SHORT STORY: The Contract

THE CONTRACT
by Jikin Favorit

Early in the afternoon I set a foot on this first-time town. It’s really the very first time for being there in my whole life. Disembarked from a tired long range train which still had hundreds of miles to go, I found myself stranded in a little station hall of Poerwokerto. That’s the name of the town as I knew it. For a moment, I did a little contemplation. Filled my tobacco stained lung with local air as much as I could only to find the air was surprisingly cool. It’s pretty much different compared to sticky hot humid Batavia. And from this air taken I could conclude the place was somehow nice.

The surroundings became more pleasantly quiet after the train departed taking its commotions along. Whistles and all. So I continued to those carriage drivers waiting patiently at the yard. Everyone of them with expectations to be the one. And of course I must hire one and the others immediately dismissed themselves without envy. It’s only me who was the arrival, I reckoned, as I noticed there’s nobody else. My trip today was on a normal week day. While most people were busy at work and seldom one considered to have a trip except for an important business like mine.

It’s not difficult to get the carriage man knew where to go. He did not speak any English but he knew the word ‘hotel Trio’. He gave me a nod and said ‘yes, okay mister.’ He obviously knew by a glance that I wasn’t a Dutch colonial like most of his white customers. Even now I dressed up like one. Whites and black tie. But I bet he did not know I was an American. True, this town was in the middle of nowhere. But still it’s populated with white people like other town in Java. They’re mostly Dutch plus some European countries origins like England, Belgium, and probably French too.

That day was pretty bright at ten to one. The one horse carriage strode along the main hardened stone road under the shades of mahogany trees that grew neatly on both sides. Paddy fields were everywhere even just before we reached the area that must be the plaza because there was a grassy square surrounded by some big banyan trees. Beyond that square sat row of noble looking buildings. So I reckoned those were the buildings where the authorities lived and governed the district. A regent was probably there now having a nap now. One thing that I wondered was there weren’t many people I saw along the way. This wasn’t a busy town at all.

We arrived at the hotel only about two minutes further the plaza. The driver looked shocked when he’d got his fifty cents. So I was looking for more changes in my pocket because I thought I hadn’t given him enough. But he abruptly shook his head, and gratefully bowed and quickly drove off. Left me alll alone before the hotel entrance.

“Garetti. John. John Garetti.” I told a man at the front office. He was an Eurasian and seemed wondering what my nationality was. I continued, “I telephoned yesterday and somebody, sorry I forgot his name, I thought, has booked my reservation.”

“Ah, yes. You are Mr. John. From Batavia. If not a mistake?” Now he remembered what his colleague had briefed.

“Sure.” Plus a nod as to make it heavier.

He turned to a wall cabinet with see through glass door. There, keys were hooked neatly on arrays of pricks. He opened the door and snatched one key from topmost row which probably meant the first class row. Soon he left the booth beckoning me to follow.

The VIP room, or whatever type it was, was nevertheless a room. It meant to accommodate a small young family. Parents with a kid that supposed to huddled up in one queen sized bed. There were nightstands by the bed. Both had shades. The couches. One round coffee table sat between the couches. There was also a big dark polished heavy armoire made from teak wood where the hotel man put my canvas suitcase on one of its shelves. In Netherland East India teak was so fancied when came to furnishing a house.

There was a large oil painting hanged on the wall directly infront of you when you’re laying correctly on the bed. That’s local landscape painting. Picturing a huge volcanic mountain foregrounded by paddy fields dotted with some farmers doing their harvest. Dutch loved paintings.

One I didn’t really like was the smell. I was sure this first class room was least occupied. That’s why, I thought, the air with all its odors was locked for some time. The man seemed to understand what suffered me. Soon he showed me where the switch for the electric ceiling fan was and put it on. I gave a smile and lift my hat to thank him. The smell soon be gone.

30 cents tip given to the man before he left joyfully. Since I was on my own now I took off my white jacket and stripped. With only singlet and troussers on I threw myself to the bed. I closed my eyst trying to take a nap with the help of small wind from the fan. In minutes I had gone to sleep.

The town seemed to be quiet all the time. No matter what time it was. It’s calm and peaceful when I walked down the the opposite way from my arriving direction. Because I found nothing more interesting I kept on walking. Not too far further down there’s another train station. Smaller than the one I was in the afternoon. I saw another hotel named Tram Hotel in front of that station. That must be a hotel owned by the train company. Marked by its serenities in wall colorpaint and other stuff to the train station building up front.

