Dark Winter

3

Worshippers began to emerge from the mosque and before long there was a frenzy of cars and scooters revving up in the parking lot. The first vehicles tried to edge out into the traffic, but nobody on the road was giving them an inch. The air was filled with the din of horns and screeching brakes.

Suzy rested her guidebook on the table and I looked up. The target had come out of the door and was soon climbing back over the fence. The source waved, then got out of his cab. In the stronger light I could see he was definitely Indonesian, with high cheekbones, short black hair and a moustache, about the same height as Suzy. His stripy shirt hung out of his jeans, maybe because his massive shoulders were stretching the material so much – he looked as if he’d forgotten to take out the extra-wide coat hanger before putting his shirt on.

The two men came together without greeting, then went through the same door the target had come out of. Suzy packed her book back into her bag as the Brits eyed up a group of girls walking by, and the organist got a ripple of applause. The source was coming out again, carrying some sort of white box with a handle. As he got nearer to the taxi I could see it was a cardboard gift pack of six bottles of wine, with the sides cut away to make the labels visible. He went round to the passenger door, the side nearest us, and opened it, placed the box carefully in the footwell, then walked back round the front of the cab, climbed in and the vehicle started rolling. It was all over and done with in less than a minute.

Suzy’s hands were securing the rolled-up top of her bag as the taxi melted into the traffic. ‘So much for Muslims and alcohol, eh? Maybe it’s Ribena.’

The Brits next door cheered and slapped the table. It wasn’t Suzy’s joke: Leeds had scored.

As we sat there and waited, I felt in my trouser pocket for the bike key. The target would be leaving for work soon. Even terrorists need to make money and have a cover story.

He was illuminated by the sign as he came out a couple of minutes later. He was a little early tonight. There was normally a fifteen-minute window after prayers before he set off. His white shirt was now tucked into a pair of black trousers, and he was wearing black patent leather shoes. He crossed the fence once more and headed to his Lite Ace, dodging the puddles in an attempt to keep his shoes clean.

I got to my feet. ‘Right, might as well get back to the hotel.’

Suzy nodded and stood up. I picked up my helmet, putting it on as I walked to the bike. She hooked the bag over her head and shoulders, then put her helmet on as I kicked up the side-stand and turned the ignition. She waited while I revved up and added our share of black exhaust to the rest as I manoeuvred the bike with my feet to get it facing the road.

The Lite Ace moved towards the mosque gates. There was no indication of which way he was turning, but if he followed his own script of the last week and a bit he should be going with the traffic: to his left, our right. Suzy climbed on, and fiddled with her helmet to buy us time while we waited for the Lite Ace to get on to the road. My head was already hot and sticky inside the crash helmet, which stank of years of tourists’ greasy hair. The plastic strap under my chin was slippery against my two days’ growth.

She tapped me on the shoulder, just as the Lite Ace merged with the traffic. We turned right, against the flow, in front of the massed headlights, and began to take the target. There were four cars and a swarm of Honda 70s between us. He slowed for a group of tourists crossing the road, then accelerated to catch up with the flow. We followed, stopping and starting, guided by his flickering right brake light. If I lost him, this would be an excellent VDM for me to look out for either in the dark or in general traffic confusion. I knew it was there because I had slipped out with a screwdriver a couple of nights ago. If whipping was the penalty for using a dodgy satellite card, I dreaded to think what it would be for tampering with a vehicle.

The cars and heavy vehicles came to a halt again, but the scooters carried on weaving in and out. Instead of following suit, I stopped and kicked down into first, kept the clutch in and stayed well back.

Suzy adjusted herself behind me, wiggling her arse either side of the seat to unstick her thin trousers from the plastic. Her right hand was round my stomach and the bag was squeezed between us; her revolver, an old six-shot .45, Second World War vintage, almost silver with wear, dug into the small of my back as I inhaled another lungful of exhaust fumes.

