Jakarta 22:00 WIB
The city of Jakarta is never really quiet. Tonight it feels different. There is a humming noise, like the sound of a lot of people trying to get back to normal. The Monday Massacre is over. Now people are dealing with the aftermath. For Pistachio, the quiet is not real. He knows that when you get rid of something, you have to make sure it does not come back. Jakarta has a lot of problems that need to be fixed.
Pistachio is standing on the roof of a building in Menteng. The concrete is cold under his feet. The wind is blowing his coat around. From here, the city looks like a big circuit board with orange lights flowing through the streets. Next to him, Malik is working on a computer, his face pale in the light of the screen.
"I found the server, Pistachio," Malik says quietly, his voice shaking a little. "It was not in a bunker or a government building. It was hiding in sight."
"Where is it?" Pistachio asks, looking out at the city.
"It is part of the Smart City system," Malik replies, turning the screen to show him. "When Hartono started the Safe City project, he did not just put up cameras. He built a network that can think for itself. The Executioner was not a person in a mask; it was a computer program that lives in the city's traffic lights, power grid, and security cameras. Hartono did not build a tool; he built a system."
Pistachio feels a chill run down his spine. "You are saying the Garden is still alive?" he asks.
"It is not dead, but it is not working now, " Malik says. "It is like a virus waiting for a host. The deal Saraswati made, she did not just give them names. She gave them the codes to shut it down. I looked at those codes, and they are not what they seem. They are a way to hand it over to someone."
Pistachio looks out at the city again. He thinks about the trial. It is a distraction from what is really going on. He realizes that the companies that built the sensors do not want the Garden to die. They want to sell it to the bidder.
"Worse," Malik says, typing on the computer. "They already sold it. I am tracking a data transfer. Someone is downloading all the information from the Equality of Sin database."
"Who is doing it?" Pistachio asks.
Malik hits a key. A logo appears on the screen. It is a picture of a red thread, the symbol of the Benang Merah Syndicate.
Pistachios' heart skips a beat. Benang Merah is an organization that deals with human trafficking and extortion. If they have the Gardens database, they will use it to control the city.
"We have to stop the transfer, " Pistachio says, his voice firm.
"I cannot stop it from here, " Malik says, frustrated. "The signal is bouncing off a satellite. The only way to stop it is to destroy the relay. That is located in the Old Jakarta Telecom Tower."
The Old Telecom Tower is a building on the edge of the harbor. It is not used much anymore. It is still important for the city's emergency systems. It is the place for a ghost to hide.
"Stay here and keep tracking, " Pistachio tells Malik. "If I do not call you in thirty minutes, send everything we have to the press. Do not go to the police; they are still compromised."
"Pistachio, wait!" Malik grabs his arm. "If you go there, you will be going up against the Syndicate's security. They are not police, they are mercenaries who get paid to make people disappear."
Pistachio looks at Malik in the city. "The law is slow, Malik.. Tonight I am the only one who can make a difference."
Pistachio drives to the harbor, his heart racing. He checks his gun and the special grenade he has. It is a one-shot weapon. If he misses, there will not be a second chance.
The Telecom Tower looms out of the fog like a skeleton. Pistachio can see the glow of a data link near the top. He sneaks in, avoiding the gate, and makes his way to the service elevator. But it is locked, so he starts to climb the stairs.
By the floor, he is out of breath. By the eleventh, he hears voices.
"The transfer is at 85%," a man says, his voice. Professional. "The Syndicate wants the Pistachio Profile prioritized. They want to know everything about the Detective before they move on to his family."
Pistachio freezes on the landing. His family. He does not have a left, just a sister and a few distant cousins. To the Syndicate family is leverage.
He rounds the corner, gun drawn.
Three men are standing in the relay room surrounded by computers. They are wearing suits and tactical headsets. They are not surprised to see him; they have been watching him on the security feed.
"Detective Pistachio," the lead mercenary says, not even reaching for his gun. "You are late. We were starting to think you had lost your nerve after the fire."
"The transfer stops now, " Pistachio says, his voice low and firm.
"Does it?" The mercenary gestures to the monitors. "The Garden is not a person, Detective. It is an idea. You cannot shoot an idea. Even if you kill us, the data is already in the cloud. By tomorrow morning, every important person in this city will be controlled by the Benang Merah. We will have an efficient Safe City than Hartono ever dreamed of. No massacres. Just cooperation."
"Cooperation through extortion is not peace," Pistachio says. "It is a death."
The mercenary draws a gun. "Put the weapon down. We have a place for you in the new order."
Pistachio does not drop the gun. Instead, he looks at the relay, a big computer at the center of the room. It is protected by glass. The cooling vents are exposed.
"You are right, " Pistachio says, a smile on his face. "I cannot shoot an idea.. I can melt the hardware."
He fires at the fire suppression system, not at the mercenaries. The pipes burst, and a thick foam comes out. In the chaos, Pistachio lunges forward, not at the men. At the computer. He pulls the pin on the grenade. Shoves it into the cooling vent.
The mercenary screams, firing a burst that grazes Pistachio's shoulder. Pistachio dives behind a server rack as the grenade explodes.
The explosion is not loud. It is intense. The lights flicker and die, and the smell of ozone fills the room.
Pistachio lies on the floor, his shoulder hurting, his breath coming in gasps. He can hear the mercenaries swearing in the dark, their headsets dead, their goggles fried.
"Malik..." Pistachio whispers into his radio. "Tell me it is over."
A second of static, then Malik's voice came on, sounding a little rough but really happy. "We lost the signal, Pis! The transfer stopped at 92%. They got some information. They did not get the important codes. The 'Pistachio Profile' is messed up. They do not have you. They do not have the city."
Pistachio closed his eyes. Leaned his head against the cold metal of the server rack. He was hurt, he was tired. He was stuck in a dark tower with three angry killers. The bad guy was gone. The machine was broken.
He heard someone walking towards him, the sound of a boot scraping against the floor. The leader of the mercenaries was getting closer, following the sound of his breathing.
"You think you won, Detective?" the voice said in the dark. "You just made things worse. The Syndicate does not forget when someone owes them money."
Pistachio reached out. Found a heavy metal wrench on the table. He stood up slowly. The pain in his shoulder helped him focus.
"I have been in debt my life," Pistachio said, his voice echoing off the walls of the tower. "I am used to owing people money."
The fight that followed was not nice to watch. It was an ugly fight in the dark. Just people hitting each other and trying not to get hurt. Pistachio fought not like a police officer. Like someone from the city using every trick he knew to survive.
When the sun finally started to rise over the harbor, Pistachio was the one standing. He walked out of the building, his coat torn, his face bruised. He was okay.
Malik was waiting for him at the bottom of the tower, and a bunch of police cars were coming, led by Yanuar.
"You did it, Pis," Malik said, putting a blanket around his shoulders.
Pistachio looked up at the tower. It was a big piece of metal, now quiet and still. The bad guy was gone. He knew there were still problems elsewhere.
"It's not over, Malik," Pistachio said, looking at the city as people started their day. "It's never over. The Garden is gone. The 'Red Thread' is still out there. They still owe me a lot of answers."
He got into the ambulance. He did not close his eyes. He pulled out his notebook and looked at the list of crimes and the people who were hurt.
He did not cross it out. He just added a name to the list: BENANG MERAH.
Pistachio was no longer a detective trying to find the truth. He was a guardian of the city, the person who stood between the city and the people who wanted to hurt it. And as the ambulance drove away, sirens blaring into the morning air, Jakarta just kept going. Messy, beautiful, and safe for now.
[THE END OF CHAPTER 24]