The house in Bukit Timah

[dunedain]

Bro, what happened to the thread Home? 🥺

[blondbecks]

yes i cannot find it now. has it been taken down??? so sad

[coolmanspooky]

I pm TS...still waiting for his reply or the reason for thread being taken down...

[blondbecks]

hope nothing serious happened.

[dunedain]

Anyone heard from bro I like?

[wikiloko]

you guys can read it here.

https://sensualsingapore.blog/2023/12/01/home/

[ilikeoldchangke]

'Home' is finally wrapping up.

The initial 20 chapters has turned into 25.
All in probably close to 280k words give and take.



Sorry it took so long, but i think i'm ready to wrap up the saga.

Will be dropping chapter 11-25 starting from June.

Have a good weekend all.


James

[titan]

Originally Posted by ilikeoldchangke

'Home' is finally wrapping up.

The initial 20 chapters has turned into 25.
All in probably close to 280k words give and take.



Sorry it took so long, but i think i'm ready to wrap up the saga.

Will be dropping chapter 11-25 starting from June.

Have a good weekend all.


James

+23 for the effort!

[ilikeoldchangke]

Bumboat heading towards Malaysia from Changi Jetty

Phyo and Zin looked suspiciously at the two new arrivals on the boat. The two newcomers had boarded the small vessel, ten minutes after Sahar and Ah Fu were taken. They quietly slipped into the empty seats after having a word with the boat captain. The boat had now slowed down, and was chugging along at a snail’s pace.

Phyo could tell that Sahar and Ah Fu were not taken by the coastguard. They appeared to have been taken by thugs, or local gangsters. Something didn’t feel right, and they needed to alert Chan about this immediately. Phyo glanced at his phone, only to realise there was no reception. Zin exchanged a look with his buddy. He too, indicated that he could not get a signal. Zin’s hand moved to the handle of the dagger he kept in his bag; he was suspicious of the two new additions to the boat.

Phyo kept resetting his phone, but it seemed impossible to get a signal. He looked around and saw that they were a stone’s throw away from the coast of the island. They should be able to get a phone signal at this range, they were not even out on open waters. If only they knew one of the two new passengers had a jamming device with him inside his backpack - The device jammed all outgoing signals within a 50 meters radius.

Zin and Phyo shot several looks at the two men; both men stood silently, with their shades on and looking out towards the sea. Their clothes were baggy and ill fitting, too large to fit their frames. They didn’t look threatening, and their body language had no military bearing. The duo was sure that they could take on the two silent newcomers easily, if required.

The boat made its way out into open water, but it stopped after one of the two new additions approached the captain. The anchor was cast, and the operator of the boat went to the bow to light up a smoke. Zin and Phyo immediately went on the alert. The two men had removed their shades, their cold, emotionless eyes scanned the other passengers on the boat. Out of the remaining 18 passengers, seven were women. Several of them were shivering in fear and all of them looked confused. Someone asked,

“Why is the boat not moving?!”

No reply was given.
Zin made eye contact with one of the two men. He immediately looked away; those were eyes of a killer. He felt his heart racing and his muscles tensing up. He told himself to calm down, but his hand could not resist closing around the reassuring grip of his weapon.

Jeff, one of the new additions to the boat, stared at each passenger for a few seconds before moving onto the next. When he finally came to Zin, he paused for just a moment longer than he did on the others. Zin tried to remain calm, giving Jeff a questioning look, and asking what he wanted. What he failed to realise was that while putting on his act of innocence, his hand was still on the handle of the dagger hidden under his bag. Realising his game was up, he drew his dagger and struck at Jeff, giving up his cover without any effort on Jeff’s part.

Zin: ARGHHH!

He dropped his bag, and trying to recall the training he had, he adopted a fighting pose. He struck out with a succession of stabs and slashes, learnt from his training deep in the jungles of Myanmar. He had failed to meet the requirements to join the military, but he found another way, joining a militia group that brought him and many others into Malaysia via Thailand.


All the passengers screamed and shouted in panic as they withdrew to one side, leaving Phyo the only one still in his seat. Aware that the cover was blown, Phyo drew his knife and struck at the second man.

Zin sprang forward like a charged coil, delivering a stab straight towards Jeff’s face. Jeff twisted his body slightly, the blade missing its mark and passing within an inch of his ear. He took a quick step forward, and the heel of his open palm met with Zin’s nose. A shift of his feet and a forward kick to the solar plexus, sent Zin tumbling onto the wooden deck. It happened so fast that Zin barely saw his attacker move.

Winded and disorientated, Zin climbed back up, an arm clutched around his abdomen, but somehow with his dagger still in his other hand, shakily held up and ready to strike. He got up on his feet, only to feel Phyo crashing onto him. Phyo had tried to attack the other man, only to be sucked into a whirlwind of sorts. His opponent was like a Tai Chi master, diverted his strikes and redirected his strength against himself.

Phyo got up and pulled his friend to his feet. The two men adopted a defensive stance with their weapons raised and bodies slightly turned to the side. Stealing a quick glance at his watch, Zin checked the time. If there was a delay in the boat’s arrival, Chan would know they were in trouble.


Seeing that Jeff and Xia just stood there unmoving, the two men started advancing, making a series of short jabs and cuts, attempting to drive the two immobile statues back. The moment Phyo and Zin got close, their strikes were effortlessly redirected, or simply parried aside with a barehanded blow to their forearms and wrists.

They were kicked towards the back of the boat and separated from the rest of the passengers. No matter how hard Phyo and Zin tried, it was as if the two men could read their thoughts and knew every move they were about to make. Their blades came close to kissing flesh a few times, close, but close was not enough.

Realising that they could not beat the two strange men, they evaluated their options. Their orders were clear, they were just there to relay information. Zin spoke quickly to Phyo in their native tongue, they were less than a kilometre from the Singapore shoreline, they could make it if they jumped.

Their task was just to get word to Chan should the mission fail. They had grown up by the river and were confident with their abilities in the water. Phyo nodded, and the two men backed their way out of the seating area and jumped into the sea. While the two men swam vigorously towards the shore, on the boat, Jeff and Xia looked at them before they exchanged a perplexed look.

Jeff: What the fuck were they thinking?

Xia: No idea…

Xia revealed a chiselled, scar covered body when he removed his top and dove into the water. His body vanished under the waves, and a moment later, reappeared about 30 metres away.

Jeff did not follow suit. He instead spoke into a walkie-talkie and a dozen jet skis appeared from around the bend of the coastline and then pulled up to the bumboat. Several passengers were asked to disembark, while some new arrivals from the skis took their places on the boat. Jeff hopped onto one of the skis and it sped towards the men attempting to swim to their freedom.
The ski left a white streak across the choppy waters as it brought Jeff on a direct course to intercept Zin and Phyo.

The moment he got ahead of the two escapees, he dove into the water. In front of him, Zin and Phyo splashed violently through the waves as they made their desperate bid for the shore. Jeff could not see where his colleague was, but he knew Xia was in pursuit.

Xia pushed himself out from under the water with hardly any effort. His powerful strokes bringing him right on the tail of Zin and Phyo. Jeff held back a chuckle, he did not envy the two men trying to get to the shore. Xia was kicked off the national swim team because he beat up a coach for trying to get fresh with a female trainee.

If he were still on the team, Singapore’s first gold medal might not come from Joseph Schooling; it could have been from Xia, and perhaps several years earlier too.

Zin was swimming right beside Phyo, when he saw him disappearing under the water, as if a monster had just dragged him into the abyss.

Zin: PHYO!

At that point, Jeff had intercepted Zin, and the two of them immediately became tangled up in open water. Zin felt Jeff’s limbs wrapping around his chest and head, and they sank below the waves. He struggled, swallowing mouthfuls of seawater as he fought for air. The searing pain of the water entering his lungs, burned like someone was pressing a piece of hot metal against his raw flesh. Just when Zin thought he was going to pass out, he was lifted out of the water.


Choking and vomiting up his breakfast along with large amount of dirty seawater, Zin looked up to see the deck of a luxury yacht. Beside him, Phyo was lying unconscious, and a black man was in the process of resuscitating him. Zin looked about for the two men that pursued them into the water, but they were gone. Instead, he saw the same man who had shot Sahar, standing half-naked in boardshorts and flipflops, while he chewed on a slice of Jamón Ibérico ham.

The next thing he knew, he and his buddy were sent to a fish farm located at Lim Chu Kang. Thrown into separate holding rooms, Zin looked at the bloodstained walls and timber planks caked with dried blood. When he turned round and saw a rotting fingertip, peeking from bundle of bloodied clothes on the floor, he backed away into a corner. Zin closed his eyes and told himself that he was a soldier. He might have trained in the jungle with a ragtag militia, but he had always identified himself as a soldier. All he would give was his rank and name. Nothing more.

Zin was unaware of how much time had passed when the door to his cell opened. The instant his eyes moved to the open doorway, the feeling of dread was immediate and overwhelming. Two tattooed men stood there silently. One of them held a bloodied machete in his hand, and the other man casually threw something in his direction.


Two severed fingers hit Zin on his chest. He backed up to the wall in horror as he watched the still warm fingers twitching on the floor. One of those fingers had a ring around it; he recognised the band immediately. It belonged to Phyo.

