I felt harassed.

Seats in a 737 had never been comfortable. Since the two seats next to me were empty, I decided to lie down and catch some sleep. The stewardess provided a lumpy pillow, which didn't provide enough comfort.

The stewardess came by every so often, asking 'Is everything all right, sir?' I tried to fend her off by pretending to be asleep, but for whatever reason, she seemed genuinely concerned about me and even sat across the aisle, silently, for a few minutes, watching me. She finally got up after a while, and left.

Kristy was now in Malaysia. We resumed our relationship recently when her orange grove in Spain was devastated by frost earlier this year, and she decided to pack and move to Malaysia where she bought an old English home somewhere in the highlands. I had been pitching to her how good and proper a country Malaysia was, and she apparently bought my sale.

Two days earlier I was in Ipoh for an assignment. Flying into Ipoh has always been an unnerving experience. If I were a pilot - which would be a long shot because of my need for prescription glasses - I would be sweating every time I saw the hills and mountains that form the natural fortress that surrounded Ipoh City.

A kongsi was having a gathering of sorts, and my job was to put down the gang leader's right-hand man. I was hired by a rival group who was keen on telling this gang who actually was "in control over matters".

Stash lots

Kristy had been counseling me to face my fear of blood. She had been telling me to do my job, wherever possible, with a knife, so that my crippling fear of blood could be dissipated, so that I could function more effectively in my work. So she said. The assignment in Ipoh gave me the opportunity to do just that.

Carrying firearms in this country was a big risk. To facilitate this I had stashed several guns in several places where I would be called for a job. Bukit Ibam for a Kuantan job, Segamat for Johor, Shah Alam for Klang Valley, Sungei Petani for Kedah, you gotta be practical like that. This, however, would be my first time doing work in Ipoh, and as I did not know my way around yet, I did not have a place to hide my guns. So that would be another reason why I would be needing my knifing skills this time around.

My controller told me that Ah Man, the gang leader's right-hand man, liked to frequent a particular health centre in Ipoh. And on Sunday night, Ah Man would be there. I flew up to Ipoh that day, checked into Casuarina, called up a friend and had dinner with him and his wife. Shukhriz was an old friend, we were collegemates. We had a cordial time and Shukhriz's wife, Min, was jovial. A night's out like that was what she always look forward to, she said. They had two boys and she looked tired.

At a quarter to eleven, we decided to call it a night. I walked Shukhriz and his wife to their car, bid them good night. I went back to my room, fixed my stiletto knife to my right leg. I then drove to Big Sister, the health centre. It was now about half-past eleven. Waited for Ah Man to come down from the place, took him by surprise and cut him where it mattered.

Ah Man did not - could not, perhaps - put up much of a fight. At 5' 4", he was a stout man, who walked with a confident swagger, exactly like the gangster he was. I was slightly taller than him, so it was easy for me to sneak up on him from behind. I kicked his right leg from the rear, hit him with a light thrust to the back of his knees, grabbed his chin, twisted it slightly to the left, and in one swift move, ran the steel across his throat.

He flailed about and swung around, trying to hold onto my right shoulder but it was too late. He stuttered, gurgling as blood gushed, his jugular was now severed. This was not my first time looking into the eyes of a dying man. It's always the same and yet it's different each time around. After what felt like a long while he lost his grip, and fell to the floor. His blood splattered a little bit onto my right arm, and there was this eerie silence as I observed the blood droplets hitting the ground.

I squatted down and checked Ah Man's pulse on his right wrist - at one point in time in my life I was an active Red Crescent member and checking pulses were routine - his pulse was becoming a distant memory of a life. I stood up straight, looked at my watch and noted that the time of death was 12:19 AM.

I should mention that I am an avid fan of ER. All that time waiting and standing by in hotel rooms waiting for targets to be in the picture had to be filled with certain pastimes and watching TV fit in nicely. I could name you the top 10 reality shows at a snap of a finger.

Confirmed that this was Ah Man - he had a double-headed dragon tattoo on his left shoulder. I looked around, not a soul in sight. I looked up at the surrounding buildings - I surveyed all angles earnestly, and feeling confident that I was not spotted, I walked away casually from the scene to my rented car.

At the car, I removed the latex gloves I was wearing. Cleaned the stiletto with some tissues I brought from the hotel. I am not a smoker, but I carry with me a Zippo lighter, and I burnt the tissues and disinfected my stiletto with the flame.

My other life

I was more surprised with myself, though. I did not react the way I usually did when blood went splattering. I would have convulsed, lost control of myself, and tried to run away if at all I could. But tonight, I was in total control of my being. I did not flinch, and I could feel my heart beat going steady. Everything was exactly the way she said it would be. Kristy would be very happy to hear all these.

The next day I gave a lecture at Shukhriz's campus on an engineering topic. This has always been my modus operandi. I will make sure I have a reason - a legitimate reason - to be in a place where I carry out my work. I like to do several things in one go. Other than to fill in the time, it would make me look more like an innocent traveling businessman or consultant and not a professional hitman. And I am not, technically, a "professional" hitman. I have a day job - I am gainfully employed as an engineer.

Kristy was waiting for me at KLIA. It has been 10 years since I last saw her in person. She has not changed much, though the tropical sun made her slightly tanned. The orange grove has made her hands not very soft to the touch. Still her kiss was very passionate, a long, hard, lips-bleeding kind of kiss. We checked into Regent Hotel, and we made love that night like we have never made love to each other before.

Ten years was a long time and I really had to think back what kind of a lover Kristy was. Every move she made seemed new, but she was very at ease with my awkward self, maybe because she is older (by four years) and you know what they say about older women, patient and all. It felt good, it felt nice, and more importantly, it felt that way several times that night.

My flight back to my town was an early morning flight, eight o'clock. I left Kristy before dawn and hailed a cab in front of Sungei Wang Plaza.

I woke up when this stewardess gently tapped my leg. I opened my eyes to a face. Surayya, the stewardess, looked quite Northern Indian. The kind that is fair-skinned with a nose to bite and serious brackets. I am always a sucker for women.

I am now at home in Town B. My wife is preparing my favourite dish - Nasi Tomato. We make love passionately, but I cannot help but think about Kristy. I thought I have left that part of my life in America and I thought that Kristy has moved on. But apparently our fate has intertwined again and Kristy has made it clear that I have been her only lover since I met her on that fateful fall day in 1992.

ARMY CAPITAINE lives in East Malaysia. He considers himself a friendly person. The Assassin is a serialised thriller-action series. You may email him at armycapitaine@yahoo.com