“Is that normal, I mean for Mrs Tham to call about the Cayenne?”
“I think so, she’s Mrs Tham. She cannot, meh?”
“Has she called you before about the Cayenne?”
“Me, first time. My boss or Licky, I don’t know.”
“Did the technician come, I mean the Porches technician?”
“I did not see him. I told Licky, he’s the mechanic.”
“Is it normal for an outside technician to come, to do work at the workshop?”
“No loh, but if the owner wants outside technician or mechanic to check his car, we cannot say anything. If we say ‘no’, we’ll lose business.”
“So you don’t know who this technician was? Did you pay him for his work?”
“Customer call, customer pay, loh. My boss say income tax problem.”
“Did Ricky tell you anything about the technician’s work?”
“No, he only write on the service report.”
“So you don’t know if he was Malay, Chinese or Indian?”
“No.”
“Did you recognise Mrs Tham’s voice?”
“No. She said she was Mr Tham’s wife, so to me she was Mr Tham’s wife, loh.”
“Are your office phone calls recorded?”
“Huh?”
“Forget it. I’m going to let you go home. Do you need someone to send you home?”
“What about my mechanics?”
“Apart from Ricky and Ah Meng, the rest can go home once we’re done.”
“I’ll wait. I’ll go with them. My car is in the workshop.”
“Sure. Can you sit outside in the waiting area? Thanks for your cooperation.”
Johan comes into the meeting room just as Mislan is about to leave, and tells him that they are done with the three mechanics. He leaves instructions for them to be logged into the diary and freed. He calls Chew, asks if there are any prints they lifted from the diagnostic device brought in by Nathan. Chew tells him there are several sets of prints, but none that matched criminal records. He tells Chew to e-mail him the prints and he will try to match them with the two mechanics he has in custody. He then asks to speak with Nathan, who answers after a few seconds.
“Nathan, Mislan here. Can you view the recording for Wednesday from eleven onwards. See if you can spot a guy coming in to work with the workshop’s mechanics on the Cayenne.”
“Sure, I’ll have to run through and make out the mechanics first. The shop floor cameras are good. You can see what the mechanics were doing with every car. I suppose they have it to stop their employees from cheating.”
“Good, let me know once you’ve picked out the outsider. E-mail me his photos. Nathan, can you send it to my private e-mail?”
“No problem. What’s the address?”
Supt Samsiah, Chief Inspector Krishnan, and Johan gather around his desk.
“What?”
“You look like a guy who has just received a Dear John letter,” Supt Samsiah laughs.
“That bad eh,” Mislan says, joining in the laughter. “What did they say?”
“Mine said he did not work on the Cayenne. He only did Merc. He said Ricky and Ah Meng do Porsche,” Chief Inspector Krishnan says. “Here,” he passes the notes of the interview to him.
“Same here.”
Supt Samsiah nods, indicating hers too. Looking at the clock on the wall, she asks, “You going to the Millennium?”
He looks at the clock and notes that it is eight-thirty-one. “Yah, we should get going. Krish, can you do me a favour? Can you help me do the remand diary for Ricky and Ah Meng? I expect it’s going to take a while to view the recording.”
“How many days?” Krishnan asks.
“Ask for seven, you’ll probably get three. Thanks.”
“Are you not talking to them later?”
“I don’t know what time I’ll finish at the Millennium. If it’s not too late, I’ll do them tonight.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”
36
The digital clock on his car dashboard shows nine o’clock as Mislan drives into the hotel’s basement parking. Grand Millennium, once The Regent, is in Bukit Bintang, surrounded by many shopping malls, and is one of the many five-star hotels in the area known as the Golden Triangle, catering to tourists and business travellers.