The intricate tattoo of an emerald-coloured phoenix filled his vision. Its delicate, filigreed wings were all he saw, when two pairs of arms grabbed onto him and pulled him to the floor.

Zin: I am Corporal Zin! That is all I will say!

The two men exchanged a look with each other, before they shrugged and held him down.

Zin: NO… NO!

One of them had his knee pressed against the back of his neck, while the other forced Zin’s left hand to the floor.

Zin: NO! Please… NO! I am Corporal ZIN!

Zin had his fist clenched tightly, and when the men realised that they could not open his hand up, they held his fist down and brought the machete to his wrist. The moment Zin felt the cold steel coming to rest on his flesh, he peed himself on the floor.

Zin: NO! Please! NO! I talk! I talk!

As the machete hovered an inch above his trembling wrist, he realised he had not only peed himself, he had lost control of his bowels as well. The two men looked at Zin with cold, expressionless eyes, and then they suddenly let him go. He immediately scurried to a corner of the room, trembling in fear and confusion.

This was not what Chan told him would happen if he were caught. Zin was told to just give his rank and name, and the treaties signed at the Geneva Convention would take care of the rest. He was supposed to go on trial, then they would put him in a prison where he would have food and medical care. His family would also get a small monthly pay-out from Chan until he was released. It was to be a year or two at the most. Prisons were supposed to be luxurious in Singapore, compared to where he was from.

As the sun set over the horizon and cast its fingers of pale-yellow light across the fish farm, the door to his cell opened again. A lone man walked into the room, aided by a walking stick. He walked with a limp, and from behind him, two feral dogs appeared with their fangs bared. A stool was brought into the room for him, and the man sat down. The man did not say nothing. He just stared at Zin and waited for him to talk.

Zin was about to repeat his rank and name, when he heard a familiar scream coming from the other side of the fish farm. It was soon accompanied by the sound of Phyo thrashing in pain. Sahar’s screams joined that of Phyo’s, and it did not take long for Ah Fu’s cries for his mother to reach Zin’s ears.
Zin had always been a slow learner, but he quickly wised up to the fact that these men didn’t give a fuck about his rank and name.

*

Pengerang, Malaysia

Chan stopped the video that was playing on his tablet. None of his men had disembarked from the boat that arrived from Singapore. His tablet was receiving a livestream from a camera at the ferry terminal. The lady selling souvenirs at the terminal did not know Chan was no longer watching the livestream.

She was paid RM200 to made sure that none of her wares would block the wooden sculpture, embedded with a hidden camera, that sat at a prime spot on the table. All she had to do was place it there for the afternoon, and then make far more money than what she would on a typical day.

His men were gone. Both the attackers and the minders. But this was to be expected. Casualties were always expected in war. Chan knew he would never see or hear again from those men that have failed, but there were plenty more men for him to expend. Lives meant nothing to him, they were merely assets and tools to be used. The attack had caused mayhem in the small island, and that itself, might be viewed as a victory. But Chan had bigger plans for Singapore. The explosions were but a distraction, a taste of what was yet to come.

His phone received a notification, a message from a Colonel in the Singapore Air Force.

“It’s done.”

Chan signalled to his driver and his car pulled out onto the small street. He scrolled to a pre-set contact group and then sent a broadcasted message to everyone in that folder. Once the message had been sent, he removed the battery from the phone, broke the SIM card in two, and threw one half out from the car window.

It was all about moves and counter-moves. Chan looked at the other twelve phones he had prepared. Soon, he would be receiving messages of confirmation on those as well.


*

Jim, Soh & guys

A large bear-like figure alighted from the boat with a straw hat on his head, a backpack slung over his shoulder, and a grin on his face. Soh and Mohan, made their way to the closest stall that sold sugarcane juice. Jim, Rizwan, Derrick and Nelson alighted last, pausing to take some pictures by the jetty. The rest of the passengers just went about their business and faded into the bustle of the ferry terminal. Jim might not know who they are, but he knew everyone there had a job to do.

As Jim and his friends made their way out of the terminal, he saw a vehicle swerving out from a gravelled patch and driving off into the distance. He didn’t think much about it, being distracted by a couple of motorcycles that roared by. One of which, ridden by a boy who seemed too young to even be on a bicycle.

A taxi driver approached them, touting for fares. Jim told him they wanted to head to a nearby dirt bike riding operator. The driver quoted them RM30, but Nelson said it was too expensive.

Nelson: That place is only like 10 minutes away!

They bargained like true Singaporeans aboard, before deciding to put the cab ride on hold and first grabbing some food at a nearby shop. The moment they entered, they noticed an unusually large presence of foreigners, many of whom were giving the group suspicious looks.

The lot sat down and ordered their food and drinks. While waiting, they check out the map of the area on their phone and talking about what to do later. Rizwan was the only one who did not take part in the conversation. He was busy compiling the photos he has taken into a folder and sending it out to a specific email address.

Nelson: I want to try the go-karts. Looks good man.

Derrick: I think Rizwan is going for the dirt bike, right? Haha… I can see it on your face

Rizwan looked up from his phone and laughed. The group chatted casually like friends who finally got to spend some time together aboard. When the food was brought to their table, Jim was surprised when he realised that the server was Burmese.

Cetan: You from Singapore?

Jim: Yes…

Cetan: Singapore nice.

Jim: Have you been there before?

Cetan: No, but soon. Soon I go visit Singapore.

Jim: I’m sure you will like it. There are many attractions to visit.

Cetan gave a grin, as if he knew more than he was letting on. He told them to enjoy their meal, and then left their table. As he walked away, Jim noticed that beneath the sarong he wore, was a pair of military boots.

As Jim tucked into his plate of fiery-red noodles, he wondered to himself, how many kampung mamaks sold mee goreng in army boots these days? In the midst of his musing, he saw Mohan and Soh on their rented scooters, speeding past the shop he was in. He shook his head and went back to his noodles.

[ilikeoldchangke]

Jim and his friends took a slow stroll around the shop, taking their time to enjoy the sea breeze and snapping more photos of the scenery. They returned to the driver who earlier touted for their business, then engaged in a bout of harsh bargaining. They hopped into his taxi after paying him RM25 to make the five-minute journey into town.

Jim: How much Ringgit did you guys change? I only changed 450.

Rizwan: So little, you crazy ar? I changed 500.

Derrick: Oh, I only changed 420… hahaha...

Nelson: I brought 520.

Jim: Okay la, should be enough if we pool all together. Only two-day trip… haha.

Unknown to the cab driver, the numbers were merely a code the guys used to share the information they had gathered.

Removing the zero at the back, it was the number of military-aged foreigners they counted. Jim counted 45, Rizwan clocked 50, while Derrick and Nelson both got 42. They expected the difference, and would give an averaged count in their report. Rizwan sent the numbers out and then started chatting with the cab driver in Malay.

The driver mentioned that the groups of foreigners have started appearing over the past few months, and their numbers were growing. There were more of them staying at a village a few minutes away. The conversation started going towards them taking up jobs and putting the locals out of work; the usual complaints everyone had towards a foreign workforce.

When they drove past a large swarth of forest, Jim felt the muscles in his body tensing up. He was sure his friends felt it too. Because the last time they were in Pengerang, Malaysia, they were not there as tourists.

*

Prime Minister’s Office

The video footage of the attack had been playing on repeat for the fourth time when Daryl walked over and snapped the laptop shut. A heavy pair of bloodshot eyes shifted up from the closed laptop and focused on the source of the interruption. Welly Chin looked silently at his aide and waited for him to speak. Daryl reported that they had the remaining two culprits in custody. They had also caught two more whom they suspected were minders sent to oversee the trio.

Daryl: Sir, people want answers, they want someone to blame. Give the culprits to them, parade them on national television, and make their faces known to all!

Welly took a deep breath and reached for his teacup, muttering a curse when he realised it was empty. Daryl took note the empty cup, immediately saying that he would refill it after he received Welly’s next set of instructions.

Daryl: I can have a press conference set up within two hours. I’ll coordinate with the security forces to transport the culprits over to…

Welly: No…

Welly’s heart weighed heavily in his chest as he leaned back on his chair.

Welly: As far as the world is concerned, we don’t have the culprits…

Daryl: What? Why?

Welly: Daryl, in this office, who knows about the capture?

Welly posed the question to his ever-efficient assistant with a photographic memory. Welly was just a member of parliament for a small constituency when Daryl had joined his team as a volunteer. Daryl has worked his way up from volunteering at meet-the-people sessions to where he was today - one of the Prime Minister’s closest and most trusted aides.

Daryl: As of this moment, the two of us, and the Minister of Defence.

Welly: We’ll get everything out of them first. Tell the team I want to know everything about them, where they come from, their backgrounds, their training; I want to know what pillow they sleep on and what brand of soap they use. Get everything.

Daryl: What are we going to do about the public calling out an incompetent government and demanding that you step down?

Welly: That is just noise. Ignore it. Information first. The rest can wait. I’ll address the nation regarding the attack at 10 p.m. tonight. In the meantime, keep me updated on the situation with the information gathering.

Daryl: Yes sir, I’ll check in with Jackson. Hopefully he has kept those bastards alive.

Welly: I gave specific orders for them to be kept alive.

Daryl: I’m sure you know that Jackson interprets orders rather differently.
Alive to him can mean in a vegetative state and breathing through a tube.

