Chapter 6

Rio’s scheme rested on Hanif. How had this secretive man come to work for such a high-powered team? Many years back, Hanif and Joko, along with Joko’s twin brother, Gus, attended the same school. All three had outstanding academic abilities, but between the two look-alike brothers, Joko and Gus, there was one major difference.

Twin 1, Gus, stuttered, was shy, and had few friends. Even his brother ignored him. His spare time at school was spent sitting alone, in a far corner in the library, reading.

Twin 2, Joko, was a more active nerd, and enjoyed chess, Scrabble, and the like.

They were never close, Joko and Gus. The two boys rarely shared a lunch or a chat in the corridor. Instead, Joko made friends with the young Hanif. The two spent most lunchtimes in their empty classroom. Always, several students stood by watching as these two ‘stars’ played chess or card games like bridge — played so quickly that most onlookers found it hard to follow. Only the duo broke the silence, with a compliment, a giggle at the other’s cunning move, or a card slapped on the desk.

Joko was smart, but Hanif had a rare attribute that filled teachers with admiration. He excelled in his classes, like the reincarnation of Albert Einstein and Aristotle combined. If his class were given a book and asked to prepare an essay due in four weeks, Hanif would give the book back within two or three days, along with the essay. Always the best essay, A+. In mathematics, teachers sometimes asked him how he managed to find an answer so quickly, but he could never explain. Teachers often discussed Hanif over morning tea: where was he going, this brilliant young student?

At fifteen, Hanif left school. The teachers were baffled, the students stunned, and, more than anyone, Joko was lost for words. But Hanif left school early for a good reason — he was bored and had found a job that suited his skills: an assistant in a shop that sold computer games. In this role, he helped run gaming nights, set up online battlefields, and display fantasy models, all of which saw the shop become one of the most popular.

After only five years, he was considered one of Indonesia’s best games geeks. Typically, Hanif became bored and accepted a job as the design specialist for a geek clothing company.

Gus and Joko completed school and went their own ways. Maybe once a year at a family celebration, the brothers would have a chat, but otherwise there was basically no contact. Only once did Joko make the effort to see Gus, after he’d had a serious road accident. Gus survived but suffered many injuries, lost the ability to drive his taxi, and set up a cigarette stall.

Many years later, Joko would remember one particular day when he and Gus had organised a rare catch-up. They’d met at an equestrian park near the animal-welfare administration, where Joko was now working for Rio. Gus had called after hearing their mother was moving in with Joko’s family. As they stopped to watch the showjumping, Hanif appeared out of the blue. Joko hurried over, but, after an initial greeting, Hanif apologised: he was busy, about to present the design of the new competitors’ riding coat for the next international event (yes, his restless mind continued to push him towards new tests of skill). Gus didn’t say a word, but Joko suggested a meeting with Hanif later, and the two exchanged phone numbers.

They arranged a dinner that evening, just Joko and Hanif. As the night progressed, Joko realised something about his old classmate. Hanif was bored, yet again. And he missed the challenges of running computers, not just using them. Joko saw an opportunity to enhance his own standing while relieving his friend’s ennui. Hanif had a brilliant mind for numbers and algorithms, and the administration needed someone ‘different’ in the IT section to get a handle on their never-ending security issues.

They gave Hanif a trial. The gamble payed off: Hanif not only improved security, but also very quickly displayed a flair for complicated formulas and analysis. A win all round.

Soon, other opportunities arose — the ‘darker side’ of IT. Hanif was thrilled. Not at the prospect of joining Rio’s team, but at a challenge like no other he had ever encountered. In that hothouse criminal environment, it wasn’t long before he had helped develop the overall kidnapping scheme.

Joko never told Gus about this work with Hanif. When the old friends had reunited that fateful day, Joko was surprised when Hanif mentioned how he had barely recognised Gus.

‘He just kept looking away,’ Hanif said during their dinner. ‘Like he was in trouble?’

Joko simply nodded. Gus had always been like this, the worrier.

‘But he had a bad car accident, years ago. We didn’t hear about it until months later, and then he wouldn’t speak to me for months. He’s a weird one, our Gus. Lives alone, not far from us. I’ve his address, but he refuses visits, that’s about all I know.’

Joko’s day job was managing the information pertaining to animal-welfare oversight. Today, equestrian horses — a vast field. His crew handled membership audits and maintained the details of the enormous numbers of registered horses worldwide. It was widely acknowledged that computer security was paramount in the equestrian industry, and ‘everyone is responsible for security’. Joko’s crew was very skilled, often applauded and admired.

The crew’s search for potential victims to kidnap began where few people would guess. First, they visited travel agents’ websites. From there, with a password program written by Hanif, capable of processing twenty-five million passwords a minute, they were able to enter each company’s database — rarely did they hit a brick wall. Within minutes, the crew had the details of clients, bookings, times, destinations, and so on. If the travel agent worked very professionally and recorded all their clients’ details as required, the IT crew might have all they desired. From birthdates to driver’s licences, health records, and diligently typed-out warnings of medical requirements when overseas. From lists of medicines, dosages, and doctors’ names to the next of kin. Flight, accommodation, travel plans, and other key data were easy to retrieve, as were the details of the latest deposit or full payment from a traveller’s bank account. Phone numbers, mailing addresses, email addresses — need one go on?

With these details they’d gathered, the IT men searched the internet to fill in any gaps. Sometimes they found a home page or details from their victim’s work, but social media was the goldmine. Facebook was a treasure trove. Photographs, friends, day-to-day events — such an insight into a person’s life. Facebook offered a wealth of personal information about their potential victims. From school to sport, work, organisations joined, and any interests, there were no limits to the material posted on Facebook. There was no need even to venture onto the dark web for their targets, though the crew were at ease there, too.

