THE DEAD AMERICAN (The Inspector Samuel Tay Novels Book 3) (25 page)

“Yes, and what if Tyler had discovered the security protocols he was working on had other applications beyond their application to driverless cars?”

“Such as what?”

“What if similar security issues were present in something else other than driverless cars? What if the protocols Tyler wrote could be used for hacking into something other than driverless cars? What if those protocols could take over something else and make it do what you want it to do?”

Tay was reaching for his cigarettes again when his hand froze in midair.

Right before his eyes, all the seemingly unrelated and frustratingly incomplete pieces of the puzzle began to move, and they quickly arranged themselves into a clear and unmistakable picture.

Tay didn’t believe what he was seeing, not at first. But then he did.

And, just like that, he knew.

“When was Tyler Bartlett killed?” he asked Kang.

“He was found on March 16, but he was probably killed on March 15.”

“And when did he quit his job?”

“A few days before that. March 12, I think it was.”

“He told his girlfriend he had discovered something that frightened him. That was why he quit.”

“But you said she didn’t know what it was.”

“She didn’t.”

“And so you don’t either.”

“I do now,” Tay said.

It usually happened just like that for him. He worked along doggedly day after day, collecting bits of information like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, having no idea how big the puzzle was or where its edges lay. Now and then he would spread the pieces he had collected out on a table and move them around to see if he could make a picture out of them. Usually he couldn’t. The pieces stayed pieces. And he would put away the ones he had and go back to looking for more pieces.

But occasionally, for no reason he ever really understood, the pieces began moving all on their own, goaded into motion by something he had all of a sudden remembered or something someone had said to him.

It happened exactly that way this time. What Kang said clicked together with something Emma had told him about Tyler. All at once, the pieces he had moved around and arranged themselves into a recognizable picture. There were holes here and there, of course, even chunks missing, but he could see the picture. And he knew what it was. One moment everything had been a blank, and the next moment it wasn’t.

“I see now,” Tay said.

“See what, sir?”

“Why Tyler and Emma were killed. And who killed them.”

Kang looked expectantly at Tay, but Tay shook his head.

“Not yet, Robbie. I’ve got to think about it a little more.”

But he didn’t have to think about it a little more.

He knew.

He knew what Tyler had discovered. He knew what had frightened Tyler so badly. He knew why Tyler was killed. He knew why Emma was killed.

He knew everything.

Or almost everything.

The only thing he didn’t know was what to do now.

THE NEXT MORNING,
Tay still hadn’t decided what to do. He sat in his garden like he did most mornings, drank coffee, and smoked a couple of Marlboros. That generally helped him think. This time it didn’t.

He’d had a small headache when he got up and now it was a big headache so he went upstairs to see if he had any aspirin. He rummaged through the drawer in his bedside table a
nd found a half-empty b
ottle of Bayer. When he picked up the bottle, he saw the crumpled white card underneath it. It still looked more or less the way it had when he had tossed it in the drawer after Philip Goh had given it to him that afternoon at New Phoenix Park. Tay smoothed the card out between his fingers and looked at the telephone number Goh had written on it. His private cell number, Goh had said. Tay dropped the card back into the drawer and closed it.

He took the bottle of Bayer into the bathroom and poured three aspirin into his hand. Filling a glass from the tap, he popped the aspirin into his mouth one by one and methodically swallowed each of them. Somewhere between the second and the third aspirin, he felt the stirrings of an idea so, when he was done, he went back to his bedside table and took out the little white card again. He sat on the edge of the bed, held it in his hands, and looked at it for a long time.

Tay didn’t like Philip Goh very much, and he didn’t like the Internal Security Department at all. He thought the air of mystery ISD cultivated was childish, but he realized that knowing what they were really up to out there behind the walls at New Phoenix Park could well be even worse. When they had that strange conversation, Goh had warned him away from The Future and Zachery Goodnight-Jones, but it was clear that Goh was very interested in knowing what Goodnight-Jones and his people were really up to.

Now Tay not only knew what they were up to, he knew what they had actually done.

Maybe, just this once, he and Goh were on the same side.

Tay found his phone and called the number Goh had written on the card before he could think about it and change his mind.

When Goh said he would meet Tay in Fort Canning Park in two hours, Tay’s first thought was that dramatics like that were typical of ISD. He would have preferred an air-conditioned coffee shop, but Goh hadn’t asked him where he wanted to meet and Tay didn’t argue. At least, in Fort Canning Park he would be able to smoke. God moved in mysterious ways.

