PERSONAL JUSTICE by Ramlee Awang Murshid

13

GABRIEL glanced toward the White House building. A side view from Constitution Avenue, the proud building appeared faraway. This was where the executives of the United States, headed by the President, did their works. This was also where the Communication Department was located to assist the President's job especially, in presenting important communiques to the mass media.

Early at dawn, Gabriel would start his walk from Walking Tour near the Capitol Building that crossed several places like the General Grant Statue, Washington Monument and stopped as long as half an hour at Constitution Avenue. He would stop and watch the White House building from there. The twice weekly activities were his routine, not just to maintain his fitness but also because he was directed to.

"Hi. Good morning, son," a voice greeted.

Gabriel was not a bit surprised to hear the greeting voice. He turned slowly and smiled as he reciprocated.

"Good morning to you, sir."

An elderly man, in his mid sixties, who was jogging, stopped and promptly switched to spot-running by Gabriel's side. A familiar face he never failed to see every morning while he was there. 

The man called 'sir' was, actually, a Vietnam veteran. Retired. His daily activities included jogging around the area every morning. He followed Gabriel's glances at the White House. 

"White House," the man said with pride.

"Yeah. One day I'll be there," Gabriel mused.

"Mm... good. And you must build up your stamina to be my next president," the man chuckled.

What he meant to say was to be a president, one must be mentally and physically strong. 

"Nope, I don't need that kind of stamina you meant," Gabriel shook his head. 

The man stopped laughing. In fact, he stopped his spot-running altogether. He stared at the young man, who was in his 30's, with his creased face. 

"Oh, yeah?"

"I'll just marry the president's daughter," Gabriel said. 

The man, immediately, roared with laughter while shaking his head.

"And... let me be your best man, son."

"Alright, old man!" Gabriel nodded, laughing softly.

Still laughing, the man said, "Okay... good luck, son. Have a nice day." Then he left, jogging slowly. Gabriel was only joking, he thought.

"Don't forget to invite me," the man shouted.

Gabriel smiled. Then he turned his eyes back to the White House. After deciding that he had seen enough, he continued toward Lincoln Memorial where he ended his jog.

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KUALA LUMPUR

24 September 2000 - 8.30 p.m.

THE door to the Philharmonic Hall opened and Abu Hasdal appeared. Abdul Ghari was relieved when he saw the man entering the door was his companion. All the hostages were seated in the hall. Nervous.

"Aina kunta mundza qoliilun? (Where were you just now)," Abdul Ghari asked.

"Musykilatu kabiiratun (Big problem)," Abu Hasdal lamented.

"Ala kullihaal vsanamuutu huna (Looks like... we will die here)." Abdul Ghari was quick to reply.

"Laa! Lan namuutu ma zaala baroomijuna lam yutim. (No! We will not die before our mission is fulfilled)," Abu Hasdal exclaimed.