Chapter 56
Indonesia, Sebauk Town, Bintan Island
November 14, 2006, 11:00 local time
Malik took his change from the fifty thousand Rupiah and stepped out into the street. He didn't notice the tall athletic-looking man, who crossed the street and followed a discrete distance behind him. Nor did he notice the small white van moving slowly up the street and periodically stopping.
Malik started walking in the direction of the harbor, where Saiful would be waiting for him. He turned down a narrow street that he thought led to the harbor.
The white van drove past him at speed then braked, stopping in the middle of the street ahead of him. There were no were sidewalks and the van blocked his way. He moved out into the street to go around it, just as a large man got out of the van. Despite the hat and dark glasses he wore, Malik could see his skin was black.
Alarm bells went off in his head and he turned to run. An equally tall but slimmer Asian man was directly behind him. Malik reached for the knife in a sheath on his belt. The Asian man raised his arm and pointed something in Malik's face. His world turned upside down and he sank to the ground.
Jackson walked up to Joe and said, “That stuff works fast.”
He looked down at the man slumped on the ground. He was definitely one of the men they had seen in the boat leaving the island.
“We've got the right guy. Let's get him in the van before anyone comes to find out what's happening.”
The two men lifted the body under the arms and dragged him the short distance to the rear of the van. Jackson opened the van's rear door and they pulled the unconscious man in.
Jackson said, “You ride in the back in case he wakes up, but be careful about giving him another shot of that spray in the confined space of the van. I don't want both of you unconscious when we arrive.”
Jackson looked back and could see two curious onlookers standing a safe distance away. He went to the driver's side of the van, got in and drove off down the street. He would get out of town, before he consulted the map.
At the end of the narrow street, Jackson turned onto a wider street that headed in the right direction. Jackson recalled from the map that the town only had three or four of these wide streets and they all led to the only road out of the small town.
Jackson pulled out his hand-held radio and pressed transmit.
“We managed to apprehend one of them. We are on our way out of town.”
“The voice on the other end said, “Why only one?”
Before Jackson could respond, a motorcycle pulled out in front of the van forcing him to brake. He looked up and saw there was a traffic circle ahead. An obstacle Jackson had only encountered a few times before.
Jackson needed to concentrate on his driving, but felt some response was needed.
“They separated. We could only follow one of them.”
The van approached the traffic island and Jackson slowed down. Vehicles were going around the traffic circle at what seemed the maximum possible speed. That, combined with driving on the wrong side of the road, momentarily nonplussed Jackson. He knew he should have let Joe drive.
The response from the radio was lost, as Jackson dropped it on the van's floor and hit the accelerator, aiming for a gap in the traffic around the circle. The van jumped forward, but more slowly than he anticipated. A blare of horns met his entry onto the traffic circle. Seconds later, the road out of town, on the opposite side of the traffic circle approached.
A voice came over the radio, as Jackson saw a car to his left was blocking his way off the traffic circle. He hit the horn and turned sharply to the left, hoping the car's driver had the sense to get out of his way.
The front of the car hit the side of the van with a dull crunch, followed by the sound of tearing metal. Jackson felt the van's rear pushed away, causing the vehicle to lose traction and speed.
Joe said, “What the fuck's happening, man.”
“Radio distracted me and I had an accident. The vehicle's still going, so I'm heading to the pick up location at top speed for this piece of shit.”
Jackson pressed the accelerator to the floor, ignoring the sound of metal scraping on metal. He repeatedly hit the van's horn to warn anyone ahead they were coming. Most of the traffic was small motorcycles that kept to the side of the road. The road itself was not much wider than a single lane that had to accommodate vehicles in both directions. On either side of the paved section, there was a gravel shoulder that vehicles had to move partially onto, in order to pass a vehicle coming in the opposite direction.
Jackson drove down the center of the paved section. He kept pressing the horn, and the first oncoming car they encountered got the message, pulling fully onto the hard shoulder to let him pass.
The motorcycles similarly got the message and moved onto the hard shoulder as the van approached, its horn blaring.
The next three oncoming vehicles, as well as one going in the same direction as them, slowed and pulled onto the hard shoulder to let them pass, without forcing the van to slow down. Jackson was beginning to think he might have discovered a local driving rule. The vehicle that uses its horn the most gets the right of way.
They left the town's outskirts behind and entered a scrubby forest with occasional cleared areas and a few small houses along the roadside. Jackson thought he had the situation sufficiently under control to use the radio.
