by Dan Smith
Outside I had retrieved a torch from the debris, and now I switched it on, sweeping its light into every corner, but there was nothing to suggest that anyone was hiding here. ‘Let’s try the other one,’ I said, waiting for Helena to descend the ladder first, switching off the torch as I followed her.
Helena was almost invisible now in the darkness. The shadows passed over her as if she were not there, smothering her and making her part of the night as we moved over to the second longhouse and went inside.
Training the light over the walls and across the floor of the building I had never been allowed to enter, it looked much the same as the other one, if perhaps a little better renovated. There were long tables, probably constructed by Michael, that may have once run the length of the house but now lay twisted and uneven, broken like the discarded bodies outside. There were overturned containers of food, boxes ripped open, bags split, sets of scales, small brass weights, but if there had been drugs stored here, they were gone now.
‘No one here,’ I said.
‘We should go now. Maybe she left already. Found Kurt and left.’
‘You’re right.’ I looked round at the torn sacks of rice, the sweet potatoes loose on the floor. ‘Nothing we can do. Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’
The torchlight and shadow were kind to her. They hid the dirt on her clothes, the mess of her hair, the exhaustion on her face. I looked at her, thinking it hard to believe that she had no one to come looking for her; that she was so alone in the world she had cast herself under the control of a man like Kurt. A man who, in fair times, was capable and eloquent, but in rougher times hid in the shadows and waited for the right moment to emerge.
I put my arms around her and pulled her to me, placing my hand on her head and pressing her into my shoulder. We stayed like that for a while, holding each other, interrupted only by the sound of the trapdoor creaking open.
The sharp noise in the otherwise silent space startled me and I released Helena, turned, raised the torch to point it at the entrance to the longhouse. I half expected to see Domino coming into the building but, instead, the nose of a rifle poked in, and a familiar face followed it.
‘I’m surprised you came back here,’ said Danuri, climbing in. ‘If I were you, I’d be long gone.’
Behind him, another man, short and thin, wearing jeans and a light jacket, trainers on his feet.
I moved in front of Helena and looked at Danuri, the torch beam on his face, but not powerful enough to dazzle him.
‘After all, you got your girl. Made sure she was released before I could do anything.’
I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to feel, but something inside punched an icy fist right through me, gripping my guts and freezing them. Danuri might have been waiting for us, but I was more afraid that he had followed us here – afraid of what he might have done to Richard and Hidayat.
‘You have influential friends. Or at least, your friend does. The one who helped you. I’ve seen him before,’ he said, removing his left hand from the assault rifle, taking a soft cigarette packet from his top pocket. It was a calm motion, the act of a man who was in control. ‘He runs a boat on the lake, right?’
I lowered the torch, gripping it in my fist, readying it for the first opportunity to swing it at him.
‘Where does he live?’ he asked. ‘I thought I might pay him a visit sometime. Keep an eye on him.’
‘I don’t know.’ I spoke around my fear.
‘Hm. All in good time, then. But what about the other one? Where is she?’ Danuri took a cigarette with his teeth, his right hand still on the grip of the rifle. ‘The girl who was in my care. Domino. You not interested in her now that she’s been used?’
Again the icy fist.
‘I’m not sure she enjoyed it so much, but the men? I think they had some fun.’ He popped a match with his fingernail and touched it to the cigarette. ‘Perhaps she’d enjoy it more.’ Danuri motioned the muzzle of the rifle at Helena. ‘But I’d say she doesn’t look as strong as the other one.’ He blew clove-scented smoke above his head. ‘Wouldn’t last so long.’
‘What do you want?’ I managed.
‘Kurt.’ Danuri shouldered the rifle, took the cigarette from his mouth and blew on the lit end, making it crackle. ‘I want Kurt. Where is he?’ he said to the glowing tip. ‘That’s what you came back for, right?’ He looked up at us. ‘You found him?’
He spoke in Indonesian to the second man, who nodded, circling around us.