I started to see people. They were workers pedalling home because it had already been the time. When they came rolling passing me they looked to me. All of them, mostly wearing whites, gave me friendly nod as if I was their old time friend. I nodded back to them.

Walked further I came to vicinity of a sugar factory. An operating one. Knew it by the endless dark smoke blown out lazily from its funnels. The air odor was sweet.

I heard somebody calling. I turned my eyes to the direction of it and I saw a fat middle aged tanned moustached Dutch stood by two rattan tubes arranged in his front yard. Now he beckoned. I stopped walking and since there’s nobody else around, I pointed my own chest, “Pardon? Me?” He nodded heavily and beckoned me to comr to him. I went to his yard.

He spoke some Dutch words and I abruptly cut him telling I spoke no Dutch but English. “Ah!” He understood. He switched to an accented English, “Are you Australian?”

“No I am not. I am an American.”

He looked surprised, “Ah, really? How do you do?” He offered his hand to shake.

I shook his, “Very well, sir. How do you do?”

“Not too bad. Not too bad. Please have a sit.” He attended me to sit on the other tube while his hand discreetly jerked a tassel strung all the way to his house.

Not a minute a native madam came out. She might be his native wife and he gave her some instructions in a language which I strongly guessed was Javanese. In a second he came back to me again and offering his Eygptian cigars kept in a glass jar on the tea table between the tubes. Those were lean cigars actually and they interested me so I took one and lighted up. One drag of it had already given me a very best taste. That was a very fine lean cigar.

“Very good is it?” The Dutchman watched my leisure and asked.

“Yes it is very, very good. I am very much grateful for this.”

The native wife or “njai” was what they called in Batavia came out again now with a bottle of rum and glasses on a carved wooden tray. He took them quickly and poured down a very generous ransom to a glass before ushered it to me. And as quick as his manner I took a gulp. It went comfortably along with the cigar. It was a very fine spirit.

He proudly said, “We stilled this ourselves, Mister.”

I gave him a contemplated nod as a polite compliment. I then spent another twenty minutes with him before I resigned myself and walked back toward the hotel. The dusk had passed away and the street had had its dim lights already from the weak hooded bulbs up the poles. Almost no traffic now I saw only one horse dragged carriage rolled lazily home after doing its hard-work day.

At seven thirty my first appointment arrived on time. A Ford brought down these two well perfumed and pungently beautiful Eurasian whores from their base. A town five hours away from Poerwokerto named Soerakarta. I met them at the front office and immediately herded them in to the modest restaurant the hotel had.

“You are?” asked me to one when we’d already sit

“I am Erika. And she is Wanda.” She introduced their business names with proper mannerism. Madame Renatta must had taught them how to behave. How to behave infront of the client who paid 1200 F for one night service. Transport was another bill.

“Honestly, I want to know, who is the elder here?” I shifted my eyes between them.

“I am.Wanda three years younger than me.” Said Erika without hesitation. Erika herself was hardly twenty two I supposed.

“Okay. You, Erika, you’ll be by my side. And Wanda is going to be at my guest side.”

Erika said some words to Wanda who didn’t understand other language but Dutch. Finished with that, she got up and moved to a chair next to my left hand side.

We’d enjoyed tea and biscuits for about one hour when my main appointment arrived. I recognized it from the sound of a heavy sedan rolled the stony hotel yard. When they had pulled up all the way, I heard four car doors opened and banged. I would see my guest alone but he must take three bodyguards with him. One of them also the chauffeur.

In seconds he strolled in the restaurant. A well dressed European style pudgy Chinese with his straight hair slicked back by oil. He smiled broadly til his eyes looked like just two furry lines. “Aiyaa you must be John from Steelmore!” He greeted me. Adressed my christian name directly. Immediately put me some degrees under him.

“Yes I am, Mr. Tan. How do you do, Sir?” I had registered my position promptly gave the room to his pride.

“How do you do, John.” His eyes wandered wildly to the two whores around. I introduced them and offered Wanda to sit by his side. He was vastly happy with the sight of the nineteen years old Wanda. She really suited him.

The womanizing Chinese man seemed to forget everything else when we all sat together again. He couldn’t leave his eyes from Wanda for long. They came back staring her up and down after some moment of distractions I made.

