by Wiley Brooks
It was a little before seven when Mason arrived back at the Arzed Restaurant. Haziq met him at the door.
“Mr. Ray, please come in,” the young man said while ushering him to a big table that he hadn’t noticed when he was there at lunchtime. “Please to introduce you.”
Mason smiled at everyone, trying to project that he was a friend. Everyone, though, looked like Haziq did earlier in the day. Frightened.
“This is our mother. You call her Mrs. Adelia. Her English okay but not good. I will help.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Adelia, ma’am” Mason said to the short, stout woman with piercing eyes. “It is an honor to meet you.”
Haziq translated and his mother offered a small smile but didn’t speak.
“And this is my sister, Aishah. It is okay to call her Aishah. She speaks English as well as I speak it.”
Aishah appeared to be in her mid-twenties. She was taller than her mother but seemed to inherit her inquiring eyes. Mason noticed that she was dressed in a more Western style that you normally see in Muslim women who are married. He wondered for a moment what that might mean.
“Thank you so much, Aishah,” he said, “for meetin’ me tonight. And please call me Mason. Whatever you can tell me I’m sure will be very helpful.”
Aishah looked anxious and glanced back to Haziq.
“And this is her husband, Abdul.”
Mason offered his hand to shake. Abdul took it in a simple shake, but never took his eyes off Mason. He was wearing some type of work uniform and Mason guessed that the man did some kind of physical labor. He was broad-shouldered and his upper arms revealed well-toned muscles.
“This is most unusual,” Abdul said.
“I know,” Mason answered. “But it is important.”
“Is the boy in trouble?”
“Honestly?” Mason said. “I don’t know. We’re just tryin’ to find a young woman who was last seen with him. I suspect they went off somewhere together. I mean him no ill. Her daddy is just worried about her because she is not well and she didn’t call him for her usual weekly call.”
Mason turned to Haziq.
“Haziq. I promised dinner. Perhaps we could begin?”
“Yes. Yes. Of course.”
Haziq returned to the kitchen and soon two waiters emerged carrying trays of food, teapots with brewing tea and cans of Coke.
Everyone was seated. Haziq placed his mother at the head of the table, with Mason to her right. Aishah and Abdul sat to her mother’s left. Haziq took the seat next to Mason. The children, there were four, filled the other seats.
Aishah asked Mason where he was from. He told them that he grew up in Georgia, a state in the American south, but that he moved to Bangkok many years ago for work. His work, he said, takes him all over Southeast Asia.
“Do you have a Thai wife?” Abdul asked.
“No sir. I’m not married. I almost married an American girl shortly after I moved to Asia, but she died. I never really got over her.”
“Have you ever been to Bangkok?” Mason asked Abdul.
“No, but Haziq has.”
“Is that so, Haziq. When were you there?”
“Three years ago. I was working for a big company then and I had to go for a meeting.”
“What did you think?”
“Too big. Too noisy. Too dirty.”
“You got that right. That’s Bangkok. Big, dirty and loud!”
They continued to make small talk until dinner was over. Mason then turned to Aishah.
“So, Aishah, Haziq says you went to school with the man I know as Joey.”
“Yes. Joey. Pastor Johnny give him that name. Real name is Yusof. Pastor Johnny said Yusof was Malaysian for Joseph and in America kids named Joseph are called Joey.”
“That’s right. Do you know Yusof’s full name?”
Mrs. Adelia spoke up. “His father British sailor. Not know family name.”
“That’s right,” Aishah said. “He was an English. Do you understand how Malaysians are named?” Mason used his hand to wiggle back and forth to indicate that he knew a little.
“We have a first name and then our last name is our father’s name,” she said. “So, my husband is Abdul bin Masonyan. That means Abdul son of Masonyan. Now we just say Abdul Masonyan.
