out of an antique shop. A third man followed. He looked similar to Ashâpresumably an Afghan brought along to translate.
Alex quickly sat down in the corner. He glanced at the three men but tried not to show too much interest, as if he didnât want to be noticed himself.
Sukit snapped a few words at the translator, who then spoke to Ash. Ash replied in Dari, and a three-way conversation began. As it continued, Alex noticed Sukit examining him. The snakehead boss had tiny pupils that moved ceaselessly, traveling left and right across his eyes. At the same time, the cameraman had started his work. Alex sat still as several shots were taken of him. Then it was Ashâs turn. He had already explained to Alex what sort of papers would be prepared. Passports, possibly with visas for Indonesia. A police arrest form for Ash. A hospital report showing that he had been injured during questioning. Perhaps an old membership card for the Communist Party. All these things would help him get refugee status once he arrived in Australia.
The photographer finished, but the discussion went on. Alex became aware that something was wrong. Sukit nodded in his direction a couple of times. He seemed to be making some sort of demand. Ash was arguing. He looked unhappy. Alex heard his nameâAbdulâmentioned several times.
Then suddenly Anan Sukit walked over to him. He was sweating, and his skin smelled of garlic. Without warning, he reached down and dragged Alex to his feet. Ash stood up and shouted something. Alex couldnât understand a word that was being said, but he did what Ash had told him and stared with unfocused eyes as if he was a simpleton. Sukit slapped him, twice, on each side of his face. Alex cried out. It wasnât just the pain. It was the casual violence, the shock of what had just happened. Ash let loose a torrent of words. He seemed to be pleading. Sukit spoke one last time. Ash nodded. Whatever had been demanded, heâd agreed. The three men turned and left the room.
Alex waited until he was sure they had gone. His cheeks were stinging. âI take it that was Anan Sukit?â he muttered.
âThat was him.â
âWhat happened to his ears?â
âA gang fight. It happened five years ago. Maybe I should have mentioned it to you before. Someone cut them off.â
âHeâs lucky he doesnât need glasses.â Alex rubbed the side of his face with a grimy hand. âSo what was all that about?â he asked.
âI donât know. I donât understandâ¦â Ash was deep in thought. âTheyâre getting the papers for us. Theyâll be ready this evening.â
âThatâs good. But why did he hit me?â
âHe made a demand. I refused. So he got angryâand he took it out on you. Iâm sorry, Alex.â Ash ran a hand through his long dark hair. He looked shaken by what had just taken place. âI didnât want him to hurt you, but there was nothing I could do.â
âWhat did he want?â
Ash sighed. âSukit insisted that you collect the papers. Not me. He just wants you.â
âWhy?â
âHe didnât say. He just told me theyâd pick you up at Patpong at seven oâclock this evening. Youâve got to be there on your own. If youâre not there, we can forget it. The dealâs off.â
Ash fell silent. He had lost control of the situation, and he knew it. Alex wasnât sure how to respond. His first encounter with the snakehead had been short and unpleasant. The question wasâwhat did they want with him? Had they seen through his disguise? If he turned up at this placeâPatpongâthey could bundle him into a car and he might never be seen again.
âIf they wanted to kill you, they could have done it here and now,â Ash said. It was as if heâd read Alexâs thoughts. âThey could have killed both of us.â
âDo you think I should
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