House of Glass, Page 3

  “Suurhof,” the Eurasian introduced himself in a rather arrogant voice.

  I immediately understood what the commissioner wanted me to do. It seemed that my report had been read by members of the Algemeene Landbouw Syndicaat, the association of plantation owners. If not, I don’t think I would have ever found myself face-to-face with this Suurhof, head of the private henchmen of the association. So I had fallen as low as this?

  “You will be able to work well together with Mr. Suurhof,” said the commissioner, as he left the restaurant. This person was being made available to me—this scum—so that I could deal with my target outside the law. Who among the Betawi police did not know of Suurhof? A paid henchman whose task was to terrorize lower-level local officials and powerless village people, and who sold false evidence whenever needed—all in defense of the interest of the European business houses. A recidivist who spent his time going in and out of jail. And now I had to work with him! This was how low I had fallen! Must I accept all this? All with the approval of the authorities up there in heaven? But why was it I who had to carry this out? It was an insult to the intellectual work I had done.

  “What is it that I must hear from you?” asked Suurhof, still in an arrogant tone of voice.

  “I don’t know what the commissioner has told you.”

  “He didn’t tell me anything, Meneer Pangemanann. I am here to get my orders.” He looked piercingly at me in an attempt to assert his authority over me, another Eurasian.

  My blood boiled that a rotten bandit like this dared speak so rudely to an official, trying to pressure me to give him his orders. It truly offended my priyayiness.

  The restaurant was at its busiest. I was wearing civilian clothes. He was dressed in a plantation worker’s uniform. He wore a hat the same color as his uniform—khaki. I wore white with a woven bamboo hat. Neither of us took off our hats.

  He kept tapping his glass on the table top as if he was trying to force me to speak. The tapping grated on my nerves.

  “It seems Tuan is not ready yet.”

  “Not ready for what? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Have I been summoned here for nothing?”

  “What kind of work are you hoping for?” I asked.

  He laughed bitingly. Perhaps people saw my face go the dark red of fury. His left tooth shone like a pearl. The furrows in his face, which had been sunburned once too often, had become rigid lines. Suddenly he stopped his grinning and nodded twice.

  It seemed it was indeed his custom to try to startle people and surprise them with sudden changes of mood.

  “Very well. Tuan does not want to speak yet.” He stood up, tipped his hat a little and prepared to leave. He dawdled for a while at the restaurant door. He quickly pulled out the front of his shirt to cool down his body. Then, as if he had just remembered something, he turned around and came back to the table.

  “You haven’t changed your mind yet, Tuan?” he whispered, bending down and peering into my face.

  His attitude was insulting, as if I were the criminal and he was the policeman.

  I shook my head.

  He sat down again. Now he spoke quietly: “I know we can work together, Tuan Pangemanann. I will visit whatever address you give me and everything will proceed smoothly, just like the Betawi-Surabaya express. You agree, heh?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, and made to get up to go.

  “Don’t be in such a hurry, Tuan. We have time, don’t we?”

  “A pity, but I have other work to attend to. Good morning,” I said as I stood and went to pay for my share. He too paid his bill. He followed me out of the restaurant, tagging on behind me, more loyal than my lapdog. It made me feel better to see him following on behind me in such a humiliating manner.

  Walking along like this in civvies, out of uniform, made me feel like an ordinary person out for a pleasant stroll—if only Suurhof wasn’t there too. Having him following me like this made me feel as if there were some piece of dirt stuck to my clothes that made everybody look at me.

  When we reached the bridge across the Ciliwung I pretended to glance back, just to witness for myself how he needed me. He smiled, and signified that he was still there. I stopped, leaned on the railings, and watched the flow of the river.

  Soon he was beside me again, mimicking my actions.

  “You still haven’t spoken,” he said amicably. “I am sure we can work together, Tuan. I swear it.”

  “No!” I answered briefly.

  “I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t say that, Tuan.”

  “There is no reason why I should work with you.”