“All Yusof’s mother knew about his father,” Aishah continued, “was that he said to call him Reggie. Isn’t that right mother?” Mrs. Adelia nodded yes. “She couldn’t name him Yusof Reggie, though. Reggie is not a Muslim name. So, she gave him her name. Very unusual. He became Yusof Zaina.”
“Yes. Yes. That’s right,” Mrs. Adelia said.
Mason asked if Yusof’s mother was still around. Mrs. Adelia said she died when he was a young boy. She was hit by a car. Not too long after that, he was taken in by Pastor Johnny and his wife, Mrs. Helen. The pastor and his wife ran a mission school, but that it had closed about ten years ago.
“Mrs. Helen got sick and returned to America,” Aishah said. “Pastor Johnny left about a month later. Yusof had lived with them like a son. But they left him here.”
“Lord have mercy, that must have been hard on him,” Mason said.
Aishah said that Yusof had lived at the mission by himself for a bit, but then had to leave when the rent wasn’t paid. He became a petty thief.
“No one blamed him,” she said. “He had to. He not steal from anyone here. He went into the city for that.”
“Do you have a picture of Yusof?”
“No,” Aishah said.
“Yes, picture,” Mrs. Adelia added quickly. She said something to Haziq and as she was saying it Aishah started shaking her head yes. Mason looked to Haziq.
“My mother said that a year before the school closed, Pastor Johnny had a school photo taken,” Haziq said. “Everybody in the class was in the picture. She’s sure that Yusof is in it.”
“Can I see it?”
The family spoke in Malaysian again and Abdul got up to leave.
“It’s at their house,” Haziq said. “Abdul will go get it. Mother told him where it is.”
They chatted while waiting for Abdul to get back with the photo. Mason learned that Haziq was the manager of the restaurant and that the owner had promised to sell it to him if he could come up with the money. Mason asked how much he needed. Haziq said ten-thousand ringgits, or about four thousand US dollars.
“My family is trying to save the money, but it is not easy. Ten-thousand ringgits is a lot of money for simple working people.”
“If this thing I’m helpin’ Amanda’s daddy on works out, he might be able to help you,” Mason said. “He’s a rich man.”
Haziq looked at his sister and mother. “That would be . . .” He paused to try to find the right word, then settled on “helpful.”
Mason then asked if they knew Pastor Johnny’s last name or where he was from. No one knew.
“Everyone just called them Pastor Johnny and Mrs. Helen,” Aishah said. She turned to her mother and said something. Her mother shook her head no.
“Mother doesn’t know.”
“How about where they were from?”
“America.”
“Yes, but where in America?”
Again, no one knew.
“You said it was a mission school. Do you know what faith?”
“Christian,” Aishah said.
“Yes, I figured that. But what type of Christian? Like Baptist, or Methodist.”
“Christian,” Aishah said again. “Jesus church.”
This wasn’t going anywhere, so he dropped it.
“Did your mother save any documents from the school?”
Aishah asked her mother.
“Photo,” Mrs. Adelia replied.
“But anything else? Did you get a report card or a certificate?”
Aishah shook her head no. Again, she looked to her mother at the head of the table. The older woman also shook her head that they had nothing else.
Then Abdul returned with the cl
ass photo. He set it on the table in front of Mason. Aishah pointed to a boy clearly visible standing next to Pastor Johnny in the second row. “That’s Yusof,” she said.
Mason couldn’t believe it. He stared down at a boy of about 16, but with the unmistaken features that had been described to him.
“I have a big favor to ask,” Mason said. “Can I borrow this here photo long enough to have a copy made. One or two days.”
They all looked to Mrs. Adelia. Haziq translated to her just in case she didn’t understand what Mason had asked. She frowned and gave a small shake of her head side to side. She said something to Haziq.
“My mother said this photo is very important to our family,” Haziq said for her. “She doesn’t want to lose it.”
“She won’t lose it. Tell her that you or Abdul or Aishah can go with me tomorrow to get it reproduced, if you wish. It won’t take long. I’m so sure that I’ll get it back to her that I will give her five-hundred US dollars to hold until I bring it back. That’s a lot of money, but proof that I will bring it back.”
