“Sure, give him the details and tell him it comes from me. Anything else?” she asks.
“Nope, thanks.”
As he comes out from his boss’ office his assistant approaches him, “Just got a call from gerakan, Thana’s car is there but no one is answering the door. The MPV officers were told by a neighbour she saw the suspect come home about two in the afternoon. She saw a car leaving the suspect’s house an hour later.”
“Probably skipping town.” He calls Inspector Reeziana. “Yana, have you got the photo and particulars? We need it urgently. Suspect is skipping town … good … okay.” He asks Johan, “Did the neighbour see the suspect leaving in the car?”
“No, she heard the car leaving and tires screeching. She peeked out but it was gone.”
“Is the MPV still there?”
“Yes, gerakan’s waiting for instruction. Why?”
“I don’t like it. I have a bad feeling that something is not right. Tell them to stay put.”
He hurries back into Supt Samsiah’s office, tells her of the latest development and the change in plans. He briefs the investigator on shift and tells him to proceed to the suspect’s house.
“Do you think something has happened?”
“I don’t know, just got a bad feeling.”
The investigator calls out to his assistant, “We’re in the Yee Sang Murder team; grab your stuff, we’re checking out a suspect.”
“Call me when you get there. Exercise caution,” he shouts after them.
“Always.”
As they go towards interview room two, where Ricky is waiting, Johan asks his boss, “What is your feeling, or intuition, saying?”
“He left the office immediately after we visited him; that was what, about eleven-thirty? But only got home around two, two and a half hours later. That’s sufficient time to go somewhere and meet someone.”
“So?”
“You said the neighbour saw a car leaving an hour after the suspect reached home. I’m thinking one of two things; someone is either making arrangements for him to disappear, or someone was sent to silence him. I’m hoping for the first, but either way, we’re screwed.”
“Shit, you think they will? I mean, do him in?”
“He is a link to them and, probably, the only link. If they know we’re on to him, yes, I do.”
“This case is looking more unsolvable by the minute. Everything seems to lead to nothing,” Johan says with a sigh.
Mislan knows his assistant is right. Now is the time for a little luck. Something. Anything. A tip-off, a call from a law-abiding citizen, a plea bargain, trade-off, anything. “Just one, that’s all I need,” he says aloud in frustration.
He dismisses the mata gelap and sits across the table facing Ricky. He observes how calm and relaxed Ricky is. He figures Ricky must be either a seasoned player, or clueless. Switching on the recorder, he starts with the formalities of introductions and cautioning.
“Are you known as Ricky, and do you work at Pro Care Service Centre?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been working there, and what’s your expertise?”
“About five years. I’m in charge of Porsche, but I also help with other models.”
“Do you know Robert Tham?”
“Yes, I’ve met him several times. I take care of his cars. He’s my boss’s friend.”
“Do you know Mrs Tham?”
“No. I know she drives a BMW. I have never met her.”
He pushes the service job sheet towards Ricky, pointing to the remarks column, “Is that your signature?”
“Yes.”
“What’s this remark?”
“It’s for work done by an outsider. Winnie told me the ECUs needed reprogramming, and that Porsche is sending their technician to do it.”
“Did you know what the reprogramming was for?”
“Winnie said the car always stalled. The engine seized.”
“Was it true? Did the car stall or engine seize?”
“Not when I was testing it.”
Pushing Sivalogan’s photograph to Ricky he asks, “Is that the technician from Porsche?”
“Yes.”
“After he did the reprogramming, did you test the car?”
“Yes, it ran okay.”
“Did you notice any additional programs?”
“I don’t know how to program, so I don’t know how to look for them. I only know how to read the diagnostic.”
“What about Ah Meng?”
“I don’t think he knows. He’s like me. We can read the diagnostic, but we don’t know how to program or read them.”
“How long has Ah Meng worked at Pro Care?”
“About one year, I think. He worked in Singapore before he joined us.”
“How well do you know Ah Meng?”
“Only as a co-worker. I don’t go out with him.”
“Did Ah Meng work on Robert Tham’s Cayenne alone?”
“He is also a Porsche mechanic. Sometimes when I had other cars to do, or if I needed to go out urgently for parts, I’d ask Ah Meng to help me. But I always signed off the work sheet if the car was assigned to me.”
“Can you remember the last time Ah Meng worked on Mr Tham’s Porsche alone?”
“The last servicing. I had to leave, to recover a Porsche that had broken down in Shah Alam. So I asked Ah Meng to do the servicing. It was just a routine. Why?”
“How long were you away?”
“About four hours.”
“Was the servicing completed when you came back?”
“Yes. I did the test drive. Everything was okay.”
“Did Ah Meng come along for the test drive?”
“No, he was working on another Porsche.”
43
Tan Kok Meng aka Ah Meng looks tense and jumpy, his eyes darting wildly between Mislan and Johan, when he is escorted into the interview room. Even before he sits, Ah Meng starts badgering them about his arrest. He keeps saying his boss knows many high-ranking police officers. The mata gelap tells the suspect to be quiet and to remain still while he removes the cuff from Ah Meng’s right hand and fixes it to the chair. Once that is done, and Ah Meng quietens, the inspector goes through the formalities of introductions, stating the case number, date, time and finally cautioning Ah Meng. He then tells his assistant to lead the interview.