“Jackson here. We had a problem, but things are now under control, and we are on our way to the pick up. We will be there in five minutes. Repeat, five minutes.”
Joe said from the back of the van, “You hear that, Sarge?”
He pulled the radio away from his ear and said, “What?”
“Sounds like a siren.”
With the radio away from his ear, Jackson could now hear the siren. He looked into his rear view mirror. He could see flashing lights on top of a white car far behind them.
He spoke into the radio. “The local police are pursuing us. Might need some help at the pick up.”
“The pick up is on its way. I'll let them know. They should be able to handle the situation.”
Jackson looked into his rear view mirror. The police car was rapidly gaining on them. The good news was that as long as they kept to the center of the road, it would be difficult for the police car to pass them on the sloping loose material of the hard shoulder.
Joe said, "He's waking up.”
“Use the spray to put to him under again.”
“What about me?”
“Take a deep breath first, and let me know when you are about to do it, so I can too.”
Joe said, “About to spray the prisoner.”
Jackson took a deep breath and reached for the window handle, in order to wind it down, just as a heavily laden pickup truck pulled onto the road twenty meters in front of them. Jackson hit the horn and the brakes at the same time.
He found he was breathing and hoped he wasn't getting any of that knockout gas in him.
“Joe, you OK?”
Joe's strained voice came back. “Still holding my breath.”
“I breathed in. Come sit in the front seat and watch me. Make sure that knockout gas doesn't affect me. Start slapping me if I seem to be going under. The prisoner should be out till we reach the pick up location.”
“Will do, Sarge.”
Joe climbed into the front seat and asked, “What are the cops doing?”
“They are gaining on us. I've asked for help at the pick up. Adjust the mirror on your side so you can watch them.”
The pickup truck in front of them refused to move to the side of the road despite Jackson holding down the van's horn. Jackson shook his head to try to clear whatever effect the spray might have had. He felt OK, but knew that wasn't a reliable indicator.
He looked in his rear view mirror. The police car with its flashing lights was now directly behind them. The three vehicles moved in convoy at a sedate fifty kilometers an hour.
The scraping metallic sound was getting worse and a burning smell now accompanied it. He estimated there was another three kilometers to the turnoff, another three or four minutes at their current speed.
Jackson looked in his mirror again and saw the police car was still right behind them.
“Joe, what can you see on your side?”
“I can see someone leaning out of the passenger side window pointing a revolver at us.”
Jackson knew their options were limited. Swerving or braking would be unlikely to achieve anything except sending the van off the road. The quicker they got to the pick up location the better.
Jackson heard the distinctive sound of a small caliber weapon firing a single shot, then a second.
“He's shooting at our rear, probably trying to hit a tire.
There was a loud bang, and the way the van slewed to the side of the road, told Jackson they had shot out a rear tire.
Joe said, “Being unarmed sucks. Otherwise, I'd say stop, disarm those hick cops and disable their vehicle.”
Jackson didn't reply and concentrated on keeping the van on the road despite the blown tire. The road had entered an area where the forest looked like it had been recently cut. For some reason, isolated groups of trees had been left standing.
“Sarge, there's smoke in the back of the van.”
“I smell it.”
The van was slowing down and the pickup truck ahead was pulling away from them, despite Jackson pressing the accelerator right to the floor. As the van slowed, Jackson reached a decision.
“Joe, get ready to make a run for it. The pickup location is between one and two kilometers ahead of us, on the right-hand side of the road. When we are out of the vehicle, we need to leave the road immediately and head across country.”
“What about the prisoner?”
“We leave him.”
The van continued to slow and would soon stop completely.
Joe said, as much to himself as Jackson, “Well, it's that son of a bitch's lucky day. He just missed out on a very long vacation, with three squares a day, at some place that doesn't officially exist.”
The van had almost slowed to a speed, they could safely exit. Jackson briefly debated whether to jump while the van was still moving and likely have it run off the road, or hit the brakes and leave the van blocking the center of the road. The police car would be able to drive around it, but it might delay them long enough for him and Joe to get clear of the road without the police shooting at them.
Jackson said, “I'm about to brake. Get ready to jump and run. Follow me to the right. Make sure you stay close behind me. I'm going to try and keep the van between us and the cops until we are out of pistol range, then we go as fast as we can to the pick up location.”
“I'm ready, Sarge.”
Jackson had gone on a couple of training runs with Joe. He was the faster runner, and Jackson didn't want to twist an ankle or worse trying to keep up. With Joe behind him, he could make the pace.
