Elsewhere, not far from the scene that was slowly unfolding within the pharmacy, two shadowy figures approached Koba Baru Pharmacy from across the narrow street.
They were Aryo and Diga, companions of Welly, and the very culprits who, under cover of darkness the previous night, had strewn the carcasses of rats within the pharmacy’s walls.
Now, under the thin guise of buying cigarettes from the adjacent corner shop, they had returned.
Not out of any true errand, but to glean what they could of the fallout. The consequences of their own malice.
“Excuse me, Ma'am,” Aryo said, his tone disarmingly courteous.
A woman of middle age, her eyes kind despite the weariness they carried, turned to greet them.
“Yes, lads? What can I get you?” she asked with a pleasant, habitual smile.
“Two bottles of mineral water, and two packs of LA Lights,” Aryo replied casually. “The Ice ones, if you have them,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
She nodded without fuss and busied herself behind the counter, retrieving their order with practised ease.
“There you go, boys. That’ll be eighty thousand,” she said, handing over the items with a familiar air of village hospitality.
Aryo offered a crisp hundred-thousand-rupiah note in exchange, receiving his change with a murmured.
“Thank you, Ma'am.”
“Any time,” she replied, returning to her seat as if none the wiser.
Aryo passed one of the bottles and a pack of cigarettes to Diga.
Without a word, the two men took long, deliberate swigs from the lukewarm water, then lit their cigarettes.
Each exhale a plume of tension, each drag a silent affirmation of the mischief they had wrought.
They said nothing. But their eyes, flickering briefly toward the shuttered pharmacy across the street, said more than words ever could.
A short while later, Aryo spoke once more, turning towards the woman with a casual tone, “If you don’t mind, Ma’am, may we rest here for a moment?”
“Of course, lads,” she replied with a genial smile.
Then, tilting her head slightly with interest, she inquired, “And where might you two be from?”
This time, it was Diga who took it upon himself to answer, “We’re from the next village over, Ma’am. Jatisari.”
He gave a theatrical sigh, the sort that bore the weight of minor misfortunes, “Truth be told, we came all this way hoping to pick up some medicine from Koba Baru Pharmacy. But alas, it was closed.”
“Ah, Jatisari,” the woman echoed with a knowing nod. “Well, the pharmacy was open for a short while this morning, but it’s shut again now.”
“Shut again?” Aryo repeated with feigned surprise. “What do you mean, Ma’am?”
The woman raised an eyebrow, her expression becoming more solemn, “You haven’t heard then?”
“Heard what, Ma’am?” Aryo leaned forward slightly, affecting an expression of concern.
The woman exhaled slowly, as though bracing herself to recount a rather distasteful tale.
“Well, there was quite a stir earlier today at Koba Baru. Apparently, the place was overrun with dead rats, dozens of them, just lying about inside!”
She went on to describe the incident in remarkable detail.
How the shop had opened briefly in the morning before closing down again, the cause uncertain but the rumours swirling.
Aryo and Diga, though fully aware of the truth behind the scene, continued their act with admirable precision.
Their faces twisted into masks of horror and disbelief, as though they could scarcely imagine a more ghastly discovery.
“You’re joking, Ma’am. Dead rats? That many?” Diga exclaimed, his voice tinged with exaggerated alarm.
“I’m quite serious,” the woman replied with a firm nod. “The stench alone was enough to turn one’s stomach. The entire neighbourhood was talking about it.”
Aryo and Diga shared a brief, loaded glance. Silent yet speaking volumes.
No words were exchanged, yet a subtle, knowing smile played upon their lips, an expression of quiet satisfaction, as though they had just orchestrated a masterpiece of mischief and were now savouring its flawless execution.
"How utterly cruel, Ma'am, to think anyone could do such a thing!" Aryo exclaimed, his voice tinged with contrived outrage.
"If I ever laid eyes on the scoundrel, Ma'am, I'd see to it he regrets the day he was born," Diga declared, his countenance fierce with feigned fury, even as a secret pride gleamed beneath the surface.
The woman nodded solemnly, "Just hearing it stirs a fire in me, boys. I'd like nothing more than to give that wretch a piece of my mind. Imagine the poor pharmacy staff, how shattered they must feel."
Aryo and Diga inclined their heads slowly, appearing deeply moved by the tale of woe, though their minds were elsewhere.