“Do you know what this is?” the sergeant asks, pushing a photograph of the canister taken out from the Cayenne.
“A can?” Ah Meng answers, evasively.
“Good, now try to guess where we got the can from?”
“I don’t know. The workshop?” Ah Meng replies.
“Good. Where do you think we found it?”
“In the spare part store.”
“Okay, wise guy, let’s try again. Do you know what this is?” Johan says, dropping his good cop demeanour.
“Told you. It’s a can.”
“Have you seen a can similar to this?”
“No.”
“Have you handled a can like this?”
“No.”
“That’s funny, because we lifted your fingerprints from it. How then are your prints on it?”
Ah Meng is visibly taken aback by the question, takes a closer look at the matching prints with his name on it. His starts blinking rapidly. The sergeant jumps at the opportunity and asks, “Have you seen, or handled, this can before?”
“I don’t know,” Ah Meng answers, avoiding the sergeant’s eye.
“Don’t give me that crap, okay. We lifted your prints from the can.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What print?”
“Your fingerprints must have been transferred to it when you handled the can, while fixing it into the dashboard of the Cayenne. Ricky said he left you to work on the Cayenne while he attended a breakdown. You had ample time to fix the can. When Ricky test drove the Cayenne you did not follow him although you serviced it. Why? Were you afraid?”
&
nbsp; “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want to answer any more questions,” Ah Meng says, leaning back.
“Listen, now is your chance to tell us the truth. We’re talking about murder. How old are you? Thirty? Are you ready to die? How much did they pay you?”
Ah Meng stares at the wall behind his interrogator, not saying anything.
Mislan’s mobile phone rings, and he steps out to take it. “Yes … What?! … Shit … okay, can you text me the vic’s photo? … Sure … thanks.” His phone rings again, indicating an incoming MMS. He opens it to see a picture of a lifeless Thanaraju, sprawled in a pool of blood. The victim’s face has been brutally battered. There was also a gash cut right across the throat. He had deduced correctly. Thanaraju must have panicked after Sivalogan was picked up, told the killers about it, and was silenced to break the link. He goes back to the interview room, looks at Johan and shakes his head, handing him the mobile phone.
“Damn it! Do you think you’re safe because your boss has powerful friends in the police? Here,” Johan says, pushing the mobile phone in front of Ah Meng. “He was one of those who helped them. You remember the programmer from Porche? Well, that was his boss. We just found him dead in his house. I bet you’ll be next.”
He sees fear in Ah Meng’s eyes, and his hand shakes as he pushes the phone away.
“Are you ready to meet your creator? Your best chance of staying alive is for us to get to them first. They’ve silenced anyone who can lead us to them. It’s not a matter of ‘if’ anymore, it is ‘when’. Once you are out there,” he jerks his head towards the window, “you’re dead.”
Ah Meng is clearly shaken. He blinks rapidly.
“Do you think they will help you? Do you think they will allow you to live? They, surely, love their own lives more than yours. You are nothing, disposable, only a tool.”
Ah Meng remains silent.
“Is your mother alive?”
Ah Meng nods.
“Father?”
He shakes his head.
“Brothers, sisters?”
Ah Meng nods.
“Well, you can start saying your goodbyes to them. After we release you, I’ll give you twenty-four hours, forty-eight max, before you’re dead.”
Ah Meng starts shaking his head. “You cannot protect me. He is dead, isn’t he?” He nods towards the mobile phone.
“He went to them. He did not come to us. We can try; at least, you have a chance, and if we get them first, your chances of living will increase. Anything would be better than being dead the moment you hit the streets.”
Mislan shuffles into his boss’s office, “Puan, sorry to barge in, but I need to update you urgently. Thanaraju is dead, murdered in his house. That shook Ah Meng, and he has spilled it. Remember the calls you got from the OCCI and Tuan Henry?”
Supt Samsiah nods.
“Well, that was on behalf of Lai, the owner of the garage. Ah Meng has confessed. It was Lai who instructed him to fix the hydrogen cyanide canister in the Cayenne dashboard. I want to pick him up, and I need you to fend them off.”
The room goes silent, suddenly. She gets up and walks to the window. She stands looking out at the disused Pudu Prison as he sits impatiently, unwilling to interrupt. She finally asks tiredly, “How sure are you, Lan?”
“I’ll say very sure. Ah Meng is a ‘nobody’, just a ma chai. I don’t think he has access to the killers. The way I figure it, the killers are people with clout, connections and money, way above Ah Meng’s league. It’s the same with Sivalogan.”
“Who’s dealing with Thanaraju?”
“The investigator on shift, he’s there now.”
“You know, I used to stand here for hours looking out at the prison, imagining the prisoners walking about, and the horrible crimes they committed. I have never been inside the gaol when it was operational. Have you?”
“A few times, when I was in charge of transporting the two Australians who were hanged for possession of drugs. Not pretty in there.”
