IZ SSC The Inspector Zhang Short Stories Page 6

  She frowned thoughtfully. “The drugs were brought into the apartment and they are clearly not here now,” she said. “They must therefore have been removed. The question is how were they removed? If they were not lowered out through the bedroom window, then perhaps through the sitting room. There is a balcony there.”

  Inspector Zhang went through to the sitting room and opened the sliding glass door that led to a small balcony where there was an air-conditioning unit and three large ceramic plant pots which were filled with soil and the remains of long-dead flowers.

  “We had the front of the building under observation, obviously,” said Inspector Kwok. “During the time we had the building under surveillance no one appeared on the balcony.”

  Inspector Zhang examined the plant pots. They were each over two feet high with paintings of feeding cranes and bamboo on the side. They were of poor quality and the glaze was cracking.

  Inspector Zhang tipped one of the plant pots on its side, then up-ended it and with a grunt lifted it up. Soil spilled out over the balcony.

  He did the same with the other two plant pots. They both contained nothing but soil. Inspector Zhang stared down at the dirt thoughtfully. “So, the drugs are not on the balcony and they did not leave by the windows.” he said quietly. “There are therefore only two possibilities. Either they are still in the apartment but so well hidden that we cannot see them, or they were removed by some other route.”

  “But how is that possible?” asked Inspector Kwok. “We have searched everywhere.”

  Inspector Zhang walked through to the kitchen. There was a broom leaning behind the door and he picked it up. He turned it upside down and methodically tapped the handle against each of the tiles on the floor. They all made a dull thudding sound as he hit them. He did the same in the shower room, and then repeated the process in the sitting room and the bedroom. Every tile sounded the same.

  “Inspector Zhang, we checked the floor,” said Inspector Kwok. “And the ceiling. Both are completely solid.”

  “I’m sure you did,” said Inspector Zhang. “But there is no harm in my checking for myself.”

  He walked around the apartment, tapping the ceiling at regular intervals. He checked the kitchen, the shower room, the sitting room and the bedroom. There was no difference in sound anywhere, no indication that there were any trapdoors or hidden compartments. The ceiling was as solid as the floor.

  Inspector Zhang gave the broom to Sergeant Lee and she returned it to the kitchen.

  “Did you speak to the occupants of the apartments on either side of this one?” Inspector Zhang asked Inspector Kwok.

  “Of course. There is an old couple to the left. He is a retired schoolteacher and his wife is bed-ridden. Their bedroom is next to the kitchen and bathroom of this apartment. To the right is a young Indian girl with two young children. Her husband is a construction worker in Dubai. She only leaves the house to go shopping or to occasionally take the children to the park. We checked her side of the party wall and there is no way anyone could have gotten through.”

  Inspector Zhang stood in the middle of the sitting room, looking around. “So, we are sure that the drugs did not pass through the walls, or through the floor or the ceiling, or go out of the windows.”

  “That is correct, Inspector Zhang.”

  “And you saw the ten boxes being brought in? Each box would be how big, exactly?”

  Inspector Kwok used her hands to demonstrate the size of the box. About fifty centimetres wide, twenty-five centimetres long, a foot wide, and twenty-five centimetres tall.

  Inspector Zhang rubbed his chin. “And you have checked the sofa and the television?”

  “Of course.” She moved the sofa so that he could see a long cut that had been made in the material at the back. “We took the television apart and the refrigerator. And the shower cubicle. And the bed. There is nowhere in the apartment where a hundred kilos of heroin could be hidden.”

  Sergeant Lee came out of the kitchen. “What about the drains, Inspector Zhang?” she asked.

  “The drains?” said Inspector Zhang, frowning.

  “What if they unpacked the drugs and somehow dropped them down the drain? In the shower room or the kitchen.”

  “Throw them away, you mean?”

  “No, Inspector, I meant they could have wrapped the drugs in something waterproof and then sent it down the pipes to an accomplice down below. The accomplice could have intercepted the drugs before they reached the sewage system.”