This evening business was to persuade Tan Kim Beng to buy steel to a just established firm named Steelmore which I represented now. Kim Beng was a big steel trader in central part of Java. He normally got the supplies from two competing firms, Great Wall and Sun Lake. All of them in Batavia. Knowing he had a problem with Great Wall that made supply was stopped completely from it, newly born Steelmore telegrammed him looking for future business. He was very welcome with the telegram and replied he was at Steelmore convenience to have a meeting. He only suggested that the meeting would be very great if could be set in a town named Poerwokerto. Steelmore wouldn’t mine at all and so it was today, the meeting with Tan Kim Beng.

I was briefed that the Chinese man indulged himself with young women. So before everything else I looked for the best source of whores to fit the plan. First I was looking for them in Bandoeng. Hearsay it’s top quality down there. But in the last minute before I phoned the selected madame, somebody tipped me that there was a very discreet bordello in the town named Soerakarta. This bordello ran by a respectable pimp called Madame Renatta. Knownst to the palace of Governor General in Batavia. The tip changed my mind and I followed the lead went to Madame Renatta.

The tip gave satisfying outcome. The king of adultery took the bait without thinking. He quickly promised a purchase order valued 130000 F that would be telegrammed first thing he’s back in Semarang.

He never touched the food. The most expensive the restaurant could serve. Only his impatience that became more and more obvious. For this I decided to sum the meeting quickly and we all be dismissed. I took a small bottle from my bag and spilled out from it two tiny round black brown pellets on to my palm then put them into my mouth swallowing them. Kim Beng saw the thing I had done.

“What are they you just swallowed, John? Are you on medication?” Kim Beng asked.

I smiled shyly, “Oh no I am not, Sir. This what I’ve got from a famous herbalist in Bangkok. Used only in a very special occasion. Especially like this now. Accompanied by a very promising lady.” I glance to Erika. She was ignoring. Busy talking with Wanda.

“Is that good?” Kim Beng looked pretty curious. He knew what kind of stuff those were.

“Very good, Sir. At least for me. The excitement never ends. You just want to keep going and going.” I gave him my most naughty smile.

“Really?” His eyes didn’t leave from the small bottle in my hand.

“Yes, Sir. Do you want any?” I gave him two since he nodded. He swallowed them rightaway.

Another ten minutes we talked light subjects. The pills gave their effect. I felt lightness and sense of happiness so did Kim Beng.

“Do you mind if I take Wanda with me to Batoerraden? That is a place on the highland. Much cooler than here. Only fourteen kilometers away.” He asked me.

I said I didn’t mind at all. And added after some silence, “Sir, to smooth our future business, I would be very happy if you could take Erika as well.”

His eyes suddenly became rounds. He was far too happy with the offer. He said he wouldn’t have any problem at all to take care both ladies. The medicine really got him by now. He stared to the bottle. I felt robbed.

With a bit hesitation look to my bottle I said again, “Do you want the whole bottle, Sir?”

“If you are generous.” His eyes straight to mine. “To smooth our future business?”

“Please take it then, Sir. I could always go buying them again next time I go to Bangkok.” I let the bottle changed hand.

“You are a very generous and clever gentleman. No wonder Steelmore employs you as negotiator.”

“Thank you very much, Sir.”

At a quarter to ten they all left me alone at the hotel. Some effort was needed to control the still raging euphoric feeling. The herbs were truly magnificent. I asked to a restaurant man to bring me plenty of drink water. He came back with a full jug which soon I emptied it to cleanse my blood.

To my room I went and laid on the bed calming myself down until around twelve thirty. The time I woke up and packed my gears up.

The night duty staff didn’t ask much when I checked out. To him all bills were paid completely then I just slithered out to the darkness. I walked the all quiet small town street to its train station. De Java Nacht, the night air conditioned first class train from Soerabaja to Batavia would arrive at five to two. It only stopped for three minutes there.

Two o’clock in the afternoon the next day, a hotel Des Indes man knocked my room politely. I went to him and he said that a gentleman was expecting me at the lobby. I thanked him up and he left.

At the lobby I met this gentleman from Great Wall.

“Well done, Mr. Garetti. We have got the news this morning that Kim Beng is dead. Brain hemorrhage.” Discreetly he ushered a thick brown envelope. US Dollars and an aeroplane ticket to Singapore in it.

On a cab to Kemajoran aerodrome I remembered what the herbalist said. “Don’t you dare trying this when you have high blood pressure tendency.” I didn’t have such thing but the contract, Tan Kim Beng from Semarang, was said having it. And I saw it as a peaceful prospect. No bullet no shootout no bloodshed.