a semicircle at the foot of the stairs, staring at him,

  “You were rambling and screaming.”

  He takes a few more deep breaths, shuts his eyes, and rubs his face. “A bad dream, just a bad dream,” he says. Looking at the gawking gallery, he asks, “Are we done here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Found anything?”

  Johan shakes his head.

  Mislan looks at the time on his cell phone. It’s almost noon.

  The team makes their way to Dr. Haliman’s office in Shah Alam. The search there takes almost two and a half hours. As it’s late, DSP Chandramala decides to search the vehicles at the police headquarters. When they return to the task force room, the team hands over the laptop, the compact discs, and thumb drives they confiscated to Saifuddin.

  “What am I looking for?” Saifuddin asks.

  “I don’t know, anything incriminating.”

  “Like?”

  “Like a picture of him raping the victims,” Mislan snaps at him angrily. The rest stop whatever they are doing and stare at him.

  Chandramala beckons Saifuddin and tells him to examine documents in the laptop and external storage drive with Dr. Suthisa. Stepping out of the room, she signals Mislan to follow her to Sherry’s office.

  “You want to explain what happened just now?”

  “Sorry, I’ve no excuse for it.”

  “I know you’re under pressure,” she says. “I know about your impending suspension.” She glances at her watch, “You still have about fourteen hours to work the case. Losing your temper will only eat into those hours.”

  Mislan nods.

  “What happened at the suspect’s house?”

  Mislan looks at her. “A bad dream.”

  “When was the last time you slept?”

  Mislan smiles.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep while we go through the items? I’ll send someone for you if we find anything interesting.” She stands, “Use this room, I’ll let Sherry know.”

  65

  MISLAN LIGHTS A CIGARETTE and stretches out on the chair in Sherry’s office, unable to nap. He looks at the time. It won’t be long now. Can’t expect a miracle. He calls home.

  “Hi, kiddo.”

  “Daddy, where’re you?”

  “At the office. Had your dinner yet, kiddo?”

  “Not yet, we’re waiting for Sister to cook.”

  “Are your friends there with you?” he asks, hearing kids’ voices.

  “Yes, Nakip and Omar.”

  “Tomorrow’s a school day. Don’t stay up too late, OK?”

  “Daddy, what time are you coming home?”

  “Late, kiddo. Make sure you prepare your books for school tomorrow before you sleep.”

  “Hmmm hmmm.”

  “Are you still coughing?”

  “No more.”

  “Good. Love you, kiddo.”

  “Love you, too.”

  He then calls Johan over.

  “Jo, at Dr. Haliman’s house and the office, did you notice any letters or bills?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I mean, personal letters or utility bills, like for cable, water, electricity … especially at the house.”

  “I didn’t, maybe the others did.”

  “Can you check with them?”

  “Why’s it important?”

 
“It may not be, just curious.”

  Johan comes back shaking his head.

  “Deena did the general search. She didn’t notice any in the house.”

  “Don’t you find that odd?”

  “You mean the bills?”

  “We’ve done hundreds of house searches, right? There’re always bills. But in this case, nothing, not in the house or the office.”

  “So you’re saying somebody is paying his bills?”

  “Even if someone’s paying his bills, he’ll still keep them for records or reference.”

  Mislan makes a call.

  “Hi, can we speak?”

  “Yes, what’s up?” Audi says. “Hey, there are whispers going around that you’ve got a big fish. Is that true?”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah right. So what’s up?”

  “I need to use your resources, your informants.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “Public appreciation,” he says. “Can’t you, for once, help others for the sake of helping?”

  “I’ve finished my quota for this year. What info are you looking for?”

  “I need you to find out all you can about Dr. Haliman Ilyas, an ex-ISIS guy.”

  “ISIS!”

  “Not that ISIS, the International Strategic whatever.”

  “Oh, OK, the big fish they were talking about?”

  “I don’t know. Can you do some digging?”

  “And look for what?”

  “Everything, personal, politics, marriage, children, property … everything.”

  “Whoa, Inspector, do you know what day this is? Sunday.”

  “That’s why I called you. I know you have information archives … property archives. Otherwise, I could get my men to work the government agencies. OK, forget the marriage and children. I’ll get my men to handle that.”

  “It’ll take a while. Get back to you by tomorrow evening, earliest.”

  “Not good enough. Need the information by today, midnight latest.”

  “What’s brewing? Something big, right?”

  “Nothing’s brewing. I’m considering going on a long vacation starting tomorrow. Can you get them for me?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Terminating the call, he strolls over to the task force room. DSP Chandramala, Dr. Suthisa, Sherry, and Saifuddin are hunched over the documents recovered from the suspect’s house and office. Sherry is doing her best at translation from Malay to English for Dr. Suthisa. Saifuddin is probably enjoying himself being closely surrounded by three women and just sits there.

  Mislan beckons his assistant to the window.

  “Jo, get Syed and Jeff to track down the suspect’s ex-wife. Talk to her and find out anything they can about their marriage, divorce, and children, if any.”

  “What’re you on to?”

  “The suspect was very confident when we searched his house, office, and vehicle. No objections, no signs of fear. I said earlier that he’s not street smart, but what I failed to realize is that he’s book smart.”

  “He holds a doctorate. He has to be book smart.”

  “That’s it. People like him read lots of books. But where’re the books? They weren’t in the house. In novels, perverts and predators often operate from safe houses, dens, or lairs.”

  “That’s why he was so confident we won’t find anything. But why his ex?”

  “Perhaps she can give us an insight into him. Anyway, we have to cover all bases.”

