The Operators

by Barry Heard

  Bagus walked to the nearest stall and asked to see the owner. On meeting him, Bagus told the man to organise someone to look after the Audi. He handed him a day’s takings in cash. The owner turned to a boy and said, ‘I will be back in half an hour.’

  As the two men walked through the market together, Bagus was regularly forced to step to one side to allow a scooter or bike to pass. People slept, their putrid bodies twitching on cardboard beds; the privileged ones snored in narrow hammocks. Mothers washed clothes in plastic buckets, the water a green-grey-brown. Activities and obstructions abounded. Every step was a delicate operation. Small mounds of human faeces lay all around, almost hidden by clouds of insects and other pests. There was plastic waste aplenty, rotting paper, and cardboard. Rats were everywhere, many dead, their fellow rats gorging on the flesh of the fallen. However, the one thing that outnumbered all other rubbish was cigarette butts. Cigarettes were cheap and unregulated, and survey figures indicated that many Indonesians began smoking at the age of four.

  Bagus wore expensive boots and there was no way he would allow them to be soiled. He stepped and weaved while pinching his nose.

  A tiny entrance marked Azka’s residence — no windows, front step, or letterbox. The market man turned and left after telling Bagus that the man inside would return him to his car. Someone had to: the slum was a maze of endless paths and dead ends. Only a local could navigate such a warren of packed humans.

  Bagus smacked his wide palm on the canvas door, then quickly undid his leather vest. He patted the revolver in its shoulder holster, and went to assault the canvas again, when Azka parted both the canvas and cloth openings. Bagus stepped in uninvited, demanding, ‘You are Azka? I am Bagus. How many live here?’

  (Of course, Bagus knew all the answers, having been the man who had recruited Azka from behind the Audi’s tinted windows. Joko wasn’t the only one with an eye for talent.)

  ‘Yes, I am Azka. Four, sir.’ (With a fifth missing …)

  ‘I need to speak to you alone, find us a quiet place.’

  Azka told his family to leave the two constricted rooms they called a house and wait outside in the alley.

  Bagus lit a cigarette.

  ‘You are Azka, the new conductor on the local train tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You have been approached by your manager about the project involving a man in a white suit on that train?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I am told you read well, even Dante and Dickens?’

  ‘Yes.’

  With a smirk, Bagus added, ‘No idea who that could be, I thought that first one was a soccer player.’ He roared with laughter, then said with a snarl, ‘Read this. I repeat: I am Bagus, the same one mentioned in the document.’ He handed Azka a typewritten page.

  On your next duty as the conductor, you have a special job to complete. After leaving Jakarta, go about your business until the train stops at the station Bojong Gede. Here, two men (both armed) will be waiting to board the carriage D, your third-class carriage. One will carry on a leather bag with a large yellow tag tied to the grip, the other man will carry a long thin tripod. Both men wearing bright yellow sneakers and white long pants. When you step off the train and approach them, the one with the leather bag will turn the tag over and it will display the name ‘Mr Wally Flannagan’. You in turn will escort them into the carriage and confirm the seat numbers they will occupy. You will return to the conductors stand in carriage C. How the two minders clear the area and obtain these seats in D is not your business. Do not intervene if you hear loud noises or shouting.

  On reaching Maseng, you must be at the door of this same carriage D, ready to welcome Bagus — the man with you now. With him two other men. One Indonesian, the other European. All three will be wearing local worker robes, face scarfs and large straw hats. A large suitcase beside one of them, the other a small grey man bag. The three are Rio, Bagus and Mr Wally Flannagan. Bagus will pull down his face scarf and smile to you. Between Bagus and Rio, they will escort the European man who will look sick or exhausted onto the train. Bagus will tell you to carry on this sick man’s suitcase and man bag. Before they enter, the two minders with yellow sneakers who got on the station before will have prearranged a space for the three, Rio, Bagus and Wally Flannagan in carriage D. From the platform to the carriage seats will be a slow movement as the tired man will demand space and he will struggle.

