Bali Raw

by Malcolm Scott

I was about to swim back over to Chris and react angrily when one of the other guys in the pool stopped me. “I have a better plan,” said Mitch, “watch this.”

  Mitch called the two skinny girls over, sat them down next to me on the steps then spoke to them in fluent Indonesian that I could not pick up.

  The two older girls nodded their understanding, and swam towards Chris. They managed to corner him and Ita slipped away.

  Mitch pulled Ita into the water next to him; they leant on the wall and stared at Chris. I slipped into the water and swam up to Mitch and Ita. I was curious. “What did you say to them?” I asked, pointing at the skinny girls.

  Mitch took a sip of his beer. “Just watch,” he said and we all turned to look at Chris.

  Chris was at the other end of the pool. He leant against the wall and I could see he was trying to get around the two skinny girls but they held hands and blocked him in. Also, Chris looked like he was too drunk to escape.

  Suddenly Chris yelped. He turned to face one of the skinny girls. “What are you doing?” he squawked. The other girl edged around behind Chris. I saw her drop a hand beneath the water and Chris yelped again. “What the fuck!” he shrieked, and turned to the second girl. He then yelped again. “Shit!” he exclaimed and turned back.

  “Stop it,” Chris bawled and he pushed himself off the wall and tried to swim away, the two girls following in hot pursuit. I had to laugh. Chris was drunk and not a great swimmer, the girls caught him easily.

  One of the girls grabbed him by the foot, she pulled him closer, edged around and grabbed his shoulders. The second girl moved behind Chris and climbed between his legs. The girls lowered their hands simultaneously and Chris emitted a long and painful shriek.

  Chris called to us for help but we ignored his pleas, we were in hysterics. He pulled himself closer to the pool wall, backed himself against it and held up a hand to try and fend off the skinny girls.

  The girls took a place either side of Chris, laughed and shoved their hands under the water. Chris hiccupped out of the pool and squealed like a pig.

  Ita and I were bawling with laugher, and I looked over and saw Ira and Tony cackling. Only Mitch knew what was going on, he had an all-knowing smile on his face. “What the fuck did you say to them?” I asked him through fits.

  Mitch tightened his grip about Ita’s shoulders. “I told them that it was Chris’s buck’s party and Western tradition is that girls are supposed to stick their thumbs up the arse of the man getting married.”

  I laughed, it was fucking brilliant.

  Mitch laughed with me. “Yeah well, the punishment sort of fits the crime,” he said, and then turned to Ita. “Darling, why don’t you and Ira go and help your friends.” Ita giggled, turned to Ira and spoke in Indonesian. The two girls made their way over to join in on Chris’s anal rape.

  Mitch, Tony and I grabbed a beer and settled in to watch the show. The girls were relentless and they were very good hunters. We watched for the next fifteen minutes as Chris had digits rammed into his colon by four Indonesian hookers.

  Eventually Chris learned his lesson, sulked his way out of the pool and went home to join his future wife. I would have liked to be a fly on the wall when he tried to explain his red and swollen anus.

  Ira, Ita and the two older girls stayed well past their allotted time. I would like to believe they had a nice time swimming and relaxing, but eventually the two older girls swam up and asked if they could leave. I said it was OK and thanked them. I told the girls that I would pay Ira and that they could collect from her and they agreed.

  Mitch and Tony also took their leave. We’d had a few laughs and everyone understood the arrangement.

  This left me alone with Ira and Ita and I took the girls to my room so they could shower and get dressed.

  Once they were inside and Ita had gone to use my shower, Ira made me an offer that knocked my socks off. Ever the business-minded girl, she asked if I liked her cousin. I turned away from Ira and tried to hide the fact that I was about to lie. “I love you too much, I only look at you baby,” I said.

  Ira slapped me gently and smiled. “You’re lying. I see how you looked at her in the pool, you like Ita,” she said.

  I placed an arm about Ira’s shoulder, smiled and did my best to look innocent. “I’m not lie sweetheart, and I only look once darling. Accident,” I said.