The mission was complete, and it was time to withdraw.
Yet, as Aryo stepped to leave, his foot faltered.
His gaze was caught by a sight that sent a ripple of suspicion coursing through him.
There, parked with a quiet authority outside Koba Baru Pharmacy, stood a gleaming Range Rover Sport.
Aryo’s eyes locked upon it immediately.
The vehicle belonged to the man he had glimpsed recently, the same one who had accompanied Melati, Welly’s former love.
Beside it rested a sleek, elegant sedan, unmistakably the conveyance of Cherlyn, the rightful proprietor of Koba Baru.
Aryo’s eyes narrowed into slits, his scrutiny sharpening as instinct pricked at his mind.
There was no mistaking it.
This was the very same car. The very same that had haunted his thoughts since the previous day.
“Diga! I recognise that vehicle. It’s the very same car belonging to the gentleman who was with Welly’s girlfriend,” Aryo whispered, his voice tense as he leaned in towards Diga.
Diga fixed a keen gaze on the Range Rover, “Are you certain?” he asked with measured seriousness.
“Absolutely. Without a shadow of doubt. You could ask Gaga if you need confirmation,” Aryo replied firmly.
Diga’s mind raced; this was no matter to be dismissed lightly.
“Go and ask the lady there. Perhaps she can tell us who owns it or at least offer some clue. Make it quick!” Diga urged, his tone steady yet pressing.
Aryo nodded and turned back to the middle-aged woman, his expression polite but probing.
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” Aryo began, nodding towards the vehicle. “Might you know to whom that car belongs?”
The woman furrowed her brow briefly, recalling, “Ah, I believe it’s owned by a very handsome young gentleman who was here earlier,” she answered with a knowing smile.
“A handsome young gentleman?” both men repeated in unison, exchanging glances.
“Yes, indeed. A young man, quite striking in appearance. Actors would envy him, I daresay,” she added warmly.
“But isn’t it supposed to belong to an older gentleman?” Aryo persisted gently.
“Oh, no, no. I’m quite sure the owner is young. Perhaps a friend of Miss Melati and Miss Ocha, the pharmacists from Koba Baru,” she explained.
“I saw both ladies alight from that very car during the commotion over the dead rats. The handsome young gentleman came out alongside them,” she recounted.
“What?!” Aryo breathed, surprise evident in his voice. “So it’s not an older man after all?”
“Certainly not! I saw it with my own eyes,” the woman affirmed with conviction.
Perceiving their suspicion, the woman regarded them with mild curiosity, “Why such surprise, lads? Do you know the owner? Or perhaps someone else? Could it be...” Her gaze lingered expectantly.
“Apologies, Ma’am. We were merely confirming,” Aryo replied swiftly, bowing slightly. “We’ll take our leave now,” he concluded, eager to withdraw.
Aryo grasped Diga’s arm with a quiet urgency, pulling him swiftly away from the scene.
“Snap a photo of that car, at once,” Aryo whispered, his voice taut with resolve.
Diga acquiesced, producing his phone with practiced ease, capturing the vehicle in a single shot.
Without delay, the pair melted into the shadows, distancing themselves from the unwitting witness.
The woman, left behind, watched them go with knitted brows, murmuring under her breath, “So young, yet already so strange.”
Once they deemed themselves out of earshot, Aryo halted and faced Diga.
“Send the photo straight to Welly. Tell him the owner isn’t some old codger, but a young chap,” he ordered.
“On it,” Diga replied promptly.
Meanwhile, at their base, Welly, Gaga, and Abdi were gathered when Welly’s phone chimed with a new message.
He opened it to find Diga’s photo of the Range Rover Sport, accompanied by a caption :
“Aryo reckons this is the car Melati’s been seen in, Welly. Best get Gaga to verify. Also, word is the owner’s not an old man but a young fellow, apparently quite dashing.”
Welly’s eyes widened in astonishment. He turned to Gaga, his tone edged with gravity, “Gaga, have a look. Do you reckon this is the car Melati stepped into that day?”
Gaga leaned in, eyes sharp and incredulous, “That’s the old man’s car, alright,” she affirmed with certainty.
“No, it’s not some old man,” Welly countered, his voice laced with indignation. “It belongs to a young, handsome chap.”
“Are you quite sure?” Gaga’s surprise was palpable.