Welly ignored the comment, Jackson could be rash, but he was smart enough to know how valuable those prisoners were.

Welly: Any updates from the crew who replaced the original passengers?

Daryl: Soh and his men are working the ground to try and get information about the attack. They will spread out and check out the town. Jim found a restaurant with a larger than usual crowd of Burmese and Thai men. He sent some photos back and our analysts are working on the information.

Welly: Do what we can for the victims and their families.

Daryl: Yes sir.

Daryl pulled open the door and hurried out of the room. The door barely hovered shut, when another figure burst into the room. Dan, the Minister of Defence, walked into the office with a grim look on his face. Behind him was a long line of ministers, aides and staff waiting to speak to the Prime Minister.
Welly braced himself for the bad news. From Dan’s expression and the tightly gripped, ‘Top Secret’, marked folder that was on the brink of getting crushed, there was no way Dan was walking in to give him any good news.


*

Paya Lebar Air Base

Colonel Tham, Squadron Leader of the 149th Squadron, completed the routine inspection of his F-15 jet. He gave the technician a thumbs-up, and then walked towards another hanger where his squad’s jet were. His walk was punctuated by an almost constant buzzing from his mobile phone – a barrage of messages from his estranged wife, asking when he was going to sign the divorce papers.

Not only was she taking the kids, she was also demanding the bulk of their matrimonial assets. Ever since his affair came to light, his life had become a literal hell. Having to keep his situation a secret, wreaked havoc on his mental health. On one hand, he needed to perform his duties to the nation, and on the other, he needed to deal with his wife. He was tired, his bank account was drained, his credit cards bills were way overdue, and he was absolutely terrified by the thought of not being able to see his children again. While the sex with the mistress was good, her spendthrift habit was a bitch to deal with.

Tham thought about the message sent to his phone from Chan, a former acquaintance. He knew he shouldn’t do it, but Chan offered a solution - a means to an end for all his meaningless struggles in life.

Chaos.

Chan wanted Chaos. Chaos would be the answer to all his problems. Chaos at home would make petty things like a divorce fade away into insignificance. The money Chan was offering, along with a ticket to Thailand, promised him a fresh start. The offer was made even more tempting when Chan promised to get his kids from his ex-wife. No one would be harmed if he just followed Chan’s instructions.

Tham removed the last card-sized device from his pocket and placed it inside the maintenance access hatch of his colleague’s jet. Over the past couple of days, he had already placed similar devices in all the F-15 jets. He just had to place the last one in the next hanger.

Tham casually strolled into the hanger and waved to the technician running a diagnostic scan on a jet’s computer.

Tham: Hey, how are you, Sandra?

Sandra: All good sir. What are you doing here?

Tham: Just a stroll around camp to clock my step count for the day. Haha…

Sandra: I see. Twenty thousand steps, eh?

Tham: Stops me from getting fat from all the waiting we do around here… haha…

Tham gestured for Sandra to get back to her work. When her back was turned, he placed the last device into the jet she was working on.

He was told that all the device did was to give off an electronic interference signal. It would stop the jet from functioning properly, and thereby preventing take-off.

It was an easy fix for the technicians, the moment they found the device and removed it, everything would go back to normal. Tham was told that it was a bid to thwart the next contract the Air Force was considering, between two rival companies who would be supplying the next generation of fighters. Defence contractors would go to great lengths in order to get what they wanted, and a simple sabotage of equipment could mean being awarded a contract worth billions.


By the time they finished investigating who was responsible, Tham, his kids, and his mistress, would be safely tucked away at a villa in Thailand, with more money than they could spend for the rest of their lives.

Five million USD and a yearly pay-out of SGD200,000, as long as Tham remained out of sight. That was more than enough to set one up comfortably to live out the rest of his life with his kids and mistress in a quiet villa in Thailand. And in return, the company that sponsored his sabotage would get a lucrative contract with the Air Force.

Tham returned to his locker, and after making sure no one was near him, he unzipped the bag and gazed at the bundles of cash given to him as a deposit - all SGD650,000 of it. The sight of the money gave him the reassurance that everything would be resolved in a few hours.

He sent a text to Chan, informing him that it was done.

“It’s done.”

Tham was about to shut the locker door when he heard a buzzing coming from the bag of money. He rifled through the bag and came upon a blinking red light that was coming from something sewn into the side of the bag itself. Before he could come to terms with what that was, the card-sized explosive blew up in his locker, ripping Tham’s face into shreds. That was followed by similar explosions that rocked every F-15 in the air base.

Fires raged to the wailing of alarms, muted only by the explosions that shook every hanger, as billions of dollars’ worth of jets turned into scrap metal. The smoke rose high up into Singapore skies, an acrid beacon for the sirens of fire engines and emergency vehicles in the vicinity.


*


Sandra crawled up from under her desk, shaken and disorientated from the explosion. She could see the fire and the flashing lights from the alarms, but apart from the annoying ringing in her ears, the hanger was silent. Strangely silent. She felt fine, but she saw that her leg was bleeding, and she reached out to touch the wound. Her hand felt numb and slow to respond. Sandra stared at her missing left hand for two seconds, before another explosion from the leaking jet fuel vapourised her where she stood.

The hanger doors collapsed from their frames just a moment before the roof came crashing down. Thick plumes of smoke rose from the air base as the pyre of jets burned.

*

The commander of the air base stared out from his office window in disbelief. Every one of their jets in the hangers were burning. Another explosion from a hanger close to his office shattered the glass windows and the shockwave sent him hurling backwards onto his desk. Crawling back up with a bloodied forehead, he immediately reached for the phone and hit the speed dial direct to the Minister of Defence’s office.

The line connected within three rings, but he could not find the right words to explain the situation to the minister’s secretary. The last time he spoke with the minister on the phone, it was about the contract and decision on the next generation of fighter jets the country was thinking about acquiring.

How would you explain that you have just lost an entire air base filled with jets?

*

Prime Minister’s Office

Welly buried his face in his hands. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. Dan, the Minister of Defence, had just given Welly the grim news that they lost two squadrons of their jets from an internal sabotage. The rest of their aircraft were grounded, pending a thorough inspection, with the exception of two that happened to be in the air.

The airfield, while undamaged, needed to be cleared of the still falling debris from the carnage.

Dan: There’s no telling what other breeches have occurred. Owen has a lot of friends spread out throughout our armed forces who believe in his cause.

Welly: Owen is dead.

Dan: There are a lot of unhappy people in the country, Welly.

Welly: There are unhappy people everywhere in the world. We have a lot to be thankful for in this country. No natural disasters, no volcanos, no tsunamis… What the fuck is wrong with people nowadays?

Dan: I recommend implementing a curfew and placing the country in a lockdown.

Welly: That will cripple the economy. You saw what Covid did when we shut down the country for two months.

Dan was about to speak when his phone buzzed. He was notified that two other groups of men who were sent to sabotage their military camps and assets had been caught, thanks to the information extracted from Zin and Phyo.

Dan: Chan kept the information compartmentalised. Ah Fu and Sahar only knew about the attack they were sent to do. We have a better yield of intel from the minders we caught on the boat.

Welly: The sabotage was done by one of ours. There is no way that anyone can just stroll into our camps.

Dan read the message and told Welly that preliminary investigations indicated that the men were cultivated over the years by Chan. They were assets that he converted over time, with money, persuasive words, and just cause.

Dan: We lost two Leopard tanks and the others are pending a thorough check to be sure they are good for operation.

Welly: And how long will that take?

Dan: I’m waiting for an answer to that as well. And since we are not taking their word for what they did to the vehicles, it’s practically like taking almost everything apart.

Welly: So, you are telling me that we only have two air-worthy planes, and what? No armoured vehicles?

Dan: Yes. Unless we are willing to ignore all protocols and send men into fighting vehicles that we don’t know if they are fit for operations.

Welly: Our ships?

Dan: Half the fleet are on exercise and piracy duties in the Straits of Malacca, the rest are operational as of now. But given the circumstances, there’s no telling if Chan has any of them on his side.

A deathly silence hung in the office as Welly stared at the map of Singapore on the wall. Welly’s thoughts were interrupted when someone burst into the Prime Minister’s Office.

Daryl: It’s happening across the causeway as well.

Welly: What do you mean?

Daryl: Our assets in the Malaysian Armed Forces shared information that they have been hit too.

Welly: How bad? Are their bases hit?

Daryl: It’s bad. They lost the entire No. 12 squadron along with their pilots in Kelantan.

Welly: Pilots too? Razak must be fucking pissed. That’s billions gone up in smoke.

Daryl: It’s not gone up in smoke, sir.
h up into the sky.

[ilikeoldchangke]

Welly: What do you mean? I thought you said they lost a squadron as well?

Daryl bit his lip, turning to the Minister of Defence with a grave look, and then gave it straight to the Prime Minister.

Daryl: What I meant to say was, Chan has an entire squadron of SU-30s and their pilots at his disposal. Somehow, he bought them all.

Dan looked at Daryl, and then back at Welly.

Dan: I’m initiating an open mobilisation now… We’ll need time to equip everyone.

Dan stormed out of the office and broke into a run.

Daryl: What are your instructions sir?

Daryl was ready to sprint out the door to carry out Welly’s word, but Welly only had a simple request.

