THE DEAD AMERICAN (The Inspector Samuel Tay Novels Book 3)

by Jake Needham

  “I don’t know if Tyler was a genius or just a kid with a knack for writing software,” Emma said.

  She drew on her cigarette without looking at Tay.

  “It doesn’t really matter, I suppose,” she went on when Tay said nothing. “He was good at it. He was a star at Google. I don’t know why he quit to come here.”

  Tay didn’t understand that either. Whatever could possess a young man to leave the golden light of California to live in the haze of Singapore? Of course, all Tay really knew about California came from watching the reruns of Baywatch he occasionally stumbled across on television, so he supposed it was possible there might be good reasons he couldn’t imagine.

  “I told you he was working on Google’s driverless car project, didn’t I?”

  Tay nodded. He still had no idea what a driverless car was, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The whole idea sounded like something a whack-job wearing a tin-foil hat started telling you about while you frantically looked for a way to flee.

  Tay caught Emma’s eye, and he realized she was smiling at him.

  “It sounds like science fiction, doesn’t it?” she said.

  Tay nodded.

  “It’s not science fiction. Driverless cars actually exist. Google’s cars have done over half a million miles without a single incident. Most new cars these days are already covered in electronic sensors and cameras. Adaptive cruise controls, back-up cameras, lane warning indicators, satellite navigation systems, and a lot of others. All that’s required for a car to drive itself is for someone to write software that ties together the information collected by all those sensors.”

  “And Tyler was the one writing that software?”

  “Not exactly. He specialized in security protocols.”

  Tay sighed and looked across Marina Bay to where most of the skyscrapers in the city’s financial district were now blazing with light.

  He hated conversations like this since his own understanding of technology was minimal. Usually he didn’t care, but more and more often he found even straightforward conversations floundered on his lack of technological understanding. No, that wasn’t exactly right. What they floundered on was his lack of technological interest. It was supremely annoying to him to trip over things he didn’t care about and find they inhibited understanding things he did care about. Was that the way the world was going? That simply to conduct an ordinary conversation you had to understand at least basic principles of computer programing and automation and sensors and… driverless cars? If it were, Tay was pretty sure that world wouldn’t have a place in it for him.

  “You look puzzled, Inspector. Would you like me to explain?”

  Tay most assuredly did not want Emma to explain, but he knew it would be rude for him to say that. So he just nodded. Again.

  “The operation of the car is dependent on the transmission of streams of data both from internal sensors and from GPS satellites. If those streams are interfered with, all sorts of bad things happen.”

  Tay’s head was spinning, so he said nothing.

  “You see, in theory at least, if someone can interfere with the data flows, they can—”

  “Are you saying they’re worried about somebody hijacking one of these cars by hacking into the computer that’s driving it?”

  “Accidental interference with the data stream is more likely, but you can’t altogether rule out intentional interference either. Tyler’s role in the project was to find ways to interfere with the data streams and then develop software to prevent the ways he had discovered from working anymore. He was very, very good at it. That’s why The Future wanted him so badly.”

  “Because he knew how to hijack driverless cars?”

  “No, because he knew how to prevent the hijacking of driverless cars.”

  Tay shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was so far out of his depth that he had no idea what to say next.

  On the other side of Marina Bay, heavy traffic flowed over the mouth of the Singapore River on the twin bridges of Esplanade Drive. Tay was pretty sure that each of those vehicles had a human being driving it. Was it really possible that one day those vehicles would all be whizzing over those same bridges without the involvement of a human being? And that people were already worrying about how to keep other human beings from hijacking those vehicles? Tay was suddenly not so sorry to be fifty years old. Maybe it was better that most of his life was behind him already.

  “When Tyler went to work for The Future, everyone says he was very excited,” Emma continued. “I don’t think he really liked Singapore all that much, but he loved his new job. That’s why his parents were so shocked when he suddenly announced he was quitting and coming home.”

  “Did he tell them why?”

  “After Tyler died, they found out he told Betty he discovered—”

  “I’m sorry,” Tay interrupted. “Who?”

  “Betty Lee. She was Tyler’s girlfriend. Or one of his girlfriends. I don’t really know.”

  “Is she the one who—”

  “Yes, she found his body.”

  Tay nodded again. He knew he was nodding quite a lot, but he wasn’t sure what else to do.

  “Tyler told Betty he had discovered something strange in the security tests he had devised.”

  “Strange how?”

  “He told her he had stumbled over connections that shouldn’t have been there.”

  “Connections? What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. That’s all she told his parents.”

  “Did Tyler say anything to them about these connections?”

  “No, he just told them he had discovered something which frightened him and that was why he wanted to leave. So when Betty told them what he said to her about the connections he discovered, it seemed natural—”

  “This girlfriend. Betty. Were they close?”

  “His parents didn’t think it was serious, if that’s what you mean. Tyler never said anything to them about Betty coming back to the States with him.”

