21 Immortals

by Rozlan Mohd Noor

  “Does he have a gun?”

  “We think so.”

  “You don’t know? Did Manan carry his gun on him?”

  “I don’t know,” the OC answers angrily.

  “Does anyone know if Manan had his gun on him?” he asks, looking at those crouching. No one seems to know. “Can someone check his desk drawer and see if his gun is there?”

  One of the uniformed personnel checks Manan’s desk drawer and says, “It’s here,” holding up a standard-issue Smith & Wilson.

  “He is fucking unarmed,” he hisses, walking slowly to the processing room, hugging the wall as he moves towards the door. He peeks through the edge of the triangular glass peephole. He sees Manan on his stomach, his face turned sideways, bloodied, with hands cuffed behind him. He notes that the lance corporal is still breathing, his oversized belly heaving laboriously. Sivalogan sits on the floor next to him, hands wrapped around his knees with his head hidden between them, either crying or praying. He still wears the handcuffs on one hand and holds a motorcycle helmet in the other. He figures the detainee must have used the helmet to knocked Lance Cpl Manan out cold. Keeping his eyes on the suspect, he reaches for the doorknob and tries to turn it slowly, it is locked. The sound jolts Sivalogan, making him lift his head and look at the door. Moving away from the door, he asks if there is a spare key to the room. Not surprisingly, no one knows.

  ASP Ghani’s voice booms across the office, asking who is in charge, as he and his bozo sidekick arrogantly barge in.

  “I am,” the inspector answers, stepping up to them.

  “I am now,” ASP Ghani says condescendingly, “the OCCI put me in charge.”

  “Stay out of this! That’s my suspect in there. It’s my case. You can go tell your boss I’m in charge,” he says defiantly standing in ASP Ghani’s path. Like a wrestling tag-team partner, Johan stands next to him.

  “You can tell him yourself, he’s on his way down,” ASP Ghani says. No sooner has ASP Ghani spoken, SAC Burhanuddin emerges at the door with Supt Henry, Supt Samsiah, and his two PR dolls. Like a spoilt brat, ASP Ghani rushes towards them whimpering about not being allowed to take charge. Mislan and Johan stand firm as the red faced OCCI and his entourage march toward them.

  “Ghani says you refuse to handover command to him? Is it a wilful defiance of my order? Who do you think you are?”

  “This is my case, that’s my suspect. He is unarmed and you know damn well if Ghani goes in my suspect is as good as dead. I need him alive. He’s the only lead I have to the killers. After I’m finished with him, you can do whatever you want. And, for that matter, you can do whatever you want with me,” he says, knowing he is bordering on insubordination. He is not going to lose a key witness, or a life. He will deal with whatever they decide to do with him when the time comes.

  “You fool! Get him out of here,” SAC Burhanuddin shouts. No one moves, and he shouts again, “Get him out of here!”

  “No. Everyone calm down. Mislan is right. This is his case. That,” Supt Samsiah says pointing to the processing room “is the best lead he has. The suspect is unarmed, and he is an Indian national. We don’t want to invite the Foreign Ministry into this, do we? Let him take the detainee down. We’ll prosecute him once that is done.”

  Everyone in the room breathes easier except ASP Ghani and his sidekick. The OCCI signals the Head of Major Crimes to follow him to the outer office. Mislan waits, unsure of what to expect. How many times has he dragged his boss into a face-off with her boss? If something should happen to her because of his defiance, he would never forgive himself. He wants to leave and let them have their way. To hell with the case; the victims are dead but his boss is alive and needs to go on living. He makes a move towards the outer office just as the Superintendent of Police comes back in, saying, “Mislan, you’re in charge. The rest of you stand down. Only those the inspector picks stay, the rest please clear the room. Ghani, you and your team standby in the outer office. You’ll take over on my command. Until then, it is Mislan’s show.”

  The expressions of disbelief on the faces of the D7 entourage and the frustration on ASP Ghani’s face is unmistakable. Supt Henry and the two PR dolls slither away without saying a word.

