The night was dark. Ratri was driving the red Mercedes Tiger along a winding road lined with stately trees. There was no light apart from the car’s headlights. There were no signposts. Ratri caught something out of the corner of her eye. A figure running along the side of the road. She wasn’t sure who he was. Ratri stopped and backed up. But she couldn’t see him any more. She was alone on an endless, winding road.

For three days after Jamal’s departure, nightmares interrupted Ratri’s sleep. Recurrent dreams about a car and a mysterious figure that disappeared on the road.

—

Ratri had told Jamal not to contact her. Even so, she camped in the living room in case the phone rang. Secretly, she hoped he would let her know he was okay.

The fourth day after Jamal left, the phone rang at eleven at night. The call wasn’t for her. The phone was connected to the master bedroom, and Bambang had already picked it up.

‘Hello?’

‘Sir.’ The sound of panting. ‘They’re after me.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Help me.’

‘Stay there. I’ll come and get you. Where are you?’

Ten minutes later, Bambang emerged from his room, looking purposeful. He was dressed sharply. Another man trailed Bambang, smoothing his clothes. His secretary.

Ratri stood, tensed, at the end of the stairs.

‘I’m coming with you.’ Her voice was soft but determined.

Paying no heed to the secretary, Ratri hastened her step and followed her husband to the garage. They had no time to argue because, as soon as the car door opened, Ratri nimbly made her way into the passenger seat. Bambang turned to her. There was no anger in his eyes. Ratri felt that he was deliberately allowing her in.

Bambang pressed the automatic lock. They drove, not passing through the toll gate towards the city, but continuing along Jalan Baru in the other direction, to wherever it was that it stopped. Ratri had never been this way, but it wasn’t unfamiliar. Her nightmares. The same deserted road. Darkness. No lights. No signs.

Bambang parked the Mercedes Tiger on the side of the road without turning the motor off. Being with her husband in a confined space, not speaking to each other, Ratri felt jittery, but the sound of the engine and air-conditioning rescued her.

In the distance, someone emerged from the bushes, running towards the Mercedes Tiger. In Ratri’s dreams, the figure was blurry. Now she saw it was Jamal. He was wearing the same black trousers and jacket and looked exhausted.

Suddenly, two men appeared from behind the trees and chased after him. Jamal reached the vehicle and pounded on the door, shouting for Bambang. The men caught up to Jamal and grabbed him. One of them had a rope in his hand. He looped it around Jamal’s neck.

‘Open the door!’ Ratri screamed.