  “Very well, I await your orders.”

  “You know who I am?”

  “Of course, Tuan. Everyone knows Chief Inspector Pangemanann. People say that you are the Betawi Police!”

  “Zihhh!” I hissed, and an all too familiar face flashed before my mind’s eye—Si Pitung, the bandit, who had brought me to these undreamed of heights in the police force.

  “Why zihhh, Tuan? Robert Suurhof is not a dog!” protested this rotten bandit.

  I was glad he was angry. I had offended him.

  “Perhaps some other time,” I said.

  “Impossible,” he challenged me again. “Do you think that the Algemeene Landbouw Syndicaat is not as powerful as the police?”

  “Go and sell your fake letters, con man,” I said. “No one needs you here.”

  This gangster had become practiced in sudden changes in attitude. Or perhaps it was just a part of his personality.

  “I’m sorry, Tuan Pangemanann. I have been putting things wrongly. It is I who wish to help the police.”

  “No. You are not needed. Nobody needs your help. The police are quite capable of handling things. You’re just looking to get in good with the police. You think that way everyone will forget who and what you really are. Yes?”

  “That’s true, too,” he said, conceding. “Now, what is it that Tuan wants me to do? I wasn’t summoned here by the commissioner for nothing.”

  “Do you think you are on the same level as the commissioner, and I am just your underling or something?”

  “Yes, I have not behaved correctly, Tuan.”

  I remained silent for quite a while, just to check if he really had thrown off his arrogance. I was right, he had become just like a lapdog, wagging its tail while waiting for its master to throw it some scraps. I think that was how he would always be whenever he faced a person he could not intimidate. It made me sick.

  “Very well. Because it is what the commissioner has ordered, and not because it is my own wish, wait for me at Buitenzorg station at five o’clock. Bring only the minimum number of men.”

  “Good, Tuan. There will be three of us, besides myself.”

  “Go now! Don’t bother me anymore.”

  I didn’t hear any good-bye from him. I was gazing down into the waters of the Ciliwung. Two sampans were passing each other, each carrying a kwintal or so of cargo, packed in sacks. Who knows what it was? Hopefully, it wasn’t opium. The oarsmen seemed to be sure of themselves and the safety of their sampans and cargo. They sang in Sundanese in a villager’s accent and I could not understand a word.

  The next day, at Buitenzorg station, he was there waiting. He stood there on the platform, hands on his hips, like a governor-general ready to inspect some department of state. I am sure he never dared behave so arrogantly before developing his current friendship with the police. I hid myself behind other people on the platform so I could get a chance to observe him. But his sharp eyes soon discovered me.

  I walked on out through the ticket gate, pretending not to see him. And he followed me from about five meters behind. Carrying my briefcase, I stopped under a palm tree at the edge of the station gardens. He quickly caught up with me, nodded, and said good afternoon.

  “You know the risks involved with this work?” I whispered.

  “There’s nothing risky here, Tuan.”

 
“Who said there are no risks? You are acting outside the law. The risk is that if anything happens to you, if you’re wounded or even killed, the law will give you no protection. The law will pretend that it knows nothing about what happened. Understand?”

  He laughed contemptuously. “There will be no risk, Tuan,” he said, giving his guarantee.

  “You don’t understand me, do you? Don’t you ever listen to anything that people tell you? Listen well, because this is a promise. If anything happens to you or any of your men, the law will do nothing about it. Understand? Do I have to repeat it to you again?”

  “I understand, Tuan.”

  “No regrets?”

  “What is there to regret when we only have one life?”

  “Whether you have four or five lives is no concern to me, that’s your affair. Listen. Will you regret doing this later?”

  “No, Tuan,” he answered respectfully.

  “Where are your men?”

  “Waiting on that corner over there, Tuan.”

  “Good. Now listen to me again. I don’t want any comments from you. I am going to visit somebody in his house. When I come out, it will be your turn to pay him a visit. You don’t need to know who it is I am visiting. You will have to make sure he does not get a chance to leave his house after I have visited him. Understand?”

