by Leo James
'Can you give the drive to my technician? He will make sure everything is in order,' Prem said.
Steve handed it over along with a set of passwords to open the vault on the mini drive. The technician left the room. Steve turned to Prem. 'I talked to Adam, and he is waiting at the police station to confirm Mark's release.'
'Green tea?' Prem sent an indifferent glance about the room.
'No thanks. Mark is in jail as if you didn’t know.’ Steve glared.
'I hear you have been working with the police.' Prem made a steeple of his fingers.
'They stopped me when I came back to Kuala Lumpur. They will track you down.'
'I am a respected businessman in Malaysia.' Prem raised his voice. 'And a respected figure in Kuala Lumpur.'
The technician came back into the room, stood and bowed. Prem gestured to him to come forward. He walked over to Prem, leaned forward and the technician whispered a few words. Prep nodded before the technician left the room and returned almost immediately with the mini drive. He placed it on the floor in front of Steve and Prem beckoned to the tattoo man who came forward and with a thud stamped his right foot onto the drive. He repeated this several times until it was broken into many pieces. No likelihood of being able to use it again.
'Hang on Prem. I gave you what you wanted. Is Mark free?' Anger spiralled from the pit of Steve's stomach.
'The police arrested Mark because of evidence of sodomy. I am a businessman in Malaysia and I cannot help people who commit serious crimes to go free. Mark will pay for this crime in my country.'
'But I have given you all the evidence. You murdered David, poisoned Glen and framed Mark. You will not get away with this.' Steve's belly went tight with knots.
'Steve, my friend. That has nothing to do with me. You have no evidence. Q7 is not my company, it's a company headed by Farid Razak, and he is doing nothing wrong.'
Steve jumped to his feet and raised his fist. 'You are trying to ruin my company and our families. You won't succeed.'
Tattoo man put his hand on Steve's shoulder. Steve at once reacted by pushing tattoo man's arm away.
Prem told tattoo man to step back. 'There is nothing you can do,’ he said, ‘Go back to the UK. Never come back to Kuala Lumpur.'
Steve held up his iPhone. 'I’ve recorded every word and will use it as evidence.' I'll kill you, you fucker.
'I could sue you for your allegations. Do you have a reputation to uphold Mr Roussos?' Prem turned to his PC and played an extract from a video:
“Can't do this.” The sound of Steve's voice.
“What did you say Steve?” The sound of an oriental accent, a woman's voice, with a twang of an American accent.
“I can't do this!”
“But I want you.”
“I can't do it.”
“Come on Steve. No one will ever know.”
Steve froze. You fucking bastard.
Prem smiled. 'What would your family think if they knew?
Steve tried to stay calm. ‘If you try anything, Adam will hand himself in. He is Mark’s lover.’
Prem paused and shouted, ‘Get out!'
Tattoo man escorted Steve to the door. He let him out and closed the door behind him.
######
Once he was on Petaling Street, Steve called Sergeant TetLeong. 'I met with Prem Jothi.’
‘When?’ TetLeong said.
‘Just now. I tried to persuade him to get Mark released. I told him I was on to him.’
'You said you were going back to your hotel. Did he agree to help?'
Steve answered the last question only. 'No, it failed. He was not interested. Prem Jothi knows we need more evidence. He has framed Mark, and he knows we can't prove it.'
'He has committed a serious crime in Malaysia. No one can get him released.' TetLeong held the official line.
'Adam Jothi is trying to help.’
'Why does Adam Jothi want to help Mark? Adam is Prem's brother.'
Steve composed his thoughts. 'He is a good man, and not happy with his brother. He told Mark that family life is not good for him and the rest of his family. Prem controls them. Adam is a friend of Mark and my friend.'
'Will Adam help?' TetLeong said, 'Prem is his brother. Blood is thicker than water. You shouldn’t trust him.'
'I trust him. If I can persuade Adam to get his brother to confess, can we get Mark released and sent back to the UK as a free man?'
'I have no authority to agree on a deal. They are brothers, how can this happen?'