Keeping two vehicles behind the van, I played the cautious tourist, making no attempt to copy all the others on two wheels. My legs were sweating inside my cheap night-market trousers, and it was nice to get a bit of breeze through my trainers as we moved.

There was a burst of light inside the Lite Ace before cigarette smoke leaked from the driver’s window. Suzy leant forward over my shoulder and breathed in deeply, then I could hear her laughing behind me. I didn’t know whether to be pleased she wasn’t flapping on the job, or to flap myself because she wasn’t. I liked people who got scared.

The coastline of Penang was low-lying, but as soon as you turned inland you began to climb. The target worked as a waiter in a Dutch restaurant up on the high ground in the centre of the island; I knew we’d be coming up to some lights soon, and he should be turning right. But something was wrong. He wasn’t moving into the right-hand lane; instead he fought his way past the traffic at the junction waiting to turn inland.

Suzy was on my shoulder. ‘What’s he doing?’ I ignored her and carried on with the take; there was nothing we could do but follow.

The traffic stopped and started before the left indicator flashed up ahead and the Lite Ace headed into a world of rusty corrugated iron. I slowed at the junction and followed, just as he hung another left and disappeared.

We were on a narrow, rough concrete road, flanked by shacks. I took the bike down into the darkness, stopping just short of the turning. There was a glow of static light hanging above a group of tin roofs. Suzy jumped off and I just managed to grab her arm before she ran towards it. ‘Not here, OK? Not here.’

Her helmet came off and she faded into the darkness.

I carried on past, turned to face the junction in shadow, and killed the engine. The ghostly glow of TV sets flickered inside most of the shacks, and I could hear kids playing and dogs barking. There was a strong smell of drains.

Vehicle lights soon sparked up along the track out to the junction, and I could hear an engine heading my way. I couldn’t see inside the Lite Ace as it turned right, towards the main; I hit the ignition but kept my lights off as it stopped at the junction then tried to fight its way back out and head right.

Suzy reappeared, running as fast as she could. I rode up to meet her as she waited and shoved her helmet back on. Jumping on the back, she sucked in air as she held on to me. ‘He was picking up – it’s two-up. Of all fucking nights.’ I could feel her warm breath against my neck as we watched the vehicle disappear. I turned the lights on and we started to move.

‘Did you see who it was?’

‘No. What now?’

I shrugged. I never really knew what to do until I was doing it when these fuck-ups happened. We got out on to the main and this time I gave it some throttle and joined the rest of the mosquitoes weaving in and out. Her arm tightened round my waist and her legs squeezed tight against mine.

She saw the brake light at the same time as I did, pulling at my stomach with her right hand and pointing over my shoulder with her left. I exaggerated my nod as the glare of neon and traffic lights merged in my badly scratched visor.

The Lite Ace was nearing the crossroads, in the left-hand filter. I passed another car and was now just one vehicle behind, trying to get a better view inside. I pushed up the visor and a rush of cooler air hit the sweat.

Neon bathed the two bodies in the front seats. The passenger was a man, younger than the target, and Malaysian. The good news was that he also wore a white shirt, and was obviously a model employee. When he turned his head to talk to the target I could see he’d already put on his bow-tie.

The vehicle’s indicators flashed for the left turn and they left the coast road. The route inland was busy but not as chaotic as the one we’d just quit, and I could feel the contours almost immediately as we started to make height. After less than a kilometre the breeze-block shacks petered out, and with them the clatter of petrol generators and the yelps of their scabby dogs. As we climbed even higher there was nothing at the roadside but vegetation. Lights twinkled occasionally behind the greenery, suggesting habitation, but even those soon disappeared. The road narrowed; two vehicles could just have squeezed past each other.

I let us fall back as we became the only vehicles in sight. I was anticipating a sharp left-hand bend before long, and sure enough his rear lights flared in the darkness, one flickering, as he hit the brakes to negotiate it, then disappeared.