Welly: Get me Malaysia’s Prime Minister on the phone.

*

Perdana Putra, Putrajaya

Razak, the Prime Minister of Malaysia, put the report down on his desk. The news showed the attack in Singapore. He switched channels, only to see footage from his own country showing people rushing to supermarkets in order to stock up on groceries.

Several of their military camps were hit, and large portions of their weapons inventory had gone missing. He ignored the ringing phone on the table. It was the King demanding action, and the other Sultans wanting to know what was going on. His secretary opened the door, offering him a glimpse into the chaos that was going on outside his private office. A temporary operations room had been set up outside as they tried to piece together what was happening.

Razak knew who was responsible for this. His government had been trying to contain this threat for several years now. However, Chan remained elusive, crossing borders under the guard of former members of the Myanmar Special Forces. Malaysia’s National Special Operations Forces (NSOF) had conducted multiple missions along the borders against Chan. They had hit many camps and even successfully captured one of Chan’s women, but the man himself was always one step ahead.

Khajeer, the PM’s secretary, shut the door and handed a mobile phone to Razak. Razak saw that a call was already connected and on hold.

Khajeer: It’s the Prime Minister of Singapore.

Razak drummed his fingers on the table, considering whether or not to take Welly’s call. They were classmates in university, and Razak had always regarded Welly a rival. Back in their younger days, they competed in everything from grades, to sports, and even women. They never truly liked each other, and over the years, the competition had been anything but cordial and friendly. Perhaps something in them knew that one day, they would be competing as neighbours along one of the busiest shipping routes in the world.

Razak hated Welly’s decisiveness, while Welly hated the sheer amount of resources Razak had at his disposal. He thought of Welly as a rash peasant, because unlike himself, Welly was not of noble lineage and a descendant from several generation of Malay chiefs with close connections to the royal family.
Razak answered the call coldly, not masking the fact that he was not going to enjoy the conversation.

Razak: I hope this is not about our water agreement.

Welly did not care for the feeble jibe. He went straight to the point.

Welly: You lost an entire squadron of jets along with their pilots.

Razak knew that the news would spread, but he did not expect it to spread this fast, especially not across the border to Singapore. He could not resist a riposte, sending another jibe straight to Welly’s face, letting him know that he was not the only one with information.

Razak: You have two squadrons of scrap metal burning into slag. I suggest you mind your own business.

Welly sighed and tried to keep his composure.

Welly: Razak, are we going to talk in this manner and pretend that everything is fine?

Razak: What do you want?

Razak looked at Khajeer, who had scribbled a note stating that the Minister of Defence along with their Chief of Defence Forces was outside the door and were seeking an audience urgently.

Welly: Razak, I’m just going to lay the cards out on the table. I’m not interested in playing word games or childish politicking. We know you have been losing military equipment, we know Chan is amassing a force across the borders. He has the numbers, and he’s going to make his move.

Razak: And what? You’re worried we cannot stop him? Is that what you are trying to say? That this will spill into your backyard?

Welly: Razak! This is already in both our backyards!

Razak: I have faith in our armed forces to contain any threat. You should…

Welly quickly regained his composure.

Welly: Razak, you know as well as I do that both our forces are compromised from within. If not, there is no way they could have pulled this off. So, get the fuck off your high horse and don’t pretend that everything is fine.

As much as Razak hated to admit it, Welly was right.

Khajeer scribbled another note, telling him that several Sultans were making plans to fly out of the country to Singapore. From there, they would transit to another country for the time being. The King was demanding that Razak head to the palace immediately, and Kahjeer reminded Razak that the Minister of Defence was now joined by the Chief of Air Force as well.

Welly: Razak, now’s not the time to be competing. We’re neighbours connected at the waist. I just want to say, if you burn, we’re going to be burned along with you. And if there’s anything we can do to help each other, Singapore will be willing to do what she can.

Razak: I appreciate the offer. But we will be fine on our own. There is indeed a small incident at our end, but I assure you, it will be sorted out soon enough.

Welly closed his eyes and shook his head, unable to believe the size of Razak’s ego.

Welly: Razak, I’m saying this as your former classmate. We know it’s bad, and I want to let you know we are initialising an open mobilization in a few hours. I’ll leave it to your military advisers to convince you how bad the situation is.

Razak: Welly, you just worry about yourself. Everything is under control at our end.

Razak abruptly hung up the phone.

Welly dropped the phone on his table and blew out a sharp breath of air. He took a moment’s pause before he began cursing at the stubborn mule he just spoke to.

The moment Kahjeer opened the door and let the Minister of Defence and military chiefs in, all of them fought to speak at the same time, each rattling off their own situation at hand. They started squabbling amongst themselves, raising their voices and each demanding to be heard first.

Razak: Will all of you just shut up! One at a time please!

Razak slammed a palm down on his desk and loosed a sigh of exasperation. But before anyone could speak, someone else barged through the door. The Crown Prince of Johor and his security team pushed and jostled against Razak’s staff as they made way for their Sultan to enter.

Razak sighed again and stood up from his desk.

Razak: Shut the door and do not let anyone else through!

What followed was an intense discussion between Razak, his military chiefs, his defence minister, and a really upset Sultan - the only Sultan with his own private army in Malaysia.

An hour after Welly’s phone call, Razak sat back down on his chair and looked at the gathering of men in his office. The situation was worse than he thought it to be, and with each passing moment, more details were coming in to worsen the situation.

He gestured for the phone and Kahjeer immediately knew which number to dial.

Kahjeer: Daryl? Yes. I have the Prime Minister on the line. Yes, I’ll hold.

Moments later, the phone was handed over to Razak.

Razak: Welly…

Welly: Yes, Razak?

Everyone in the office held their breath, and the three seconds of awkward silence seemed to stretch on forever.

Razak: By our estimates, Chan is going to start pushing south within 72 hours. And I want to let you know, that Malaysia will be mobilising our troops as well. I will put my commanders in touch with yours.

Welly: Thank you Razak. I will ensure our joint ops room at Woodlands CIQ is up, and we will promptly share all information we have with your team.

Razak: We… ermm… also have some private jets that are pending air clearance to land at your end. Some of the royals… ermm… don’t exactly enjoy the noise and dust kicked up by this unforeseen situation.

Welly: I understand. I will have my guys sort it out immediately.

Razak stood up and walked to the corner window of his office. He just looked at the beautiful view of the lake, surrounded by its lush squares and gardens. The serenity lasted a whole three seconds, before a loud explosion rocked the city, sending a dark column of smoke high up into the sky.

Razak: Welly, I’m sending my family over as well… Including my granddaughter.

Welly: I will make sure they are well received and settled in.

Razak watched as a speeding car crashing through the gates and into a security barrier. It was surrounded by armed guards, and Putrajaya echoed with the sound of gunfire as his guards fired on the driver. However, the shots were soon drowned out when the driver detonated the explosives in the trunk.

Razak clutched on the phone in his hand as his men scrambled to pull him down to the ground. Over the phone, Welly heard the low boom from the explosion.


Welly: Are you okay Razak?

Razak: I am. I have to attend to some pressing matters now…

The line disconnected.

*

Welly put down the phone and turned to look at Daryl.

Welly: I need you to handle some air clearance for…

Daryl: Airspace is a little packed right now.

Welly: What? Why?

Daryl: The American and British embassies are evacuating all their staff. Many of them are flying our via private charter.

Welly took a second to process the information before he broke out in a chuckle.

Welly: Well, it not the first time we’re left on our own when the shit hits the fan.


...

[ilikeoldchangke]

Chapter 3 - Banquet with Welly Chin

Somewhere in Punggol Estate

Weibin lifted the couch and pushed the vacuum underneath the sofa. He immediately heard a sharp crack as a piece of plastic hit the inner tube of the vacuum.

Weibin: For GodÂ’s sake, PaulineÂ… can you pick up all your Legos?! They are all over the place.

Weibin stopped the device and emptied out several Lego bricks. He was on cleaning duty because his wife was down with the flu and had a slight temperature going on. His daughter was rejected by the childcare centre due to a cough, and he had no choice but to take urgent leave from work to care for his family.

He took a quick look at his laptop, pausing to reply an urgent email with the vacuum leaned against his waist. Pauline, his daughter, came and asked for a cup of water. Weibin handed the cup on the table to her without even looking. He heard the spilling of water on the floor and his daughterÂ’s voice telling him that the floor was wet. With one hand on the mouse, the other reached for a napkin and handed it over to the little girl, who promptly got down on her knees to wipe up the spilled liquid.

Weibin hit the ‘send’ button on his laptop while he reached for his phone to reply to yet another urgent message. Even as his fingers moved to compose his message, his freehand started vacuuming the floor again, giving a whole new meaning to the term multi-tasking.

Pauline, his four-year-old daughter was emulating her father too. While wiping up the mess with one hand, her other played with a doll of a Disney character, her eyes darting between her favourite cartoon showing on TV and her task on hand. It didnÂ’t matter that the sound of the vacuum was drowning out the jingle of the cartoon characters dancing on screen, Pauline began to sway along with a smile.

Pauline: Papa? My favourite cartoonÂ…

Weibin: Yes, dear, yesÂ…

Seeing that her father was busy, Pauline turned her attention back to the screen. While the lack of an audible soundtrack did not bother her as much, the sudden flashing of a series of text that appeared on the screen immediately put a frown on her face.