'Look, I offered Prem the mini drive image of the Q7 system. I convinced Prem there were no other copies. He's not aware of the copy I gave you or the master image in the UK.'
'There is another copy in the UK?’ TetLeong sounded surprised.
'Yes, it's with the police, although they're not interested.'
'You should hand over all copies.'
'I gave one copy to the UK police. That was before you arrested me. How are your analysts doing? Have they extracted the data?'
'I will check with the team. Let's talk in the morning,' TetLeong said.
'Hey, also, Prem knows I am working with you.'
'It is very dangerous. I suggest you stay at the hotel until I speak to you next.'
CHAPTER FORTY
Wednesday 13th May
STEVE HAD SPOKEN TO Glen's uncle Patrick on the phone the previous day and arranged to meet. As he walked into the hospital he spotted Patrick heading towards him along the corridor. Although Steve had only met Patrick, once, when they all went to a football match together, he immediately spotted him, highlighted by the uncanny resemblance with Glen, apart from the bald head they were very similar in stature.
They shook hands. ’How is he?' Steve said
'Not too good I’m afraid. He has taken a turn for the worse.' Patrick wiped away the moisture developing across his brow.
'I thought he was improving?' Steve said as they walked back towards the ward.
'The doctor said he has Sepsis and they are trying to make sure he doesn't go into septic shock. It started last night when Glen's body temperature and his heart rate were both high, and his breathing is not good.’
'Let's hope they can get on top of it,' Steve said.
'He's not peeing. That's worrying them. Sounds as though he is hallucinating and finding it hard to breathe.'
'Do you know what they're doing for him?' Steve enquired.
'Fluid replacement, treating the infection, and other treatments. They are doing their best. I pray that he is OK.’ Patrick shook his head.
'What's caused it?'
‘Because he's been in intensive care he's vulnerable to infections.' Patrick looked pale and anxious.
As they walked further along the main corridor, Mai came running towards them. 'Glen is not good. Doctor said he has lower platelet count, his heart is pumping, and he has stomach pain. I worry he will die. I love him.'
Patrick hugged her.
Mai sobbed. ‘Nurse say low blood pressure and fluid replacement is not working.'
When they got to the ward, the doctor greeted them with bad news. 'Mr Lewis has developed an infection. We are not sure if it is in the kidneys or bloodstream. We are doing the best we can.'
Mai wept, she could not control her sadness. Steve held her close to comfort her.
A tear ran down Patrick’s cheek. 'What caused it?' He asked.
'Mr Lewis immune system is not good,' the doctor said, 'He is already sick, and in intensive care. The catheters or breathing tubes can sometimes cause infections. We are doing everything we can.'
Steve gave Mai a handkerchief. 'Can we be with him?'
'Yes, you can.' The doctor nodded.
As they entered the room Mai rushed over to Glen's bedside, kneeled on the floor and prayed.
Steve and Patrick sat in silence.
A nurse and a doctor came in from time to time, to check Glen's progress. His arms were covered in multi coloured bruises.
Two hour
s later, the doctor asked Patrick to talk outside the room. Steve and Mai followed. 'The Sepsis has worsened. It has caused blood clots to form in one of his kidneys and both of his legs. He is experiencing organ failure. There is no more we can do. He is not in any pain. We are very sorry.'
‘How long?’ Steve felt the tightness around his eyes and mouth with the strain of trying to keep his emotion under wraps - He wasn’t sure why.
‘It will not be long,’ the doctor said.
Mai collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
Steve helped her up and held her close.
They went back into the room and sat in silence beside the bed. Two nurses carefully disconnected the monitors from tubes connected to Glen and then left.
Glen’s expression was drawn; eyes rolled back into his head, his teeth had gnawed his lips until they bled. Each in-breath was deep and laboured. The gap between his in and out-breaths was intermittent. Steve wondered a few times if he was going to breathe at all.
An hour passed. No words were spoken other than a nurse popping her head around the door and asking if they needed anything.