  Ira pushed my arm away. She dropped her towel then stood up and faced me in her wet knickers, “Would you like to have us both?” she asked. “We could stay longer if you want?”

  I was stunned, my jaw dropped. “Will I have to pay?” I said and my voice cracked, exposing my eagerness.

  Ira looked at me like I was the most stupid man on earth. “Will I have to pay?” she repeated and laughed.

  I felt like an idiot and blushed, but I still didn’t get the whole joke. OK there wasn’t going to be a freebie, I thought. Little did I realise that Ira was setting me up for a bigger fall.

  Ira called out to her cousin in the bathroom. She spoke in Indonesian but I could guess what was being said. I heard Ita laugh as well. Ita came out of the bathroom wearing a towel, the girls had a brief giggle-pitted conversation in Indonesian and I sat in my own home embarrassed. When I’d tired of being the butt of the joke, I put a stop to it. “How much?” I asked.

  Ira and Ita looked at each other and laughed all the harder. “We not go together you stupid man,” Ira said, between fits of laughter. “Goblok, we are cousins! That is yuck, we cannot do!”

  I felt like an inch tall.

  I rode the girls home on my motorbike and all the way they laughed at the stupid white man. When we arrived, Ira raced inside to go to the toilet and Ita offered me her phone number. I’m ashamed to say that I took it.

  Mike Tyson with a Machete

  Wyan came to us by way of his uncle, Rap. Rap had been head of our security for some time, he was Balinese and a fit-looking and well-muscled man in his late thirties. He was genial and polite and he was always found to be honest. Rap commanded a lot of respect and he was given a lot of responsibility. When we needed money collected, we called Rap; when someone in the company was threatened, we called Rap; when there was a dispute amongst the workers, we sent in Rap.

  Rap was a scary-looking dude but the first thing you noticed about him when you met him was the large bat that he had tattooed across his forehead. He was also high up in one of the Laskar Bali gangs and he had connections with the Balinese police. Once, when he thought the situation warranted it, Rap turned up to a meeting between a Western client and Nick carrying a pistol. He told Nick that he had borrowed the gun from a Polisi friend—Nick told him to keep it hidden in his belt. On another occasion a client who had reneged on his bill threatened Rap with his police contacts. Rap shoved the man backwards and then beat his chest. “I am the fucking police,” he screamed into the bill dodger’s face. Needless to say the debt was quickly fixed up.

  Rap worked for our company for four years, he was well paid and when he needed help he felt comfortable seeking and receiving it from Nick.

  When Rap’s child broke his leg in a motorbike accident Nick and the company paid all his son’s medical bills and when Rap’s nephew was released from prison and he needed a job Nick supplied it even though he knew Wyan had been sent to prison for stabbing his two previous bosses.

  Wyan came to work for the company as second in charge of security—there were only two security guards but Wyan liked the title and no one liked to argue with him. Wyan was a large man, heavily tattooed and very well-muscled; he had a striking resemblance to Mike Tyson in looks, body size and personality.

  Wyan had the presence of a wild animal. He looked, acted, and made you feel that he was a predator, but he did it with unsophisticated innocence. He was a bull of a man with a quick temper and a childlike control over it. He was a good friend to have when he was on your side but he was fucking scary when the tables turned.

  It was a normal day at the office when Nick stopped
Dave and me to tell us that Wyan had turned. This was expected. It happened often, even with the most trusted of our employees.

  Wyan had worked for us for about three years and although there had been a few minor indiscretions he was liked and trusted, there was also a healthy dose of fear in that mix.

  Our company was involved in a building project in Bali and there was often a lot of pilfering that went on during any development. Wyan had been put in as head of security at the current project to stop the pilfering.

  Nick explained to us that Wyan had approached him some time earlier because he wanted to supply bricks for the development. Wyan had a friend and he had made a deal; the problem was that Wyan’s bricks were more expensive than our regular suppliers. Nick had no problem using Wyan’s contacts but it was foolish to pay a higher price for the same product. He made this clear to Wyan, stating that if he could get his price down to at least level with our suppliers, the company would use his bricks.