‘I don’t know where he is,’ I said, watching the man move out of view. ‘We haven’t seen him.’ My attention torn between the two men.
‘Maybe you can help with something else, then. Maybe you know what they did with my brother-in-law.’
‘Who?’
‘Alim,’ he said. ‘My business partner. My brother-in-law. One day he was there and the next …’ He shook his head. ‘And the next day he was gone. No sign. Nothing. Last thing anyone can tell me was that they saw him with the orang putih. The white man. And now my sister is very upset that her husband has gone.’
I shook my head, realisation dawning. ‘I don’t know, I …’ I thought about lying on the forest floor that night, shrouded by the dark, concealed by the forest, watching Domino and the others putting a body in the ground, hearing the heavy patter of soil, and I knew. I knew who they had buried that night, and I wondered if I should reveal to Danuri the things I knew. I wondered if it would soften his demeanour towards me; if it would take the murderous look from his eye and the stone from his heart. But I was sure that if I told him what I thought, that his brother-in-law was buried out in the forest, Danuri wouldn’t walk away and leave us. I had seen what he had done to Domino and the others.
‘You know what I think happened?’ Danuri asked, but I had nothing to say. I didn’t know what to do. He came close to me, his face inches from mine, his breath stinking of stale tuak. The bloodshot vessels in his eyes were livid against the whites, vile tributaries of angry blood. ‘You think your friend Kurt could kill a man?’ he asked. ‘You think he could do that?’
‘I don’t know.’ I cast a glance at Helena, not knowing the answer to Danuri’s question. I didn’t know if Kurt could kill a man, if he had that kind of cruelty within him. But I knew of another who did. And I was certain that if Kurt had asked Michael to kill Alim, Michael would have done so.
Danuri’s face relaxed and he leaned away from me, snorted and spat. ‘So, you don’t know where Kurt is, you don’t know where Alim is. You don’t know much, do you?’ Danuri looked at me, his eyes not seeing me, as if he were staring into space, a moment of daydreaming before he refocused. ‘OK,’ he said, smiling. ‘I suppose that’s it, then. Thank you for your time.’ He turned towards the way out, taking a few steps before stopping. He dropped his hands to his side and turned round again.
‘Doesn’t feel right. I feel … What’s the word I’m looking for?’ He waved his hands as if trying to conjure the word from nothing, the glowing tip of the cigarette writing a scribble of light in the air. ‘Ah yes. I feel unfulfilled,’ he said. ‘I came here for something and I’ve left with nothing. I guess you’ll just have to do.’
He said something in Indonesian and I felt hands grip me from behind, passing under my armpits and linking behind my head. The man was small and probably not as strong as me, but the movement was quick and sudden and it caught me off-guard, making me drop the torch.
As soon as the man behind me took hold, Danuri came forwards, holding the cigarette to my face. I twisted my head, an instinctive movement, but Danuri put one hand on me to keep me steady and pressed the glowing tip against my skin, once, twice, three times, close to my eye.
I let out an involuntary shout as the flesh burned and when Danuri withdrew, my body anaesthetised the wound, dulled the pain. The air around my nostrils was filled with the scent of cloves and burned skin and flesh. Something like spiced bacon.
The man behind m
e released his grip and pushed me away from him so that I stumbled. I put out my hands to break my fall, putting them against Danuri, who pushed me back. This time I fell to the floor, at Helena’s feet.
‘I would’ve kept my word, you know. If you’d done what I asked, I would’ve let her go.’
I looked up at him, my fingers going to the burns on my face.
‘There was no need for any of this.’
‘I don’t know where Kurt is,’ I said, wishing that I did. I wasn’t made for this; I didn’t want to be here; I didn’t owe Kurt anything. If I’d known where he was, I’d have given him up in an instant.
Danuri blew on the tip of the cigarette again, twisting it while he watched me. ‘I don’t believe you.’ He came closer, waving the cigarette in Helena’s direction. ‘And how about that girl? Domino. You went to a lot of trouble for her. A lot of expense. You must know where she is.’