“I don’t think it’s wise to pick him up now. Maybe, you should run a background on him. See if he has some secrets, and who he hangs out with. Ah Meng’s words might not be enough for you to hold him for long. I think you have only one shot. What do you think?” She walks back to her chair.
“Yes, that might be best. The killers must know that Lai’s place was raided and he would be dead by now if they wanted. Since Lai is still alive, it may mean he is not link to them, or he is untouchable,” Mislan agrees.
“That’s what I think. Meanwhile, I suggest you put a tail on him twenty-four-seven.”
“I’ll get Jo to arrange it. I’ll do the digging and Reeziana can work on the mystery woman.”
“Okay, go with that. I’ll handle the calls when the time comes.”
44
It is ten past four in the afternoon when Mislan enters the Criminal Records office. Completing the request form at the counter, he hands it to the clerk saying it is urgent, to which he hears the clerk mumbling as she walks to her desk, “Aren’t they all?” She keys in the details, and points to a record review room where she wants him to wait. She deposits a thick file in front of him and leaves. He grabs the file like it is going to grow legs, jump off the table and run away. He runs his finger through the table of contents, flips to the page he is interested in, and starts making notes. Next, he looks for previous convictions. He returns the file, signs off and goes back to his office.
He speed dials his assitant, “Jo, where is the suspect now?”
“At the Kuala Lumpur Golf & Country Club; why? Do you want me to pick him up?”
“No, not yet. Look, I just read his file. Colourful. I need to verify some information, and I need a tail on him. Is he golfing or hanging about?”
“I’m not sure, we started his tail here. You want me to go in and check?”
“Yes, but not you; he knows you. Get a gelap to do it. How many do you have on your team?”
“Six. I’ll send one in to see what he is doing. Then what?”
“If he’s golfing, I want to know his partners. If he’s hanging out, with whom? Don’t ask the staff, check with the management. Get their details and pass it on to puan.”
“What’s going on? Is something going down?”
“I don’t know, just taking precautions. I don’t want him to do a Houdini on us. Anyone watching his house?”
“Yes. It’s quiet so far. Told them to call me when there is activity.”
“Okay, let’s not screw this up.”
He stops over at Supt Samsiah’s office and updates her on the latest. He tells her Johan will be calling her with details of those with the suspect at KLGCC, and if she could check with Criminal Records.
His mobile phone rings. “Yes, Yana.”
“You’re not going to like this.”
“Doesn’t matter, just give it to me.”
“The mystery woman was Mah Swee Yin, age thirty-seven, address in Ipoh.”
“Was?”
“Yes, that’s what you’re not going to like. She’s dead.”
“Dead? When? How?”
“The card company told me; they said there was something about it in the Chinese papers; suicide. I checked with a friend at National Registration and she confirmed the death record.”
“Shit!”
“What’s the matter?” Supt Samsiah says.
“The mystery woman, she is dead; suicide.” Speaking back into the mobile, he says “Yana, when did this happen?”
“The report was made on Monday morning, don’t know when she did it. Probably bought the dress in preparation,” Reeziana says.
“Go to the station and get hold of the Sudden Death Report. I need to review it asap.”
“Sure. Anything else?”
“Nope, thanks.”
He leans back in the chair, buries his face in his hands and takes several deep breaths. The office swirls in his head with the distant hum of conversation. It feels as if he i
s in a tomb; his tomb. He runs his hands over his head and locks his fingers behind his neck. Letting out a long sigh, he asks, “What the hell is this all about?” more to himself than anyone else.
“It’s about not giving up. That’s what the hell this is about, Lan. When was the last you slept?” Supt Samsiah asks.
“Eh? Oh, I did get some this morning. I’m all right. Can’t sleep anyway, I keep seeing the kid’s face.”
“Watch it, Lan. You know what that can do to you. Why don’t you go into the meeting room and get some shut-eye, I’ll get someone to wake you when something breaks. Leave your mobile here.”
“I’m really okay, puan, thanks. There’s some intelligence I need to verify.” Dropping his hands and leaning forward, he asks, “You ever had something like this before? Where you have everything, yet you’ve got nothing?”
“Nothing close, I’m not that lucky,” she shakes her head, and smiles.
“I don’t think I want to be lucky if this is what it means. Thanks, puan,” he replies. “You’re ready for the assault?”
“Always am.”
“Before I forget, or if I don’t get the chance to say it later, I enjoyed working with you. In my book you stand tall,” he says, standing. He winks at her and leaves.
“It’s not that easy to get rid of me. Get out of here and go get your killers,” she laughs.
Back at his desk, Mislan decides to talk to a mate to verify the information from the suspect’s file. The suspect has two prior convictions, both for assault with dangerous weapons when he was in his early twenties. He spent a few years in prison, but has managed to stay clean since. That does not necessarily mean he has stopped or repented. Maybe he has become cleverer, learned not to get caught. He is listed as a probably active loan shark prone to breaking arms to recover debts, but has never been arrested. Several high-ranking triad members were listed as his contacts and they went a long way back. He was listed as a triad member. A file was started on him and, interestingly, the case officer was Inspector Song. The case file is still active although the last entry was about a decade ago.
“Inspector Marzuki, please.”
“Please hold; if the line gets dropped, his extension is 2445.”
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