Spirit Tiger (22 page)

‘Then he asked me to come back. “You'll be luckier this time,” he told me, but, of course, I wasn't. The loss was even bigger, and he went to my father again, and my father paid. And so when he asked me once again to come back, I knew what he was up to and I said “no”. And he offered me … Khatijah,' he said shamefacedly.

Osman was shocked. Already offering her to people? And no doubt if Kit Siang had agreed, Yusuf would have forced Khatijah in whatever way was necessary. He sighed.

‘I didn't take it,' Kit Siang assured him. ‘I mean,
Cik
Khatijah, she's a lot older than me, and it wouldn't be … I mean it wasn't …' After floundering a bit, he stopped speaking, assuming Osman would understand, and he did.

‘And he got mad, he didn't want me to leave his place, you see. He wanted me to lose again,' he said, humiliated even in retrospect. ‘And then he'd go to my father and take more and more money. Even if I were a good player, he'd make sure I'd never win.' (Osman surmised that Kit Siang being a good player was a big ‘if'.)

‘And then …' Osman prompted.

‘And then … well, that night, I followed him when he went to Ruslan's house and then when he went home. I pulled him over on Jalan Tengku Cik, on the street, and told him to leave me alone. He just took my hands off his shirt, picked me right up off the ground and put me down a little ways away. ‘Don't make me do more than that,' he said to me. ‘You'll regret it.'

‘Did people see you talking to him?'

‘I guess.' Kit Siang shrugged miserably. ‘They were probably laughing at me.'

Osman shook his head. ‘I don't think so. Go on.'

‘He didn't want to hit me, you see, because it would leave a mark and my father would be angry. He didn't want that. He laughed at me.' Osman could see how wounding that would be for a boy of Kit Siang's age. ‘And then he walked away, down toward the river. He was never afraid of me. He never thought I would ever do anything to him. Or could, really. So I followed him again, and I saw …' Here he began to pale, and his father encouraged him to tell the whole story.

‘I saw someone come out and push him into the mud. It was dark, really dark, and I couldn't see who it was, but maybe a woman.'

He looked close to tears now, and Osman would have ordered him some tea, but didn't want to interrupt the flow. ‘He fell hard, and the killer put his foot – her foot? – anyway, a foot on his face to keep him under water. Then she left, and I went over …' He took a deep breath. ‘And I put my foot on his face, too, to make sure he was really dead.'

His story complete, he burst into tears and sat crying into his father's shoulder. He sobbed for a few moments and then picked up his head, accepting the fistful of tissues Osman thrust at him.

‘I was scared, and I didn't want to tell anyone, but I had to.' He sniffed. ‘I guess I go to jail now,' he said morosely, and Ah Pak's hand tightened on his shoulder. Osman cleared his throat.

‘I'm glad you came to tell me. It was the honest thing to do. And brave, too. A lot of people would have hoped that no one ever found out, but you came and told the truth, and your father should be very proud of you.'

Ah Pak nodded, but now looked even paler. It took a lot of courage, Osman realized, to put your family at risk this way, but it would cathartic for everyone when the story was finally no dark family secret.

‘But you see,' Osman continued, ‘you didn't kill him. He was dead already. You just showed how angry you were, but you're no killer.'

Osman couldn't be too sure about this, but he thought he was probably right. Enough people were suffering to free themselves of Yusuf. He wouldn't ruin this young man's life. Yusuf finally got what was coming to him, he thought, though it certainly wasn't the way a policeman should think. He brushed the thought away. He thought Azrina would approve.

‘Thank you,' he said to Ah Pak. ‘Thank you for coming in. I will call you if we need more information.' He stood up behind his desk.

Ah Pak seemed stunned. ‘He doesn't have to stay here?'

‘No. Why? He's committed no crime.'

‘You don't think …'

‘I do not,' Osman said firmly. ‘Go home and plan your wedding. You are getting married, aren't you? I heard it from
Mak Cik
Maryam.'

He nodded violently. ‘Yes. Yes, I am.'

Osman smiled. ‘Good luck,' he said. ‘I got married myself last year.'