Haziq spoke to his mother again. When he said the amount in ringgits, she flinched, and studied Mason more intently. She then responded to Haziq in Bahasa Malay, then looked at Mason.
“My mother says she would not feel good with that much of someone else’s money,” Haziq said. “She has decided that I should go with you in the morning to get the photo reproduced. She doesn’t want you to give her five hundred US dollars.”
Mrs. Adelia smiled. Mason smiled. “Tell her I said I am honored by her trust.” He looked to Mrs. Adelia. “Thank you, ma’am, very much.”
“You’re be welcome,” Mrs. Adelia said in broken English.
Mason returned to the hotel. He was excited about what happened. Not only did he learn Joey’s real name, but he also would have an old photo of him. Even though it was late, he called Bo but was unable to reach him. He left a message with the police operator to tell Detective Jun that he should expect a photo the next day of a person of interest in a case he was working on.
It was morning in D.C., so Mason figured Fitz would be at his desk. Mason called to bring Fitz up to date.
“Dumb fucking luck, my friend,” Fitz said.
“Like my mama liked to say, don’t look no gift horse in the mouth,” Mason answered.
“But I’ve always believed that luck is only part serendipity,” Fitz said. “The rest is doing what is needed to be in the right place at the right time. You deserved this good fortune, Mason. Have you told Anderson yet?”
“Next call.”
Mason said he’d fax the photo the next day. They said their goodbyes and hung up.
Bob answered on the second ring.
“This isn’t our check-in day,” Bob said, “so I’m guessing you either have something great or awful to tell me.”
“Great actually,” Mason said. “I know his real name and I’m gettin’ a ten-year-old photo of him in the mornin’.”
“Holy fuck, man!” Bob exclaimed. “How did you do that?”
Mason told him the story. When he hung up, he was feeling pumped but his sleep issues were catching up with him. God, he said to himself, I just hope I can get a good night’s sleep tonight.
God apparently was listening – a little. Mason fell asleep at about 11 p.m. and the nightmare didn’t jolt him awake until almost six the following morning. Seven wonderful hours of sleep, even if it did end abruptly. This time he saw a young woman arrive for lunch with a young man who was already at the café. He was clearly her boyfriend. In his dream, the blast ripped their limbs from their bodies. It was a bloody, awful mess.
“You’re soaked,” Jessica said as Joey dashed into the lobby of the Holiday Inn. A torrential rainstorm had moved ashore in Batu Ferringhi as Joey was making his way to the hotel.
Rainstorms in this part of Malaysia could blow through in less than an hour, or they could linger.
“It’s hard to tell how long this will last,” he told her. “Could be over in a few minutes or could stick around for most of the day.”
Jessica said she was fine hanging out at the hotel for a bit. They could grab lunch and wait it out.
“I’m a girl who likes to chill,” she said. “And there’s something about a good tropical rainstorm that gets my blood pumping. The smell. The sudden bolt of lightning. The thunder claps. We never get this in Seattle.”
They walked to a table at the edge of the café. A sudden gust might actually get them wet, or in Joey’s case, wetter, but it put Jessica on the edge of the torrent. It was more exciting. A waiter approached.
“Do you think you could find a towel for my friend?” Jessica asked the man, pointing to Joey. The waiter took one look at Joey, shook his head yes and darted off.
They glanced at the menu and decided on what to order.
“I told you my story yesterday,” Joey said. “Why don’t you tell me a little more about you?”
She gave him the Cliff Notes version with few details. She grew up in Edmonds, a small town just north of Seattle. She went to Western Washington University in Bellingham. She could tell it didn’t register.
“A little more than an hour’s drive up I-5 from home,” she said. “Close enough to visit the folks anytime I wanted, but far enough to not be expected to.”
He nodded.
“What was your major?”
“Human biology. I had figured out that I wanted to be a nurse.”