The flashing green text appeared first at the top of the screen in a single row, then another row appeared, and another. Within seconds, half the screen was filled with flashing green words accompanied by the picture of a soldier.

Pauline: PapaÂ…

Weibin frowned when he saw the email from his boss. He was being thrown a task that should have been done by a colleague who had gone on holiday. That prick had the gall to leave it undone, and now it looked like it was going to land in his lap.

Pauline: PapaÂ… something is wrong with the TVÂ…

Weibin: Dear, IÂ’m busyÂ… Not nowÂ…

As Weibin started typing away on his laptop, Pauline tried to change the channel. However, every single channel had the same flashing text.

Pauline: PapaÂ…

Weibin: PaulineÂ…NOT now!

Without realising it, Weibin had raised his voice. A wave of guilt immediately blanketed over him when his daughter started crying. Weibin stopped what he was doing and picked up his only child.

Weibin: SorryÂ… IÂ’m sorry babyÂ… Papa is tired from taking care of mummy. I still have urgent work to do. IÂ’m also thinking of what to get for your lunch, and what time is your next medicationÂ…

Pauline bawled and clung onto her father tightly while Weibin tried to calm her down. He felt horrible for raising his voice at his only child. Life in Singapore was comparable to living in a pressure cooker; there was simply so much to juggle on your plate just to keep up.

Weibin petted his daughter and gave her a kiss on her forehead. She was everything to him. Ever since he had become a father, he had been pushing himself harder in terms of work, just to make sure he could give the best of the world to Pauline.

Weibin: ShhhhhÂ… shhhh... itÂ’s okay. Papa is here. Okay? IÂ’m sorry for raising my voice at youÂ…

Weibin carried his daughter to the kitchen and asked if she would like some grapes. Pauline nodded and he stared washing the fruits with one hand while he held her with the other. After his daughter stared munching on the grapes and had calmed down a notch, Weibin asked her what was wrong with the TV.
Weibin: Has the show ended? You want to watch another on Netflix? But you have to promise to take a nap later, okay?

Pauline stuffed another grape into her mouth and shook her head.

Pauline: There are words on the TV. And a picture of a soldierÂ…

Weibin: What?

When Weibin looked up at the screen in the living room, he felt a chill creeping up his spine. He put his daughter down and walked closer to the 55-inch TV. Blinking twice, Weibin took a few seconds to digest what was flashing on the screen. As he came to terms with what was in front of his eyes, his phone started ringing and the notification on a group chat buzzed angrily away.

Pauline: PapaÂ… this word is same as your stickerÂ…

Pauline pointed to the two lines of text on a small green sticker that was plastered on the internet router. She smiled and felt proud that she could recognise the same word.

Weibin could not believe what he was seeing. He picked up his phone and saw that the group chat was going nuts. It was a chat group which was only active once a year during his in-camp training. Messages were flooding the group chat. He barely had time to read what was on his screen before it became replaced by newer messages.

Weibin: ImpossibleÂ…

As he muttered under his breath, he heard the rhythmic thumping of helicopters rotors. Weibin rushed to the kitchen and looked out from the window of his four room flat. He saw a Chinook escorted by two Apache helicopters flying past the neighbourhood. One of the Apache helicopters had smoke coming out of itÂ’s rotors and itÂ’s veering heavily to the right, the Chinook appears to be descending right in the middle of the neighbourhood as well.

Barely a minute later, two out of the three birds landed in the middle of a school field in Punggol, not to fulfil any mission, but because they were no longer air-worthy due to sabotage. The lone Apache continued itÂ’s flight towards itÂ’s intended destination.

Social media was blowing up, and all the news channels were reporting a full-scale mobilisation of both active and standby units. Weibin turned on an old radio in the kitchen, and there too, the DJs were talking about a mobilisation for both military troops and civil resources.

WeibinÂ’s phone rang. His eyes widened when he saw it was the commanding officer of his reservist unit.

Weibin: Hello? Sir, what is going on? Is this a drill? They are using the wrong codeword!

Commanding Officer: Captain, itÂ’s not a drill.

Weibin felt a lump forming in his throat. His thoughts flashed back to the terrorist attack at the community centre a few days ago.

Weibin: ItÂ’s real?

Commanding Officer: You have four hours to settle your affairs. Get your wife and kids over to your in-lawsÂ… IÂ’ll see you in the ops room.

Weibin’s mind was blank when he put down his phone. He was struggling to process the impending reality. He stood there in stunned silence as a thousand thoughts flew through his mind. Work emergencies faded away into insignificance as three words formed in his head, ‘We are fucked’.

Every Singaporean male who was in an active unit was given two codewords. One was used for the usual mobilisation drills throughout their service cycle. The other one was a codeword everyone hoped never to see in their lifetime.

Pauline: Papa, everything okay?

Weibin picked up his daughter and gave her a kiss.

Weibin: Yes. Everything will be okay.

He settled his daughter down in front of the TV. Going into the bedroom where his sick wife was resting, Weibin gently tapped her awake. Barely five minutes later, WeibinÂ’s wife was sobbing quietly and holding tightly onto her husband. Despite her illness, she pulled herself out of bed and started packing for herself and Pauline.

Enroute to her grandparentsÂ’ place, Pauline asked her dad for the fourth time, why he was wearing his military uniform.

Pauline: Papa. Why are you wearing your soldier uniform?

Weibin smiled at his daughter through the rearview mirror. He could not bring himself to speak as he pulled into the carpark where his in-laws were already waiting by the drop off point. Weibin unloaded a few suitcases, then he turned and embraced his wife. His daughter squeezed into the hug, and he held both of them together. His wife broke into tears, the bitter emotion spreading to Pauline, and she too started crying.

Such a sight would normally attract a lot of attention, perhaps even the cameras of a few nosey internet warriors, eager for content to feed their social media, but not that day. All around the island, the same bitter goodbyes were being shared by countless other families.

Pauline: When will you come back Papa?

Weibin wiped the tears from his daughterÂ’s cheek with his thumb.

Weibin: As soon as I canÂ…

Pauline: You promise?

Weibin: I promiseÂ…

Weibin continued waving as his in lawÂ’s vehicle disappeared around the bend. Turning away, he was confronted by the same sight happening all along the neighbourhood. Fathers, Husbands, Sons, all of them reassuring their family that everything will be ok as they said their goodbyes.


*


Jurong Rock Caverns

DemingÂ’s eyes widened when the lift door opened. In front of him lay a large underground cavern that had been converted into a banquet hall. Sixty tables, each set up for ten people, were lined up in ten rows that stretched out across the length of the vast cavern. The chamber was illuminated by strings of lights that hung supported by metal poles, the ends of the latter disappearing into the blackness above the man-made cave. The lights made it look like the tables were set under a starry night sky. Deming could hardly imagine that he was a hundred metres underground.

He walked past ventilation fans that lined up the sides of the banquet hall. The fans were as tall as he was and the temperature read a comfortable 22.5 degrees Celsius. As he approached the tables, he started seeing familiar faces and he waved to them as he made his way to a table in front of the stage.

Deming joined this unit only six months ago, but he already knew this was where he belonged. The camaraderie, the things they did, the absurd missions they were sent on, no one would ever believe what he and his friends had done for the country. Deming decided on a career in the army because he became the sole breadwinner for his family when his father passed on early. He was only sixteen and had just completed his ‘O’ Levels, so he took on the only option available to him at that time; an army sponsored diploma which came with a monthly allowance that was enough him to put his siblings through school, and to tide the family over while his frail old mother took care of the household.


The path he chose had been nothing short of incredible. From joining the Signal Corps, to being selected for the Ranger course, he trained overseas and had jumped out of airplanes. He collected numerous badges and honours in his years of service, only to have it all stripped away when he joined this particular unit. This unit had no name, no badge, and no insignia. They had no fancy flags and participated in no competitions.

In the eyes of the world, they simply did not exist, and yet they were one of the best equipped contingents in the country. Most of the men were former Special Forces, although the unit did take in men from all fields, regardless of race, language or religion - as long as you were proficient in what you did, they would come for you. There were no application forms to fill in and no interviews to go through. Every day of your life from the moment you stepped into the service was your resume. To his former colleagues, Deming appeared to have terminated his contract with the armed forces and chosen to continue the next part of his career in the private sector. They would never know what he did or what he had done together with his new found family.

Syed: Hey rookie...!

Deming took his seat and showed Syed the finger.

Deming: Fuck off SyedÂ… IÂ’m not the rookie anymoreÂ…

Syed laughed and he nudged Weisheng, who was seated to his right.

Syed: No more rookie, eh? Says the guy who nearly ran into the room before the grenade went offÂ…

Deming shook his head and laughed at the jibe Syed threw at him. Syed was the shit-talker in his platoon. He was straight with his words and did not mince them one bit. If he felt that there was something wrong, he would give it to you straight up. It might appear that Syed was picking on Deming because he was the new guy or he was trying to enforce his seniority.

However, that could not be further from the truth. Syed might appear to be shit-talking him down at the table, but in fact, he was the one who saved Deming from that grenade. It was DemingÂ’s first mission and he was too nervous. He had popped the explosive device into the room and then dashed in before it went off.