  When finally they arrive at the allotted seats, all will remove their scarves and large loose work clothes to reveal Bagus and Rio wearing professional suits and Mr Wally Flannagan adorned in a stand-out White Suit, an expensive watch and gold jewellery. Bagus will place Wally Flannagan on a seat, next to a window. One of the original minders will then padlock the White Suit’s suitcase to the rack above. Then you, Azka, will move out of this carriage, back to your stand in carriage C.

  For your information, immediately after you leave the carriage, Bagus and Rio will stand nearby and video the man in the White Suit, Mr Flannagan. He will be awake slouched against the wall very tired, with the leather bag between his feet. It will take some time to video all the necessary evidence. The two minders will ensure there is no disturbances or trouble. I tell you this in case someone reports a disturbance. This has never happened but be aware.

  Just before the train reaches Sukabumi Station, Bagus and Rio will move away from this Mr Flannagan and wait nearby with one of the minders. When the train stops, you will witness the two original minders getting off, then greet another man on the platform. This man called Leon. He and his courier will board and take the two seats opposite Mr Flannagan in the carriage. The man Leon is one of us, armed and aware of the arrangements. You will not acknowledge them or offer any assistance. Just observe. Upon checking Leon and the courier are in place, you will not acknowledge Bagus or Rio as they move on to the First-Class carriage. Meanwhile, after a short break, Leon will dismiss you. Return to your stand. Leon will instruct his own assistant to then look for another temporary courier to help with the final arrangements. Do not interfere if the assistant enters your carriage.

  Incidentally, this man in the White Suit — his full name is Wally Flannagan. Remember this name — write it down — for there may be a need to tell this name to the police. That is most unlikely.

  Within twenty minutes of the train leaving that same station, Sukabumi, Leon will send two people to contact you. One, Leon’s courier, you will recognise. The other being the temporary helper collected from the carriage. Then as arranged, the temporary man will send you a signal via a note. Most importantly, the man Leon, he will remain and guard the White Suit Mr Flannagan. After contacting you, the temporary courier will return to Leon with the card you hand over. The other courier, Leon’s man, will move on, joining Bagus and Rio in First Class.

  For the remainder of your journey you will not contact or acknowledge any of them. The man Mr Wally Flannagan, in the White Suit, along with the temporary courier and Leon, will remain in their seats until the train reaches Bandung. By then, Mr Wally Flannagan will not only be in a very deep sleep, he will not wake up. He will need many hours to overcome the initial drug dose. Remember for you, there will be no need to check on Leon or the White Suit. No one will go near Mr Flannagan or Leon, as people will certainly avoid and keep away as they realise Leon is armed. As well, at Bandung Station, Leon’s temporary courier will disembark. Leon, he will remain with Mr Wally Flannagan.

  Also, at the Bandung station, while the train is at its long stop, you are to get off as usual and report to the train manager. This man with you right now — Bagus — he will be there, in the manager’s office, or called earlier if the train is late. We understand you cannot go directly to the manager’s office when the train first stops at Bandung. Either the manager or Bagus will hand you a sum of Rp. 1,000,000.

  Remember — at this station, Mr Flannagan, the White Suit, he will remain on this train
, sitting in his seat in the carriage with Leon. Do not make enquiries or ask questions. Ignore any comments or reports the odd passenger may pass on about the White Suit — this rarely or never happens. Leon will accompany Wally Flannagan on this same train when it moves off, returning to Jakarta on the loop via Purwakarta. Then, at the next stop further down the line, Rio and Bagus take over. This detailed information added in case by chance you must return to the train. However, this is most unlikely according to your manager.

  Azka was bewildered by the intricacy of the note — the details, the names, the steps. He reached out to hand the sheet back to Bagus, who sneered.

  ‘Turn it over, there’s more.’

  As you know, we have already spoken to the station manager, your boss Mr Gupta, and he is OK with your part in this project, says you are intelligent and well read.

