Page 58 of The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties

I hurry behind the desk and study it. There are two framed photographs on it. One of them is a black-and-white shot of Kristofer and his wife on their wedding day. He’s smiling into the camera, she’s smiling up at him. The other is a more recent picture of his wife. She looks like she’s in her fifties and is lying back on a sun lounger, squinting slightly from the brightsunlight as she laughs into the camera. She looks so gentle and sweet and not at all like the kind of person who would be married to a literal kidnapper.

Maybe I could go to her for help? I observe the picture again, noting the smile lines around her eyes and mouth. She would definitely be sympathetic.

A loud rumble from outside the house interrupts my thoughts. Thunder? I rush to the window, but the sky is clear. More rumbles, like roars deep from the belly of a tiger. I glance down and freeze. Oh god. There’s a whole cavalcade of Jeeps and cars and little trucks, all of them filled to the brim with men. Men hanging out of the windows, their hair flying in the wind, hooting and jeering as the vehicles drive up to the front of the house. The front vehicle, a large Hummer, stops, and Abi appears from the top like the world’s worst jack-in-the-box. He raises a hand, and all the cars start honking.

The noise is deafening. Even from where I stand, three floors up and behind a closed window, the honks from a dozen cars are so loud I feel my eardrums vibrating. I clap my hands over my ears and grit my teeth, willing the cacophony to die down.

People rush out of the house in a confused flurry. When enough of them are gathered out front, Abi lowers his hand. The honks stop. After all that noise, the sudden silence rings in the heavy air, almost painful in its own right. Abi raises a loudspeaker to his mouth.

“Greetings, honored guests. I’m so sorry to disturb your celebration, but I have business to attend to with the master of this house.” His voice is silky soft, and somehow, that’s even more terrifying than if he’d been screaming into theloudspeaker. There’s a quiet, cold rage that’s undeniable, and even from this distance, I shiver, my survival instincts telling me to get far, far away from here.

I don’t care what they’ve told us. This is not normal business practice. This is very clearly mafia shit. I didn’t think I could feel any more terrified, but there’s some noise from the crowd of guests down below and they begin to part like the Red Sea. Kristofer is slicing through the crowd, flanked by guards. But then they go a bit farther away from the house and I can now see that the people flanking Kristofer aren’t guards but my family.

My breath rips out of me in a choked gasp. “No!” But no one can hear me, and I can only watch as Nathan, Ma, Second Aunt, and Fourth Aunt are pushed forward by Kristofer and his men to act as his shield. The only consolation I have is that they look largely unharmed. They’re glaring at Kristofer, and Ma’s and Second Aunt’s hairdos are all messed up, but I can’t spot any bruises on them, and they’re all walking normally and not limping, so that means they’re okay, right?

“Thank you for coming to my Chinese New Year feast, Abraham Lincoln,” Kristofer calls out. He raises his arms and turns back to his guests. “Abraham Lincoln Irawan, everybody!”

A slow, confused scatter of applause starts and peters out almost immediately.

“I’m so honored that you’ve come to my humble abode. Unannounced.” The coldness in Kristofer’s voice is palpable. The skin on my arms breaks out into gooseflesh.

This is not going well. Or maybe it’s going as well as those two psychopaths downstairs want them to go. Clearly, they’re not down there negotiating for a peaceful exchange. They’re here,as Abi had repeatedly said, for war. And I don’t know what that means, exactly, but Abi is here with what looks like a hundred men raring to cause havoc and injury, and my family is caught right in the middle of it. I can’t just stand here and do nothing.

Think, Meddy!

I force myself to gulp in air and step back from the window. Taking that step back is one of the hardest things I’ve done. Everything inside me screeches to stay put so I can follow what’s happening, but I know that standing here watching isn’t going to do anything. I rip my gaze away from the window and look around the study once more. Think! Is there anything in here that I can use against Kristofer? I dart back to the desk and fling open the drawers one by one. I grab papers and scan the words on them before flinging them over my shoulder. Papers flit around the room like dust motes, and still I don’t find anything useful until I reach the last drawer. Which is locked.

Primal rage takes over. It’s locked because there’s something valuable in it. I know it. I take the handle in both hands and yank as hard as I can, nearly squishing my fingers in the process. With a yelp, I let go. My frustration boils over and I kick the drawer with an enraged shriek. Then I gather my shirt, wrap it around the handle to give myself a better grip, prop one foot against the table, and pull again, this time putting my entire body weight behind me.

It doesn’t budge.

I’m sweating, panting like an animal. Panic is so close to taking over all of me, but I force myself to stop and think. Clearly the lock is made of some strong metal. But the desk itself is wood. Maybe...

I crouch down onto my hands and knees and peer underneath the desk. And sure enough, the bottom is wood. Yes! The fury and anxiety inside me give me renewed strength, and with a huge bellow, I push the desk over. It falls with a floor-shaking thump. Adrenaline surges through my veins, and I don’t even wait for the dust to settle before I aim a swift kick at the bottom of the drawer. The thin wood cracks. I take a breath and kick again, and this time, the heel of my shoe goes right through the wood sheet. With a victory cry, I scramble to it and rip away at the crack, ignoring the sharp pain of splinters digging into my palms. I wiggle my fingers deep inside the drawer until they find a sheaf of papers and pull them out of the crack.

Okay, what is it? What’s so important about these documents that Kristofer had to keep them locked away?

In the silence, my ragged breath sounds so loud. I flip through the papers, scanning the words as fast as I can, which isn’t very fast at all, given they’re all in Indonesian.

To: Kristofer Kolumbes Hermansah

Date: 12th October 2019

Re: Complaint No. 7612-HUX

Dear Mr. Hermansah,

In accordance tosomething-legal-something-something, all developmental work at the property at Jln. Cideng Raya Nomor 10, Jakarta Utara, is halted until further notice. Please refer tosomething-more-legal-speak. If there are any complaints,something-something-something.

Okay, clearly, my understanding of Indonesian legal documents is abysmal. Am I missing something here though? This just sounds like a notice to stop building something. Why did it need to be under lock and key? I go to the next document.

Complaint Number: 8253-TSG

Date: 8th August 2015

To: Kristofer Kolumbes Hermansah

Your complaint regarding the property at Jln. Tulodong No. 1, Jakarta Selatan, is currently under review. Asomething-something-officialofficer will be in touch with you in the next ten business days.

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