Syed ran in after him, grabbed him by the waist and pulled him to the ground just before the grenade went off. Thankfully, both of them only suffered minor injuries. Upon inspecting their body armour after the mission, Syed discovered a large chunk of shrapnel embedded into an armoured plate on his back. If Syed had not blocked that piece of metal, it might have well sliced through DemingÂ’s thigh.

Deming: Admit it Syed, you just love hugging meÂ… By the way, you only joined two months before meÂ…

The table roared with laughter and teasing as more middle fingers shot up when they teasing Syed about his butt-rubbing hug.

Weisheng: WhereÂ’s Colonel James?

Syed: No ideaÂ… He left camp at the same time as us. I saw him getting into his carÂ…

Vince and Yogi appeared from out of nowhere and they sat down at the table.

Weisheng: Vince, Yogi, you both served the longest with Colonel James.
ManÂ… is he always this cold and distant? He seems to have a lot on his mind all the time.

Vince took a few nuts from the appetiser tray and popped them into his mouth before he spoke.

Vince: The Colonel isnÂ’t the same after his wife diedÂ… He...

Yogi nudged Vince on his arm. It was a clear sign that Vince should not reveal too much to the men.

Yogi: Stop talking about the ColonelÂ… or IÂ’m going to bend you all over and start smacking your assesÂ…

The table again erupted in jeers and laughs as the men poked fun at their sergeant.

Syed: Eh Yogi, what is with you and ass-smacking, bro? I know youÂ’re the doc in our platoon, but your obsession with our ass is starting to get us worried.

That got the men laughing again. Yogi turned to Syed and threatened to chemically castrate him without him even realising it.

Yogi: Syed, I will draw blood for the next blood test from the vein in your penisÂ…

Syed: Oh fuck, now you are targeting my penisÂ…

Everyone roared with laughter when Yogi gestured for Syed to stand up and remove his pants. Syed pretended to squirm while he undid his buttons.

Vince: Alright, alright come on, you can piss anyone off but just donÂ’t piss off the only guy that is capable of saving your life out in the fieldÂ…

At that, there were chuckles and nods all around the table. Deming added that he had no intention of getting shot.

Deming: We are the best there is. Are we not...? We are the one that do the shootingÂ…

That got the table all riled up again and shouts from his platoonmates echoed across the table.

“Yeah…”

“You got that right!”

“Who’s your daddy? Huh?”

Syed stood up and flashed his large biceps while Weisheng turned around and started shaking his ass in front of everyone. It was a typical scene of career soldiers enjoying their downtime. As the merry men joked and laughed at their table, a man dressed in an impeccable suit walked towards them.

Doctor Kamal approached the table and politely asked that the men vacate their seats.

Kamal: Gentlemen, IÂ’m afraid these seats are reservedÂ…

Deming: Reserved? Yeah, I know... itÂ’s reserved for usÂ… The Prime Minister is throwing us a banquetÂ…

Kamal: Yes, he is, but these are not your seats.

Weisheng snorted and he eyeballed the well-dressed man from head to toe.

Weisheng: Why? Uncouth men like us donÂ’t deserve to sit at the front tables, is it?

Kamal: The tables up front are for our VIPs. I hope you understand.

Weisheng: We should be the VIPs. DoesnÂ’t the Prime Minister know how much we have gone through over the past year? All the shit we pulled and the things weÂ’ve doneÂ…

Syed: Aiyah, brother, forget it laÂ… Front seats are for important people, Members of Parliament, grass-fucking-root volunteers and all the cocksuckers that pander to politicians. You want to sit here ah? You want to carry the balls of politicians, is it?

The men laughed but Kamal kept his calm façade and gestured towards the seats at the back of the hall.

Kamal: As I said, the seats up front are for the VIPs. Please gentlemen, I assure you, the food and drinks we serve are the sameÂ…

Deming: Move lah, move lah. We are not high-class enough to sit up frontÂ… Seats up front for important people onlyÂ…

Weisheng: Ya, boyÂ… IÂ’m not important enough to rub off WellyÂ’s Prime Minister auraÂ…

Syed: For a moment, I wondered which part of Welly you were thinking of rubbingÂ…

That got the guys slapping the table in laughter. Vince got up and herded the ground back towards the rear.

Vince: Shut the fuck up and move on backÂ… Move!

The men grumbled as they vacated their seats.

Syed: What the fuck is this man? Welly Chin confirm fail his mathÂ…

Deming: What do you mean?

Syed pointed to the number of tables in the hall. Sixty tables meant six hundred guests, but their unit had only two hundred and fifty men. Throw in a couple of cock-sucking politicians here for the photo opportunity and sixty tables were still far too many.

Weisheng: Come on la. Use your brain can or not...? IsnÂ’t it obvious that this banquet is not for us even though it says it isÂ…? We are just gruntsÂ… Banquet like thisÂ… itÂ’s for showÂ… They invite us just to fill up the empty tables, then make it seem as if they are nice enough to organise this for us... hahaÂ…

The shift in seating might seem like a trivial matter, but it was enough to remind the men where they belonged in the pecking order.

Deming: So much for willing to die for the country, ehÂ…?

Syed: IÂ’m not dying for some shit banquetÂ… They better make sure my pay and my CPF contribution arrives on timeÂ… orÂ…

Boon: Or what?

BoonÂ’s low voice silenced the table and the men got onto their feet to acknowledge him.

“Sir…”

“Captain...”

“Hi Sir…”

“Evening Captain…”

Boon: Sit the fuck downÂ… the Colonel is hereÂ…

The mere mention of their chiefÂ’s arrival was enough to whip the men into line. The shit-talking, the banter, the complaints, everything stopped. The soldiers settled into their seats and all eyes glanced around looking for their chief.

James walked out from a side door. He folded a document and kept it in his coat pocket. Not all his men had seen him in a suit before. He was always dressed in his military garb. James looked at the dress watch given to him by Lynn, his deceased wife, before he walked towards his men who were seated at the back half of the hall.

[ilikeoldchangke]

All of them were on their feet and at attention. He gestured for them to take a seat as he walked over to the table where Boon was at. He took the seat beside Boon and then turned and spoke softly to the man who was his buddy since their army days.

Boon: Good news, I hope?

James: Ravinder and half the fleet are stuck in the Straits of Melaka… They need to wrap up their tour before coming back. The piracy issue there is bad and not to forget the mass orgy that is going on in the Andaman Sea…They may also miss their resupply dock in Malaysia if shit goes south.

Boon: That sucks… Is Welly here?

James: He’s on his way…

*


Welly Chin sat deep in thought at the backseat of his vehicle as he stared out the window. A man was walking diagonally towards the convoy, his approach cutting directly through the security detail set up around the leader of the country. The security personal appeared to be invisible to him as he walked past them with a swagger fit for a mob boss. Jackson puffed on his cigar while he approached the door of the armoured limousine. The car door opened and Welly Chin, the Prime Minister of Singapore stepped out.

Jackson: For a second, I thought you were expecting me to open the car door for you…

Welly Chin: Is that too much to ask from the best paid man in the civil service?

Jackson : I’m not in the civil service Sir, but I believe I pay the most taxes among citizens.

Welly Chin : Well I believe if we go through your books, those taxes might go up substantially.

Jackson : no need for that Sir, I’ll open your car door anytime.

Jackson laughed. He stepped up to the Prime Minister and offered him a cigar. Welly promptly declined.

Welly Chin: Jackson, is it done?

Jackson nodded.

Jackson: It was a logistical nightmare though. But nothing is impossible for La Bella Vita…

Welly Chin: Thank you… And the new Lion’s Den?

Jackson: Impregnable… It’s a fortress now…

Welly nodded and Jackson extended his hand towards the large lift that would take him down to the banquet venue.

Jackson: I shall go see to the arrival of the VIPs.

Welly Chin: Very well…

Welly stepped into the lift and descended down to the underground banquet hall. The moment the lift doors opened, the murmurs of conversation died away and he was greeted by an unearthly silence, a silence broken only by the humming of the ventilation fans. His gaze drifted across the gathered guests before settling upon James and his men who were seated at the back half of the hall. He acknowledged them with a nod and then walked out towards his table at the front.

Deming mumbled softly to Syed.

Deming: There’s one of your VIP right there… Remember to rub the right spot for your promotion…

Syed and Weisheng sniggered, but a glare by Boon was all it took to shut them up.

Welly took a seat up front alongside his advisers and security detail. He had cancelled every dinner engagement for the month, including those with his family. However, tonight, this was where he would dine. As much as he wished to meet every man and woman in the service before things went to shit, he knew it was near impossible. Still, he had tasked Jackson to make the arrangements. If he could not meet with every one of them in person, he still wanted to meet as many of them as possible, starting from this very first banquet.

Weisheng mumbled to his friends, repeating a familiar line that everyone who had served the nation would know of.

Weisheng: Here we go again, rush to wait… wait to rush… just waiting and more waiting…

A few minutes later, Kamal took the microphone on the stage and made an announcement. His voice was as calm as the captain of a flight announcing their arrival at the airport.

Kamal: Thank you everyone, for taking time off your busy schedule to attend this banquet. It gives me great pleasure to invite the VIPs who despite all the challenges, still decide to join us for tonight’s banquet. Please, come on in…

Weisheng could not resist sneaking in another sarcastic remark.