Fort Canning Park was one of Singapore’s landmarks. It
had been everything from a palatial resort for the Malay kingdoms in the fourteenth century, to the location for the residences of the colonial governors, to the place where the British surrendered Singapore to the Japanese in World War Two. Now it was a lush, green area in the center of the city surrounding Fort Canning Hill, one of the highest points in Singapore. Of course, Fort Canning Hill was only a little over a hundred feet high so Tay thought that calling it a hill was laughably ambitious, but the park was a pleasant enough place, and it had witnessed much of what passed for history in Singapore.

Tay got out of the taxi at the Hill Street entrance to the park and took a winding, brick-paved walkway westward between two rows of broad-leafed mahogany trees. It was hot, and he was glad of the shade.

Goh wanted to meet at a bench behind the old Hill Street Police Station. Tay wondered if the choice of meeting places was meant to showcase Goh’s finely tuned sense of irony or if it was just a coincidence.

The British had built the Hill Street Police Station in the thirties, although for some reason the six-story building had a distinct Italian air to it. Tay had always thought its balconies and arcades and courtyards were lovely. What was less lovely was the history of the building.

For the British, it had been the heart of their fight against the anti-colonialists trying to drive them from the Malaysian Peninsula in the thirties. When the Japanese defeated the British in World War Two and took Singapore, they turned the building into an interrogation center for prisoners. And in the sixties, Singapore’s fledgling government dominated by ethnic Chinese had made the building the heart of its bloody battle against the Malaysia guerilla forces they claimed were communists.

The Hill Street Station had been abandoned as a police facility in the eighties and then, in the nineties, the building was converted into something the government called an arts center in another of those doomed efforts by the men who ran Singapore to sanitize its past. Tay figured they could call the building whatever they wanted. It didn’t really matter what they said the building was now. Most Singaporeans knew what it had been before.

A lot of people thought the building was haunted and they avoided being anywhere near it, even averting their eyes if they had to drive past it on Hill Street. Some said late at night you could hear screams coming from the basement where prisoners had been tortured by first one conqueror and then the next. Tay himself had never heard the screams, but he could imagine them easily enough.

There are some cities that are suspended between their past and their future. Singapore thought it was all future. Tay thought it was mostly the past.

Tay found the bench Goh had described. Like everything else in Singapore, it was neat and tidy. Green-painted wooden slats supported on black iron legs in the shade of a giant lychee tree. The first thing Tay noticed was that it faced directly into the back of the old Hill Street Police Station. Tay was still working on whether that was irony or coincidence when he saw Goh walking up the path toward him from the opposite direction. Tay lit a cigarette, shook out the match, and dropped it on the ground.

“That’s littering,” Goh said when he sat down next to Tay. “I could bust you for that.”

Tay just looked at Goh and said nothing.

Goh folded his arms across his chest and crossed his legs. He sat for a moment looking at the Hill Street Police Station.

“I’ve always liked the view from here,” he said.

Irony then, Tay thought to himself, not coincidence. Maybe he wasn’t giving Goh enough credit for subtlety.

“I don’t,” Tay said.

“Didn’t think you would.”

“So that’s why you chose it as the place for us to meet?”

Goh nodded and cleared his throat.

“Okay, Tay, you called this meeting. What have you got for me?”

What do I have?
Tay thought.
A few snatches of text from Tyler’s backup drive, a few dates that might somehow be related, and a bunch of wild-ass suppositions.

But he was right. He
knew
he was right.

“Do you still think Goodnight-Jones is hiding something about The Future?” Tay asked. “That they’re really doing something there other than writing software for driverless cars?”

Goh nodded, but he said nothing.

“Do you have any idea what it is?”

Goh slumped back on the bench and laced his fingers together behind his head.

“A few theories,” he said. “None worth repeating. But no hard information. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they’re just what they appear to be.”

“They’re not,” Tay said.

“And this you know exactly how?” Goh asked.

So Tay told him.

WHEN TAY FINISHED
his story about Tyler Bartlett’s disk drive and what they had found on it, Goh went back to staring at the rear of the Hill Street Police Station. Tay watched the scar on Goh’s cheek gain color. He could see that Goh was heating up in spite of his effort to look only mildly interested.

“So you think The Future is working on software to control airplanes,” Goh said after a while. “Maybe drones for the military.
Something like that?”

“Don’t forget what Tyler’s specialty was. He was an expert in security protocols. He designed software to prevent people from interfering with the software that runs driverless cars.”

“Then what are you saying, Tay? That Goodnight-Jones set up a company that was pretending to write software for driverless cars, but it was really developing software to prevent people from interfering with drone aircraft?”

“To prevent people from hacking into software, you have to figure out how to hack into it yourself.”

“For Christ’s sake, Tay, stop pissing around. If you know something, just tell me.”

“I’m trying to get you to see that—”

“Oh fuck!” Goh twisted around on the bench until he was facing Tay. “Are you saying these guys are really designing software to interfere with the operation of remote controlled aircraft like military drones?”