Suzy’s head came over my shoulder, her .45 digging deeper into my back. ‘We sticking to the plan?’

There was nothing for me to do but nod as she sank back behind me. The job must go on. I felt Suzy’s right arm delve into her bag as her legs squeezed round mine to support her. She was putting on her rubber gloves.

The red lights in front of me came and went as the target followed the bends uphill, but I didn’t need to be right on top of him for about another kilometre. I knew where he was going.

I glanced in the rear-view mirror. The coastal plain was way below us now. The road ahead had been carved through rainforest and our headlight glistened on the solid green stuff that reared up on both sides of us, still wet with rain, as I dodged fallen palm leaves and water-filled potholes.

Five hundred metres further on we passed our marker – a big stone Buddha on a log, looking down on to a junction with a mud track that went right into the forest. Maybe it was some sort of accident black spot and Buddha was there to bring good luck.

Suzy tapped my arm with a hand in a red rubber glove, and pointed to make sure I’d seen it. Then I felt her left hand go completely round my waist and her right push into the bag wedged between us. A few seconds later the barrel of the revolver ran up my back.

We were nearly at the ambush point, a narrow, staggered crossroads where the target would have to stop to negotiate a stream that cut across the junction. That was the point we were channelling him to: why force a target into the killing ground when you can pick a route he always uses? He would have to slow almost to a standstill as he forded the water.

We were less than fifty metres from the Lite Ace now. Suzy pushed down under my arse with her left hand, the .45 in her right, ready to jump herself off.

The red lights flared and flickered as the target braked for the junction. He’d have to turn right, cross the stream, then do an immediate left.

I approached the Lite Ace on its right-hand side and could smell cigarettes. As we slowed, level with the rear of the vehicle, the bike wobbled. Suzy had leapfrogged off the back as I carried on.

There was a shout from the cab.

I twisted the throttle to get myself forward to block him, but this boy wasn’t for stopping. The Lite Ace crashed into my front wheel and I curled up, taking the fall. My right hip hit the tarmac, then skidded along the road with the bike following until we finally came to a halt in the stream.

I dragged myself to my feet, yanking the helmet back in time to see the vehicle roll backwards down the hill, headlights blazing skyward. Suzy was running after it. I hobbled forwards, trying to get my leg to work. It felt like someone had taken a cheese-grater to my thigh.

The vehicle kept rolling and the lights arced higher into the sky as Suzy dived in through the driver’s window. What the fuck was going on?

It hit the trees fifteen metres further downhill, and came to a halt. Suzy’s legs disappeared inside the driver’s window at the same time as the side door slid open and the interior light came on. A figure leapt out and crashed through the foliage as two shots were fired.

‘Which one? Which one?’

Suzy scrambled out. ‘He’s in the cover!’

‘Wait, wait.’ I drew level with her and grabbed her arm to stop her jumping into the forest. It was the pickup who was dead, his head twisted and pushed up against the blood-soaked seat.

I ripped off my helmet, gulping down oxygen. ‘Sssh, listen.’

It was secondary forest, small bushes and plants growing wherever the sun had penetrated the canopy. This stuff was difficult to move through, especially when it was dark. The target wouldn’t be able to see his own hands in front of his face.

We heard nothing; we’d have to go in after him.

Four paces in and I couldn’t see her any more. I reached out into the inky blackness and gripped her arm, pulling down until she dropped with me on to the wet leaf litter and mud of the rainforest floor. We crawled a few paces, hands and knees sinking into the mud, before stopping and listening. Still nothing.

I’d just started to move again when there was a noise. I stopped. She bumped into me. I held my breath, opened my mouth to block out my own sounds and let the saliva dribble out of me. He was close, a little to my right. It was barely audible above the engine ticking over, but I could just make out whimpering.

I felt behind me very slowly and grabbed her spare hand, passing my helmet to her before feeling my way to her face and pressing my fingers against her lips. She still had her helmet on, which was good: we didn’t want to leave either of them here.