  Inspector Zhang. Nodded approvingly. “Why, Sergeant, I had no idea that you were so resourceful. What an intriguing idea.”

  “Do you think it’s possible?”

  “Sadly, no,” said Inspector Zhang. “The heroin was packed in one kilo packages, and they would not fit down the pipes in either the kitchen or the bathroom. Someone would have had to have repackaged all the heroin which would have taken hours and we know that there was no one else in the apartment.” He looked across at Inspector Kwok. “Is that not the case?” he asked.

  “There was no one inside, we are sure of that,” said Inspector Kwok.

  “But can you be sure?” asked Sergeant Lee. “Your men did not enter the apartment with the delivery men. There could have been someone hiding in the bedroom. They could have waited until the delivery men left and then repackaged the drugs and flushed them down the waste pipes to be collected by an accomplice downstairs.”

  Inspector Kwok’s lips tightened in annoyance. “We had the apartment under constant surveillance and no one left the premises. There was no one there when we entered. Therefore we are certain that the apartment was empty all the time we had it under surveillance.”

  “What about the recording of the CCTV footage?” asked Inspector Zhang. “Where is that?”

  “We have taken it to New Phoenix Park,” said Inspector Kwok. “We wanted our technicians to check that there was nothing wrong.”

  “What did you think might be wrong?”

  Inspector Kwok shrugged. “The Senior Assistant Commissioner thought that perhaps the camera had been interfered with. That perhaps someone had blocked the camera somehow while they removed the drugs.”

  “And what did the technicians find?”

  “That the CCTV footage was fine. The simple fact is that no one entered or left the apartment while we had it under surveillance.”

  “Then let us go and examine it ourselves,” said Inspector Zhang.

  They left the apartment and Inspector Kwok locked the door and pocketed the key. They rode down in the lift together and walked through reception. “Before we go to New Phoenix Park, I’d like to see where your surveillance teams were,” said Inspector Zhang.

  Inspector Kwok took them around to the back of the apartment block to the car park and showed them where the surveillance team had been parked. Inspector Zhang looked up at the building. They had a clear view of the bedroom windows. There was no way that the drugs could have been moved through the windows without being seen from the car.

  They then walked to the front of the building. Inspector Kwok pointed at the apartment block across the road. “We were able to use an apartment over there,” she said. “I had two men in a bedroom on the fourth floor with a clear view of the balcony.”

  “Can we go inside?” asked Inspector Zhang.

  “It is just an apartment,” said Inspector Kwok. “It is owned by a prison officer who was happy to assist the police.”

  “I would just like to see what the view is like. If it’s no trouble.”

  Inspector Kwok nodded and took them across the road. There was an intercom by the entrance and she pressed the button for the apartment on the fourth floor and after a couple of minutes she went back to Inspector Kwok and Sergeant Lee. “The husband is at work but his wife is home and she’s happy for us to go up,” she said.

  “Excellent,” said Inspector Zhang.

  They went up to the fourth floor and the prison officer’s wife already had the door open for
them. She was Indian in a bright blue sari and she offered them tea which Inspector Zhang politely declined. “We only want a quick look through your window, madam, then we shall be on our way,” he said.

  Inspector Kwok pointed at a door. “We used that bedroom,” she said. “We had two men in there at all times, working in eight-hour shifts,” she said. The prison officer’s wife opened the door and smiled for them to go through. It was a small room with a single bed and a small built-in wardrobe and dressing table. There were no personal effects so Inspector Zhang assumed it was a spare bedroom.

  There was a single window overlooking the apartment block opposite. Because the apartment they were in was on the fourth floor and the apartment where the drugs had been kept was on the sixth floor, it was impossible to see inside. In fact all that could be seen was the balcony. “One cannot see inside the apartment from here,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “No, but they had a clear view of the balcony. And no one went onto the balcony throughout the surveillance.”

