Blood Money (chapters seven and eight.) (standard:Suspense, 2600 words) [4/18] show all parts
Author: Hulsey	Added: Sep 17 2011	Views/Reads: 2260/1671	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Continued.

7 

JAKARTA INDONESIA 

Standing in the shade of the tall minaret in the miniature park,
Schofield sipped his cold coca-cola and awaited his rendezvous with 
Manaf. The park that had been compared to Disneyland was not 
overcrowded, due to the rainy season. 

Schofield gazed at the signpost, giving directions in English and
various other languages. The orchid gardens, fauna museum, bird park, 
swimming pool and several other attractions were clearly displayed. In 
total, twenty-seven provinces were represented in the miniature park, 
each occupying a large pavilion. 

Manaf, now clad in an emerald green robe approached the Englishman and
bowed his head. His brown eyes appeared as big as coasters. “Mr Scott, 
I am sorry I am late.” 

“No you're not, Manaf; I'm early... Listen, I would feel more
comfortable if you called me Dean.” 

“Dean,” smiled Manaf. “I see today you have brought your camera... Shall
we walk?” 

The pair strolled along the cracked concrete path, watching the cable
car as it passed overhead. A blend of spices and local floral delights 
was evident in the air. 

Schofield urged his host to stop and marvelled at the puppet shadow
show. He proceeded to snap away with his camera. The private 
investigator's delight at the puppets stemmed from his childhood love 
of Punch and Judy shows. 

“Wayang kuilt,” murmured Manaf. 

“Excuse me,” said Schofield. 

“The puppets. Wayang kuilt.” 

Schofield reluctantly turned away from the show and followed Manaf.
“Where are we going?” 

“Nowhere in particular. I thought perhaps you would like to sample some
of our traditional dancing.” 

Schofield tugged at Manaf's elbow. “Listen, I haven't been exactly
truthful with you.” 

Manaf continued to smile. “With regards to what, Dean?” 

“With regards to me being an editor with a magazine.” 

Manaf now looked perplexed; his expression that of a little, lost boy. 

“How far would you go Manaf to be able to rebuild your village?” 

“I don't understand, Dean.” They walked on. 

“Do you have close friends you could trust?” 

“Of course.” 

Schofield waited until a group of Japanese tourists had passed. “Close
friends who share your dream of rebuilding your village?” 

Manaf nodded. 

“Okay, Manaf, here it is... For one hundred thousand pounds, I want you
to pose as a hero.” 

The Indonesian looked even more bewildered by the statement. 

“When the tsunami struck, after doing everything you could to save your
family, you then turned to other friends and families in your village. 


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