  “Mislan, you have one hour to end this. One hour, that’s all. After that I’ll pass it on to Ghani,” she says.

  “Thanks, puan.”

  Shaking her head, she says, “Don’t thank me, this is not over yet.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “That was easy; I offered your head on a platter, and threw in Johan as bonus after all this is over,” she laughs. When she finally stops laughing, she says, “Go do what you’re good at doing and leave the human skills to me.”

  He selects two mata gelaps and lets the rest go. He discusses with them the plan to take Sivalogan down without firearms. They agree and move into position. He walks to the door, sticks his face against the glass peep hole, and calls out to Sivalogan who is still in his sitting position, watching the door.

  “Sivalogan, we need to talk.”

  Sivalogan reaches for the helmet, rises and asks, “Why?”

  “Look, I’m here to help you. If you’re not willing to cooperate, I’ll leave and hand the situation to the UTK.”

  “What’s UTK?” Sivalogan is confused.

  “It’s our SWAT. You know what SWAT is right? Special Weapons and Tactical Team,” he says slowly, to ensure the words ‘Weapon and Tactical’ are heard clearly.

  “Why do you want to call the SWAT for?” Sivalogan starts shouting and crying. “I’m going to die,” and rattles on rapidly in his native tongue.

  “Sivalogan, listen. I can get you out of here. Come nearer so we can talk. You need to trust me.”

  The detainee steps over Lance Cpl Manan and moves closer to the door. “I want a lawyer,” he says. “I want a lawyer, now.”

  “You got any lawyer in particular that you want me to call?” he asks softly making sure that Sivalogan can only hear part of it.

  “What? I can’t hear you”

  He waves his hand, signalling for Sivalogan to come closer and repeats softly, “Any lawyer in particular?” This time, only the word ‘lawyer’ is clearly heard.

  The detainee steps closer to the door and leans against it sideways with his face at the peephole. “What? My lawyer? I don’t know. You call Mr Thana. He knows.”

  “Okay, let me call him.” Without looking around, he signals his assistant. The sergeant takes a step back from the wall and with one smooth motion delivers a forceful kick, sending the flimsy plywood door flying inward, slamming into Sivalogan and throwing him over Manan. Sivalogan screams in pain as he falls flat on his back. Johan rushes in, kicks the helmet from his grip, flips him onto his stomach and cuffs him. Sivalogan screams, “My shoulder, you broke my shoulder. You lied to me, I want my lawyer now. You tricked me,” followed by something in a language they cannot understand.

  He runs to Manan, and shouts for the paramedics to come in. A bottle of smelling salt is pushed under his nose, making him groan, while others prepare the stretcher-bed. They struggle to get the overweight lance corporal onto it and wheel him out. One of the paramedic steps over to Sivalogan, pulls the shirt off his shoulder, looks at it, and says, “It’s just a bruise. He’ll live.” Holding the detainee's arm Johan pushes him into a chair and shouts, “Can I have another tech and gelap in here.” A female technician appears with a mata gelap. “Are you the tech?”

  “Yes,” she answers, showing her security tag.

  “Get him processed, and you!” he says to the mata gelap, “Are you his escort?”

  The mata gelap nods.

  Walking out to the general office Mislan spots the mata gelap originally assigned to escort Sivalogan. “Where the hell were you?” he asks angrily, not really interested in the answer. “Go, report to front office, district will deal with you later.”

  “That was clever,” Supt Samsiah says. “Listen, I want you to wrap this case up. It’s attrac
ting too much attention. You said he’s your best lead, work on him. I’m assigning Reeziana and Reeze to you immediatly. Use them, let them do the footwork. You and Jo focus on breaking the suspects.”

  “Thanks, I could use extra legs. Are you giving this incident to the district?”

  “Yes, I don’t need this on our plate. So far, we have been fortunate that the press is not playing your case up, but if they get wind of this …” she leaves her sentence hanging. “I’ll talk to the district to see if they can keep this under the media radar. Who was the gelap in charge, Haris? I’ve always wondered how he was made gelap. With his attitude, something like this was bound to happen. He’s lucky no one was injured or killed.”

