My Own Worst Enemy

Steven : Chapter 8

Since he was eleven years old, Steven wanted to be a policeman. He always wanted to keep people safe, and when he saw good, innocent people getting hurt, it made him angry and frustrated. His childhood friends expected Steven to be in the Singapore Police Force. However, they would be surprised that Steven did not make it to more than just an inspector after all these years. That was partly thanks to the flawed and biased ranking system in which all types of government servants in Singapore go through; the CEP or the Current Estimated Potential system.

It is a nonsensical system where the management board gauges a person's potential and decides their promotion. It is purely based on gut feeling, bias, "analytical skills," and how friendly that particular person was to the people on the management board, which is also known as 'under-table skills.' If no one in the management likes a person, they will not progress far in rank and salary, no matter how good their work performance is. The Police Force and, likewise, many other Government services always lose good guys due to the inefficiency of this system. Still, of course, some unlucky guys like Steven, who has too many commitments in life to have a mid-life career change, would decide to stay and rot, no matter how badly the Force treats them.

Steven had been a single parent for some time now since his wife passed away from colon cancer. He had a seven-year-old boy, Shearer Lim, named after his favorite soccer player, Alan Shearer.

He came home for an hour to rest before heading back to HQ. He sat on his couch in the darkness of his living room, waiting for Farhan's message to gather. It had been a long night thus far, and age was catching up for him. He is only human, after all. He shut his eyes to absorb the quietness of the situation and wind down a bit before the rush. His phone dinged.

It was Farhan. Back to work. Steven let out a huge exhale, patted his thighs, and got to the front door.

"Pa?" a little voice cracked behind him.

"Boy? You are not sleeping yet?" Steven asked.

"No, pa. Aren't you sleeping?" Shearer asked.

"No, boy. Pa got to go work now."

"It's my birthday tomorrow, Pa."

Steven felt his heart sink when he heard those words. He had forgotten about it.

"I'm sorry, boy. Pa won't be around for your birthday, but I will get you your present. All right?"

Shearer's shoulders slumped. He turned back and walked back to his room, closing the door without saying anything. Shearer knew that his father would not be there for his birthday. No presence in the world would be enough for his dad's absence. Steven felt the pain of his son, but he was helpless. Duty called, and responsibility came first for now. With a heavy heart, Steven headed towards HQ.

Farhan and Malvin waited for Steven at the HQ in the briefing room. Steven entered the room with a can of Red Bull in his hand, "Better be good, Farhan." He pulled a chair, sat on it, and stared at the large screen on the wall.

"Sir, the three men who died in the car crash are Bheema, Deva, and Karuna. All three belonged to an international smuggling gang based in Indonesia. They would smuggle anything across the trading routes along the Straits here, and the gang called themselves the 500. Farhan briefed, "Smuggling, assassinations, extortions, kidnappings, etc."

"That explains the 500 mark on the dead bodies, but why would they be so dumb to put their gang number on their kills?" Steven asked.

"Not dumb, sir. They are just arrogant and not afraid of anyone. It has always been their way of instilling fear in others. They have many government officials on their payrolls, including ministers. Their head is a man called Joyo. He is always under the radar. Very elusive. Not everyone has seen him, not even his gang members except for a trusted few, and three of those trusted few were these three dead crooks," Farhan said.