He gave Kit Siang a man-to-man smile and walked them out the door. Ah Pak clasped his hand, and looked as though he might hug him. ‘Thank you,' he said. ‘Thank you for giving me my boy back.'

It was a good day's work.

Chapter XXXI

While you were off,' Mamat grumbled, ‘I just didn't have the heart to show Borek anymore, and Ah Pak was so … distracted. But now, I think I can pay attention to my birds again, don't you?' Maryam agreed definitively.

‘I'm thinking of Bacok. There's a big tournament, I mean the biggest one in Kelantan, there in two weeks. But I don't know.' The enthusiasm in his face dimmed. ‘It's too far on a motorbike with the birds in cages. They could catch a chill or be upset by the wind or the noise.'

He looked worried. Maryam thought it all too typical that he was concerned about how the birds would take it, not how she would. This was not the time for her to complain, however; she was relieved to have things back to the way they were in a happier past. Mamat's plan had worked, and though nothing was ever said – neither ‘I'm sorry' nor ‘I forgive you' – it was now understood that this is what was
meant
, and all was well. Now, she would not upset her husband for any reason.

‘I have an idea,' she said slowly, thinking it through. ‘I think the police owe me a favour, don't you? I think I'll ask Rahman if he can drive us in the car. And maybe Aliza should come, just to help out. What do you think?'

Mamat gave her a long look. ‘Do you think it's a good idea for Aliza to come?'

‘Why not? We'll both be there. It isn't as though she'll be unchaperoned.'

‘I really must pay attention to the birds,' he warned her. ‘I can't play matchmaker when I'm at a contest, you know.'

As though that would be more important than a possible match for your daughter! The bird fancier in Mamat seemed to have gotten the better of the father in him, and a year ago, Maryam would have made that clear to him. But now?

‘Well, of course, you need to take care of the birds, but I'll keep her close to me. And it will give them a chance to see if they really like each other. Wouldn't you prefer to have a car take us? The birds would be protected, and it might mean you can be in Bacok instead of maybe not being able to go.' She smiled beatifically at him, full of the pride of one who has put someone else's well-being before her own.

Azrina walked quickly through Kampong Penambang, willing for no one to see her or comment upon her presence there. For her husband's sake, and for her own edification, she would need to understand the
hala
, and how it might have affected Osman. Maryam was cured, and Azrina was glad for it, but she worried for Osman and feared he might again fall into illness. And she was determined to avoid that.

She did not stop to see Maryam or Rubiah, but went straight to Pak Lah's house and found him sitting quietly on his porch, smoking a cigarette and constructing a rattan bird cage. He smiled at her when he saw her and began to rise, though she begged him to remain comfortable.

‘Pak Lah,' she began haltingly, already somewhat embarrassed at her request, ‘My husband,
Che
Osman, was also ill at the same time
Mak Cik
Maryam became sick. Feverish, frightened, restless: I thought it might be
kempunan
, wanting something so badly you fall ill if you don't get it.

‘
Kempunan
for what?' Pak Lah interrupted gently.

‘To solve the case. To know what happened. To get to the truth. All these things, that's what he wanted. And, of course, in this case, things were so … murky for so long. I think that's what made him sick. Or maybe the
hala
,' she added doubtfully. ‘I mean, such a strong spirit, maybe it affected him somehow …'

She stopped talking and looked imploringly at Pak Lah, who merely nodded and waited for her to continue. She cleared her throat. ‘Do you think that could have made him sick? The
hala
, I mean – do you think it wanted
him
too?'

Pak Lah smiled at her. ‘The
hala
is very strong, as you saw,' he began. ‘If the
hala
wanted him, we would have seen much more than just a fever. Look at
Mak Cik
Maryam, and she's a very strong woman, inside and out. And even she was taken over by the
hala
spirit. So I say again, if it wanted
Che
Osman, you would know.

‘Things might be different here than in Perak,' he told her, casting no aspersions on her home state while doing so. ‘I believe here in Kelantan, we have
hala
spirits and were-tigers both.

