Inspector Zhang and the Disappearing Drugs

by Stephen Leather

  Inspector Zhang folded his arms. “And is there gossip, Sergeant Lee?”

  “There is always gossip,” said the sergeant. “This is Singapore. Shopping and gossiping are our main occupations.”

  “And what is the gossip concerning Inspector Kwok?”

  “I really couldn’t say, Inspector,” she said. “She is a colleague and I am pleased for her.”

  “Pleased for her?”

  “Pleased at her rapid advancement. It is good to see a woman progressing through the ranks so quickly.”

  Inspector Zhang looked across at her but couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. He folded his arms and they drove the rest of the way in silence.

  They walked into the building together and Inspector Kwok took them up to a meeting room on the second floor where there were several desktop computers and a large flat screen monitor on one wall. There was a technician waiting for them, a young woman in a pale green trouser suit, and she stood up as they walked in.

  The technician arranged three chairs so that they could sit facing the monitor and then she sat down at one of the computers.

  “What is it you would like to see, exactly?” asked Inspector Kwok. “We have seven days of surveillance video and in most of it nothing is happening.”

  “When the drugs arrive, and then later when you and your team went inside,” said Inspector Kwok.

  The technician nodded and tapped away on her computer keyboard. An image filled the monitor. The corridor outside the apartment. The apartment number was clearly visible on the door.

  “You can’t see the lift but you will see the men come into view,” said Inspector Kwok. As she finished the sentence two men appeared on the screen, pushing trolleys. There were five boxes on each trolley. The older of the two was a Chinese man in his late fifties, grey haired and with a tired face. He was wearing blue overalls with the name of the company on his chest, as was his companion, a chubby Indian man in his early twenties.

  The Chinese man stood his trolley by the door and bent down to take the key from under the mat. Inspector Zhang read the time code on the bottom of the screen. It was just after ten-thirty in the morning. Sergeant Lee was scribbling in her notebook and as he looked across at her she nodded at him, letting him know that she was making a note of the time. The man unlocked the door and pushed in his trolley, followed by the Indian. Then the door closed.

  “They went inside and left the boxes in the sitting room, next to the sofa,” said Inspector Kwok.

  The door remained closed for just under three minutes, then the two men reappeared with empty trolleys. The Chinese man relocked the door and put the key back under the mat, then the two men pushed their trolleys towards the lift.

  “The door then remained locked for seven days,” said Inspector Kwok. “No one went in or out before me, seven days later.”

  “And the room was under constant surveillance?”

  “I was there eighteen hours a day and there were always at least two detectives in the observation room,” said Inspector Kwok. “And once we discovered that the apartment was empty I myself watched every second of the video, albeit speeded up, of course.”

  Inspector Zhang rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And the two men who delivered the drugs. Who are they?”

  “The owner of the company, Mr. Yin. It was Mr. Yin who opened the door. And one of his workers. A Mr. Chandra.”

  “And was there anyone else from the company involved?”

  “There was a driver, but he stayed outside with the van.”

  “Very well. Can we now jump ahead to when you and your team entered the apartment.”

  The technician tapped on her keyboard again and the picture jumped. According to the time code they had advanced almost seven days. Inspector Kwok walked to the door, followed by two male detectives and two uniformed officers. She bent down, picked up the key and slotted it into the lock. She seemed to have trouble with the lock and she stepped aside to let one of the uniformed officers try. “I didn’t realise it was a security lock,” she said. “It had to be turned twice.”

  The uniformed officer also had trouble with the lock, but eventually he opened the door and stepped aside to allow Inspector Kwok to go in. “And that was it,” said Inspector Kwok. “The drugs had gone. The apartment was empty. And during the seven days that we had the apartment under observation no one went in or came out.”

  “And you have no idea where the drugs are, or how they were removed from the apartment.”

  “It is a mystery,” said Inspector Kwok.