Once the team had familiarised themselves with Joko’s handouts, he gave a full briefing. As always, he concisely detailed the current targets. PowerPoint slides appeared as if they were a recent life history of the target created by a friend or family member — like what one would see at a funeral. Next: facial photos, crowd shots showing the target’s body size, images taken from behind illustrating hair length, bald spots, and the shoulder slope. After perusing this presentation, any of them or their crews would be able to identify the victim from a distance, in a crowd, sitting, turning, or even asleep. The team applauded quietly after Joko finished. As always, he replied with, ‘You should thank Hanif.’

‘Too easy,’ said Rio. ‘I will be coming with you, Bagus. Your man needs a medico to keep an eye on him. The other victims will all be okay. You or anyone have questions?’

No response, just movement. As the meeting continued, all stood and formed three smaller groups, one at either end of the large table and one at the table in Rio’s office. The fine details were repeated, meeting places arranged, a list of minders or heavies to be hired drawn up. They finalised who would contact those in the outer circle, such as security people, cruise stewards, and train conductors. Outsiders were necessary, but never hired permanently or given any information that didn’t concern them directly; they never met more than two of the twelve, and often none. Secrecy was Rio’s highest priority.

In all, the meeting took over two hours.

When each man left, his briefcase locked, he ordered his armed chauffeur to drive him to his favourite expensive restaurant in the city for dinner.

Victim number 2

The following day, with all his immediate office tasks completed, Rio made a phone call to Bagus. Bagus confirmed his whereabouts and assured Rio he was only thirty minutes away. After speaking to Bagus, Rio hung up his phone and again read the folder of their victim, Mr Wally Flannagan, an Australian, from the southern state of Victoria, currently staying with a family contact in Jakarta. Twenty minutes later, about to leave, Rio told his secretary to inform his staff that he had business to attend to and would not be available for some time. He would confirm the precise time and date of his return soon. They were only to text him on his office mobile if it were urgent. He left the office, and entered the waiting chauffeur-driven taxi, paid for by the administration. He texted Bagus: On my way.

The ocean breeze flicked Bagus’s hair as he sipped his black coffee. He was sitting in the outside bar-lounge of a six-star lakeside hotel on the outskirts of South Jakarta. The view from the balcony, two storeys above ground level, was simply breathtaking. Bagus frequented the hotel regularly; two floors up from where he sat was his own lavish private room, one of his several ‘other’ places, used for a quiet drink, meeting with women, Rio, or politicians, and other shady get-togethers. His real-estate syndicate paid for the room, over four times what a traveller might pay for what they judged to be a top room.

At the lake’s edge, the hotel offered a manicured beach for the wealthy. It boasted clean sand, umbrellas, and waiters half-jogging with balanced trays carrying an assortment of fruit juices and cocktails. The alcohol restrictions were complicated in this Muslim country, but the many tourists, visitors, and subtle local demands ensured that laws meant — well, nothing much … The glorious vista was filled with distractions, and Bagus reached for his binoculars to examine the brief bikinis of sunbakers and swimmers below.

The palms swayed softly as Bagus turned away from this scene and glanced towards the foyer, looking for Rio. Bagus rarely just sat; he would lean forwards, his chin resting on his right thumb, his hand balled in a fist. Few women could walk past this man without a moment of hesitation, an instant of lost breath. Many in this hotel must have imagined themselves in Bagus’s arms, many convinced he was a film star.

He waved his hand and ordered two juices as Rio walked across the marble floor and sat in the luxurious leather armchair with his back facing the ocean. After some light banter, it was down to business.

‘Everything done,’ said Bagus. ‘I just spoke to the security guard and the station boss, all set. The manager will phone the station where Mr Flannagan is to meet his travel group, and apologise on his behalf, stating he is unable to attend. You all organised for tomorrow?’

Rio nodded his readiness, adding that he would bring the usual injections in a small medical bag, along with a painkilling patch. He confirmed the time, place, and other minor details.

‘I’m not a doctor, but why the patch?’ Bagus asked.

‘Good question. That man, Wally Flannagan, our target, has a bad lower back. Joko underlined this in his latest medical update. This back problem, it causes him a lot of pain and has bothered him for decades. His medical documents read like a book when it comes to his lower back. Sure, the injection will put him into a dream world, a heavy semiconscious trance, and it will take a lot to arouse him when he does nod off. However, as a precaution, I will add the morphine patch to subdue any pain he may experience if his back is accidently twisted or jolted. A safety measure. Better to be sure than sorry.’

‘Mr Flannagan will be most grateful,’ Bagus said with a smirk. ‘He would have to be one of the most interesting people we have ever kidnapped. An intelligent person with uncommon hobbies, and part of a worldwide forest-science group. But for all of this, he works as a cow farmer.’

They laughed and clinked their glasses together. A woman sauntered past, and Bagus made a crude comment to Rio.

After two drinks, Rio glanced at his watch. ‘Time to leave.’

Bagus stood, confirmed yet again that he would not only pick up this man Wally Flannagan tomorrow, but also transport the drugged man and Rio to the next checkpoint, a train station some distance away.

Both men stood and high-fived. All the boxes ticked — what the hell, they sat and had another drink. Finally, Rio left.

Bagus spent the next twenty minutes leaning on the balcony rail, sunglasses lodged on his forehead. Several women waved to him. He left a generous tip at the bar and walked out of the fancy hotel, his Italian-leather sports vest hanging by one finger over his shoulder. Once outside, standing at the top of the wide marble steps and pausing as if for a camera, he snapped his fingers at the concierge. The concierge opened the door to Bagus’s classy black Audi. Humming softly in tune with the stereo, Bagus reminded himself, ‘Tomorrow, pick up Wally Flannagan. For now, last call of duty, Azka Batak. What a surprise that man is.’