  Inspector Zhang went up to the window and stood so close to it that his breath fogged on the glass.

  “I do not wish to cast aspersions on your team, but you are sure that they were never away from their post?”

  “They are professionals, Inspector Zhang. And they kept logs every fifteen minutes.”

  Inspector Zhang nodded thoughtfully. “Very well,” he said. He turned around to face her. “Now it is time for me to look at the surveillance footage,” he said.

  Inspector Kwok drove her Lexus to the New Phoenix Park headquarters. Inspector Zhang and Sergeant Lee followed her. “That is a very nice car,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “Very expensive,” said Sergeant Lee.

  “I did not see a wedding ring on her finger.”

  “No, she isn’t married,” said Sergeant Lee. “Are you wondering how an inspector can afford a Lexus?”

  “Like you said, it is an expensive car,” said Inspector Zhang. “Is she from a wealthy family?”

  “No, her father is a waiter, I think. And her mother works in a department store.”

  Inspector Zhang folded his arms. “And is there gossip, Sergeant Lee?”

  “There is always gossip,” said the sergeant. “This is Singapore. Shopping and gossiping are our main occupations.”

  “And what is the gossip concerning Inspector Kwok?”

  “I really couldn’t say, Inspector,” she said. “She is a colleague and I am pleased for her.”

  “Pleased for her?”

  “Pleased at her rapid advancement. It is good to see a woman progressing through the ranks so quickly.”

  Inspector Zhang looked across at her but couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. He folded his arms and they drove the rest of the way in silence.

  They walked into the building together and Inspector Kwok took them up to a meeting room on the second floor where there were several desktop computers and a large flat screen monitor on one wall. There was a technician waiting for them, a young woman in a pale green trouser suit, and she stood up as they walked in.

  The technician arranged three chairs so that they could sit facing the monitor and then she sat down at one of the computers.

  “What is it you would like to see, exactly?” asked Inspector Kwok. “We have seven days of surveillance video and in most of it nothing is happening.”

  “When the drugs arrive, and then later when you and your team went inside,” said Inspector Kwok.

  The technician nodded and tapped away on her computer keyboard. An image filled the monitor. The corridor outside the apartment. The apartment number was clearly visible on the door.

  “You can’t see the lift but you will see the men come into view,” said Inspector Kwok. As she finished the sentence two men appeared on the screen, pushing trolleys. There were five boxes on each trolley. The older of the two was a Chinese man in his late fifties, grey haired and with a tired face. He was wearing blue overalls with the name of the company on his chest, as was his companion, a chubby Indian man in his early twenties.

  The Chinese man stood his trolley by the door and bent down to take the key from under the mat. Inspector Zhang read the time code on the bottom of the screen. It was just after ten-thirty in the morning. Sergeant Lee was scribbling in her notebook and as he looked across at her she nodded at him, letting him know that she was making a note of the time. The man unlocked the door and pushed in his trolley, followed by the Indian. Then the door closed.

  “They went inside and left the boxes in the sitting room, next to the sofa,” said Inspector Kwok.

  The door remained closed for just under three minutes, then the two men reappeared with empty trolleys. The Chinese man relocked the door and put the key back under the mat, then the two men pushed their trolleys towards the lift.

  “The door then remained locked for seven days,” said Inspector Kwok. “No one went in or out before me, seven days later.”

  “And the room was under constant surveillance?”

  “I was there eighteen hours a day and there were always at least two detectives in the observation room,” said Inspector Kwok. “And once we discovered that the apartment was empty I myself watched every second of the video, albeit speeded up, of course.”

  Inspector Zhang rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And the two men who delivered the drugs. Who are they?”

  “The owner of the company, Mr. Yin. It was Mr. Yin who opened the door. And one of his workers. A Mr. Chandra.”

  “And was there anyone else from the company involved?”

  “There was a driver, but he stayed outside with the van.”