Weisheng: I bet that irritating grassroots leader who lost the last election will be…

Before Weisheng could finish speaking, he gasped and almost fell off his chair. A door had opened and a nurse was pushed in an old lady on a wheelchair complete with a catheter bag into the banquet hall. Weisheng felt as if his heart had dropped out of his chest as he stood up in disbelief from his seat. The old woman in the wheelchair was none other than his grandmother.

Weisheng: AH MA!

Weisheng ran forward to his grandmother who was bedridden in a nursing home for years. Tears filled the eyes of the buff warrior as he got down on his knees and took up the old wrinkled hands of the woman who had raised him after his parents passed away.

Weisheng: Ah Ma! Why are you here?

He alternated looks between the strongest woman he had ever known and the dedicated nurse taking care of her.

Weisheng’s grandma: The Prime Minister says he’s throwing a banquet for you… and I am the VIP…

Weisheng looked in amazement at his grandmother who smiled back at him and gently patted his hands. It had been years since she requested to stay at the nursing home. She did not want to be a burden on Weisheng. He still visited her every week whenever possible, but the time he had to spend with her was never enough for him.

Weisheng’s grandma: You must have done well in your work to deserve this… I’m so proud of you Ah Boy… I’m so proud of you…

Weisheng pressed his forehead against the pair of aged hands that made it possible for him to have what he had today. He took a deep breath, stood up, and told the nurse that he would take over the wheelchair. Hong, a large man with multiple tattoos and a gold chain round his neck directed Weisheng and his grandmother to their seats right up at the front of the stage.

As more VIPs filed into the banquet hall, Syed was the next to stand up in disbelief.

Syed: Ayah… Ibu… (Father… Mother…)

He ran up to them and then went down on his knees as he took their hands of his adoptive parents in his and kissed them in turn. Syed was an orphan. He had drifted from foster home to foster home until he finally met one household that was patient enough to take care of him. Syed knew he was a difficult child to bring up. He was involved in street gangs, drugs and petty crime. He only changed for the better after he was taken in by Siti and Rizwan. Siti and Rizwan had their own kids but they always treated Syed as their own. They helped him renewed his faith and pulled him back onto the right path. Still on his knees, Syed embraced his adoptive parents. They might not be related to him by blood, but to him, the bond between them was stronger than one formed merely by genetics. He had not seen them for almost a whole year and he was overwhelmed by the unexpected reunion.

Siti: I’m so proud of you, Syed…

Syed tried to hold back his emotions, but even the strongest men could not resist such a plucking of their emotional heartstrings. It took a strong man to hold back his tears, but an ever stronger one to admit that sometimes, tears were a necessity to cleanse the soul.

Deming looked on as more and more of his friends got up from their seats and ran forward to embrace their loved ones. It was a magical scene as the line of elderly appeared through the doorway and walked into the embrace of their loved ones. Deming’s head snapped up and he stared hard in amazement before slowly rising to his feet when he saw a familiar figure standing at the back of the line.

Deming: No way… That is impossible…

His mother was retired and had left to stay with an old aunt in Malaysia. There was no way they would go all the way there just to bring her back to Singapore for a dinner. And yet there she was, carrying an old recyclable bag, a tiffin carrier and a bag of fruits she brought from the kampung. Deming pushed his chair back a little too hard and it toppled over. He ran towards his mother and hugged her.

Deming: Ma…! Why did you come all the way here?

Deming’s mother: A banquet in your honour… by the Prime Minister…? How can I possibly miss this...?

Deming held onto her tightly. It had been close to a year since he last saw her.

Deming’s mother: They sent a very big comfortable car. It’s like sitting in a plane you know...

Deming was not interested in hearing about his mother’s journey over, or her warning about not spilling the soup and home-cooked food she had brought all this way. He could not even be bothered about her comment of finishing her home-cooked food first so she could use the empty containers to pack some food back. Tears began rolling down his cheeks and he tightened his embrace.

Deming’s mother: Banquet always have leftovers you know!

Deming: Yes, I do… yes, I do…

Deming held on to his mother and she scolded him for his tight embrace.

Deming’s mother: You crazy ah! Why you cry? You’re a soldier... Soldiers don’t cry…

Deming just laughed as he took his mother’s arm and led her to the VIP seats. Everywhere he turned, there were tears of joy and grateful laughter. It was a reunion between families, but above all, it was a gesture to show gratitude to the men and women who served the nation.

*

Boon turned to James and asked if he was aware about this.

Boon: You knew Welly planned this?

James: No, I didn’t. I knew Jackson was up to something… but I didn’t know it was this…

Boon: Holy fuck...

Boon stood frozen in place when he saw his wife carrying their two-month-old newborn into the banquet hall. She had not come alone; walking in behind her was a confinement nanny.

James: Go on bro… don’t keep her waiting…

Boon walked briskly over to his wife. He enveloped both her and the baby girl she was carrying within the embrace of his massive arms.

Boon: Why didn’t you say anything?

Huiyi: It was supposed to be a surprise…

Boon kissed his wife before he picked up his daughter from her arms. The infant looked even smaller when he held her in his large hands. The sight of his daughter sound asleep within the cradle of his arm was one the best things that Boon had ever seen.

Huiyi: We got a confinement nanny for the next two months…

Boon: How? All of them are fully booked… It’s near impossible to get a stay-in nanny these days…

Huiyi: The man that came to give me the invite took care of it.

Huiyi looked over Boon’s shoulders at Jackson who was walking towards them.

Boon: Get that fucking cigar away from my daughter…

Huiyi smacked Boon’s arm and warned him about his language.

Huiyi: Thank you Jackson…

The confinement nanny offered to watch over the baby at the dedicated family room set up in a section of the banquet hall while Boon and his wife enjoyed their dinner.

Huiyi: Thank you Auntie Wen. I will come check on her in a while…

Boon turned to Jackson who was in the process of snuffing out his cigar.

Boon: So, which confinement agency does La Bella Vita own in Singapore…?
Jackson smiled. He gave a casual wave of his hand while he looked up into the air as if he were trying to calculate his shareholdings in such an essential service.

Jackson: Actually… I just remembered… I own every one of them… hahaha…

Boon booming laugh echoed across the cavern as Jackson directed him and Huiyi towards the VIP seats up front of the stage.

As more and more VIPs came in, more and more of the men and women who had initially taken up the seats at the back, filled up the VIP tables at the front. James sat alone at his table, drinking his whisky while he nodded at his men who come over to say ‘hi’. He stood up to greet their parents, he shook hand with their wives. These are they people he will be facing if anything happened to their husbands or sons when they serve with him. His own parents have passed on, the woman he loved was dead, and his unborn child too, died in the womb of his wife when she was killed. James wasn’t expecting anyone to join him for the banquet that evening. The seats soon filled up and the VIP arrivals stopped. And James was left sitting alone at the back of the hall.


*

Jackson approached Welly’s table to inform him that all the guests had arrived and it was time for him to give his speech.

Welly: Okay...

Welly got up and walked slowly to the stage. As he walked, he looked at the faces of the men and women gathered in front of him. He wanted to etch each and every one of their faces into his memory. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the piece of paper that contained a speech his secretary had prepared for his address.

The paper felt heavy in his hand. His heart had never felt unease like this before. You could sugar-coat it all you want, but there was no denying the fact that war was coming. And every decision he made was going to affect the lives of hundreds and thousands of people who called this small island we lived on, home. The men and women present in the hall were not ignorant of that fact either. The writing was already on the wall and they all knew what was coming; it was just that no one, especially the politicians, wanted to admit it yet. No one would benefit when mass panic and hysteria hit the country.

The LFO had swept up large territories in the south of Thailand and the north of Malaysia. Along with separatists in Thailand, and several divisions of military men caught up in the coup in Myanmar, they were sweeping their way down Southeast Asia. The LFO and their supporters had pillaged army camps along the way, and they now have a well-equipped army that is bent on conquest. Trade was already rerouted away from the Andaman Sea and ships avoided the Straits of Melaka. No one wanted to pass through a conflict zone if they could help it.

The chatter on the banquet floor tapered down into silence when Welly got on the stage. The humming from the ventilation fans could be heard over the crowd once more. A child started crying but was quickly pacified by his parents. An occasional cough from one of the elderlies clearing their throats punctuated the silence that greeted Welly when he stood in front of the podium. Some words were harder to say; especially when you knew the men and women you would be saying those words to might not be there in a few months’ time. They would be remembered, yes, but physically, they would have ceased to exist. They would be gone. Such was the cruel fact of war. Welly looked at the men and women seated together with their loved ones, he looked at each of them in their eyes, and then he spoke.

Welly: Mic test…

There was no need for a microphone test and Welly knew it. Despite the prepared speech, he simply did not know how to start. Perhaps in the subsequent banquets he might, but for the very first one, it was challenging for him to think of the right words and terms to use, not because he was a politician, he was also the prime minister of the country. The hall before him was filled not just by some of the best soldiers this country had produced - it was also filled with families. It was also filled with fathers, mothers, wives, husbands and loved ones.