Johan approaches a security guard in the lobby to inquire. The guard points to the waiting lounge saying, “The officer will be up shortly.” Mislan lights a cigarette and slides into one of the comfortable singles and admires the lobby, the grand staircase, polished marble floor, chandeliers, and fresh flowers. After about ten minutes, a man in a suit approaches them, introduces himself as Kamil, the shift supervisor, and invites them to follow him. They walk in silence through the lobby to a side door past the lifts, down the stairs and into the car park. They come to a door labelled ‘Security’, which Kamil unlocks and invites them in. It is a small room with scarcely enough space to accommodate the three, but is well furnished with a modern office table, chairs, a cabinet, a flat-screen computer and a CCTV monitor. Kamil says, “CSO Rajan said you wanted to view the CCTV recording.”
“Yes, of the following dates,” Mislan says, giving him a piece of paper. “Do you have cameras in the outlets?”
“The lobby, all the outlets, lifts, and concourses. Who’re you looking for? Maybe I can help?” Kamil offers.
“Robert Tham, you know him?”
“Not the name, maybe if I see his face … Okay, let me get these DVD recordings up on the monitor.” Kamil pulls out the keyboard from a shelf beneath his desk and punches some keys. “Which part of the hotel do you want to view? We have one hundred and seventy-seven cameras, and I can pull them out by sections; the lobby, outlets, car park, floors, or perimeter,” he says with obvious pride.
“Let’s start with the lobby.”
Kamil punches a few keys and a matrix of images appears on the monitor, but too small to see the faces in it.
“It’s too small. Is there a bigger monitor, or can you make the image bigger?”
“This is a twenty-four camera matrix, I can make it sixteen, twelve, eight, four, or one. The less it is, the longer it will take to view because I have to run the other cameras at the same time.” He punches some keys and the matrix is down to twelve. “How’s that?” he asks.
“Better, but still too small to identify him.”
Kamil nods, picks up the phone, calls someone and says, “Nori, do you know a guest, a regular, one Mr Robert Tham? Great … When … you remember the date and time? Okay.” He is silent for a while, then he says, “Thanks,” and replaces the receiver. Kamil again punches several keys on the keyboard and asks, “Is that him?”
“Can you make it full-screen?”
Kamil nods, punches several more keys and the monitor displays a side profile of Robert Tham at the check-in counter.
“Yes, that’s him. Is he checking in?”
“Yes. The front office staff, Nori, knows Mr Robert Tham. He is a regular at our outlets. She says he checked in for two nights.”
“Was he alone?”
“The check-in record states single occupancy,” Kamil answers.
“All right, I’ll need you to spot him through the two days. Everywhere, lobby, outlets, floor corridors, car park. Can you do that?”
“I can, but it’ll take time,” Kamil answers with a slight note of bother.
“Don’t you have a facial recognition system, or something, that you can use to get the system to track him?”
“Our system is high-tech, but not that high,” Kamil laughs.
“Why don’t you and Sergeant Johan get started on it while I go talk to, what’s-her-name, Nori, and see if I can get something from her?”
Leaving the office, Mislan lights a cigarette in the parking lot. Why was the victim checking-in to a hotel in the city? He is sure it was not the victim who stayed in the room; it had to be someone else. A client? A friend? A mistress?
“Kamil tells me you knew Robert Tham, and he was a regular here?”
“Yes, we know him. He likes to go to Zing, our Chinese outlet. He sometimes checks-in to the hotel for one or two nights. Why, has something happened to him?” Nori asks, concerned.
“No, just routine,” he lies. “When you say he checked in, did he stay here or did he just pay for the room for someone else?”
“I guess he did, because he always checked-in, and out, alone. I’ve seen him with friends at the lobby or at the outlets, but I don’t know about upstairs.”
“Male or female friends?”
“Men and women.”
“Always the same male or female?”
“The woman, yes; always the same one. I thought it was his wife. They seemed so loving,” she says.
“Did he ever introduce the woman to you, or to any of your colleagues?”
“Not to me. You should ask the staff at Zing, maybe they’d know more.”
“I will. What room was he in the last time he checked in?”
“Room 1212.”