  Wyan was only trying to make a buck, he had a family to support and, as we would learn later, a habit, but Wyan was liked and loyal enough that his proposal was listened to. Wyan tried to get the price down but he couldn’t, so he began using his power and his status to disrupt the work site. He began by stopping our supplier’s trucks from entering the building site. This was a major problem because any construction site has time requirements and on our site penalties applied. Wyan was head of security and he had the building site staff cowered, so at first we had no idea that he was sending our trucks away. Because of our penalty clauses there were a few times that we had to use Wyan’s bricks. Eventually Nick’s brother-in-law, Made, who also worked for our company, discovered what Wyan was up to and he informed Nick. (Made is Balinese and is married to Nick’s wife’s sister.) Nick was left with no choice but to summon Wyan to a meeting at the office.

  When Wyan entered the office he appeared agitated. He kept a hand behind his back and he shifted from side to side, his eyes flicking back and forth. Nick approached Wyan and said they needed to talk.

  Wyan made to walk towards Nick’s private office but Nick stopped him. “It’s OK,” he said, “we can talk here.”

  Nick seemed on edge and it surprised me that he didn’t address Wyan in his office. Despite what had been going on, Nick liked Wyan and he wouldn’t have wanted to berate him in front of us.

  When I asked Nick about this later he said that he sensed something was wrong as soon as Wyan entered. He didn’t like the way he kept his hand behind his back, he said it felt like Wyan was hiding something. Nick couldn’t have known that Wyan had brought a knife.

  I sensed there might be a problem, but it was Nick, and not Wyan, that alerted me. Nick just didn’t seem himself. He was boss of the company and in that role I had seen him confront people, including Wyan and Rap, many times. Wyan was a scary guy but that would not have affected Nick, who was confident in his role and not a person easily intimidated.

  When Nick spoke to Wyan he kept his voice calm and polite. This was very unlike my brother and to me the personalities and actions didn’t match the occasion. I kept close to Nick. I didn’t over step my authority but I made sure I stood behind his shoulder.

  Nick and Wyan stood in the centre of the office and Nick tried to explain the problem. “Wyan, I can’t have you stopping my trucks. I’ve told you, if the price comes down to what we are already receiving, I will use your product, but until that happens I have to go with the cheaper bricks.”

  Something about Wyan seemed strange. I thought this was because he was in trouble—I realised too late it was because he was on meth.

  Wyan rocked from side to side and kept one hand behind his back. “Boss,” he replied, “I need money for my family. I want you to use my supplier. I have worked for you a long time, when are you going to look after me?”

  Nick controlled himself but it was very much out of character. He kept his eyes on Wyan’s face. “I know you have problems Wyan, but I do too. It’s bad business to buy expensive.”

  Wyan stopped swaying and hunched his shoulders. “Do you say my product is not good?” he asked aggressively.

  Nick shook his head and took a step back. He put distance between himself and Wyan. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying your product is expensive. It would be bad business for me to buy off you.”

  Wyan moved his head from side to side cracking his bull neck and he took a step forward. “Your business is bad, you do bad business,” he accused Nick.

  Nick didn’t rise to the bait. There was tension in his voice, but he spoke coolly. “Wyan, we can work on this,” he raised a placating hand, “for the moment it is bad business that you are stopping my trucks. This is what we need to talk about.”

  Wyan baulked at the accusation. The tension rose and his eyes darted around the room. “Why do you speak like this to me? I am second head of security.”

  Nick again stepped back from Wyan and he pushed me back with him. Nick kept Wyan at arm’s reach but he was still in the danger zone. I stood behind Nick. “Wyan if you send away my trucks, I can’t build, that is bad business.”

  Wyan jabbed a finger at Nick’s chest but he did not make contact. “Why you accuse me of that?” he barked, “why you say I do that to

  truck?”

  Nick used the finger jabbing as an excuse to move to the side. I could feel Nick’s tension and I moved with him. He held up a hand to keep Wyan back. “If I can’t build, I don’t get paid,” he paused, “I can’t pay staff, if I don’t get paid, Wyan.”

  Wyan growled and flexed his massive shoulders, “If you not pay me I make trouble, more trouble than truck!”