Glen's breathing became more laboured, and he gasped words which Steve could not make out.
Mai was shaking, a low groaning sound bubbling from her mouth.
Glen's chest rose and fell as he took his final breath.
Patrick hurried out of the room and returned with two nurses and a doctor.
The doctor confirmed that there was no sustainable life left in Glen.
Mai screamed and sobbed, 'No, please. I love you.'
Steve walked out.
What's happening?
Everything's falling apart.
First David and now Glen.
They did not deserve this.
What have I done?
Have I caused this?
I was so focused on Q7.
Too focused.
Winning the fucking deal.
Desperate to get money.
For success.
Desperate to pay back the loans and keep the house.
To keep my family.
Desperate.
I wish I’d never got involved with Q7, or Farid, or fucking Prem Jothi.
And Mark.
Why? Why?
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Thursday 14th May
STEVE TOOK A TAXI to Sungai Buloh Prison even though it was forty kilometres from the centre of Kuala Lumpur. The taxi dropped him outside the visitors' entrance. Directed to the front desk, he handed the visitors request slip along with his personal belongings, to a guard. The guard allowed Steve to keep his bottle of water and his ID documents. The visitor order contained strict instructions: no food items and other articles from outside unless allowed by the records office with the approval of the prison director. Visitors could not bring toiletries and items such as soap, toothpaste, shorts, T-shirts or face towels. The inmates had to buy them from the prison shop.
Two guards escorted him through a large iron gate and into a room which he found dark and cold, but only in appearance and colour. Temperature-wise it was sweltering. The dim light of the room came from two overhead light bulbs dangling from the ceiling, the only natural light seeping through the cracks of the two iron doors on either side. The place smelt like a public convenience. Not necessarily of shit, but the pungent eye-stinging chemical used to eradicate the smell of human waste, which was just as overbearing and stomach churning as raw sewage itself. He found it hard not to feel on constant alert around the guards. A fat, jovial guard conducted a pat down test and asked him if he had surrendered all his personal effects, pointing out that cameras were prohibited. He looked like he had more than a capacity to distribute some serious misery on someone. A second guard unlocked the other thick metal door and Steve was back into the sunshine, then taken through into a large, rectangular grey courtyard, a few plants pathetically dotted around the middle of the void. It was quiet; the guard instructed him to wait inside the corridor on the left-hand side. Shortly afterwards, escorted by two guards, he walked through three sets of armoured gates. Each gate was operated by an armed guard who checked IDs before unlocking the gate. He was lead into a small room and requested to sit down at a table before two officers brought the prisoner into the room. Mark was wearing an ill-fitting green uniform and handcuffs. He towered over the officers like the king in between two pawns on a chess board.
Steve tried to hide his surprise, but failed; Mark was frail, unshaven and looked dreadful. 'I'm so sorry you're in here. How are you coping?' He tried to embrace Mark, before a guard intervened. They sat opposite each other as the guards stood by the door.
'Not great. I'm still in trauma. They put me through an anal search.' Tears welled up in his eyes and his bottom lip quivered.
'Shit, I'm sorry.' Steve slowly shook his head.
Mark was struggling to hold back the tears.' A guard in a green surgical mask probed me. They do this with all new arrivals. I hope he doesn’t use the same pair of latex gloves for all new prisoners, especially the drug users. They are on the lookout for tobacco, money, illegal drugs and cigarette lighters; banned in prison.'
'Did you get the money?'
Mark nodded. 'Yes, thanks. I got a toothbrush and a few other things. Before that, I had to use a brown-stained brush, few bristles left and shared by four of the prisoners in my cell. It was disgusting.'
'How are they treating you?'
Mark held his hand over his mouth and shook his head. 'Terrible. They treat us the same. There's equality for everyone, it doesn't matter, you get equal treatment and you get the same food.' Mark explained that even during roll calls, which happened several times a day and were called muster, everybody got the same punishment.
'Do they know you're British?'
'There are no special privileges for anybody. The natural reaction is that we're in it together.'
