Using Di’s notebook computer, Mislan logs into his personal webmail, downloads the photo sent by Nathan and mails it to her. He logs off and pushes the notebook to Di.
“Can you ask your friend if that’s him? Deepseeder.”
Hubble leans towards Di, punches in some commands, waits a few second, punches more commands, waits again, then sits up and says, “My friend says he used to wear a moustache, but it looks like him.”
“Okay, that’ll do. You sure you’re all right? I mean, Deepseeder cannot trace you? You got my mobile number; call me if anything happens,” he says, concerned for the safety of Hubble; his genius, his Merlin the Magician.
“I’m okay, his hound dog is dead. Don’t worry,” Hubble says, pretty sure of himself.
“Look Hubble, I appreciate what you’ve done. I don’t want you doing anything else. From what I’ve seen so far, these guys are good, they are pros. I don’t need another case now. I hope you guys are going to be okay?”
“Sure, we’ll be here a little longer, then split,” Di answers, looking at Hubble.
“Right, call me if anything happens.”
38
Johan is already at his desk talking on the phone when he comes into the office. He acknowledges the sergeant with a wave, sits at his desk and switches on the computer.
“Just spoke to one of the concierge from Millennium. He says he remembers Jennifer depositing a Guess and a Burberry shopping bag with them the last time she was there. She was alone. I’m going to visit the stores in Pavilion and check them out. Maybe if I show them her photo they’ll remember.”
“Good. I need to contact Avira. They held a seminar last month in the PJ Hilton. According to one of Hubble’s friends, Deepseeder may have attended the seminar. They might have a participants’ group photo, or maybe the facilitator will remember him.”
“You want some coffee?”
“Sure. No nasi lemak?”
“Sorry, not today.”
The front desk officer tells them there will be no ‘morning prayer’, but Mislan is required to be in the boss’s office at eight-thirty. He asks if Johan is to join him, but the officer tells him it would be just him and ASP Ghani. His assistant gives him the don’t-get-into-trouble look as the officer leaves. “Don’t worry,” he smiles. “It has to come out one day.”
He sees ASP Ghani walking towards the boss’s office from the corner of his eye, with his loyal sidekick. They are already seated when he knocks on the door. Supt Samsiah indicates for him to come in and close the door. His boss has only two guest chairs and both are taken, so he remains standing. The bozo sidekick does not offer him his chair, although he is junior in rank.
“You want to pull in a chair?”
“It’s all right, I’ll stand. This won’t take long, right?”
“I called you here because I’ve been hearing talk around the office about the two of you, and I want it resolved,” the Head of Major Crimes starts.
Before the Head of Major Crimes can continue, he points to the assistant and says, “Why is he here?”
“Ghani wants him here, I’ve no objection. Do you?”
“Yes. He’s rank and file. Let’s keep this between officers.”
“He is my assistant,” ASP Ghani objects.
“So? He is still not an officer.”
“I agree with Mislan. Please leave us,” says the boss.
The sidekick looks at his master, unsure of what to do. The master nods, and he leaves like a well-trained puppy.
“Right, so who’s starting? Lan, sit down,” Supt Samsiah says, and he knows better than to refuse when she is using that tone.
“About what?” He knows he does not sound convincing.
“You know what I mean,” she snaps. “Ghani, do you’ve anything to say?”
ASP Ghani shakes his head.
“What went on at the emergency staircase yesterday?”
“As Mislan said, we had a private talk,” ASP Ghani answers, avoiding her eyes.
“About?” She lifts her eyebrows.
They remain mute.
“Look, don’t take me for a fool. I’ve been watching the two of you and it’s a matter of time before things get out of control. You either work it out, stop whatever is going on between you, or I’ll have to let one of you go. Don’t let it come to that. If you have something you’re not happy with, come see me. If you want it out by yourselves, get off the property. I will not tell you this again, understood?”
They both nod.
“If I hear any of the boys taking sides, I’ll personally come after your arses. That’s a warning,” she says, clearly upset. “You had your chance. Now get out.”