  Nick remained composed. He didn’t take his eyes of Wyan’s and continued to speak calmly. “Maybe we should talk about this later, when you have relaxed a little.”

  I had no idea Wyan was armed but I now believe Wyan wanted Nick to fire up so he could attack him with his knife. Nick’s sixth sense probably saved us both as he remained unruffled throughout the conversation. I was focused on Nick and I was unaware of the danger. Had Wyan stabbed Nick, I would have thought it was a punch and I would have stepped in to protect him. I have no doubt that I would have been stabbed next.

  The size of Wyan’s knife, his power and the fact that he was on meth, made for a dangerous combination. If things had sparked, there would have been a blood bath. I had nightmares about this scenario for a long time afterwards.

  Luckily Nick kept us both safe by remaining relaxed and keeping his distance, but we were in trouble as Wyan wanted to attack somebody.

  Made chose that moment to enter the front office with three other employees. He looked towards Wyan then kept walking towards the back of the building.

  Wyan turned his attention on Made, Nick’s brother-in-law, he bellowed something in Balinese then rushed over and delivered a massive right hand punch to Made’s head. The sound of the blow echoed around the office. Everyone bar Nick stood stunned.

  Made sprawled to the floor under the force of the blow. He hit the ground hard then flopped over and struggled to get away. He pushed back and away from Wyan—the employees he’d entered with abandoned him, they reversed themselves up against a wall.

  Wyan paced up and down. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders then thundered and charged Made again. Nick rushed Wyan and took him out with a rugby side tackle and they both crashed to the floor. Nick spun Wyan onto his back and pinned his arms. I dove on top a moment later—it took two of us to hold him down.

  Wyan kicked, struggled and screamed, and tried to break free. Nick tried to keep Wyan’s arms pinned to the ground—he told me later that he knew Wyan had a knife but I still had no idea he was armed—and we did our best to hold him down but he was too strong.

  Nick and Wyan struggled on the ground, they were face to face and shoulder to shoulder. Wyan had a weight advantage and an age advantage—he also had drugs shooting around his system. Nick had the advantage of being on top and having me to lend a hand, but Wyan’s s
heer strength kept forcing his thick neck and shoulders from the floor.

  Suddenly, Nick thrust backwards. I sensed that he was trying to put distance between himself and Wyan and I relaxed and went with him, and we flew back but kept our feet. Wyan stood up and turned on us; he roared and reached behind his back. Wyan produced a ten-inch hunting knife and swung the blade at Nick and me.

  Nick and I edged away from the knife and I saw Dave retreat behind a desk and Made shuffle away. The other employees found themselves trapped against the wall—somehow we had formed a semi-circle in front of Wyan. He stepped towards us and brandished the knife, swinging it from side to side in slow motion, like a cobra looking to strike. His eyes were wild and they darted back and forth in a frenzy. Wyan swung the knife at each of us in turn; the blade was wide, sharp and jagged and was a lethal looking piece of steel. Wyan would stare at somebody then move the knife on—it was like a freaky game of Russian roulette. Nobody knew who would get the bullet, but we all thought it was coming.

  Wyan pointed the knife in my direction and it felt like he was debating whether to kill me. Everything seemed to slow and my mind began to race. I tried to think of a way out and realised there wasn’t one; I wondered if he would stab me or move on.

  I looked at the blade and noticed it was razor sharp—Bali sharp—and I wondered what damage it would do to my body. I had seen Wyan sharpen it a hundred times while he sat bored in front of the office. Wyan’s eyes caught my own and I saw his craziness, it was frightening and surreal. Another fucking day in Bali, I thought.

  I came to my senses and I pleaded with Wyan. “Put it down, no Wyan, put it down.” My voice seemed to come from another place, from some other person. The knife moved on and I let out a deep breath. I’m sure the next person in line went through the same thing.

  I have no doubt that Wyan wanted to stab someone. I’m also sure that Nick was a prime candidate, the knife hovered on him a long time, the only thing that saved us was that Wyan couldn’t make up his drug-addled mind who he hated the most.