  “But a mystery that we shall solve, Inspector Kwok.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Inspector Zhang is an expert at solving mysteries,” said Sergeant Lee, looking up from her notebook. “It is what he does best.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Lee,” he said.

  “So what shall we do?” asked Inspector Kwok. “How do we begin this investigation? Where do we start?”

  “First I would like to talk to the owner of the company that delivered the boxes. Mr. Yin, you said his name is.”

  “Yes, Mr. Yin. His company is based at the container port.”

  “Then we should go and see him there,” said Inspector Zhang. “Perhaps we should all go in the same car. It might make things easier.”

  “Absolutely,” said Inspector Kwok.

  They walked out of the building together into the fierce Singaporean sun.

  “We should use the Lexus, it is more spacious than my sergeant’s vehicle,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “Exactly what I was going to suggest,” said Inspector Kwok, taking out her keys. Inspector Zhang climbed into the front passenger seat and Sergeant Lee got into the back.

  Inspector Kwok was an assured driver and it didn’t take her long to get them to the container port. They showed their warrant cards to two security guards and headed for the bonded warehouse.

  There were containers piled high wherever they looked in a multitude of colours, though all were one of two sizes ��� twenty feet long or forty feet. Even in metric Singapore, containers were still measured in feet.

  In the distance there was a line of massive container ships with huge cranes swinging containers back and forth above them. There was a near-constant stream of loaded trucks heading towards the exit.

  “Did you know that half of the world’s annual supply of crude oil goes through Singapore?” said Inspector Zhang. “And a fifth of the world’s shipping containers. More than a billion tonnes of goods go through here every year.”

  “Singapore is one of the wonders of the world,” agreed Inspector Kwok. “We have achieved so much and yet we are a mere city state of just over five million people.”

  “I do sometimes wonder how many of these containers have drugs inside,” mused Inspector Zhang. “There are so many of them that there isn’t time to check even a small percentage.”

  “We were lucky with the Burmese heroin,” said Inspector Kwok.

  “Up to a point,” said Sergeant Lee from the back of the car. Inspector Zhang turned to look at her and she smiled politely.

  They pulled up in front of the warehouse. A man in a rumpled dark blue suit came out and greeted Inspector Kwok as she climbed out of the Lexus. It was the Chinese man from the video. Mr. Yin. Inspector Kwok introduced him to Inspector Zhang and Sergeant Lee and he solemnly shook hands with them both before taking them inside. The warehouse was filled with boxes and crates and two fork-lift trucks were ferrying more crates from a truck parked in a goods bay. One of the fork-lift drivers was the Indian from the surveillance video.

  There was a small office in the corner and Mr. Yin took them inside. A secretary with badly-permed hair was putting files into a cabinet and Mr. Yin asked her to prepare tea for his guests.

  Mr. Yin sat down behind his desk and the three detectives sat on high-backed wooden chairs facing him. “We want to thank you again for all your co-operation, Mr. Yin,” said Inspector Zhang.

&
nbsp; “I am always happy to help the Singapore Police Force,” he said. “I am vehemently anti-drugs. I have two children myself and we must make sure that our youngsters are protected.”

  “Indeed,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “Do you have children, Inspector?” asked Mr. Yin.

  “I do not,” said Inspector Zhang. “But I am as concerned as you about the perils of drugs. As is our government. Which is why we execute drugs smugglers in Singapore.”

  “Which is as it should be,” said Mr. Yin. He interlinked his fingers. “So how can I help you today?”

  “We have a problem at the apartment where the drugs were left,” said Inspector Zhang. “We seem to have mislaid them.”

  Mr. Yin’s forehead creased into a frown. “Mislaid?” he said.

  “They have vanished,” said Inspector Zhang. “Into thin air it appears.”

  “But that’s impossible.”

  “I quite agree,” said Inspector Zhang.

  The secretary appeared with a tray of tea things. She poured them each a small cup of jasmine tea and then went back to her files. Inspector Zhang inhaled the perfumed fragrance and then sipped his tea.