Leaving her office, neither of them says anything to the other. At least ASP Ghani kept his word, the inspector thinks. Once at his desk, Johan comes over to ask what the meeting was about, saying he bumped into ASP Ghani’s assistant storming out, blowing steam.
“What’s happening upstairs, you heard anything?” he adds.
“Nope. The truth is I don’t care.”
“You don’t care! Now, that’s a first.”
“Maybe I do, but not today. Let’s focus on our case, the rest can wait.”
He dials Di to ask her if she can get the telephone number for Avira from Hubble. Di calls back to give him the organiser’s number and address. He calls the number and is passed on to someone named Sherry from the sales and marketing department. She tells him they do have details and group photos and will scan and send them to him by e-mail. He is delighted that he has saved himself a drive to Petaling Jaya.
At nine-forty-five, Mislan updates his assistant on the latest development, and asks when he is leaving to check out the retailers. They only open shop at about ten-thirty, he is told in reply.
He then calls Forensics to speak to Nathan.
“Nathan, Mislan here. I need you to look at some recordings. I think we’ve got the mystery woman on it. Is there any way you can do a height and size measurement?”
“I can run measurements, same as I did the last time. Then you can use it to match them.”
“That’s not conclusive, but I suppose it will have to do. Okay, I’ll e-mail you the photo. How soon can you get back to me?”
“An hour, max. I’m getting good at this,” Nathan chuckles.
“That’ll be fine. Thanks.”
He checks his inbox, and sees the e-mail from Sherry. He opens the attachment labelled ‘Seminar Photos’. Two group photographs pop up on the screen. He prints them, then opens the attachment labelled ‘Participants’. A list with twenty names, designations, and companies appears. He takes out the photograph of the ‘outside’ technician Nathan has extracted from the workshop recording, makes the match and circles a face in the group picture. He then runs through the listing, and notices there were only three Indian participants. Examining the group photograph he identifies three Indian participants, two of them standing side by side and one standing apart. He figures the two standing together must be from the same company. He is right; the other one is from another telco. The man he wants is one of the two from the same company.
He asks the investigator on shift duty if he can use a standby mata gelap and car for a few hours. He makes another call, “Jo, you done there?”
“Almost.”
“Made the match on Deepseeder from the seminar photos. I want to pick him up; you want to come along?”
“You bet. Give me ten. I’ll call you when I’m downstairs,” the sergeant is excited.
Mislan walks to Supt Samsiah’s office, asks if he can have a moment. She closes the file she is working on and gestures him in, “Yes?” she says sternly, probably still upset with the morning meeting.
“You okay, puan? You look disturbed; something bothering you?”
“You and Ghani, that’s what’s bothering me. What do you want to see me about?”
“I’ve identified the Deepseeder. He works with one of the MSC-status companies in the Petronas Twin
Towers,” he says. “He looks like a foreigner; you know, one of those computer programers IT companies recruit from India.”
“You’re expecting problems?” she asks.
“If he is a foreign national, we can expect the embassy to be informed.”
“Play it by the book. Bring him in for questioning first. Besides the CCTV, do you have anything else to link him?”
“Chew lifted some prints from the diagnostic system we recovered from the workshop. We need to print him and see if they match. If it does, we have him cold.”
“Do that. I’ll brief the OCCI. When are you picking him up?”
“Shortly, I’m waiting for Jo to come back.”
“Remember, strictly by the book. Let me know immediately if you think it is going to be a foreign affairs disaster,” she says.
39
Mislan instructs the driver of the police car to go along Jalan Ampang and park the car along the driveway next to the Maxis Centre. They show their identity cards at the security post to collect their access passes, go through the automatic turnstile, up the escalator, take the lift to the fortieth floor and locate Beyond Infotech. The inspector pushes the glass door, smiles at the woman at the reception counter and says, “Hi, I’m Inspector Mislan. Can I speak to the person in charge.” He notices that the word ‘inspector’ makes her eyebrows arch higher.