  “OK, I’ll get Syed, Jeff, and Deena on it. Perhaps with a woman present she’ll open up.”

  “Good. Any luck on the prints lifted from the house and office?”

  “Nope. No match to any of the suspects.”

  “I didn’t expect any. This guy is too careful to make silly mistakes like that.”

  Johan stops at the door, turns around, and asks, “Are you all right now?”

  Mislan grins at him.

  Mislan stands behind Dr. Suthisa and DSP Chandramala, peering over their shoulders.

  “Anything useful?”

  “This man is really into LGBT bashing. He has many articles on the decaying morals of modern societies, especially in the Western world, and attributes most of it to the acceptance of LGBT people. As I said earlier, his articles appear to be scholarly, but they’re not.”

  “So, there’s nothing we can use to pin him to the cases?”

  Dr. Suthisa shakes her head. “Not even incitement. However, there’s one article where he does blame the government for not taking firm action against the growing LGBT community. He claims that studies suggest that being gay isn’t genetic but a mental state and that it’s reversible.”

  “Is he right?” Chandramala asks.

  “I’ve heard and read this argument before. Never any mention of success, just a lot of assurances and promises with no supporting data.”

  “What’s your profile on this guy, Doc?” Mislan asks.

  “He certainly has the intelligence to come up with the plan …”

  “But?”

  “What compels him? What’s his motive?”

  “Perhaps he’s not the one sitting at the helm. Maybe there’s someone else pulling the strings.”

  “Could be.”

  “Keep at it, Doc. I don’t think we can hold him much longer. Come Monday …”

  “I’ll do the best I can.”

  Dr. Safia pulls up alongside the guardhouse and slips over to the passenger seat as Mislan takes the wheel. He drives to Jalan Sultan Ismail and turns right just after Parkroyal Hotel.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “Are you sure you can take the time off?”

  Mislan nods. “There’s something I need to tell you, but it can wait until after dinner.”

  “Sure,” she says, knowing not to push. “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a Chinese stall around here. I think you’ll like the chili crab.”

  “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know where, exactly.”

  He maneuvers the car along the narrow dimly lit street with cars parked on both sides. She spots a space, and he squeezes her compact into it. They walk to the stall and choose a table. He orders chili crab, fried water spinach with shrimp paste, fried rice, and two sugarcane drinks. Waiting for their orders, he lights a cigarette for her and another for himself.

  “You look dejected. Are you all right?” she asks.

  “Superb.”

  She reaches over the table and squeezes his hand. “That means you’re not.”

  He grins, saying nothing, and looks at the time on his cell phone.

  “Are you expecting something or someone?”

  He shakes his head.

  “You keep looking at your phone. What’s wrong?”

  Their orders arrive, and Dr. Safia digs in. He knows she loves seafood, especially crab and prawn. He watches her nibbling on the fried spinach.

  “How’s the case coming along?”

  “Not too good. Have you heard of Dr. Haliman Illyas? A former ISIS guy.”

  “No, why? Is he involved?”

  “Not sure.”

  “You’re not sure, or you don’t have any proof yet?” she inquires, as she cracks a crab claw open to get to the meat. “This crab’s really good. Why haven’t you brought me here before?” she teases him.

  “Too expensive on a policeman salary,” he jests.

  “This former ISIS guy, Dr. Haliman, is he in custody?”

  Mislan nods.

  “How’s he involved?”

  “The hierarchy leads to him.”

  Licking the chili gravy off her fingers, she says, “So, he’s the mastermind, or, in your jargon, the handler or controller. What’s his motive?”

  He shrugs.

  “Not being able to figure out the motive is not what’s really bothering you, is it? There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

  His cell phone rings.

  “Ye
s.”

  “Got what you asked for, but I have to tell you that this is from our property archives. It could be outdated, or there could be more if you check the public records,” Audi says.

  “I’ll take anything for now. Shoot.”

  After terminating the call, he makes a call to his assistant.

  “Jo, I want you to get a team out to apartment 6-1 at the Tropika Paradise Condominium, Jalan USJ 17/8, Subang Jaya. I want them to sit on the unit and stop anyone going in or coming out…. Yes, now.”

  He then calls DSP Chandramala, asking if she can get a fresh search warrant for the new address.

  “Why? Who’s staying there?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s registered under the suspect’s name.”

  “How did you get this information?”

  “From a reliable source, but I can’t reveal it. Can you get a warrant?”

  “At this hour? I’m not sure.”

  “How about using the existing warrant? It does say house and/or houses belonging to the suspect, right?”

  “Let me check…. Yes.”

  “Then the warrant is valid. I’ve told Johan to get a team to sit on the unit. Can we get the suspect out and search that unit?”

  “I’ll get Sherry to organize it. Where’re you?”

  “Having dinner. I’ll be there in thirty.”

  Dr. Safia cuts her savoring of the chili crab short. Mislan protests and says that they should finish dinner, apologizing profusely. She signals to the stall operator to pack the dishes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, it’s OK. Thanks for bringing me here, and we can do it again.”

  Mislan sighs.

  “Look, there’s this TV program on in about thirty minutes I’ve been meaning to watch. Thanks to whoever called, now I can sit in front of the TV, watch it, and enjoy the crabs,” she says, flashing him a sweet smile.

  Mislan replies with a tight smile and pays the bill.

  “I’ll drive you back to the office, no need to get a cab, you go do what needs to be done and stop brooding. It’s really OK.”

  “I’m really sorry. I promise we’ll come again.”

  She smiles and pats his hand, “Go, get your closure.”