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.


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