“Please take a seat,” she says, picking up the phone and punching a few numbers. “Mr Thana, there is a police inspector here to see you … I don’t know … okay.” She replaces the phone and tells him Mr Thana will be out soon. A minute later, a beer-bellied man in his early forties appears, extents his hand to Johan, saying, “Inspector, how may I help you?”
Johan takes Thanaraju’s hand, nods towards his boss and says, “I’m Sergeant Johan, that’s Inspector Mislan.”
“So sorry,” he says awkwardly, extending his hand again. “I’m Thanaraju.”
“Mr Thana, is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Yes, follow me, please.” Thanaraju swipes his identity tag, the door clicks open and they follow him to a small discussion room while the mata gelap waits at the reception.
“Major Crimes; what’s that?” Thanaraju asks, puzzled. “Is it an immigration task force?”
“No, we’re from the police. Can you tell me who this person is?” he says, pushing Deepseeder’s photograph towards him.
“That’s Logan. Sivalogan Phaniti, one of our programmers. Why? What has he done?”
“We need to talk with him. Is he here?”
“Yes. Why do you need to talk to him? What is he involved in?”
“Is he local, I mean Malaysian?”
“No, he’s from India. He has a valid work permit under the MSC-status program.”
“We do not doubt that. How long has he worked here?”
“Two years. You still have not told me what he is involved in.”
“It’s an ongoing investigation. I can’t reveal anything yet. What’s his area of expertise?”
“System programming. He is the best we have.”
“Okay, can you tell him to join us here?”
Thanaraju punches in a few numbers on the phone, speaks to someone, replaces the receiver and says, “He is coming.”
“Sorry for asking, are you local?”
“No, I’m from India too. Most of our employees are from India.”
“What does your company do?”
“We specialise in telecommunication systems design.”
They hear a soft knock on the door. It opens, and Sivalogan Phaniti pokes his head in. Thanaraju invites him in and Johan immediately stations himself next to the door. Sivalogan Phaniti looks at them suspiciously.
“This is a police inspector and he wants to talk with you,” Thanaraju says.
Mislan detects a fleeting look of worry on Sivalogan’s face, and fear in his eyes. He leans forward holding the chair’s backrest to steady himself. “Why do you want to speak to me? What did I do?”
“Mr Phaniti, I’m taking you to our headquarters for questioning.”
“Is he under arrest?” Thanaraju is aghast.
“No, but if he refuses to come voluntarily, I’ll have no alternative but to arrest him. So what will it be?” He looks at Sivalogan.
“What did I do?” His voice quivers.
“I’m asking if you are coming voluntarily with us for questioning.”
“I want a lawyer,” he says, panic in his eyes.
“Mr Phaniti, why do you feel you need a lawyer? Did you do something illegal?” He smiles, convinced he is shaking the right tree. “I’m asking you for the last time; are you coming with us willingly for questioning?”
“I’m entitled to a lawyer. I want a lawyer,” he answers in a shrill voice.
“Okay, I’ll take that as a no. You’re now under arrest in connection with an ongoing murder investigation.” The inspector nods to the sergeant who takes a step forward and in one fluid movement places his left hand on Sivalogan’s shoulder, grabs his right hand, pulls it back and cuffs him. Surprised, Sivalogan protests but it is too late. The stainless-steel bracelets are securely in place.
“Why are you handcuffing me?” he cries, shaking his cuffed hands violently behind him.
“Do you need to do that?” Thanaraju asks, motioning to the handcuffs.
“It’s procedure. We could have avoided it if he had come voluntarily. There’s no reason to worry, if he is not involved, he’ll be released immediately.”
“Stop twisting your hands, you’ll only make the cuff tighter.”
The sergeant leads the prisoner out of the room with Thanaraju and Mislan following amidst stares and whispers from other employees. At the inner door, Sivalogan says something to Thanaraju in an Indian language, with the latter nodding repeatedly. The inspector hears the words, ‘promise’ and ‘lawyer’ mentioned several times in the rapid burst of words. He figures Sivalogan is making Thanaraju promise to get him a lawyer.