“Oh,” Joey said. He realized that perhaps the disappointment was obvious in his voice. Nurses didn’t make that much. At least, he didn’t think they did. She didn’t appear to pick up on it. “Did you become one?”
“Eventually. After grad school at the University of Washington.”
Jessica was moving on with her story.
“I was working at a hospital in north Seattle before I left on my trip.”
Joey thought about that. Hospital nurses probably make more than other nurses. Maybe. He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t ready to rule her out.
The waiter returned with a warm towel. Joey used it to dry himself while they gave the waiter their order. Dryer, Joey handed the towel back to the man and offered his thanks.
Jessica resumed her story but was done talking about nursing. She told him that she had played soccer and basketball growing up. She was a walk-on for the soccer team at Western but found it too demanding.
“It was hard to do it and keep up my grades,” she said. “I’ve always been a bookworm. I wasn’t in college to play sports. You know what I mean?”
Joey nodded yes.
“I played pick-up games, though. Lots of three-on-three basketball. I was decent. Great jump shot.” She pantomimed shooting a ball with her hands.
They chatted some more about a variety of topics and spent a good ten minutes talking about The Princess Bride, a movie both had recently seen and both professed to have loved. They’d both also had seen the latest Bond film, The Living Daylights.
“I don’t know,” Jessica said. “I just never bought into Timothy Dalton as Bond. I can’t imagine anyone measuring up to Sean Connery.”
“I didn’t like Dalton either,” Joey said. “But I kind of like Roger Moore as Bond. Did you see The Spy Who Loved Me? He was great in that. I thought it really set him up as the new Bond.”
“Ehh. Doesn’t hold a candle to Sean Connery. That man exudes Bond.”
They had killed nearly two hours and it was still raining.
“Listen,” Joey said. “Why don’t we turn tomorrow into today? The rain will be gone by then, I promise. I’ll swing by and we’ll do the sightseeing we were going to do today.”
Jessica said that would be great, but he could tell she was a little disappointed that he was ending their day. If he had to admit it, he was a little disappointed, too. But he was feeling more like Jessica might be the one. Maybe hospital nurses made enough. He found himself hoping that would be the case. If so, he knew the importance of taking things slow and easy.
> Day 12
Mason drove his Toyota rental car to the restaurant to pick up Haziq and the photo at 8 a.m. He had asked at the hotel about a place in town to get a photo reproduced quickly. The manager gave him instructions to Melaka Photo and Supply in the old part of the city.
Mason and Haziq made small talk as he drove them back into town. Mason learned that Haziq had worked for KFC in Malaysia. He had started working the front counter, then became an assistant manager and then the manager. A couple years later, KFC promoted him to the regional office. It was KFC that sent him to Bangkok for the meeting, which was training on how to use a personal computer to track and predict inventory needs.
He told Mason that KFC wanted to move him to Kuala Lumpur, but he didn’t want to leave his family, so he turned them down. Shortly after that, the owner of the Azred Restaurant got ill. An old family friend, he asked Haziq to take over while he got better. Haziq turned out to be a natural at running the restaurant. The man decided to let Haziq stay in charge and simply pay him a weekly salary.
“The arrangement was working,” Haziq said, “but now he wants me to buy him out. The bank says I have to put up more money than I have. I don’t know if I’ll be able to. Our family is not rich.”
“How much time you got?”
“I have some time. A few months?” Haziq answered as if a question. “I’m sure something will work out. If not, it is Allah’s will.”
Melaka Photo and Supply was just off a main street in the heart of the old city. Mason showed the gentleman at the counter the photo and that he was most interested in an image of the boy with biracial features, pointing toward Joey. Mason said he could also do a separate photo of the American couple standing next to the boy, as well as one of the entire class.
“When can I get the copies?” Mason asked.
“Tomorrow,” the clerk responded.
“I need ‘em today, as soon as possible. I can pay a rush charge.”
