PERSONAL JUSTICE by Ramlee Awang Murshid

11

WASHINGTON D.C

23 September 2000 - 2.00 a.m.

A LUXURY car stopped at Maine Avenue, near the waterfront Promenade. Mike saw the car and jumped in the back seat. A thick glass separated the backseat from the driver's. The car began to circle Washington D.C.'s town.

Moments later, the divider glass slid down automatically. The driver handed a cell phone to Mike. Sighing, Mike took the phone. Seconds later it rang.

"Hey, man. What's up?" Mike spoke to the phone.

Mike was black. He was also a hired hit man. He often made business with a man who was known as Mr. Black. All their business was transacted in the luxury car without any face-to-face meeting. Their conversations would not be overheard by anyone because the car was equipped with a countermeasure that made it difficult for a radar or satellite to snoop in.

"Mike... shut up. An listen carefully." Mr. Black's voice was firm.

"Okay... okay. Be cool, man," Mike said.

"Mike... your job is to grab a briefcase on its way to the White House. Kill anyone on sight!" Mr. Black ordered.

"What's in it, huh? LSD? Hey, I only deal with money, alright?" Mike protested. 

"Look! It's me who do the questioning, and you do the answering!" Mr. Black fumed. "Now, will you get it done! Get over there and do your job! Remember, Mike, do it or you'll find your mama gone!" Mr. Black threatened.

The driver, then, handed a piece of paper to Mike. He read the address written on the paper. His thick lips moving. Then, Mike said, "Aha! You're not Baldwin Junior's supporter, are you?"

"No. I just want Jack William out of the race as president." Mr. Black stressed every word he said. His intentions were clear. 

Mike nodded two, three times.

"Alright! But why don't you let me kill him, huh? I can do that, too. Hey, look, I'm your hit man, okay," Mike suggested something worse than Mr. Black's original plan. 

"Don't ever think of doing that, Mike. I don't want Jack William down as a hero. I just want to send shivers down his spine. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Mike nodded as he listened to Mr. Black's instruction.

"Cross my heart, okay," Mike swore, without thinking that one day it might cause him his life.

Mr. Black's driver slowed the car down and stopped at 39th Street opposite the GU Hospital. The door opened automatically.

"Thank you, Mike. Watch your back, alright?" Mr. Black cautioned. The line immediately went dead. Their conversation ended there.

"Yo, man!" Mike made a face and threw the phone on the seat. He stepped out of the car. The luxury car drove away leaving him behind. 

"Taxi!" Mike shouted and waved at a cab that, coincidentally, was cruising the area. He would return to Maine Avenue. He had left his car at Waterfront Street.

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KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA

24 September 2000 - 2.00 p.m.

 THE shooting and chase between Abu Hasdal, Abdul Ghari and Ruben moved on toward the Petronas Twin Tower. Ruben had already disappeared into the building. He could probably be trapped as he had run out of bullets.

In their tensed condition, Abu Hasdal and Abdul Ghari encountered the delegation of foreign investors from the US who had assembled at the Phillharmonic Hall. They took the chance to hold the delegates as their hostages. Everone started to panic.