He hit the brakes and the slow moving van came to an immediate halt.
Jackson pulled the door handle and shouted, “Run.”
He was out of the van and across the hard shoulder, before looking back to confirm Joe was behind him. Off the hard shoulder the ground, which had looked solid, was in fact a soggy marsh. His boots sank in with each step as he avoided branches and other debris from the recent logging.
Jackson headed for a small stand of trees about two hundred meters away. When he looked back again, he saw that Joe was directly behind him, running easily. Further back, he could see one of the cops was out of the car pointing his pistol in their direction, but he held his fire. Perhaps, he knew as well as Jackson that they were already out of effective range. Although a lucky shot might still hit one of them.
Less than a minute later, they reached the stand of trees and why the trees hadn't been logged became clear, they stood in a deep pool of green water.
As Jackson splashed knee-deep into the water, he raised his arm to stop Joe following him in.
Jackson looked back. The police hadn't left the roadway and were investigating the back of the van. If they were looking for smuggled or stolen goods, they would be sorely disappointed to find just a drugged man.
They needed to move fast. If the pick up team arrived and found they weren't there, they wouldn't wait around long.
Jackson said, “We need to keep moving. I estimate we are less than a kilometer from the track that leads to the pick up location. Five minutes at a good pace should get us there.”
Joe responded, “I'm nicely warmed up, Sarge. I could go faster.”
They started at a fast jog around the green pool with the stand of trees. Almost immediately, they encountered a marshy creek that cut across their planned route. Jackson looked at the green-brown, weed-choked water and debated whether to wade or swim across. The alternative was to backtrack to the road and risk a confrontation with the police.
“What do you think, Joe?”
“I say we swim across and keep going in a straight line.”
Jackson hesitated. He wasn't a strong swimmer and had never been fully comfortable in the water. He looked along the creek and saw a huge black lizard, close to two meters long, lazily swimming down the creek toward them.
He said, “What about that?” pointing at the lizard.
Joe replied, “It's a Water Monitor, Sarge. They are common in this region. Looks scary, but it's harmless. Unless it thinks you are dead or can't fight back, then it will rip chunks out of you. I'd worry more about snakes.”
Joe's comments didn't reassure Jackson.
Chapter 57
November 14, 2006, 11:00 local time
Malik took his change from the fifty thousand Rupiah and stepped out into the street. He didn't notice the tall athletic-looking man, who crossed the street and followed a discrete distance behind him. Nor did he notice the small white van moving slowly up the street and periodically stopping.
Malik started walking in the direction of the harbor, where Saiful would be waiting for him. He turned down a narrow street that he thought led to the harbor.
The white van drove past him at speed then braked, stopping in the middle of the street ahead of him. There were no were sidewalks and the van blocked his way. He moved out into the street to go around it, just as a large man got out of the van. Despite the hat and dark glasses he wore, Malik could see his skin was black.
Alarm bells went off in his head and he turned to run. An equally tall but slimmer Asian man was directly behind him. Malik reached for the knife in a sheath on his belt. The Asian man raised his arm and pointed something in Malik's face. His world turned upside down and he sank to the ground.
Jackson walked up to Joe and said, “That stuff works fast.”
He looked down at the man slumped on the ground. He was definitely one of the men they had seen in the boat leaving the island.
“We've got the right guy. Let's get him in the van before anyone comes to find out what's happening.”
The two men lifted the body under the arms and dragged him the short distance to the rear of the van. Jackson opened the van's rear door and they pulled the unconscious man in.
Jackson said, “You ride in the back in case he wakes up, but be careful about giving him another shot of that spray in the confined space of the van. I don't want both of you unconscious when we arrive.”
Jackson looked back and could see two curious onlookers standing a safe distance away. He went to the driver's side of the van, got in and drove off down the street. He would get out of town, before he consulted the map.
At the end of the narrow street, Jackson turned onto a wider street that headed in the right direction. Jackson recalled from the map that the town only had three or four of these wide streets and they all led to the only road out of the small town.
Jackson pulled out his hand-held radio and pressed transmit.
“We managed to apprehend one of them. We are on our way out of town.”
“The voice on the other end said, “Why only one?”
Before Jackson could respond, a motorcycle pulled out in front of the van forcing him to brake. He looked up and saw there was a traffic circle ahead. An obstacle Jackson had only encountered a few times before.
Jackson needed to concentrate on his driving, but felt some response was needed.