  Finally, do not talk or show this note to anyone. Remember — your daughter is in our hands.

  Azka, shaking his head, again went to hand the note back Bagus.

  ‘No, you keep the note. You are a brain-geek, but it is too much to remember. Read it many times. The movements and platform meetings are critical. You will hand it back to me when we get on the train tomorrow. Secure it carefully. Have you any questions?’

  Azka hesitated. ‘It will be difficult for him, the white-suited man, Mr Flannagan, in third class. As you say, he will make people very scared and may cause problems.’

  ‘No, we are very good at this, almost perfect. We will see there are no problems. The minders are very good at subduing noise or complaints. This trip should not have too many delays. If there’s a problem, we will move him into first class with us.’

  Bagus handed over the remainder of his cigarettes to Azka, turned to leave, and said, ‘Read it many times. For the moment, walk me back to the local market, my car is there. Then I will see you tomorrow. If you do well, we may use you again.’

  Quickly, quietly, Azka led Bagus back to the market. With a sense of grim defeat, he recognised Bagus’s Audi. A guard was leaning on the boot, looking about. Bagus turned and told Azka, ‘Go.’

  Chapter 9

  The pistol pointed at Wally’s head remained steady as Bagus said, ‘You will get out and walk in front of me. If you offer any resistance, I will hit you so hard you will not wake up for a week. Now get out.’

  Wally got out carefully, nodding to another man nearby — a servant? He always struggled getting out of a car, particularly from the rear seat. Poor Wally, his body objected to the twisting lower-back strain as he slid out. The servant retrieved Wally’s suitcase, while Bagus directed Wally indoors.

  Once inside, Bagus handed over a folder, like a brief. He told Wally to sit on the lounge and read it. Wally frowned, adjusted his glasses, and started reading.

  Mr Wally Flannagan. D.O.B. — 9 January 1945. Married. Three children, John …

  After several minutes, Wally put down the folder, stunned, and pondered over what he had just read. The first two pages contained most of his personal particulars, some very comprehensive. He was about to speak when Bagus said, ‘Keep reading.’

  Mr Wally Flannagan, you have been kidnapped. Shortly, another man will be here, a doctor. He will inject you with a drug. It will place you in a trance-like demeanour. From this moment on you will recall nothing. In fact, the last thing you will recall is a vague memory of earlier this morning at your relation’s residence.

  The injection will keep you in a confused state, able to speak, but nothing you say will make much sense. It will take many hours for you to gain full awareness. During your dazed state, we will film you. If the project is delayed due to stops or signals, it may require us to inject further drugs until we have completed the required filming. This filming will take place on a train journey. Yes, you will be videoed, on a local train, in a crowded low-class carriage. You, however, will stand out. To highlight your role, you will wear the appropriate clothes and jewellery. To a casual observer, you will appear to be a stoned, wealthy criminal, a drug baron travelling with minders. Although such individuals are rare, anyone will see you are powerful and everyone will avoid eye contact with you. Yes, most will look the other way. Your minders for the entire journey will all be heavily armed, one with a light machine gun, covered by a towel on his lap.

  Your place during this recording — seated, watching, like the overseer or baron as drug deals are finalised. The drugs in a small plastic bag. After each exchange, a minder will count out the American dollars in front of you and then place them, rolled up, in a large leather bag between your feet. The same bag that holds the drugs. When each transaction finalised — onlookers will see you holding up a glass of whisky as if to seal the deal. You won’t be drinking the whisky — whisky would affect the drugs in your body. Some five deals will take place. Several plastic bags of heroin handed over. This will allow for many a selected witness. More important, it all videoed as evidence to hand to police if needed.

  Then, after this train arrives at the main station of Jakarta, we will escort you back here, to this house.

