TAY WAS NOT an early riser. He had never understood why such virtue attached to rising at dawn while going to bed late implied nothing but involvement in unsavory pursuits.
If one slept for seven or eight hours out of every twenty-four, what difference did it make which seven or eight hours it was? But the plain fact was it did make a difference in the eyes of most people. Which seven or eight hours you slept was nothing less than a reflection of your character. And the seven hours Tay slept were ones that made his character suspect. It was all so damned unfair. He always seemed to be on the wrong side of these things.
He was in the Cantonment Complex just after nine the next morning, early for him, so he was in no mood for small talk when the young uniformed officer intercepted him before he made it to the safety of his office.
“What is it, Corporal?”
“Excuse me, sir. I’ve been waiting for you.”
The young man’s face was round and earnest with large dark eyes set deep in slightly brown skin. It was the kind of face that spoke of generations of Singaporean mixed marriages among Chinese, Malays, Indians, and God only knew how many other races. Tay searched it for any sign of a rebuke over his late arrival at his office, but saw none. Of course he saw none. Singaporeans were obedient to a fault. To rebuke someone of higher rank, even obliquely, was unheard of.
“I’ve been ordered to bring you to Phoenix Park immediately, sir. You had an appointment there at eight-thirty.”
That was news to Tay. Had he forgotten? No, of course he hadn’t. What was going on here?
The young man consulted his watch although Tay was pretty sure he already knew exactly what time it was. “I’ll get you there as quickly as I can, sir.”
New Phoenix Park was the real headquarters of the Singapore Police. The Cantonment Complex housed only CID, the Central Narcotics Bureau, and some local policing functions. New Phoenix Park was on the north side of the city in the heavily-secured compound of the Ministry of Home Affairs along with some of the other agencies MHA supervised such as the Immigration and Checkpoint Authority. Perhaps, it suddenly occurred to Tay, Sergeant Kang’s inquiries about crossings at the Woodlands checkpoint immediately before the murder had turned up something interesting after all.
Tay would have liked to have an hour or so of quiet in his own office sipping a coffee and bringing his blood circulation slowly up to its normal speed before having to face the bureaucrats of New Phoenix Park, but that was apparently not to be. Still, he supposed progress was progress, no matter what the hour, so he would take it when he could get it.
He thought briefly about asking the corporal to stop at a Starbucks on the way across the city, but he knew that was out of the question. The young man would probably be scarred for life by having to deal with a conflict between his orders and a request from a senior officer. And he seemed nice enough. Tay just couldn’t do that to him.
***
When Tay made his entirely uncaffeinated arrival at New Phoenix Park a half hour later, the first thing he learned was that his assumption of progress in the investigation had been unwarranted. His meeting was not at the Immigration and Checkpoint Authority. It was at the Internal Security Department.
The Internal Security Department cultivated a certain air of mystery in Singapore. Tay had always thought it a little silly, for example, that the identity of the Director of ISD was kept a secret while he held his position, although after he left office he was quickly identified so he could be showered with congratulations for a job well done. Tay assumed he could find out who the current director was easily enough, but the truth was he didn’t really care.
Officially, ISD was the domestic intelligence agency of the Ministry of Home Affairs. It was charged with keeping Singapore safe from terrorists, domestic and foreign, and it had extraordinary powers under the Internal Security Act to detain people more or less indefinitely without charges. Those were exactly the sort of powers that would never have been given to any government agency under American or British law, the kind of government powers of which real democracies were deeply and justifiably suspicious.
Unofficially, ISD was…well, Tay would just as soon not know what ISD did unofficially.
Philip Goh was waiting in the conference room on the fourth floor of Block C to which the young corporal guided Tay. He was drinking from a bottle of water when Tay walked in just before ten and he didn’t look happy.
“This meeting was scheduled for eight-thirty,” he snapped.
“Not by me,” Tay said.
In the absence of a formal invitation to have a seat, Tay picked out a chair on the side of the table opposite Goh and settled into it. He wanted to arrange his body into a posture that adequately reflected his contempt for Goh’s summons, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to do that.
He also wanted to have some coffee, although he could readily see from Goh’s expression he clearly wasn’t going to be offered any. He thought of asking for coffee anyway, just to annoy Goh. But Goh already looked so annoyed that Tay was pretty sure the next stage of annoyance would involve him pulling his gun and shooting people, starting with Tay, so he let it go.
“This case is closed,” Goh abruptly announced.
It took Tay a moment to process that. “Do you mean the Woodlands case?”
Goh nodded.
“What are you talking about? It’s anything but closed.”
“We’ve closed it.”
“You’ve closed it?”
This time Goh didn’t even bother to nod.
“Look, Goh, you people may be able to go around locking up anyone you want without charges, but you can’t go around closing CID cases. Even for ISD, that’s way over the top.”
“Check with your boss, if you like. But the case has been officially closed as a suicide.”
“Suicide? The guy hit himself over the head with a Maglite and then broke his own neck?”
“Look, Tay, I don’t give a fuck about your smart-ass jokes. We’ve closed the case and that’s the end of it. It’s a matter of national security.”
“National security? Oh give me a break, Goh. That doesn’t scare me. And uttering two magic words doesn’t give you the authority to tell me what cases to investigate.”
“Maybe not. But I know people who have that authority. And they’re telling you not to take this one any further. This meeting is just a courtesy to make certain you understand that you have to comply.”
“Or what?”
Goh looked genuinely puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“You said I have to comply. I asked what will happen if I don’t comply.”
That brought a half smile to Goh’s face. Tay wondered if the man had ever before encountered anyone who hadn’t begun tugging on his forelock and vigorously yes-siring at the barest suggestion of an order from ISD.
“Well, for starters, Tay, your career would be pretty much over.”
“My career? Christ, Goh, is that the best you can do? My father left me more money than I have any use for. You can take my career and shove it up your ass, you smug prick!”
A hugely discomforting thought suddenly flashed across Tay’s mind. Although his suggestion to Goh might be anatomically impossible, a very big piece of the case they were screaming at each other about had in fact been shoved up the corpse’s ass. Did ISD know about that? If they did, it would explain who had jumped him at home and grabbed the ledgers he had found in the safety deposit box. Christ, was there no limit to what these people thought they could get away with?
“I’m not going to waste my morning arguing with you, Tay. The case is closed and your investigation is over. All I care about is making certain you understand that and are going to comply.”
“And all I care about is what’s right. This isn’t right. I’m not going to write off a murder case as a suicide because some ISD weenie decides to label it a national security matter and tells me to fuck off. I don’t work for you.”
“No, but we both work for the Ministry of Home Affairs, and the minister himself has decided to close this case as a suicide. By the way, did you know the minister doesn’t much like you, Tay?”
“That’s okay. I don’t much like the minister either.”
“Always the smart-ass, aren’t you? That’s what everybody says about you, Tay. That you’re just a cranky, sour old smart-ass with no respect for authority.”
Tay started to bite back at Goh again, but decided not to bother. Besides, Tay figured, Goh pretty much had him dead to rights there. How could he argue with a description like that?
“Get out of here, Tay. Go see your boss. He’ll tell you the same thing I’m telling you. This case is done. Go do something useful. Maybe write some parking tickets.”
Tay stood up and left without another word, closing the door quietly behind him. He thought about slamming it, of course — who wouldn’t? — but he didn’t. He didn’t want to give Goh the satisfaction.