  “I understand, Tuan. It’s quite clear.”

  “All you have to do is frighten him.”

  “Just frighten him?” protested Suurhof. “Just frighten him? Suurhof is only to frighten him?” he laughed contemptuously again, while pointing to his chest.

  “In that case, you can go. Damn it! I’ll do this work myself.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that, Tuan. I thought we were going to have to fight somebody.”

  “Fight with whom? With some Native who is unable and too frightened to defend himself? That’s the kind of work you’re used to, isn’t it?”

  “But they fought back, and in a number of places we always finished the fight properly.”

  “Fighting is not always needed in this work.”

  “Very well, Tuan. I hear what you say.”

  “Very good. So just make sure you only give him a fright. So that he stops his activities. So that he disbands his group. That’s all. Understand?”

  “And if he’s not frightened?”

  “That’s your problem, stupid. What schooling did you get?”

  “HBS, Tuan.”

  “Why are you so stupid then? It seems that the higher your schooling, the more stupid you get.”

  “Fortunately, I only got as far as HBS, Tuan.”

  “Indies or Netherlands HBS?”

  “Indies, Tuan.”

  “Zihhh. If you’re really an HBS graduate, then I won’t have to show you the way to the address. You should be able to find it yourself. So here’s the address. You can make your own way there. Remember, just frighten him. I will wait at the entrance to the Botanical Gardens.”

  He laughed as soon as he saw the address, nodded to me, and left. The three others, all Eurasians, quickly followed after him. One of them was thin and shriveled, perhaps an opium addict. I walked along slowly, following.

  They were clearly heading for the right house. He knew the man who lived there well. Suurhof’s gang, De Knijpers, had often attacked the SDI, even wounding and killing some SDI people. I wanted to see what would happen when these two men confronted each other, face-to-face, challenge awaiting answer, and all happening to close to the governor-general’s palace.

  I had spent a whole evening deciding how to use De Knijpers, sometimes known as TAI, Totaal Anti Inlanders. The commissioner had given me this gang to use as I liked. And now I was going to use them against a man I respected and honored with all my heart. He must not be injured in any way. In any case, the palace guards will take action should Suurhof and his gang overstep my orders.

  I saw the man’s friends Mr. and Mrs. Frischboten leave the house with Native escorts. Suurhof’s gang walked slowly toward the target house. The family in the house said their good-byes to the Frischbotens. And the carriage bearing their guests and another with their escorts set off to who-knows-where. It looked as though they were heading for the station.

  I followed Suurhof and his men. I knew that all they were going to do was frighten him. The family would not be hurt in any way. But how would they react to their attackers? That was the important thing.

  Suurhof and his friends were entering the front yard. I had also approached very close to the front yard but I stayed outside. They approached the house. I walked past the front gate and found a place from which I could watch what would happen.

  The sun was slowly setting. I stopped under a tree. I didn’t even notice what kind of tree it was. I took out a cigarette, lit a match, then: Bang! There was the sound of a gunshot, obviously from a revolver. Again and then again.

  How dare he! Suurhof had gone too far. I saw in my mind’s eye the body of that man I admired and respected so much sprawled out on the ground, covered in blood.

  I saw Suurhof and his friends leave the house, running head over heels. They ran off leaving behind their weapon and what it had spewed forth. Suurhof headed for the entrance to the Botanical Gardens. He passed me without even realizing I was there. There were no more sounds of shooting.

  Then a group of palace guards came hurrying out, not in formation. As if they had already known where to go, they headed straight for the house where the incident had occurred.

  There was no sign of Suurhof. One of his men, the shriveled-up Eurasian, came panting past me. When he saw the guards heading in his direction, he slowed down and began walking normally. He took out a handkerchief from his faded blue trousers, stopped on the edge of the road, and wiped his face and neck.