“They separated. We could only follow one of them.”
The van approached the traffic island and Jackson slowed down. Vehicles were going around the traffic circle at what seemed the maximum possible speed. That, combined with driving on the wrong side of the road, momentarily nonplussed Jackson. He knew he should have let Joe drive.
The response from the radio was lost, as Jackson dropped it on the van's floor and hit the accelerator, aiming for a gap in the traffic around the circle. The van jumped forward, but more slowly than he anticipated. A blare of horns met his entry onto the traffic circle. Seconds later, the road out of town, on the opposite side of the traffic circle approached.
A voice came over the radio, as Jackson saw a car to his left was blocking his way off the traffic circle. He hit the horn and turned sharply to the left, hoping the car's driver had the sense to get out of his way.
The front of the car hit the side of the van with a dull crunch, followed by the sound of tearing metal. Jackson felt the van's rear pushed away, causing the vehicle to lose traction and speed.
Joe said, “What the fuck's happening, man.”
“Radio distracted me and I had an accident. The vehicle's still going, so I'm heading to the pick up location at top speed for this piece of shit.”
Jackson pressed the accelerator to the floor, ignoring the sound of metal scraping on metal. He repeatedly hit the van's horn to warn anyone ahead they were coming. Most of the traffic was small motorcycles that kept to the side of the road. The road itself was not much wider than a single lane that had to accommodate vehicles in both directions. On either side of the paved section, there was a gravel shoulder that vehicles had to move partially onto, in order to pass a vehicle coming in the opposite direction.
Jackson drove down the center of the paved section. He kept pressing the horn, and the first oncoming car they encountered got the message, pulling fully onto the hard shoulder to let him pass.
The motorcycles similarly got the message and moved onto the hard shoulder as the van approached, its horn blaring.
The next three oncoming vehicles, as well as one going in the same direction as them, slowed and pulled onto the hard shoulder to let them pass, without forcing the van to slow down. Jackson was beginning to think he might have discovered a local driving rule. The vehicle that uses its horn the most gets the right of way.
They left the town's outskirts behind and entered a scrubby forest with occasional cleared areas and a few small houses along the roadside. Jackson thought he had the situation sufficiently under control to use the radio.
“Jackson here. We had a problem, but things are now under control, and we are on our way to the pick up. We will be there in five minutes. Repeat, five minutes.”
Joe said from the back of the van, “You hear that, Sarge?”
He pulled the radio away from his ear and said, “What?”
“Sounds like a siren.”
With the radio away from his ear, Jackson could now hear the siren. He looked into his rear view mirror. He could see flashing lights on top of a white car far behind them.
He spoke into the radio. “The local police are pursuing us. Might need some help at the pick up.”
“The pick up is on its way. I'll let them know. They should be able to handle the situation.”
Jackson looked into his rear view mirror. The police car was rapidly gaining on them. The good news was that as long as they kept to the center of the road, it would be difficult for the police car to pass them on the sloping loose material of the hard shoulder.
Joe said, "He's waking up.”
“Use the spray to put to him under again.”
“What about me?”
“Take a deep breath first, and let me know when you are about to do it, so I can too.”
Joe said, “About to spray the prisoner.”
Jackson took a deep breath and reached for the window handle, in order to wind it down, just as a heavily laden pickup truck pulled onto the road twenty meters in front of them. Jackson hit the horn and the brakes at the same time.
He found he was breathing and hoped he wasn't getting any of that knockout gas in him.
“Joe, you OK?”
Joe's strained voice came back. “Still holding my breath.”
“I breathed in. Come sit in the front seat and watch me. Make sure that knockout gas doesn't affect me. Start slapping me if I seem to be going under. The prisoner should be out till we reach the pick up location.”
“Will do, Sarge.”
Joe climbed into the front seat and asked, “What are the cops doing?”
“They are gaining on us. I've asked for help at the pick up. Adjust the mirror on your side so you can watch them.”
The pickup truck in front of them refused to move to the side of the road despite Jackson holding down the van's horn. Jackson shook his head to try to clear whatever effect the spray might have had. He felt OK, but knew that wasn't a reliable indicator.
He looked in his rear view mirror. The police car with its flashing lights was now directly behind them. The three vehicles moved in convoy at a sedate fifty kilometers an hour.
The scraping metallic sound was getting worse and a burning smell now accompanied it. He estimated there was another three kilometers to the turnoff, another three or four minutes at their current speed.
Jackson looked in his mirror again and saw the police car was still right behind them.