  The video, already in the hands of experts, completely refined and finalised. With the ‘all clear’ from the video people, they will wait for an instruction from us — when to send this video to your family in Australia. Next, they will receive the video recording of you in your ‘drug baron’ state. We will know exactly when the video arrives and when it is opened on any computer. At that precise moment, we will contact them via email and attach photos of you. In that email, we will ask them for a sum of money to have you released and allowed to return to Australia. The sum is not huge, and they can afford it. After allowing them to peruse the video several times and decipher its urgency, most important for them is the next step we take:

  They will receive a precise warning to adhere to several requests.

  First, we will have a Skype conversation with your family; you will participate, our faces covered.

  You will confirm the validity of the entire event.

  Next, you will warn them not to seek any help. Just simply pay the money.

  I hope that that will be the conclusion to the matter. You will then be set free, and any evidence destroyed. We will blindfold you and return you to the turn-off of your cousin’s house in Jakarta — a two-minute walk to their gate. We will have already passed on a concocted story to them as to why you missed your special train trip.

  However, if your family abandons you, play games or goes to the police. We will move onto the second phase; it involves the Indonesia police. It will come about due to a tip-off from the train conductor. Naturally, you are the prime suspect. Evidence will see you charged for travelling with a large amount of heroin; and a fortune in money bound for Australia. Put simply, the police will charge you and then a court will find you guilty of a very serious offence. Your sentence either an execution or jailed in Indonesia for the remainder of your life.

  Wally put the folder down. He had read it all. He understood every word. He sat, trying to remain composed, choosing to remain quiet, and awaiting the next instruction.

  Now, remaining calm in such circumstances was going to be very difficult for this man, Wally. For most of his adult life, he had never handled a stressful situation with calm or common sense. Just looking at Bagus, Wally found his right arm began shaking uncontrollably. He needed one of two things: to take a powerful pill he carried in his toilet bag, or to sit quietly, attempting to drift into a peaceful world via meditation and relaxation exercises.

  Well, good luck, Wally.

  Finally, sweating and with his right arm now totally out of control, he looked Bagus straight in the eye and said, ‘I need to get to a toilet quickly, or I will shit myself.’

  Bagus laughed. ‘Don’t change the subject or try anything, you stupid old fool. Look, I can pretend to shake my arm and look bewildered. Such crap.’

  Wally’s fart lasted a full three se
conds. The smell was putrid, sickening. Bagus stared in amazement. Wally stared back.

  ‘I have to go, now!’

  Flicking the barrel of his pistol, Bagus indicated he wanted Wally to rise. They headed down a passage to the toilet — Wally just made it. As stool shot from Wally’s anus like water from a hose, some of it missing the pan and covering the floor, its odour causing Bagus to gag. Recovering himself, he commented on how most Australians couldn’t handle Indonesian food, then called for a servant. The blushing young man quickly cleaned the surrounds before asking if Wally would like his legs and rear washed. Wally nodded meekly. During all this, Bagus continued to gibe at Wally about his weak stomach and how many of his fellow countrymen displayed this foul retort after arriving in Jakarta.

  Yet it had nothing to do with food. What Bagus didn’t realise was that a scenario like this, a scenario of full-on stress and anxiety, inevitably led to such forceful bowel movements for Wally Flannagan. Worse, it could cause him to collapse, close down completely, even need an ambulance.

  Wally said nothing. He let the servant clean him thoroughly, and, when the man finished, he shook his hand, thanked him with the kindest words he could muster, and reached for his wallet — Bagus abused the servant, demanded he wash and spin-dry the clothes, and called for a dressing-gown. Then he bellowed at Wally to hurry up.

  They walked back to the main room in silence.

  Wally returned to his lounge, where a movement he saw out of the corner of his eye caused him to startle. Another man had walked in. Like Bagus, the man wore a suit and huge sunglasses, again like a mask. Bagus turned to the man and said hi, calling him ‘Boss’. In return, the man nodded at Bagus and smirked at Wally. He held a small metal tray: it bore a syringe and the swabs necessary to prepare for an injection.