  “Now I gather that you had made similar deliveries before,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “Not me personally,” said Mr. Yin. “But our company has.”

  “Why did you handle the delivery yourself on this occasion?”

  “We thought it would be safer to have as few people involved as possible,” said Inspector Kwok. “Mr. Yin owns the company so he offered to help rather than send one of his delivery staff.”

  “So Inspector Kwok had explained to you that there was heroin in the boxes?”

  Mr. Yin nodded. “So you can imagine how horrified I was,” he said. “To have my company used in that manner, by drug smugglers. How dare they? I run a reputable business, Inspector Zhang, we pay our taxes, we obey the rules and regulations and believe me in this business there are more rules than you can shake a stick at.”

  “I am sure there are,” said Inspector Zhang. “Now please tell me, this was the first time that you had delivered boxes to this particular apartment?”

  “It was a different apartment for each delivery,” said Mr. Yin. “But always in Geylang.”

  “And what did you think they contained?”

  “It was always industrial coatings. In powder form.”

  “And is it normal to deliver industrial coatings to an apartment?”

  “A lot of small businesses are run from home,” said Mr. Yin. “And this was a relatively small delivery.”

  “And always the same arrangement for the deliveries? The key under the mat?”

  Mr. Yin nodded. “We were emailed instructions each time. We were given an address and told to leave the boxes inside.”

  “Isn’t that unusual?” asked Inspector Zhang.

  “As I said, delivering small consignments to apartments is not unusual,” said Mr. Yin.

  “But leaving keys under mats. Is that not unusual?”

  “I suppose so,” said Mr. Yin. “Though we often leave deliveries with neighbours.”

  “Even so���”

  “You have to understand, Inspector Zhang. We handle dozens of deliveries every day, from single boxes to full containers. This was a relatively small job for us, the paperwork was all in order and they were a regular customer who also paid promptly. We had no reason to suspect that something untoward was going on.”

  “I understand that,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “Obviously if we had known���” Mr. Yin shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.

  “I am sure,” said Inspector Zhang. He looked at his wristwatch. “I wonder if I might ask you for just a little more co-operation, Mr. Yin.”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “Would you mind coming back to the apartment so that we can run through what happened?”

  “I don’t understand.” Mr. Yin looked over at Inspector Zhang. “I thought you just needed my help to deliver the boxes.”

  “It will not take very long,” said Inspector Zhang. “We can drive you there. We have a Lexus.”

  “If it’s absolutely necessary, I suppose I could spare the time,” said Mr. Yin, reluctantly. “But I am very busy. This is our busy time of the year.”

  “We will not take too much of your time, Mr. Yin,” said Inspector Zhang. He stood up and waved at the door. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll be finished.”

  They went outside and this time Inspector Zhang got into the back of the car with Sergeant Lee while Mr. Yin climbed into the front with Inspector Kwok. They drove back to Geylang in silence. Inspector Kwok parked the car and they walked together into the apartment block.

  “This is the way you came on that day?” asked Inspector Zhang.

  Mr. Yin nodded. “Yes. We had trolleys. One trolley each.”

  “And on each trolley there were five boxes?”

  “Yes.”

  Inspector Kwok opened the door and they went through to reception and up to the eighth floor.

  “So you and your assistant arrived here and pushed the trolleys to the apartment?”

  Mr. Yin nodded. “I went through all this with Inspector Kwok.”

  They walked to the door of the apartment. “Do you have the key, Inspector?” asked Inspector Zhang. Inspector Kwok produced the brass key and Inspector Zhang nodded at the mat. “If you would be so good as to put it where it was that day.”

  Inspector Kwok put the key under the mat and then stood up.

  “Now, proceed exactly as you did on that day, Mr. Yin.”

  “But I don’t have the trolley so it cannot be the same.”

  “Please do as best you can,” said Inspector Zhang. He stood back and folded his arms.