  “If you ask me, half of them should not have made gelap, but who am I to say anything.”

  As they walk past the outer office, she says to ASP Ghani, “Your men can stand down. There’ll be no body count today.”

  Nathan calls to tell him the measurements are nearly identical to the earlier ones, and that he has e-mailed the details. He again reminds the inspector that the measurements are not scientific, and could not be used in a courtroom. Mislan thanks Nathan, logs into his computer, opens his mail and forwards it to Safia.

  41

  Johan tells him that Sivalogan is done, and is in interview room one. Mislan requests Records to match the prisoner’s prints with those lifted by Forensics from the diagnostic system seized from Pro Care Service Centre. It is confirmed, and they add that the other prints match those of Ricky and Ah Meng. He picks up a notepad, the digital recorder and walks into interview room one. He slides a document towards Sivalogan and switches on the recorder, speaking into it the case number, date, time, and those present.

  “Mr Sivalogan Phaniti, I’m going to caution you, please listen properly.”

  Sivalogan Phaniti nods.

  Speaking into the digital recorder he reads the caution, “It is my duty to warn you that you’re not obliged to say anything or answer any question. However, whatever you say, whether in answer to a question or not, may be used against you in a court of law.” He pauses, allowing Sivalogan to digest the caution, then continues, “Do you understand the caution?”

  Sivalogan nods.

  “Please answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

  “Yes, yes,” Sivalogan says.

  “Please sign here,” he says, pushing the document nearer and producing a pen. “How do you want me to address you, Siva or Logan?”

  “Logan.”

  “Okay, Logan it is. I’m investigating the multiple murder of Mr Tham Cheng Loke, also known as Robert Tham, and his family. Do you want to make a statement?”

  Logan looks at Johan and, sounding genuinely terrified, asks, “What murder? I know nothing of any murder. What are you talking about? I want a lawyer.”

  “Let’s drop the lawyer thing. I’ve already told you our law.”

  “Ahyoo, my shoulder is broken, I need medical attention,” Logan says, contorting his face as if in severe pain.

  “The medics have examined your shoulder. It’s only a bruise. So, shelf the bullshit,” Mislan says. “Are you a system programmer?”

  “Yes.”

  “What sort of system programming do you specialise in?”

  “Communication systems.”

  “And?”

  “Only communication systems.”

  “Do you do freelance programming?”

  “No, my company does not allow us.”

  “Do you belong to a chat group called Hackerchat?”

  “I sometimes chat there with other programmers. There’s nothing illegal about that.”

  “What is your chat name?”

  “Siva.”

  “What is your chat name?” he repeats firmly.

  Logan keeps mum.

  “Is it Siva, or Deepseeder?” he asks. At the mention of Deepseeder, he detects fear in Logan’s eyes.

  “What Deepseeder? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan says.

  “This Deepseeder,” he says, pushing a program printout across the table. “You recognise this program?”

  Bending over, a little low to conceal his face, Logan pretends to read the program. The inspector snatches it away. Johan, who is sitting at the edge of the table, abruptly stands, knocking his chair over with a loud bang, startling both Logan and Mislan. Logan leans as far away from the sergeant as he can, with one hand cuffed to the chair, and screams, “Yes, yes.”

  Johan steps closer to the table, places both his hands on it calmly, and says. “Yes, what?”

  “I know the program,” Logan mumbles.

  “How do you know it?”

  “I wrote it.”

  “Anyone could’ve written it. Why do you claim you wrote it?” he asks, pushing the program listing back towards Logan again.

  Logan moves cautiously back into his original sitting position, and reaches out with his free hand to bring the printout closer. “Here, this line. That’s my signature,” he says, keeping one eye on Johan.

  “What does it say, ‘Sivalogan’?”

  Logan hesitates before saying, “Deepseeder; it’s my codename.”

  “We know,” he says, reaching for the digital recorder and switching it off. He moves next to Logan, leaning against the table, folds his arms across his chest saying, “Listen, and listen carefully. We know who you are and what you did.”