‘A
hala
spirit,' he said, leaning back against his house while his wife served coffee and snacks, ‘it's a strong one. People who have a
hala
character need to express it, and it's difficult, you see. They long to act like a tiger: to be strong and fierce, to roar and sometimes pounce. How can you do that in a
kampong
?'

He smiled, both at the thought of a Malay villager pouncing on anyone in the course of an average day and with pleasure in talking about the realm of the supernatural, about which his knowledge was vast and accurate.

‘Of course, you can't,' he continued, enjoying his role as lecturer. ‘You'd upset everyone. So, what to do if you have that sort of spirit?
Silat
, Malay martial arts, maybe – if you can learn and you have time, or become a soldier, maybe a policeman.' He nodded at her, but she could not see where this applied to Osman: was that why he had become sick? Perhaps he just didn't have the right character for it. She put that thought out of her mind as disloyal, and frankly, irrelevant. He had many other qualities, such as intelligence and tenacity, which more than made up for the dearth of
hala
spirit.

As though he read her mind, Pak Lah continued her train of thought. ‘Don't worry,
Cik
Na, it might even be better if your husband isn't a
hala
. It means he has more control of his anger. Or he may even have less anger to begin with, and that's a good thing.

‘Then, some people are
hala
and actually turn into tigers, real tigers, at night. They say – that is, people say – that Korinci people from Sumatra are like that, and if you peek at them just before daybreak, you can see them turning back from tigers to people. It's dangerous, though, because if they catch you while they're still tigers, they can kill you. Tigers are dangerous, in their spirits and their bodies.'

‘Are they all killers?'

‘Many of them.' He looked thoughtful. ‘I should say, most of them. Real tigers, not the spirit tigers, they kill to eat; it's just their nature, neither good nor bad. Most of them stay well away from people. Were-tigers now, they'll kill just to kill. They'll eat what they kill most of time, just like tigers, but don't fear people, not at all. And they'll kill them without a second thought.

‘It's a perilous thing,' he mused, ‘playing with tigers. You've seen it here yourself.' He waved his hand over the coffee, inviting her to drink.

‘Now your husband and his illness. Well, let me see. It could be
kempunan
, it could be a spirit which could attack him because he was weakened by just such a longing. It's possible. Shall I see him?'

‘No, wait,' Azrina said nervously. She had no idea how Osman would react to seeing Pak Lah come to cure him. ‘Let me speak to him first.'

Noriah grew more listless, and yet more restless, by the day. She took to wandering around the
kampong
looking lost and ever older. At first, her neighbours would stop her and ask where she wanted to go, and when she couldn't answer, they would guide her home and make her tea. But as it became a daily occurrence, more often they left her to her own devices as she followed her own compass and prowled the village alleys, staring emptily at nothing until hunger drove her back to the house.

A young relative had been nominated to take care of the house until Noriah regained her composure, and she would try to feed her when she returned from her meanderings, but Noriah was unresponsive, and people whispered that she had lost her mind. Or maybe laboured under an evil spell.

Sometimes she wouldn't come home at all for an entire day, and then for several days, though her son would look for her only in a haphazard way. People sensed he was happy enough not to find her, and begrudged spending any time on her at all. It appeared that Noriah was now set adrift from this world and inhabited only her own, and that world seemed a very colourless and unhappy place.

Chapter XXXII

Maryam accepted Azrina's explanation of the second ‘tiger' killing. It held together, she had to admit, and it seemed a likely course of action for the Thais. Having killed once with a nail-studded board, it would be fitting justice for one of them to be killed in the same horrible fashion. And she believed the Thais would never be found. No one in Thailand was actually looking for them, and as Azrina had described, they could easily disappear in their own country and never emerge. There would be no evidence for or against this theory. You either believed it or you didn't.

And yet … part of her thought that second killing was the tiger she had seen. It wasn't just that she didn't want to think she was mad, though that fear gnawed at her. The tiger was so real, she could still conjure up the feel of him under her hand, his advice, his low growl. How could he be so real to her and not be real indeed? She didn't believe it possible.