CHAPTER 41
At midday Isobel and Eddie were taken to another room manned by the Polis Diraja Malaysia, the airport police. There had been two officers present to start with, a quietly spoken grey-haired and bespectacled man in a dark blue uniform, epaulets, ribbons and badges and a Moslem female officer in a headscarf. Isobel was moved to another room with the woman.
Eddie’s grey-haired interviewer introduced himself as Mohamad Bin Salleh. On a separate table sat a nameless officer taking notes and recording their discussion. The small bottle of white powder sat between them as if waiting to be sprinkled on a shared bag of French fries.
“Are you aware that drug smuggling is a very serious offence in Malaysia Mr Higgins?”
“Professor Higgins,” Eddie corrected, hoping that his academic status might carry some weight and show that someone with intelligence would never consider such blatant criminality. “But yes, of course,” he added. “And quite right too. I wish other countries weren’t so reluctant to dish out capital punishment.”
He was asked what sort of professor he was.
Eddie was tempted to say, “An intelligent and clever one,” but thought better of it. “Tropical plant science,” he said. “And I’m head of the mycology research centre.”
For a minute or so, he was left alone with the notetaker as if his status was being checked. Mohamad Bin Salleh then returned. “We are checking with Oxford university,” he said. “So, what is it?”
“You mean that?” Eddie pointed at the bottle. “I don’t know, but my intention was to get it analysed.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“No-one. I found it.”
“Where?”
That was difficult. He didn’t want to be the one to blow the entire Vital Cosmetics investigation apart by mentioning PJ Beauty Supplies so he decided to take the long route by starting at the beginning.
“My travel companion is the chairman of a UK cosmetics company. We are here to investigate possible criminal activity by her Malaysian suppliers,” he said by way of introduction. Then he tried clouding the issue by mentioning poor quality raw materials, connections with counterfeiting and so on.
“What are the names of the Malaysian companies?”
Eddie stalled again. “It’s linked to criminal activity in Thailand but until we both know what’s in that bottle, I don’t see what right you’ve got to detain me. It could be talcum powder.” He tried smiling but couldn’t make the creases in his cheeks work properly.
Mohamad Bin Salleh picked up the bottle and shook the contents. “You will wait here,” he said.
“What about my partner? And could I make a phone call?”
He didn’t get an answer and it was another half hour before Bin Salleh returned. Isobel followed him in. “I was allowed a phone call,” she told Eddie. “I called Jeffrey.”
Jeffrey had been driving south on the highway to JB when he got the call from Isobel.
He stopped the car and called Mark which was enough for alarm bells to start ringing. “Has he given any details of the investigation?” Mark asked. Jeffrey didn’t know. “If he says anything, it could jeopardise everything.”
Jeffrey understood that. “Listen,” he said. “I’ve got a few friends in the police. You want me to try?”
Mark agreed and left him to it. Then Colin Asher phoned.
“The computer in the Bangkok warehouse,” he said. “I left Ching to try accessing it all night. At three this morning she got in. Since then we’ve been non-stop.”
“What have you got?”
“A lot and it’s led us to other computers in Bangkok, Pattaya, KL, Malacca, Johor and Hong Kong. We’re currently trying a computer in Trieste Italy. We’ve got companies in Hong Kong, Beijing and Peter Lester’s computer near Oxford. Then there’s some Russian links.
“We’ve got email addresses, the emails themselves, names, addresses and bank account details. It’ll take us a while to analyse it all but it’s Peter Lester’s life as seen from inside his PC that’s proving interesting. He obviously left in a hurry because he’d left the machine switched on. I’m even thinking of taking a few hours off, go back to my roots and do some old-fashioned sleuth work and footslogging.”
Mark could sense his partner was on one of his highs. It was pointless asking questions. “OK,” he said, “The exercise won’t do you any harm. And don’t forget Ritchie’s landing at Heathrow later It would be a good time to show him the useful sides of being a professional hacker.”