“Joe, what can you see on your side?”
“I can see someone leaning out of the passenger side window pointing a revolver at us.”
Jackson knew their options were limited. Swerving or braking would be unlikely to achieve anything except sending the van off the road. The quicker they got to the pick up location the better.
Jackson heard the distinctive sound of a small caliber weapon firing a single shot, then a second.
“He's shooting at our rear, probably trying to hit a tire.
There was a loud bang, and the way the van slewed to the side of the road, told Jackson they had shot out a rear tire.
Joe said, “Being unarmed sucks. Otherwise, I'd say stop, disarm those hick cops and disable their vehicle.”
Jackson didn't reply and concentrated on keeping the van on the road despite the blown tire. The road had entered an area where the forest looked like it had been recently cut. For some reason, isolated groups of trees had been left standing.
“Sarge, there's smoke in the back of the van.”
“I smell it.”
The van was slowing down and the pickup truck ahead was pulling away from them, despite Jackson pressing the accelerator right to the floor. As the van slowed, Jackson reached a decision.
“Joe, get ready to make a run for it. The pickup location is between one and two kilometers ahead of us, on the right-hand side of the road. When we are out of the vehicle, we need to leave the road immediately and head across country.”
“What about the prisoner?”
“We leave him.”
The van continued to slow and would soon stop completely.
Joe said, as much to himself as Jackson, “Well, it's that son of a bitch's lucky day. He just missed out on a very long vacation, with three squares a day, at some place that doesn't officially exist.”
The van had almost slowed to a speed, they could safely exit. Jackson briefly debated whether to jump while the van was still moving and likely have it run off the road, or hit the brakes and leave the van blocking the center of the road. The police car would be able to drive around it, but it might delay them long enough for him and Joe to get clear of the road without the police shooting at them.
Jackson said, “I'm about to brake. Get ready to jump and run. Follow me to the right. Make sure you stay close behind me. I'm going to try and keep the van between us and the cops until we are out of pistol range, then we go as fast as we can to the pick up location.”
“I'm ready, Sarge.”
Jackson had gone on a couple of training runs with Joe. He was the faster runner, and Jackson didn't want to twist an ankle or worse trying to keep up. With Joe behind him, he could make the pace.
He hit the brakes and the slow moving van came to an immediate halt.
Jackson pulled the door handle and shouted, “Run.”
He was out of the van and across the hard shoulder, before looking back to confirm Joe was behind him. Off the hard shoulder the ground, which had looked solid, was in fact a soggy marsh. His boots sank in with each step as he avoided branches and other debris from the recent logging.
Jackson headed for a small stand of trees about two hundred meters away. When he looked back again, he saw that Joe was directly behind him, running easily. Further back, he could see one of the cops was out of the car pointing his pistol in their direction, but he held his fire. Perhaps, he knew as well as Jackson that they were already out of effective range. Although a lucky shot might still hit one of them.
Less than a minute later, they reached the stand of trees and why the trees hadn't been logged became clear, they stood in a deep pool of green water.
As Jackson splashed knee-deep into the water, he raised his arm to stop Joe following him in.
Jackson looked back. The police hadn't left the roadway and were investigating the back of the van. If they were looking for smuggled or stolen goods, they would be sorely disappointed to find just a drugged man.
They needed to move fast. If the pick up team arrived and found they weren't there, they wouldn't wait around long.
Jackson said, “We need to keep moving. I estimate we are less than a kilometer from the track that leads to the pick up location. Five minutes at a good pace should get us there.”
Joe responded, “I'm nicely warmed up, Sarge. I could go faster.”
They started at a fast jog around the green pool with the stand of trees. Almost immediately, they encountered a marshy creek that cut across their planned route. Jackson looked at the green-brown, weed-choked water and debated whether to wade or swim across. The alternative was to backtrack to the road and risk a confrontation with the police.
“What do you think, Joe?”
“I say we swim across and keep going in a straight line.”
Jackson hesitated. He wasn't a strong swimmer and had never been fully comfortable in the water. He looked along the creek and saw a huge black lizard, close to two meters long, lazily swimming down the creek toward them.
He said, “What about that?” pointing at the lizard.
Joe replied, “It's a Water Monitor, Sarge. They are common in this region. Looks scary, but it's harmless. Unless it thinks you are dead or can't fight back, then it will rip chunks out of you. I'd worry more about snakes.”
Joe's comments didn't reassure Jackson.
Chapter 57
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