“Not just interfere. I think they’re designing software to take over their operation.”

“You mean hijack military drones? By remote control?”

“Maybe not just military drones. What if the software worked on any aircraft? What if they could take control of any aircraft they wanted?”

Tay had of course heard the old expression about someone turning white. He had never taken it literally and always thought of it as a poetic exaggeration, but right at that moment that was exactly what happened. Goh’s face turned as white as a sheet of paper.

“It gets worse,” Tay went on quickly before he lost his nerve. “Do you know who really owns The Future?”

“We’ve been trying to find out, but we’ve gotten nowhere.”

“
I
know who really owns The Future.”

“I don’t believe you. The ownership is hidden behind shell companies in half a dozen countries. I’ve had my best people trying to untangle it. You’re one guy, and you don’t know crap about that kind of thing.”

“Maybe not, but I know people who do. And one of them told me.”

“Who?”

Tay shook his head.

“I didn’t know you were into spook culture, Tay.”

Tay just shook his head again.

“Do you trust your source?” Goh asked.

“I do.”

“Okay, so…” Goh spread his hands.

“The Future is funded and controlled by the Chinese army.”

Goh looked like someone had just slapped him.

“You’re shitting me,” he said. “The Chinese
army
?”

Tay nodded.

“Holy shit,” Goh breathed out, and then he lapsed into silence.

Tay lit another cigarette and waited for Goh to say something.

Sometimes he wondered how people who didn’t smoke managed to face the world these days. No matter what horrible thing Tay heard or saw, he was only one sweet hit of nicotine away from equanimity. Maybe when other people discovered what calamity was upon them they bit the inside of their lip until they drew blood or went out and got stinking drunk. All Tay had to do was take out his pack of Marlboros and light one, and then the universe was back in order again.

Goh shifted his weight on the bench and cleared his throat.

“Let me be absolutely certain I understand what you’re telling me here, Tay. You’re saying that a front company here in Singapore controlled by the Chinese army is secretly developing software capable of taking over airplanes and either redirecting them or even stealing them.”

“Yes. And that Goodnight-Jones has killed at least two people to cover it up.”

“Personally?”

Tay hesitated. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Goh nodded several times very slowly.

“Okay, Tay. But even if you’re right about all that, why are you telling
me
?”

Now it was Tay’s turn to look astonished.

“Because someone has to put a stop to it.”

“Maybe,” Goh said, “but it ain’t going to be me.”

Tay just stared.

“Look, Tay, Singapore is a place that welcomes all kinds of commercial pursuits. There’s nothing illegal about the Chinese army owning a company here. And there’s nothing illegal about that company developing software to do just about anything it wants to do.”

“I can’t believe you can just sit there and—”

Goh held up his right hand, palm out, like a traffic cop.

“I already told you The Future has friends right at the top. I’m not fucking with those guys unless what The Future is doing is clearly a crime under the laws of Singapore. And, from what you’re telling me, it’s not.”

Tay shook his head and looked away.

“I thought you might be different, Goh, but you’re just like all the other frightened government hacks here. You’ll go along with anything as long as you get to keep your job.”

“Oh go fuck yourself, Tay, and take your self-righteous horseshit with you. I don’t see you out on the front lines leading the revolution either, pal, so just stick that crap where the sun don’t shine.”

“Two murders aren’t enough for you?”

“Can you prove Goodnight-Jones was responsible for either killing?”

“He was responsible for both of them.”

“But can you
prove
it?”

Tay shook his head.

“I didn’t think so.”

They went back to sitting in silence again after that. Tay wanted to tell Goh the rest, but it sounded so crazy he hesitated.

Then he thought,
well, what the hell
?

And he just told him.

“It was more than two murders, Goh.”

Goh looked puzzled. “Who else do you claim they killed?”

“I don’t have their names, but I can get them.”

“Names? Plural?”

“Yes. There were two hundred and thirty-nine others.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re just jerking my chain.”

“Do you know the date when Tyler Bartlett was killed?”

“I thought he committed suicide.”

“You know he didn’t. What was the date?”

“I don’t remember.”

“His body was found on March 16. So he was killed on either March 14 or March 15.”

“Okay. So what?”

“You know that he was killed only a few days after he quit his job, don’t you?”

“I think I remember hearing that.”

“When did he quit his job at The Future?”

“Somehow I get the feeling you’re about to tell me.”

“March 12.”

“Okay.”

“And if you’ve looked into the case at all, and I know you have, you also know Tyler told his girlfriend and his parents that he quit because he discovered something that frightened him.”

“Yes, I remember them saying that.”

“So here’s the jackpot question, Goh. What was it that happened a few days before March 12? What was Tyler talking about?”

“I have no fucking idea, Tay.”