  “Very well. Can we now jump ahead to when you and your team entered the apartment.”

  The technician tapped on her keyboard again and the picture jumped. According to the time code they had advanced almost seven days. Inspector Kwok walked to the door, followed by two male detectives and two uniformed officers. She bent down, picked up the key and slotted it into the lock. She seemed to have trouble with the lock and she stepped aside to let one of the uniformed officers try. “I didn’t realise it was a security lock,” she said. “It had to be turned twice.”

  The uniformed officer also had trouble with the lock, but eventually he opened the door and stepped aside to allow Inspector Kwok to go in. “And that was it,” said Inspector Kwok. “The drugs had gone. The apartment was empty. And during the seven days that we had the apartment under observation no one went in or came out.”

  “And you have no idea where the drugs are, or how they were removed from the apartment.”

  “It is a mystery,” said Inspector Kwok.

  “But a mystery that we shall solve, Inspector Kwok.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Inspector Zhang is an expert at solving mysteries,” said Sergeant Lee, looking up from her notebook. “It is what he does best.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Lee,” he said.

  “So what shall we do?” asked Inspector Kwok. “How do we begin this investigation? Where do we start?”

  “First I would like to talk to the owner of the company that delivered the boxes. Mr. Yin, you said his name is.”

  “Yes, Mr. Yin. His company is based at the container port.”

  “Then we should go and see him there,” said Inspector Zhang. “Perhaps we should all go in the same car. It might make things easier.”

  “Absolutely,” said Inspector Kwok.

  They walked out of the building together into the fierce Singaporean sun.

  “We should use the Lexus, it is more spacious than my sergeant’s vehicle,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “Exactly what I was going to suggest,” said Inspector Kwok, taking out her keys. Inspector Zhang climbed into the front passenger seat and Sergeant Lee got into the back.

  Inspector Kwok was an assured driver and it didn’t take her long to get them to the container port. They showed their warrant cards to two security guards and headed for the b
onded warehouse.

  There were containers piled high wherever they looked in a multitude of colours, though all were one of two sizes – twenty feet long or forty feet. Even in metric Singapore, containers were still measured in feet.

  In the distance there was a line of massive container ships with huge cranes swinging containers back and forth above them. There was a near-constant stream of loaded trucks heading towards the exit.

  “Did you know that half of the world’s annual supply of crude oil goes through Singapore?” said Inspector Zhang. “And a fifth of the world’s shipping containers. More than a billion tonnes of goods go through here every year.”

  “Singapore is one of the wonders of the world,” agreed Inspector Kwok. “We have achieved so much and yet we are a mere city state of just over five million people.”

  “I do sometimes wonder how many of these containers have drugs inside,” mused Inspector Zhang. “There are so many of them that there isn’t time to check even a small percentage.”

  “We were lucky with the Burmese heroin,” said Inspector Kwok.

  “Up to a point,” said Sergeant Lee from the back of the car. Inspector Zhang turned to look at her and she smiled politely.

  They pulled up in front of the warehouse. A man in a rumpled dark blue suit came out and greeted Inspector Kwok as she climbed out of the Lexus. It was the Chinese man from the video. Mr. Yin. Inspector Kwok introduced him to Inspector Zhang and Sergeant Lee and he solemnly shook hands with them both before taking them inside. The warehouse was filled with boxes and crates and two fork-lift trucks were ferrying more crates from a truck parked in a goods bay. One of the fork-lift drivers was the Indian from the surveillance video.

  There was a small office in the corner and Mr. Yin took them inside. A secretary with badly-permed hair was putting files into a cabinet and Mr. Yin asked her to prepare tea for his guests.

  Mr. Yin sat down behind his desk and the three detectives sat on high-backed wooden chairs facing him. “We want to thank you again for all your co-operation, Mr. Yin,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “I am always happy to help the Singapore Police Force,” he said. “I am vehemently anti-drugs. I have two children myself and we must make sure that our youngsters are protected.”