“Thank you. You have been helpful.”
Stepping out into the lobby, he looks for the house phone, asks the operator to put him through to Kamil’s office and asks Kamil to check out the recording for cameras focusing on the corridor of room 1212 and the Zing outlet. He walks up to Zing, introduces himself to the cashier and asks for the outlet manager. The cashier points out a woman in cheongsam with a high slit, showing plenty of slim milky white thighs, sharing a public-relations laugh with some male guests at a table. He waits until she finishes, strolls towards her, introduces himself and asks if there is anywhere he can speak to her in private. She points to the entrance and they walk towards it. Once outside she asks, “How may I help you, Inspector?”
“Did you know, Mr Robert Tham?”
“Yes. I read in the papers he was killed during a robbery a few days ago? Is it true?”
“Yes. Did he come here often?”
She nods.
“Who did he come here with?”
“Many people I didn’t know. I mean, who they were or what they did.”
“I am told that he was always with a woman. Do you know her?”
“Jennifer.”
“Jennifer who?”
“I can’t remember. She did mention it but I don’t remember. It could be Mok or Mah. I didn’t talk to her much.”
“Who’s she to Robert Tham?”
“First, I thought she was Mrs Tham. But later, I learned she was not. Maybe his girlfriend or something.”
“Can you describe her?”
“Five-three or four, thin, shoulder length hair, straight, too much makeup, good dresser, all branded clothes.”
“Age?”
“Maybe thirty-seven, thirty-eight. Hard to tell with the makeup. Forty max.”
“Has she been here lately? I mean, the last couple of days?”
“If she has, I have not noticed.”
“I need you to call me if she comes here, or if you see her in the hotel or anywhere. Call me anytime, okay?” he says, handing her his call card.
“Sure.”
“Thank you; please pass the word on to your staff.”
He calls Kamil’s office using the house phone and Johan says they are about to finish. He tells his assistant about Jennifer and asks if Kamil can get some footage of her. Meanwhile he goes to get his parking ticket validated. Stepping into the car park, he lights another cigarette, inhales deeply, and thinks, “Maybe this time my hunch is right.” His phone rings again. “Mislan here,” he says.
“Inspector, Nathan here. I’ve got the image of the outsider and mailed it to you. Did you get it?”
“Hi Nathan, I’m out of the office. I’ll check it when I get back. Is the face clear?”
“Yes, it looks like an Indian guy. He is captured talking to the technicians and working on the Cayenne. He is handling the diagnostic system, that’s for sure.”
“Good job. Thanks, really appreciate your putting time on this.”
“No sweat, glad to be of help. Let me know if you need me to do anything else. Good night.”
The time is five past eleven on his car clock. The sergeant slides in and asks if he has found out anything unusual. He updates him about his conversation with the manager of Zing, and about Jennifer Mok or Mah.
“I think we’ve got her on camera,” the sergeant says, tapping his bag. “The vic was always with a woman. Yah, she’s about that height, with shoulder length hair. It has to be her.”
“Jo, I need to learn more about this woman. I need you to hit the ground, start with the hotel. I’m sure there’s someone who knows more about her. Find out how she comes to the hotel, whether she drives, takes a cab, or gets a ride from someone, if anyone has seen her shopping, buying something, anything. We have to pin her down. She could be our best lead. I’ll talk to puan and see if she can give us more personnel.”
“Tell you what, when we get back to the office, I’ll check with the shift and get the standby gelap to start with the hotel.”
“Good. I want to meet Hubble and Di. Nathan said he managed to spot the outsider. I want to see if I can work that angle.”
“Ricky and Ah Meng?”
“We’ll work on them once we have ammunition. Better chance of breaking them.”