“Yes, you do. You just haven’t put it together yet.”

“What in God’s name are you—”

“What happened on March 8?” Tay prodded.

Goh opened his mouth to say something. Then abruptly he closed it again.

“What happened on March 8, Goh?”

Goh looked away and then looked back. When he did, he seemed unhappy Tay was still there.

“On March 8,” Goh said, “Malaysian Airlines flight 370 disappeared over the South China Sea shortly after leaving Kuala Lumpur for Beijing.”

Tay nodded, but he didn’t say anything.

“It was a B777-200ER wide body jet with two hundred and thirty-nine souls on board,” Goh continued in a low voice. “It has never been found. No crash site. No debris. Just… gone. What happened to it is the biggest mystery in the history of commercial aviation.”

Tay nodded again and took his pack of Marlboros and a box of matches out of his shirt pocket.

Goh held out his hand. “Give me one of those.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I do now.”

Tay lit Goh’s cigarette, then his own. He dropped the match on the ground again. This time Goh didn’t make a joke about it.

“You really think Goodnight-Jones had something to do with the disappearance of MH 370?” Goh asked.

“It all fits. Every bit of evidence about the disappearance of MH 370 suggests that the plane behaved exactly as it would have behaved if it had been hijacked. The problem is that no one onboard the aircraft has ever been identified as a possible hija
cker. So if the hijacker wasn’t on onboard the aircraft—”

“They must have been on the ground,” Goh finished.

“My guess is Goodnight-Jones and his people were testing their software on the Malaysian airplane and something went wrong. Either they lost control of the plane or they couldn’t terminate the test and turn the plane back over to the pilots. Either way, the pilots were locked out of all the controls and the radios. All they could do was sit there while the aircraft flew on its own until it ran out of fuel and crashed somewhere in the ocean.”

“And you think Tyler Bartlett found out about that, and that’s why he was killed.”

“Goodnight-Jones couldn’t allow what they had done to be discovered. A company controlled by the Chinese army experimenting with software that could be used to hijack a commercial airliner? The experiment going wrong and killing two hundred and thirty-nine people, more than half of them Chinese citizens? The country would have been thrown into turmoil. What was killing one young American against the damage that would have been caused to China if the story got out?”

“Then that journalist—”

“Her name was Emma Lazar.”

Goh nodded. “You think Emma Lazar found out what Tyler had discovered.”

“Yes. So they had to kill her, too.”

Goh nodded again and sat smoking quietly.

“But now
you
know,” he added after a while. “And you’ve told
me
.”

“Goodnight-Jones doesn’t know that.”

Tay was far less sure of that than he sounded. He thought back to the night when he and John August had faced down Goodnight-Jones and his thugs after they had broken into his house. He didn’t think he would tell Goh about that, at least not yet.

“What Goodnight-Jones does know is that it’s all spinning out of control,” Tay said.

“That probably explains what’s going on.”

Tay turned his head and looked at Goh. “What do you mean?”

“I told you we’ve been keeping an eye on The Future, didn’t I?” Goh continued.

Tay nodded.

“Goodnight-Jones hasn’t been seen there since Tuesday.”

“He’s left Singapore?”

Goh shook his head. “Not yet, but we think he’s getting ready to.”

“You know where he is, don’t you?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I don’t want him to get away with this.”

“Be careful, Tay. I already told you this guy has a lot of support at the top.”

“Why would anybody in our government protect him?”

“Come on, Tay, don’t be naïve. Singapore is a Chinese city. Oh, they stick an ethnic Indian or a Malay in a government post every now and then just to make things look good, but the fact of it is that ethnic Chinese run Singapore. And some of them have more allegiance to their race than they do to their nationality.”

Tay dropped his cigarette on the ground and pushed on it with the toe of his shoe until it went out.

“So you’re just going back to your office and forget we had this conversation.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. And I advise you to forget it, too.”

“You know I’m not going to do that.”

“Maybe you’re a better man than I am, Tay, possibly a braver one, too, but there is no way you are going to pull me into this snake pit. The only way to stop Goodnight-Jones now is to kill him.”

Tay looked away.

“Not only am I not going to get involved in any shit like that,” Goh continued, “I wouldn’t even consider telling you that we’ve traced Goodnight-Jones to a house in The Cove on Sentosa Island.”

Tay looked back.

“And there is absolutely no fucking way,” Goh continued, “I would ever tell you that the address of that house is 237 Ocean Drive. If you knew where Goodnight-Jones was, and that he appeared to be alone there, it might encourage you to do something I could never support. Something that would be downright crazy.”

Tay pulled the pack of Marlboros out of his shirt pocket and held it out to Goh.

“You want another cigarette?” he asked.

“Fuck yeah,” Goh said.