  “So why would he tell her something that he didn’t tell them?”

  “What are you saying, Inspector? That Tyler didn’t say that? That Betty just made it up?”

  “I’m not saying anything, Emma. I’m just trying to understand what you keep telling me about Tyler discovering something that scared him. It seems strange to me that he’d tell a casual girlfriend something and not tell his parents, not if it were important. Why would he do that?”

  “How should I know, Inspector? Maybe he didn’t think it was important at the time. Maybe he didn’t want to worry his parents. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about it on the telephone. Why does that matter?”

  “Perhaps it doesn’t,” Tay shrugged. “I just don’t see how working on software security for driverless cars could make anyone want to kill you.”

  “You want me to speculate?”

  “By all means,” Tay said. “Speculate.”

  “Security protocols work both ways. To keep somebody else from breaking in, you have to know how to break in yourself.”

  “You’re saying that this company was really trying to learn how to break into the software that runs driverless cars?” Tay looked puzzled. “That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “It wouldn’t to me either, but look at the same facts from a slightly different angle. What if Tyler discovered the security protocols he was working on had applications beyond their application to driverless cars?”

  “Such as what?”

  “I don’t know, but what if similar security issues were present in something else other than driverless cars? What if the protocols Tyler was writing could be used for some completely different application?”

  “Are you saying The Future was really working on something other than what they told Tyler they were working on?”

  “I think it’s a possibility. That could be what Tyler meant by saying he had discovered connections he didn’t know were there.”

  T
he conversation was rapidly spinning into worlds Tay found basically incomprehensible to mortal men, so he tried to bring it back to something he could understand.

  “Do you know anything about this company other than its rather odd name?”

  “A little.”

  “Do you know where the office is?”

  Emma pointed and Tay’s eyes followed her index finger to the skyline on the other side of Marina Bay.

  “It’s right there,” she said. “On Robinson Road.”

  “Is it a public company?”

  “No, it’s privately owned.”

  “By who?”

  “The Future is a Singapore corporation, but the shareholders are difficult to trace. Most of the shares seem to be held by other companies that are registered in the Cayman Islands and Luxembourg. The real owners could be anyone.” Emma paused, turned toward Tay, and folded her arms. “They don’t necessarily have to be individuals, you know. They could even be governments.”

  “You’re saying some foreign government secretly owns a company developing software here in Singapore?”

  “Who said anything about a foreign government?”

  “You think the government of Singapore is secretly behind The Future?”

  “I didn’t say that, but they could be. And if they aren’t, I’m willing to bet they know who is.”

  Marina Bay had turned deep pewter gray and tendrils of light from the towers on the other side streaked it with bright lines of color. Tay leaned on the shiny aluminum railing of the bridge, took a final drag on his cigarette, and flipped the butt into the bay.

  “You’re scaring me, Emma.”

  “You asked me to speculate, so I speculated. But I can’t write anything until it’s more than speculation. Since you’ve read the police report about Tyler’s death, you know as well as I do that something is very wrong here. I need your help to find out what it is, and who’s behind it. Then I can write my story.”

  “It could be nothing, Emma. Just lazy police work.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “I’m not as sure of that as you are.”

  “Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Tay turned around, leaned back against the railing, and folded his arms.

  “I’m not a professional do-gooder, Emma. I’m not even an amateur do-gooder. I’m just a cop on leave because of a misunderstanding.”

  “That’s not the way I see it, Sam. I think you’re a cop they’re trying to get rid of because you don’t like the way things work in Singapore. You can’t stand the hypocrisy or the rest of the crap that goes on here, and they know it. What’s more, you have your own money and you don’t need the job. That makes you dangerous to them.”

  “I’ll be a lot more dangerous to them if I start poking my nose into a case that has nothing to do with me.”

  “Yes, you will,” she nodded. “But you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”

  Tay didn’t know what to say to that. He wanted to light another Marlboro instead of saying anything at all, but he knew that would make him look weak so he didn’t. Instead he just turned his head and studied the floodlit façade of the Fullerton Hotel on the other side of the bay.

  Why was he even considering getting involved in all this?

  Maybe it had something to do with his age. He had expected for everything to begin to crumble in his fifties. His hair, his knees, his waistline, his vision. Maybe even his judgment and his optimism. Well… not his optimism. Tay never had enough of that to crumble.

  There were all sorts of things in his life he regretted, things he would do differently if he could do them again. He could do nothing now about any of those things. All he could do was to make this his fiftieth birthday resolution: there would be no further additions to his list of regrets.

  “Do you know anybody at The Future, Emma?”

  “No, not really.”

  “So how would we go about finding out more about it?”

  “We could start by asking somebody what the hell they really do there.”

  “Yeah, but who?”

  “I’m thinking we should go right to the top. To the chairman. Ask him.”

  “We’d never get in to see him.”

  “Sure we will.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because I have an appointment tomorrow at eleven o’clock to interview Zachery Goodnight-Jones, the chairman of The Future. Want to come?”