37
Friday
It is five past midnight when Di and Hubble walk into the McDonald’s in Bukit Bintang, and towards his table. Hubble looks worn out as he slumps his one-hundred-fifty kilos on the chair, shaking the table and spilling Mislan’s drink. Di laughs heartily, looking as fresh and cheery as she was in the morning. Does she ever feel down, Mislan wonders. He asks what they’d like to have and goes to get the orders: two large sets of Big Mac meals with Cokes. He is back in ten minutes. Di and Hubble are working on a notebook computer each, as he sets his tray in the middle of the table. Like the tentacles of an alien, Hubble’s hand extends and grabs the Coke, bringing it to his mouth without looking away from his notebook.
“What are you doing?”
“Chatting,” Di says.
“Anyone in particular?”
“Some guys from our chat group. You remember how Hubble said he knows the programmer? Hubble has found out how to surface the signature,” she says. She turns her notebook computer towards him and presses a few keys. The monitor goes black. Then some writing emerges that he cannot understand, in white. She keys in more commands, and the screen displays the animated word ‘Deepseeder’ dripping blood. “You’ll find the same signature in all the sleepers.”
“Great, but who is he, or she?” he asks, his respect for Hubble growing with every meeting.
“Well, after you left, Hubble tried to lure him, I mean Deepseeder, into a snare. He took the bait about nine, and Hubble sent in a spybot to track him down. Hubble’s good; the spybot has been bouncing around and penetrating firewalls for hours, but has not been detected, or terminated. We think he is not aware of it, and we’ll lock in on him soon,” she says, smiling at Hubble who smiles back, busy working his notebook and eating at the same time.
“You mean you can ID him?”
“His IP address. With the IP address, we can learn who owns the computer. If it’s not him, maybe the owner can lead us to him, or her,” Hubble interjects, with his mouth full. “I’ve been making some inquiries with my chat buddies; one of them says he’s probably met the Deepseeder, but is not sure. Says Deepseeder works for a telco, and is one of those computer geeks from India. About a month ago, they were at a seminar, and this one guy was talking about sleeper programs
and GPSs during the break. My contact says he was boasting about developing sleeper programs for a car manufacturer for car security systems.”
“Why did your friend remembered Deepseeder?”
“This guy, Deepseeder, works with a telco. What was he doing writing programs for a car manufacturer? My friend felt it was a bit strange. Anyway, the guy was a show-off. That’s why he remembers him.”
“Did he remember which telco?”
“No, but the seminar was held in PJ Hilton, organised by Avira.”
“I’ll get someone to check the participants’ list.”
Hubble’s notebook suddenly starts beeping. Hubble slams down the Coke spilling some of it, and starts frantically banging on his keyboard. “Here we go. Easy … easy … yes … yes, that’s my girl.” The beep gets louder, more rapid. Hubble presses the ‘enter’ key and the beeping stops.
“What’s up?” Di leans against Hubble, looking at his screen, “What’s happening?”
“What’s going on?” Mislan is concerned.
“I’m in. Dude, am I good or what? Now, show Uncle Hubble your face,” he says, punching more commands. “Shhhh, don’t need to wake him, just need a peek at his face, that’s all. Oh fuck!” he curses, his fingers moving like lightning on the keyboard. “Oooh fuck, fuck, fuck! Aghh, this guy’s good. My spybot is toast. O’oh, he’s coming after me. Shit!”
He sees panic on Hubble’s face as his finger dances on the keyboard, punching in more commands. After several minutes of profanities, cursing and banging on the keyboard, Hubble smiles, reaches for the Coke and says, “It’s dead.”
“What’s dead?”
“His hound dog,” Hubble says, clearly relieved.
“Now what?”
“Now he knows someone is trying to ID him. He’ll probably shutdown and lie low.” Hubble wipes the sweat from his forehead. “I’m telling you, this guy’s good. He knew the spybot was coming, let it in within striking distant, toasted it and jumped on its trail to track whoever was sending it. Damn, he’s good,” Hubble says, now able to smile.
“What about your friend? If I show him a photo, can he ID the Deepseeder?”
“Don’t know, got to ask him.”
21 Immortals Page 19