  Logan looks at him, unblinking, mouth open.

  Snatching the moment, he continues, “And the thing you did back there,” jerking his head indicating at Criminal Record, “was stupid, really stupid. It’s going to get you into another heap of trouble. Abetting a triple murder, assault and holding a police officer hostage; you’ll be an old man before you are free.”

  Logan’s eyes open wide. He starts shaking his head and crying and rambling incoherently in his native tongue. Mislan picks up the words, ayo, mother, brothers, sisters, and boss being repeated several times.

  “Stop acting, you’re not auditioning for a Bollywood movie,” he snaps. Logan stops. “You’re in big shit, bigger than you can imagine. We’ve all the evidence needed to link you to the murder of Robert Tham. Your prints are on the diagnostic system from the workshop, your image is on the workshop’s CCTV recording, and the sleeper programs have your hidden signature. We also know about your inquiries on ECU programs. How do you think we found you?”

  Logan looks as if he is choking or swallowing imaginary saliva. “I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What murder, who is this Robert Tham?”

  “Are you willing to cooperate?”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but I don’t know anything about a murder,” the detainee pleads.

  The inspector walks back to his chair, switches on the recorder and asks, “You say you know this computer program. Can you explain?”

  42

  When his mobile rings, he switches off the recorder and answers, “Yes, Yana.”

  “He’s gone. The receptionist said he left immediately after you left. She does not know where he is and he is not answering his phone,” Inspector Reeziana says.

  “Can you find his house address?”

  “Yes, got it from one of the staff. I’m waiting for his particulars. Maybe you’d want to get immigration to alert all exit points.”

  “Okay, try to get a photo of him, too. I’m sure there will be some on his computer. If not, check with the office staff. Get it printed, preferably in colour. Once you get the information, can you proceed straight to his address? Meanwhile, I’ll get someone to call all airlines and check if there is a flight booked in his name.”

  “I’ve already got gerakan to send an MPV to his address, with orders to arrest the suspect,” Reeziana says.

  “Good. Let me know once you have his particulars so we can alert Immigration. I’ll get someone to start calling the airlines.”

  He finishes his interview with Logan and calls in a couple of on-duty mata gelap,
instructing them to hand Logan to the district investigator handling assault and kidnapping cases. He tells Johan to get Ricky ready for an interview and goes to his boss’s office. She signals him in, “You’re done with him?”

  “Yes, sending him to the district.”

  “Did he talk?”

  “He has admitted writing the sleeper programs, and uploading them into the Cayenne. Claims he did not know what they were used for. He was assigned the project by his boss, Thanaraju. He says he was told that it was a pilot project for a car anti-theft system. Reeziana says Thanaraju is gone; left immediately after we picked up Logan. She has asked gerakan to dispatch an MPV to his home address. She is now waiting for his particulars. I need someone to call all airlines to check if Thanaraju has made any booking, and I need your help to alert Immigration at the exit points.”

  His boss picks up the phone and asks her personal assistant to come in. She gives her a piece of paper saying, “Call all the airlines and see if that name is booked on any flight.” Then she asks him, “What about busses and trains?”

  “I thought about that, but we cannot check them all, except at the exit points in Johor, Kedah, and Kelantan. If he takes the land routes, the Immigration should spot him, I hope. I’ll pass his particulars on, once Reeziana gets them.”

  “Do you think he’s skipping the country?”

  “If he took to the road immediately after we left, he would have just made it into Singapore by now. Thailand via Bukit Kayu Hitam or Kelantan would take longer. My guess is, if he’s travelling by road, he’ll head for Thailand. It’s easier to disappear into Thailand than Singapore and find his way back to India.”

  “Okay, get me his particulars. I’ll alert the Immigration. Try to get a photo of him.”

  “Another thing; Johan visited the shops where we believe our mystery woman, or the woman seen with the vic in the hotel video, visited. The sales girls remember her but the company is not willing to give out details. I’m a bit tied down, got the two suspects to interview. Can you let me have the investigator on shift to follow up? Today is Friday. The offices will not be open tomorrow.”