  Tay smiled, but he didn’t say anything.

  Emma winked. “Not bad for a girl, huh?”

  “Why do I have the feeling you’re one step ahead of me?”

  “I’m not really. I’m just trying to make it seem that way.”

  Emma slipped her arm through Tay’s.

  “Why don’t we go back to the lounge? I could use another drink and you probably could, too. You wouldn’t happen to have another cigarette, would you, Sam?”

  Tay took out his pack of Marlboros and gave her a cigarette. Then he took one for himself and lit them both. It no longer felt like a gesture of weakness. It was only a cigarette.

  They left the bridge and strolled slowly back to the Ritz-Carlton together, saying little, just savoring their cigarettes. The humid, smoky air made Tay feel like he was walking into a spy movie.

  And maybe he was.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE FUTURE WAS located in a building at the cheaper end of Robinson Road, down where the banking towers thinned out. Tay had arranged to meet Emma a couple of blocks north at the Lau Pa Sat market where generation after generation of Singaporeans had eaten street food. The place was almost a national monument.

  Lau Pa Sat market is a Victorian structure that was built in Glasgow in the mid-nineteenth century, shipped out to Singapore in pieces, and reassembled on a full block between Robinson Road and Shenton Way. Delicately filigreed trusses capped dozens of huge, cast-iron columns, and an orange-tiled roof sheltered sixty or seventy separate stalls offering all kinds of Singaporean and Malaysian food.

  Tay arrived first, bought a cup of coffee, and strolled through the vaulted walkways. He hadn’t been in Lau Pa Sat market in years, and he missed the feeling he got in places that had the kind of connection it did with Singapore’s past. There weren’t many left.

  For more than four decades, ruthless government redevelopment programs had relentlessly ground away at Singapore until it had been thoroughly homogenized. The drive to turn Singapore into a modern, international city within a single generation required the bulldozing of anything that was old, and the bureaucrats kept bulldozing until they had completely pulverized Singapore’s rather sketchy past. To avoid the charge they were destroying Singapore’s history, which of course was exactly what the bastards were doing, the government occasionally decreed that reproductions of the old structures they tore down were to be built in their place. But the sanitized recreations were never quite the same somehow. They were never quite anything really, other than new.

  Now Singapore looked like Dallas with palm trees. To be honest, Tay had never been to Dallas, and for all he knew Dallas had its own palm trees, but he had heard other people make the comparison between the two cities and it had stuck in his mind. He did not think the point of the comparison was to flatter Singapore.

  Lau Pa Sat market had been renovated and rebuilt more times than Tay could remember, but the original ironwork remained and it linked the structure irrevocably to a life more than a century now gone. The market had outlived the bureaucrats. Tay gave one of the old iron columns a friendly pat and murmured his admiration. Well done, friend. Well done.

  It was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, so the market was largely deserted. Tay carried his coffee to one of the round tables along the western edge of the pavilion and pulled up a stool. A few minutes later he saw Emma getting out of a red and white Toyota taxi on Robinson Road. He got to his feet, flipped his half-finished paper cup of coffee into a green trash barrel, and walked out to meet her.


  “How do you want to do this?” Tay asked.

  “Let’s keep it simple. I’m a writer for the Wall Street Journal working on a piece about the development of driverless cars. You’re my researcher.”

  “Are you working on a piece about driverless cars?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, but I can’t tell this guy I’m writing about the death of Tyler Bartlett, can I? He’d throw us out before the coffee was served.”

  “No great loss,” Tay shrugged. “I’ve already had coffee.”

  Emma wasn’t certain whether Tay was kidding her or not. She eyed him for a moment, but his face gave nothing away.

  “I’m open for suggestions, Inspector, if you have any.”

  “I do have one.”

  “Yes?”

  “Stop calling me Inspector.”

  “Good idea,” Emma chuckled. “What do you suggest I call you?”

  “How about introducing me as Sam Tay and just calling me Sam? Unless, of course, you’d like to introduce me as Sigmund Freud. Then you could call me Sigmund.”

  Emma burst out with a throaty laugh. Just as he had the last time that happened, Tay felt unreasonably pleased with himself to have raised a laugh in a beautiful woman.

  “You don’t look like a Sigmund to me,” Emma said.

  “I don’t look like a researcher for the Wall Street Journal either.”

  They crossed Robinson Road and walked south along the sidewalk, past mostly indistinguishable buildings packed together on both sides of the street.

  “Zachery Goodnight-Jones is the chairman of The Future,” Emma said. “He’s an Australian solicitor who had a lot of corporate clients back in Sydney, mostly foreign ones.”

  “Funny name, Goodnight-Jones.”

  “Brits and Australians come up with these double-barreled names for themselves. I guess they think they sound classy. I think they sound ridiculous.”

  Tay wasn’t sure that was entirely fair, but he could imagine how Americans might think so.