  I found Suurhof leaning up against the gate at the entrance to the Botanical Gardens. He obviously wasn’t used to running. His face was dark red, and he was short of breath.

  I went up to him and whispered: “You overstepped your orders. You shot him.”

  He fell in step with me as I walked on, and answered in a whisper: “No, Tuan. I swear I did not shoot him.”

  “Liar! Cheat! Criminal!” I swore at him in a whisper.

  “I swear, Tuan. We were the ones that were fired upon.”

  I stopped in my tracks. I looked him in the face, and asked unbelievingly: “It was he who fired? Him? Minke?”

  “Not him, Tuan. His wife!”

  Now it was my turn to have the sudden change in mood. From anger to amusement, and I couldn’t stop myself from bursting out laughing.

  “You’re making fun of us,” he protested.

  “Wah! Hotshot fighters falling over each other, frightened of a woman.” I continued walking. “What an accursed bunch of fools!”

  “It’s not so easy to deal with a weapon like that, Tuan.”

  “They say you are a Dutch citizen.”

  “That’s right, Tuan.”

  “They say you have lived in the Netherlands.”

  “Yes, Tuan.”

  “You never had any dealings with the militia there?”

  “I was arrested by the police and sent back to the Indies, Tuan,” he answered and there was pride in his voice. He followed on close behind me.

  “Fighters, four of them, all running head over heels, falling over each other . . . huh! Only because of a woman! So shameful. Just give up being humans. You’re all cursed!”

  He did not protest.

  I began to walk faster and he increased his pace, following on like a pet dog tagging behind its master. When I turned around, we stood facing each other. His figure had lost all its manliness. His mustache, beard, and sideburns no longer gave the impression of a fighter. He was more and more disgusting to me. A man without principles, without honor, no ideals. He got his enjoyment from oppressing and terrorizing the powerless. And faced with a woman with a revolver, he went to water, like a bowl of green-pea porridge.

  “What must I
do now, Tuan Pangemanann?”

  “Nothing. There’s nothing else for you to do. You’re not worth a cent. Go!”

  He still followed me, like a diseased, sore-covered dog, revolting to everyone.

  “Must I use my gun to get rid of you?” I growled.

  “I will go to see the commissioner.”

  “Who gives a damn!” Only then did I finally rid myself of that disgusting filthy scum.

  It turned out that he managed to see the commissioner before I did. The commissioner warned me that I was being too hard with him.

  “You don’t need to be so hard,” he said as he stroked his mustache, as big as a fist, corn-red mixed with gray.

  “He could destroy all my work.”

  “There is no one else.”

  “I can succeed better without him. You have forced upon me a ‘third leg.’”

  “But this is what you yourself recommended. Frighten him with the most vicious thug we can find, you said. The gods above have agreed to all this.”

  * * *

  I returned to his house, Minke’s house, a few weeks later, but this time without Suurhof’s gang. I alighted from my carriage and walked into the front yard where I found husband and wife sitting outside in the garden. After we introduced each other, the wife, who had scattered the TAI gang, stood and left the two of us.

  So this was he, Minke, up close. He seemed anxious. Every now and then his eyes communicated with a man who was sitting on a bench across the way. He had reason to be worried after the visit of Suurhof and his gang. The people of West Java had all heard rumors that among the De Knijpers, alias TAI, there was a man from Menado. He knew that I was a Menadonese; at least I had a Menadonese name. He was suspicious.

  I had prepared what I wanted to speak to him about. The main subject was the story The Tale of Siti Aini by Haji Moeloek, which in recent days was on everybody’s lips in Java. It was a good story by Indies standards for Natives or Eurasians.

  I began by declaring my admiration for him, an admiration that came sincerely from my heart. It was all praise. Such praise made him even more vigilant. He was difficult to get close to, I thought. I began to talk about Haji Moeloek’s story. But he didn’t seem to be paying any attention or not much attention, to what I was saying. Still suspicious, he remained vigilant throughout.