The man behind us took hold of Helena this time, gripping her hard as Danuri put the cigarette close to her face. I could sense how hot the glowing end would feel next to her skin; I had the burns on my face to remind me.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, wishing there was something I could tell him, something to make him stop. ‘She left.’
‘Well, that’s unfortunate.’ Danuri was in full swing now, enjoying himself. Helena let out a sharp cry of pain as he pressed the tip of the cigarette to the skin on her cheekbone. She snapped her head back and I immediately caught the scent of her burning.
Danuri let the glowing end hover over her left eye.
‘Stop it,’ I shouted. ‘Stop it. I told you the fucking truth.’
Danuri sniffed hard. He snorted and spat to one side. ‘Just one more thing, then,’ he said. ‘I need to know where the other man lives. The man who came to the police station with you.’
‘In the kampong,’ I told him. Feeling the shame of it straight away. I was glad to be telling him something. I needed to give him something that would stop him from hurting us, but I was betraying Richard and Hidayat. After all they had done for us. ‘On the waterfront.’
‘Good.’ Danuri stepped back as the man holding Helena released her, and pushed her to the ground. Then he put the cigarette in his mouth and drew on it, grimacing at its taste. ‘Just one more thing I want to do before I go.’ He looked at Helena.
Beside me, Helena rearranged her dress, covering her skin. I was surprised she wasn’t crying. She was stronger than she looked.
‘Don’t touch her,’ I said.
‘Why? What will you do?’ Danuri asked. ‘Will you try to stop me?’
I glanced at the rifle on his shoulder, the pistol holstered on his hip.
He dropped the cigarette, ground it with his foot and lowered his hand to the pistol. ‘Think you could take it?’
I looked at his eyes.
‘And what would you do if you could? You think you could use it? That you’d even know how to use it?’
I looked away from him, defeated. There was no point in showing defiance. There was nothing I could do.
‘You know,’ Danuri said after a few moments, ‘I don’t really need you any more.’ I looked up to see that he was watching me. He slipped the rifle from his shoulder and tilted his head at Helena. ‘You want to say goodbye to her before I do this?’ He raised the weapon and pointed it at my face.
The next few moments passed in a haze. My initial response was to find a bargaining chip. A way out. I had to say something that would stop him from doing this; stop him from pulling the trigger. I opened my mouth but no words came out. My mouth worked in silence, my tongue dry, my head empty of coherent thought. I almost didn’t even notice Danuri lower the weapon. I almost didn’t hear him speak when he said that on second thoughts, the rifle was not a good idea. He didn’t want to warn Kurt he was here. Kurt might be close by.
‘No,’ he said. ‘It would be much better to cut your throat, let you bleed quietly.’ But even as the man behind me took the knife out of his pocket, snapping the blade open, I heard a shout from outside, a voice calling, someone climbing the ladder. And then Kurt’s face was at the trapdoor, a look not of surprise but of knowing, of expectation, when he saw what was happening inside the longhouse. In an instant he was gone, ducking back out of sight as Danuri reacted, turning, raising the rifle, firing a burst of shots that lit the room in a strobe of muzzle flash. Lead slammed into wood as the bullets tore into the floor around the trapdoor. The raw power of the weapon dazzled me. The sound terrified me. And the smell clung in my nostrils like fireworks on bonfire night.
Danuri edged towards the entrance, holding the weapon high, sighting along the barrel. ‘Kurt?’
I listened for anything to suggest that Danuri had hit him, but there were no sounds from outside. Nothing.
‘Come in,’ Danuri shouted at the empty space that was the open trapdoor. ‘Come in, Kurt – we need to talk. There are a few things we need to say to each other.’
‘Come in there?’ I heard Kurt reply. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘You want me to shoot your friends?’ Danuri motioned back to the second man, hissing something in Indonesian. The man grabbed Helena and brought her forwards, all three of them standing in front of me now, leaving me forgotten.