  Mr. Yin sighed, then bent down and retrieved the key. He inserted it into the lock and turned it twice antic-clockwise to open the door. He took out the key, pushed open the door and walked into the apartment.

  The three detectives followed him.

  “And then you closed the door?”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “So please do that now.”

  Mr. Yin closed the door.

  “And where did you leave the boxes?”

  Mr. Yin pointed at the side of the sofa. “There,” he said.

  “And then you left the apartment?”

  “Yes,” said Mr. Yin. “Is that all you need from me?”

  “Just bear with me a little while longer, Mr. Yin,” said Inspector Zhang. He walked around the sitting room, deep in thought.

  “Inspector Zhang, I really think we have imposed on Mr. Yin’s public spiritedness quite enough,” said Inspector Kwok. “He has a business to run.”

  “Soon,” said Inspector Zhang. “We are almost there.”

  He walked into the bedroom and Sergeant Lee followed him. “Inspector Zhang, what are you looking for? We know that the drugs are not in the apartment.”

  Inspector Zhang smiled. “I am not looking for the heroin, Sergeant Lee. I am looking for the boxes, and that is quite a different matter.”

  “The boxes?”

  “Yes, the boxes. They are key to this.” He smiled. “If you will forgive the pun.”

  “Pun? What pun?” Sergeant Lee frowned in confusion.

  Inspector Zhang sighed as he looked around the bedroom. “The bed was examined, of course. That only leaves the wardrobe.”

  “The wardrobe is empty, Inspector Zhang,” said Sergeant Lee. She opened the doors to show him. “Coat hangers and dust, nothing else.”

  “Mr. Yin, come in here please,” called Inspector Zhang.

  Mr. Yin walked into the bedroom. He looked annoyed. ““I really must protest,” he said. “I have a business to run.”

  “Would you be so kind as to help me move the wardrobe,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “You want me to do what?”

  “The wardrobe. Just help me move it.”

  “Why?”

&
nbsp; “Because I suspect there is something beneath it.” He smiled. “I can hardly ask the ladies, can I?”

  He took hold of the left side of the wardrobe and waited until a reluctant Mr. Yin took hold of the right hand side. They both lifted and moved the wardrobe forward a couple of feet. Sergeant Lee gasped when she saw what had been hidden by the wardrobe. Flattened cardboard boxes. She bent down and picked them up. There were ten of them. “The boxes,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Inspector Zhang. “The boxes.”

  “But how can that be?” asked Inspector Kwok.

  Inspector Zhang let go of the wardrobe and looked over at Mr. Yin. “Why don’t you explain, Mr. Yin?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes you do, Mr. Yin. The drugs were never in the boxes. Not by the time you brought them up to the apartment. They might well have been in the boxes at the warehouse but at some point between there and here you and your assistant took the drugs out and it was empty boxes that you brought into the apartment.”

  “Nonsense,” said Mr. Yin.

  “There is no other explanation,” said Inspector Zhang. “You and he were the only people to enter the apartment. It can only have been you.”

  “You cannot prove anything,” said Mr. Yin.

  “I think I can,” said Inspector Zhang. He pointed at the collapsed boxes. “When you and your assistant entered the apartment neither of you were wearing gloves. Therefore if you did indeed conceal the boxes under the wardrobe, your fingerprints and DNA will be on the cardboard.”

  Mr. Yin glared at Inspector Zhang for several seconds, then his shoulders slumped. “I have been a fool,” he said.

  “I agree,” said Inspector Zhang. “When you were approached by Inspector Kwok you realised that she was providing you with a golden opportunity to cover your crime. You were the one bringing the drugs into the country, but of course she didn’t know that. You put the boxes in the van but on the way to the apartment you removed the heroin and resealed the boxes. The boxes on the trolleys were empty. And once inside the apartment out of sight of the surveillance camera you simply flattened the boxes and hid them under the wardrobe.” He turned to Inspector Kwok. “You may arrest Mr. Yin now,” he said. “The mystery is solved.”