The Scottish Banker of Surabaya - By Ian Hamilton Page 0,80

the faint voice of a muezzin.

“The call to salah, to fajr, the first prayer,” he said. “The neighbourhood will be coming to life in a few minutes.”

It took longer than a few minutes. In fact it was close to six o’clock, the sun now completely visible, the heat building, before there was any activity on the street. It looked as if the domestic staff were arriving. Twice Perkasa turned on the car and drove it to the end of the street, turned the corner, and idled there for a while so they wouldn’t be a constant presence near Cameron’s.

He was driving past the house, going back to their original watch location, when Cameron’s gate swung open. “Finally,” said Perkasa.

They parked and waited, both with their eyes locked on the gate. A short, dark man came out of the house and stood on the sidewalk. He looked up and down the street and then turned back towards the driveway. He reached for the gate and held it. The black Porsche backed out onto the street and stopped. The man went to the passenger-side window and said something to the driver. Then he waved and turned back towards the house, pulling the gate closed behind him.

Perkasa started the Nissan and reached for his cellphone. He didn’t begin to drive until the Porsche had cleared the corner at the end of the street. Then they followed, keeping it barely in view, confident about where it was headed. He called Waru as they left the development and trailed the Porsche onto the highway.

“We’ll need to call him again once Cameron exits,” he said.

The Porsche drove in the left-hand lane of the three-lane highway. Perkasa kept to the right one, making it impossible for Cameron to see them in his rear-view mirror. A sign for the road leading to Paradise Run came at them while Cameron was still in the left lane. The exit was on the right, and for a second Ava thought he was going to drive right past it, but at the last minute the Porsche careered across the highway and headed down the ramp.

“We’ve got him,” Perkasa said.

Not yet, Ava thought. It’s never that easy.

Perkasa talked to Waru again and then turned to Ava. “He says he’s seen only three cars since they’ve been there. There’s nothing visible in either direction right now.”

Ava looked behind the Nissan. The road ran straight and empty. Could they be so lucky?

Perkasa kept the Porsche in plain view now. Cameron was driving quickly, the car hugging the curves. When it reached the rise beyond which Waru waited, Perkasa gassed the Nissan. Ava counted. She got to ten before they crested the hill and saw the Porsche.

Waru had positioned his Nissan sideways across the right-hand lane. He was walking on the left side of the road towards the driver’s-side window of the Porsche, which was still closed. Perkasa stopped at the top of the rise, ready to move if needed.

“He’s carrying a radar gun,” Ava said, noticing the device in Waru’s right hand. “Nice touch.”

When Waru reached the Porsche, he looked in the window and then lightly rapped it. It slid down. Ava could see him speaking and shaking his head. Then he reached for the gun in the holster at his right hip.

“Move,” she said to Perkasa.

He drove the Nissan directly behind the Porsche to block any chance of retreat. The Targa’s door swung open just as they arrived. Ava lowered herself in her seat, not entirely trusting the tinted glass to do its job. “He’s out of the car,” Perkasa said.

She couldn’t help but look. Cameron was wearing tartan shorts, an untucked black golf shirt that hung loose around his belly, and a pair of cheap rubber flip-flops. He had his face close to Waru’s and he was yammering away. Ava couldn’t hear much of it, just enough to know that Cameron thought he was untouchable. The policeman remained calm until Cameron got too close, until his verbal abuse began to get shrill and he was showering Waru with a spray of spit. That’s when the policeman grabbed the Scot by both shoulders and spun him around. He tucked one hand into the waist of Cameron’s shorts, the other grabbed the collar of his shirt, and he slammed Cameron face down onto the hood of his car. The cuffs were on almost instantly.

Prayogo had left the other Nissan now, the roll of duct tape in his hand. When he reached the Porsche, Waru turned