Singapore Noir

A deal is hammered out in no time. As the Chinese men relax into their sullen selves and the midget again assumes his cartoon pose, a look of unvarnished admiration begins to wash over Mr. Rao’s face.

“I like how you do business, Madame Zhang. Quick and to the point.”

Madame Zhang smiles for the first time that night, her gold teeth gleaming. Later, when all the handshaking is done, Mr. Rao lets Madame Zhang and her posse out the front door. It is done with such ceremony that it makes Saiful uncomfortable; still, it would appear to anyone looking on that the unlikely duo have become the best of friends.

“What about my stamp?” Saiful shouts after Madame Zhang, who doesn’t even turn around.

“I’m going to keep it,” replies Mr. Rao instead. “It will be my insurance that you keep your mouth shut.”

“I will keep my mouth shut anyway.”

“Just want to make 100 percent sure. Unless, of course, you have something valuable to trade.”

“Like what?”

With a wave of his hand, Mr. Rao dismisses the midget. It doesn’t take more than a split second for the Indian’s eyes to shine with carnal anticipation, as he sidles up to Saiful and places his moist, fleshy hand on his crotch. Saiful flinches in disgust.

“Quite tragic, isn’t it, to have a girlfriend who betrays you?” Mr. Rao intones. “I can’t blame her really. She owes me quite a bundle, and she truly loves the roulette table at Sentosa.”

Saiful wants to spit in the man’s face. He wants to get as far away from this den of depravity as possible. But he is frozen to the spot, overwhelmed by a deep sense of shame and revulsion. And there is another feeling, one that Saiful is trying hard to decipher. He starts to think about his stamp, and he recalls his mother’s dying words. At any cost. The phrase echoes like a phantasm in his conflicted mind.

From nowhere Fernando appears, jumping onto the elephant’s head and purring as if it has something to say. Fernando looks at Saiful, who looks right back.

Then Saiful stares straight into Mr. Rao’s eyes, and shapes his lips into a half-smile, half-sneer. The first jab lands squarely in the Indian’s solar plexus, and the next catches him in the rib cage. But before he can make good on his third punch, Mr. Rao pulls out a revolver and points it straight at Saiful. Simultaneously the midget appears, wielding his trusty machete.

“You think it’s going to be so easy?” Mr. Rao’s voice is thick with unctuous venom. A rivulet of blood makes its way down his chin.

With an earsplitting cry, Saiful lunges at Mr. Rao, and in the ensuing melee, four shots ring out. The first two miss completely. The third goes right through the midget’s heart, killing him at once. The fourth and last clips Fernando’s tail, scattering a puff of white fur.

What happens next seems to Saiful like a scene from a Hollywood action flick. He clamps his hands down on Mr. Rao’s neck, squeezing with all his might. As his opponent thrashes about like a maniac, desperate for a gulp of air, a feeling of euphoria sweeps over Saiful. It is in this heightened state that he sees Mr. Rao’s body erupt into spasms and then go limp.

By the time the police arrive, Saiful is already halfway across the causeway, the pink Edward VII carefully tucked away in his back pocket. Welcome to Malaysia, a sign says. He sees the city lights of Johor Bahru ahead, beckoning to him like a virgin. Calmly, he takes out a fake Malaysian passport and approaches the immigration kiosk. From now on his name will be Eddy bin Abdul Halim. Saiful quite likes the sound of it.

Part IV The Haves & the Have-Nots

Current Escape by Johann S. Lee

Sentosa Cove

The first strike is a slap across her left cheek, but Merla barely flinches. She has learned to anticipate.

His glare still fixed upon her, he steps backward slowly, assessing the situation for a way to force a reaction. There is the faint sound of water lapping against the private berth outside the house while he stands by the designer lamp that has been switched on for the night. Then a flare of inspiration. He turns his eyes to the gaudy Swarovski collection arranged on the console table. A calculated pause, to grant her time to read his next move. His hand hovers over his first choice. She stiffens.