'Keep strong. We'll get you out.' Steve tried to be positive. Very difficult under the circumstances.
'What I fear most in here is that I will fall ill.'
'I know it's terrible, but you have to stay strong.'
Mark banged his wrists and the chains on the table. 'A prisoner had hepatitis C, but the guards said there was nothing wrong with him. The other night I saw him slumped on his bed with a helpless look on his face. The next morning, he died, and a guard simply erased his name from the white board. It’s that brutal. It's awful.' Tears flowed from Mark's bloodshot eyes as he described the predicament of his fellow inmate.
'Do they not have any doctors?'
'The doctor checks you from six feet away, without touching you.' A pained look marred his face.
'I have sad news, Mark. I'm sorry to tell you.' A lump came to Steve's throat, and he struggled to talk. 'Glen died.'
'Glen?' Mark squeezed his eyes shut.
'Yes, he died in hospital yesterday.' Steve swallowed the lump in his throat.
'Oh no, I thought he was getting better.'
'He got Sepsis,' Steve said.
'Oh no, poor Glen.' Tears streamed from Mark's eyes.
'Yes, I was there in the hospital. He drifted away.'
'I'll miss him.' Mark leaned forward, pulling the handcuffs towards his head so he could hold his forehead.
'It's tragic. But, now we must focus on getting you out. Are you eating OK? Keeping your strength up?'
'When there's a shortage of food trays, guards dump food into the dipper. The inmates eat from it, with bare hands, even those with scabs on their hands. A prisoner vomited into the dipper. As for the food, it's tasteless. You can either accept the food or go hungry for the rest of the day.'
'Fucking hell. Are you getting any sleep?' Anger spiralled from the pit of Steve's stomach.
'I had to sleep on the cement floor. In solitary confinement with no pillow, no blanket and no toiletries. There's a small window which opens to the corridor, and when they turn off the light, it's pitch black. There's a steel door. It was terrible, Steve. I'm now in a shit ce
ll. It is a bare cell with a two-inch foam mattress placed on the floor, a bucket for bathing and a squat toilet. The jail conditions are shocking.' Darkness crossed his eyes.
'Adam sends his love. He is helping to get you out.'
'Tell him I miss him. I’ve tried contacting Jamie a few times,’ Mark said.
'I'll ask Roger to contact him.'
'No, I asked Roger and he can't get in touch with him either.'
'We'll sort it Mark and get you out. Keep strong.'
'Thanks, Steve.' Mark's eyes clouded over with despair.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Friday 15th May
PREM, FARID, AND ADAM met at the Sky Lounge on the forty-first floor of The Pearl Residence on Jalan Stonor. They sat in the bar overlooking the thirty-six-metre infinity pool.
Prem bought his luxurious apartment on the thirty-eighth floor three years earlier, and the Sky Lounge provided cocktail and cafe facilities to the owners. The Pearl Residence allowed Prem the sole use of the lounge on request and Prem often used it as a private meeting place.
They sat at one of the cocktail tables overlooking the city. Prem shifted his angry glare to Adam's face. 'Are you going to the police?'
Adam shrugged. 'Yes.'
'Why?’ Prem shot him a sour look.
'I have had enough of your control. You framed Mark, murdered one of Steve’s team and poisoned the other. And you are trying to control me and Farid.'
Farid leaned forward, and moved his face towards Adam, their noses a few inches apart. 'Prem controls no one. He is a good man. Why take the word of Steve Roussos and Mark Farrell over your brother?’
Adam stood up and shouted at Farid. 'Are you ashamed of what you did to me when I was fourteen? Are you? The police should know?' Tears welled up in his eyes.
Prem ignored Adam's revelation. 'You believe Steve and not me, your brother. You threaten my oldest friend with your imagination. I am hurt.'
'On the word of Islam, I want you to promise me you have no blood on your hands.' Adam gritted his teeth for control.
'Steve Roussos is a very dangerous man. He's trying to ruin Farid's business and ruin my reputation.'