The road was slow and meandering, and it took substantial hours of my time, but I liked it that way. Instead of going through the PLUS Highway to KL, I decided to first visit my sister in Kluang, after the JB assignment, and used the state roads. It had been years since I last saw her. Her house was one of those old colonial homes, with large Corinthian columns and a trimmed lawn.

As I shut off the car engine in her car porch, I turned my head and saw a white Wira slowing down in front of the gate of her house.

There was only the driver inside the car.

Instinctively, I slumped down and ducked to the passenger side. The car rear screen shattered into a million pieces. A few holes cracked up on the front windscreen. The window on the driver's door exploded, as if an invisible steel hammer had hit it. Where's my G4? Taking the laptop bag from the floor, I held the bag against the door. That stopped some of the bullets, though I had to kiss my laptop goodbye.

Stick and stones

I reached for my gun under the seat, but by the time I fastened the silencer, the attacker had already sped off. I got out of the car and ran out. Caught a glimpse: Penang plate numbers. I've got a Penang hitman after me. When the bullets pierced through the door, they lodged in the G4. Twelve thousand ringgit went up in smoke, literally. Hope the hard disk is salvageable.

"What happened to your car, Hazani?" My sister, Ini, called out from her house.

"Err, budak... threw stones off flyover bridges." No one would suspect anything else, not here in Malaysia, especially not Kak Ini, with her sheltered life and all.

"Come on in, I'll make some tea," she smiled. As I took off my shoes, I picked up pieces of lead wherever I could find them. I thought of spending the afternoon with Ini, but as I began to put things into perspective, I realized I had to do several things fast.

Get out of this house. The longer I stayed with Ini, the more in danger she and her family would be. I got to get rid of my car and get a new ride. And I had to track down that hitman and kill him. Before he killed me.

"Kak, where's the bag I asked you to keep a few years back?"

"Somewhere in the storeroom, let me get it for you." I needed a few more ammunition, more than the three clips I was carrying with me. And my old friend, Mr. Glock. In all my gunfights, Mr. Glock has never jammed up on me.

As Ini heaved the bag the on the dining table, she mused, "What do you keep in here? Your old college books?" I smiled. "Ha-ah, my old college books."

Who was it?

I took the bag to the washroom. The customized leather body belt clips holder looked jaded like a weary old woman and the leathery smell filled the room, but as it could hold ten clips of 12 rounds each, I had to wear the body belt until nobody was tracking me.

But who was tracking me and why?

I called Kristy up. "I've got some heat on me. Silenced heat," I said.

"That's terrible. You know what to do. Lure him out and eliminate him. I'll find out whose order this was." Then she chuckled, "Come to KL quick, I'll help you on this one."

Hated it when she's condescending like that. But I could detect the concern in her voice. "I need you now more than ever, but we can't do anything until this thing's done. We'll go to Sutra when it is all over." That resort has always been our own place. I even took my wife and kids there once.

"Kak, I have to make a move now, the tea was delicious. Keep this bag for me, again," I said to Kak Ini as she lifted the bag.

"It's heavy, Hazani. What do you keep in here?"

After saying goodbye to her, I drove the battered car somewhere near the Kluang old Government Rest House, found a secluded spot, doused the car with gasoline I extracted from the tank and set the car on fire.

Now how the hell was I going to get to Kluang? Hailed a cab, got into town, and bought an old Charade from a used car dealer. Eight thousand ringgit cash, the car salesman didn't ask many questions, he just handed me the car grant and grinned ear to ear. Sometimes it's nice to be a hitman, when you make someone else's day. Heh.

Back in KL

The drive to Kuala Lumpur via old trunk roads through Segamat and Bahau was necessary. The clunky Charade couldn't outrun a bicycle, and on highways, I would be exposed to snipers on flyover bridges. I should know, that was my own tactic. Left the Charade in one of the hotel underground parking lots in Bukit Bintang.

Met Kristy at her favorite hangout the Subway near the Lot 10 Monorail Station. She was eating her favorite seafood and crab sandwich. "I saved the stamps for you," she said. "Eight stamps and you get a free sandwich." What was it about this woman with money to burn but saved food stamps and coupons? Must be a Midwestern thing. Americans.

All seemed fine. She wasn't as fidgety as a cat in heat, like she always is when she sees me. Perhaps the Kluang incident affected her as much as it affected me. There is something, however, about tanned Caucasian skin that never fails to turn me on.

Affected or not, I was getting a room after she finished that sandwich.

"I don't know yet who's after you. But someone is putting up a reward to eliminate all KL professionals. The Northerners were very angry when Ah Man was killed. Angry, scared. They don't know who did it, but they are sure it wasn't one of them. They think it was a KL guy. But who pinpointed that you're an assassin, that's what we need to find out."

She looked up from her meal, and looked at me hard, before looking away again.

THE ARMY CAPITAINE is a family man, he swears. He has a physically abnormal cat. Contact him at armycapitaine@yahoo.com.