The man holding Helena pressed his knife to her throat.
‘They’re not my friends,’ said Kurt. ‘Fucking shoot them for all I care.’
‘Then what did you come back here for?’ Danuri replied. ‘Why else did you come here?’
‘Because I knew you’d come back here,’ Kurt replied, and for a second I saw Danuri falter, as if confused. ‘You tried to use my sister, but I called your bluff. You came back.’
Now it was Danuri’s turn to be lost for words. But it was a moment that lasted no longer than a fraction of a second before movement filled the longhouse.
Michael materialised beside me as if from nowhere, passing me without making a sound. In one movement, he grasped the hand that was holding a knife to Helena’s throat and he kicked out at Danuri. Danuri hadn’t even had time to register that something was happening when Michael’s foot caught him in the small of his back, thrusting him forwards so that he stumbled onto the space left by the open trapdoor.
Danuri missed his footing, stepped into the hole and fell through the opening, dropping the rifle, catching his chin on the frame as he went down. The sound of his teeth clashing together was quite clear, and then he disappeared into the darkness.
In front of me, Michael wrestled the other man away from Helena, pulling his knife arm straight back and hitting him hard on the side of his face. The noise of his fist on the smaller man’s jaw was flat and dull, a heavy slapping sound. The man’s knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor. He wasn’t out cold, but his eyes were rolling in his head and he struggled to push himself up. Michael watched him, thinking about his next move, then kicked him hard in the head, immobilising him.
Michael went back to Helena. ‘It’s OK now,’ he said, staring over her shoulder at me. ‘I’m here.’
Throughout the brief but intense sequence of events, I had not moved. I was rooted to the spot, as if nailed to the floor, mesmerised by the speed and brutality of what I’d just witnessed. A simple, effective, vicious attack.
Michael released Helena, backed away from her, then turned to the trapdoor. ‘You OK down there?’ he called.
‘Couldn’t be better,’ came the reply. ‘How are things with you?’
Michael looked back at us, a reassuring smile for Helena and a scowl for me. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘All under control.’ He glanced down at the man on the floor, seeing that he was beginning to stir. ‘Coming out now,’ he called back to Kurt.
Michael picked up the pocket knife the man had been carrying. He threw it into the back of the longhouse, letting it clatter to the floor somewhere in the darkness. For the first time, I noticed that Michael had a weapon of his own – the parang, covered by a carved wooden sheath, attached to a piece of orange plastic strin
g, which he had put across himself like a bandolier. The weapon hung loose at his side.
He went to Helena, asking again if she was OK, then ushered her towards the trapdoor, saying, ‘You go first.’
‘Lucky for you there’s a back door,’ he said, coming back to me.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Lucky.’
‘You didn’t think about doing something?’ he asked.
‘Like what?’
He shrugged. ‘Anything.’
Maybe he didn’t understand that up until the point when Kurt had showed his head above the door, I’d thought I was going to die. I thought that Danuri was going to take my life and leave me here, forgotten, with no one to come looking for me.
‘Me, I couldn’t just stand there and let it happen. I’d have to go out fighting.’
I stared at him.
‘Shit, I’d have to do something,’ he said.
‘There wasn’t any—’
‘You were going to let him kill Helena.’
‘No …’ I stopped. He was right. I was going to let him kill Helena. Not because I wanted to. But because there was nothing I could do and because I was afraid. I had been afraid to die and all I could think of was begging for my life. Perhaps that was what I had come here to learn: that I was a coward.
‘Come on,’ said Michael. ‘Time to go.’
‘What about him?’ I looked at the man lying on the floor. He was moving now. Slow, heavy movements as he tried to lift his head. There was blood coming from one of his ears, his mouth too.
‘Don’t worry about him,’ Michael said. ‘I’ll deal with him.’
I went over to the trapdoor and began to descend the ladder, looking down, checking that no one was waiting for me with malicious intent. When my face was level with the floor, I stopped.