“Where did you say you’re taking him?” Thanaraju asks.
“Kuala Lumpur Contingent headquarters, Major Crimes.”
In the car, Sivalogan kept insisting he wants a lawyer, claiming he is entitled to one, and threatens to sue the police. After a while Johan says, “If you’ve not done anything, why do you need a lawyer?”
“I want a lawyer. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m here legally,” Sivalogan annoyingly persists.
“Just shut up, will you! You’ll know in detail why you have been arrested once we reach headquarters.”
Sivalogan stops talking, stares outside the window and keeps mumbling.
When he passes Supt Samsiah’s office, she calls out for him, “How did it go?”
“He was not willing to come in, and I had to place him under arrest.”
She nods, saying, “Make a report and process him. Expecting any problems?”
“Maybe a call from his lawyer. He is insisting on a lawyer and I think he has asked his GM to call a lawyer. I don’t know what they spoke but the words ‘promise’ and ‘lawyer’ were mentioned several times. The GM, Mr Thanaraju, is an Indian national as well.”
“The OCCI called about your suspects, Ricky and Ah Meng. What’re your plans?”
“I’ll do Sivalogan first, then start on them.”
“You need any help?”
“I’d like the interviews to be handled by Johan, and he may need help.”
“Okay, let me know when you need assistance. Lan, be careful. There are many eyes watching your moves. I don’t have to remind you.”
Johan escorts Sivalogan into one of the interview rooms and instructs the mata gelap to watch him. Walking back to the office he bumps into the remand team and asks about Ricky and Ah Meng. They tell him both were granted three days remand by the magistrate and are in the detention cell. Back at the office the sergeant puts a call through to Records asking for the three suspects to be processed, starting with Sivalogan.
40
Mislan
completes his arrest report, feeling elated at the potential breakthrough. “Has he been processed?” he asks his assistant.
“Still with Records. Are you not joining us?”
“I’ll take the second chair, it’s time you flew solo,” he smiles. “Got all the stuff you need?”
Several shouts of ‘officer taken’ are heard from the mata gelap room, followed by the sound of personnel rushing about. A mata gelap runs into his office shouting, “Tuan, OKT tuan tawan tebusan rekod cap jari.” The inspector jumps off the chair and runs out the door. He asks his assistant what’s happening. “I don’t know,” is the reply. One of the rushing mata gelap tells him that a Records technician has been taken hostage by a detainee in the processing room.
“Who’s the detainee?”
“I heard it is an Indian man.”
The lift lobby is jammed with officers and men waiting to go down to level six where Criminal Records is housed. He signals Johan and they take the staircase down to a corridor crowded with onlookers. He shouts, “Clear the area,” as they push their way through the mass of bodies. Entering the office he instructs one of the uniformed personnel to clear the corridor and lift lobby of onlookers and civilians.
“What’s going on in there?” he asks the front desk officer.
“The tech was processing a suspect when the suspect jumped him and grabbed his gun. He’s demanding for a lawyer.”
“Who’s OC?” he demands, asking for the officer in charge.
“The OC is talking to the prisoner over there,” the front desk officer says, pointing to a man crouching behind an overturned desk.
“Okay, clear the office and call for a standby medic. No one comes in, I don’t want casualties. Who’s the tech?”
“Lance Cpl Manan. He is due for retirement in two months.”
“Let’s hope Manan gets to enjoy his retirement. Now move!”
Mislan moves cautiously into the general office. Johan stays close behind him. Several Major Crimes mata gelap, uniformed personnel, and the OC of Criminal Record crouch behind desks with weapons drawn, aimed at the processing room’s door. “What’s the situation?” he asks.
“He has locked the door; I don’t know what’s going on in there. He has been asking for a lawyer,” comes the answer.
21 Immortals Page 20