James stood up abruptly and Welly turned to him. The dragging sound his chair made when it was pushed back across the floor caught the attention of his men. Many of them turned around to see their chief up on his feet with his glass raised. Boon stood up too and the rest started to follow. Men, women, commanders and soldiers, all got on their feet with their glasses raised up in the air towards Welly. Welly nodded at the men and he knew everyone understood. He knew everyone was aware of what was going on. He knew everyone understood the significance of that banquet. Welly kept his prepared speech and he raised up the wineglass in his right hand while his left hand pulled the microphone towards his lips.

Welly: I… have absolutely no doubt that every one of you here will discharge your duties… with utmost dedication and professionalism…

Welly’s voice echoed throughout the hollows of the cavern where the banquet was set.

Welly: Those who seek to impose their hostility on…

Before Welly could finish, he was cut off in mid-sentence by a shout from Deming.

Deming: Sir!

Welly paused and the audience turned their eyes to the rookie who dared to interrupt the speech of the Prime Minister. Vince was about to head over to pull Deming out of the limelight when his next words sparked a roar from the men and guests that shook the very foundations of the large carven. Childish as it might sound, but it’s exactly what the soldiers have to do. Men of power seeking to take what they can, should not expect anything less from the men and women dedicated enough to defend it.

Deming: We’ll kill them all!

Welly stood silently on the stage as he met the eyes of the cheering men and women. Even family members, those who were able, had gotten up on their feet with their glasses raised. He acknowledged Deming with a nod and a smile, not taking any offence at the brash words of a young man.

Welly: Remember… we do this… so the next generation doesn’t have to…

Welly drained his glass in a single gulp and the rest of the hall followed, emptying their glasses as they returned the toast from their Prime Minister. The order for food to be served was given and the banquet went into full swing as the air filled with happy chatter amongst families and loved ones.


*


James drained his glass of whisky when he saw Jackson walking towards him with a brand-new bottle. Jackson gestured to the empty glass and James held it out to be refilled from the bottle of 30-year-old Hibiki.

James: I hope that’s not from taxpayer’s money…

Jackson laughed and he asked if James was aware of how much tax he paid each year.

Jackson: I am… a taxpayer…By the way, Someone is looking for you…

[ilikeoldchangke]

James: Who…?

Jackson refilled James’s glass and then directed his attention to a little girl who was poking her head out from behind a door as she tried to search the floor for the Colonel. When she finally found him, she left the door and ran towards James. James put down his whisky glass and started walking towards the little girl. His walk soon turned into a run, and he dashed forward and picked Lynette up from the ground.

Lynette: Uncle James!

James: What are you doing here? Where are your parents?

Lynette: I’m here to have dinner with you!

A smile finally broke out on James’s face. He turned to look at Jackson who was walking away as he waves with the back of his hand.

James: Your parents just left you here? Alone? What were they thinking?

Lynette giggled as James put her down.

Lynette: They say I’ll be safe here. You’ll protect me, won’t you?

She chirped happily as she reached into the small backpack she carried and pulled out a card she drew for James. It was designed like a picture frame with a drawing of a family of three in the middle.

Lynette: My mummy told me your wife and baby has gone to a place very far away… I drew a picture for you so you won’t miss them…

James looked at the crayon scribbled drawing filled with small text bubbles and he smiled.

Lynette: Actually, Uncle James, I know they passed away. I’m sorry to hear that… Adults always like to lie to us kids, thinking that we don’t know anything. I think I’m quite matured for my age. hahaha

James was surprised by the hug Lynette gave him. He looked up towards the fairy lights that dotting the roof of the cave and he wondered if Lynn was seeing this right now.

Lynette: I know it happened a long time ago. I hope you won’t be sad anymore…

James chuckled and he gently ruffled Lynette’s hair.

James: Come… let’s eat... You must be hungry…

Lynette: I am!

*


From his table, Welly watched as James filled Lynette’s plate with food and then cut it into smaller pieces. He turned back to his table and the men seated around it. Their plates were full but none of them had touched their food. They were all waiting for him.

Welly: We can’t fight on an empty stomach, can we? Come on… let’s eat…

Everyone reached for their cutlery when Welly started digging into his noodles. He barely took two bites before his phone rang. He answered it and ended the call within seconds.

Welly: Alright guys, I need to step away for a moment. Enjoy the dinner…

Welly got up and accompanied by two of his personal security detail, he headed for the exit.


*


At a corner of the banquet hall where the shadows were the darkest, a man retreated deeper into the recesses of the surrounding corridors carved out from the bedrock. Jeff made a few turns before he saw Xia waiting for him by an elevator.

Xia: So… we don’t get a banquet? Not even catered lunchbox?

Jeff: I’m afraid not… Food at the Castle not good enough for you?

Xia: Hahaha...

The two of them walked past the elevator and towards another wing of the underground bunker. Xia handed Jeff the uniform for a waiter from his backpack and the both of them changed as they continued walking, concealing the bayonet in their backs before throwing a coat over. They entered a smaller hall, where in it a smaller banquet was taking place. The hall held three tables with 10 guests each. The men in there were laughing merrily and stuffing their mouths with food. Inside that hall, sat 30 businessmen and tycoons, all of them eager to meet Welly Chin. They came from a myriad of trades, everything from banking to shipping.

All of them had one thing in common.


*

Welly Chin approached the door and he asked his personal guard to excuse themselves despite their insistence that they stayed by his side.

Welly: I need to have a private word with some of these men…. Don’t worry, I’ll be okay…

The guards reluctantly allowed Welly to enter the hall alone while they stood waiting outside. The merry-making men cheered when Welly entered. Several of them whipped out their phones, eager to take photos and to be seen with the man of the hour, Prime Minister Welly Chin.

What they did not know was that Welly had singled them out specifically for that banquet. All of them were guilty of treason. They had been supplying information and funds to the LFO. Some of them even offered their properties to the terrorist group. And all of them thought that no one would ever find out. But Welly did. He had all the overwhelming evidence he needed to convict these men. However, these men did not deserve a lengthy trial in court to secure their convictions. Not when there was the risk of them escaping. The crimes they committed were enough a death sentence several times over.

While Welly entertained the special guests with photo opportunities and toasts, Jeff and his colleagues got ready for work. Body bags had been prepared in the room adjacent to the small banquet hall. After the preparation was done, Jeff and his colleagues adjusted their uniforms and picked up the serving trays of food and drinks. They entered the banquet hall, taking over the duties of the waiters and waitresses in the room. No one paid them any attention - service staff like them remained invisible at functions like these. No one bothered to ask why there was a server for every two guests present. They just assumed they were important enough to warrant extra attention.

Welly walked over to a table and he flashed a smile at Liu, a businessman who was guilty of trafficking kids out of the country for the sex trade. His operation was supplying funds to the LFO.

Liu had the cheek to ask Welly for a joint photo and he actually put his arm around the Prime Minister’s shoulders like they were buddies. Liu immediately sent the photo to his secretary with instructions to print the photo and display it in the company’s lobby. Everyone knew what a photo with the prime minister of the country could do for boosting a company’s image. He hit the send button on his phone, not knowing that all communication devices had been disabled the moment Welly Chin stepped into the hall.
Welly excused himself from the floor and took the podium like he did in the earlier banquet.

Welly: Thank you everyone for gracing this humble banquet. I apologise for the security as I’m sure you can see we are in a top-secret facility with access granted to only a select few.

This time round, the words came easily to Welly.

Welly: You are all here because you are important business leaders in the community… The country values your contribution… and in difficult times like these, we need your support more than ever…

Liu: We will always support you, Welly! Hahaha…

Liu stood up and raised his glass at the podium.

Welly: Well, I have a small request to make tonight…

Liu: Just say it! We’ll do what we can… hahaha...

Welly: I need all of you to help keep a secret…

Liu: What secret?

Several other businessmen in the room voiced out the same question.

Welly: A secret that involves prominent business owners supplying information and funds to terrorist organisations… a secret where billions of dollars are laundered through the country and ultimately used against us.

The moment those words left Welly’s lips, the room took on a grave-like silence. Everyone stared at Welly and there was not a hint of a smile left on the faces in the room. Only Welly remained smiling.

Welly: A secret like this should never leave this room…

Liu awkwardly interrupted Welly before he could elaborate on his last sentence.

Liu: I’m not sure we get what you are trying to say…

Welly: Liu, you do understand what I mean… I know you do…

Liu stared at Welly for a long moment before he threw his glass of wine at the Prime Minister. Welly did not attempt to avoid the incoming contents of the glass of red wine. The lights in the room went out the same time the wine splashed all over Welly’s suit, staining patches of his shirt a deep Burgundy.

Welly heard the commotion, he heard the screams, the panic, and the desperate croaking of slit throats as they lay gasping for air on the ground. He remained still at the podium while he took in the sound of trash being taken care of in his country.

He could have left the room but he was the one who gave the order for the men to be taken care of outside a courtroom. He wanted to be there to hear their screams, for he alone would bear the burden of his decision to act outside of the constitution he swore to uphold. The country could ill afford the resources to hold these men who were already proven guilty. Not when a war was coming.

When the sounds finally died off, he walked to the door and left the banquet hall as if nothing had happened. The team lead of his security detail glanced at the wine stain on Welly’s shirt and he asked if everything went okay. If they looked closer, they would notice some blood too on the dark of his coat.


Welly: I’m okay… it’s just a little stain from taking out the trash.


....

[bitixiy282]

A house where the chapters for the rest of my life would be written.