I turned my right ear towards the sounds of a frightened man. He probably didn’t know what to do, where to go, whether to hide or run blindly into the forest. I hoped he kept choosing to lie still and think the darkness would save him.

I put out my hand in his direction, feeling the invisible ground just below and in front of me, then inched forward. Mud, roots and leaves collected between my fingers before I came into contact with the cool, clammy bark of a tree. I moved very slowly round it. I heard Suzy behind me, swallowing a mouthful of saliva.

He was close now, moving his legs. I heard them scrape across the rotting leaves.

My face was getting attacked by whatever flew around here and ate skin. Not that it mattered at the moment. My whole being was focused on finding the target; even the pain in my leg had gone as I inched a little further.

He was so close I could hear him gulp with fear, then he moved his legs again and leaves rippled across my hand.

There was nothing to do but jump in that direction. My body fell clumsily on him and he screamed. My nose landed on the side of his face. He curled into a ball, begging and pleading as I got up on my knees. I didn’t know the language; I wasn’t listening.

Suzy was up behind me. ‘Where is he? Where is he?’

I got my right knee pushing down on the side of his head. His begging became louder.

‘Ssssh, it’s OK, it’s OK.’ My right hand went down and fell on to his sweat-soaked face. I kept hold of his head and held out my spare hand into the darkness. ‘Come to me, quick.’

She moved into me and I grabbed her, feeling my way up her arm. My fingers found the revolver and guided it down on to his head. ‘You’ve got it. I’ll hold him.’

I felt the muzzle digging into his skin as he sobbed and started to struggle. I wanted to get this over with. ‘You ready? I’ll let go on three . . . one, two, three.’

I released his head and pushed myself backwards, and in the same instant she squeezed the trigger. There was a bright flash and the sound seemed much louder than I knew it actually was.

‘Stay still, stay still. Got to make sure.’

I heard the hammer go back.

‘Wait, wait.’

I heard her feeling around for what was left of his head. There was another bright flash and loud bang. The smell of cordite hung between us, trapped by the canopy of leaves, and the pain in my leg returned with a vengeance.

‘So, how the fuck do we get out of here?’ Suzy sounded almost normal.

We were no more than ten metres or so into the rainforest, but we’d only got where we were by following the sound of the target. Getting out was something else.

‘Let’s just wait, calm down, see if we can hear the Lite Ace.’ I held my breath. Gradually, the ringing of the shots in my ears faded, and I came to hear the gentle ticking of its engine. It was easy enough to home in on. I felt about for my helmet, and we crawled out of the trees, hitting the road only three or four metres from the vehicle.

I could see Suzy’s blood-splattered face in the headlights. ‘What the fuck were you doing playing Spiderman?’ I inspected my leg as she did the same with her hand. ‘All you had to do was shoot them.’

‘By the time I got level they were already flapping to get out the side door. The wagon was rolling. I didn’t know what to do. Then I thought, Fuck it, just dive in.’ She was smiling: I could see a big grin in the red glow of the rear light. ‘Anyway, it’s done, isn’t it?’

She was right. ‘We need to get the wagon off the road and you need to clean up your face. The trees are too dense here to drive through – take it down to the Buddha junction, dump it out of sight as best you can, and I’ll follow you if the bike’s still OK. If not, we’re walking back.’

She got into the Lite Ace, engaged first gear with blood- and mud-covered gloves, got it back on to the road, and drove down to the junction. I went over to the grounded bike and hauled it upright. The bike’s clutch was twisted down so it faced the tarmac, but it was still in better nick than some of the machines we’d seen around town. The main thing was that it worked.

I waited at the top of the Buddha junction for Suzy, and as she came back up the hill and threw her leg over the saddle she leant forward. ‘Didn’t we do well? I think we deserve to go jet-skiing tomorrow, don’t you?’

The right side of my leg was raging so badly from the gravel grazes that I had to grit my teeth.