Hasan Ali and Me | Part Four
If Hasan Ali and me were a three-act play; we were now at the point of confrontation. I waited for Rahman to calm down. “He has a sword?” “Yes. He showed it to us a few days ago when he demanded money from us.” If true, the irony of this was not lost on me. A sword is a scheduled weapon under the The Corrosive and Explosive Substances and Offensive Weapons Act 1958 (“the Act”). The mere possession of a scheduled weapon is an offence under section 7 of the Act. It also carried a minimum of five and maximum of ten years prison time. The provision also covers manufacturing, selling, promoting, hiring, lending or giving of a scheduled weapon; those are all offences. “We’ll deal with our present situation in a short while. First, I want to ask you about Hasan Ali. What happened after I introduced him to you?” “He was no problem first month. Everything was okay. We are not friends but we say hi-bye. But July, one day he came home drunk. That’s when he drink every day. More and more. He would ask us for money. He said you asked him to collect more money from us. At first we gave then he started asking every two, three days. That’s when we said no. Then he start to punch and kick us when we don’t give him money.” “My god, Rahman. Why didn’t you call me or ask? You have my number.” “Yah, but he is your staff. So at first we believe him. We don’t want to bother you. But then we are trying to handle it ourselves. I thought we could but before we could do it he took our phones. Sir, we need your help to go back to the apartment to get back our things. We didn’t take anything with us when we left. We just run straight here.” “How come three of you did not take him on?” “We are not fighters, sir. And he is aggressive and looks like he has more experience fighting. We cannot afford to get injured, sir. Now we are a few days not working already. We are worried we lose our jobs.” “How did you get out?” “I told him we had to eat. We are so hungry. We haven’t eaten one day already. Since there is no food in the house he let us out for half an hour. We are supposed to go back after we eat.” “Seriously?! Anyway, you are not going back. First thing you do is get something to eat and then go stay somewhere safe for a while. I will try to speak to him and get him out. Come back here in the evening so we can discuss how to get back your things and what to do about him. Before you go, Rahman, I want to apologize to you and your friends. I am very sorry about this. I did not know he was like that.” “It’s okay, sir. It is not your fault. It is his fault.” I was stunned. I admit, I felt a little bit better when he said that. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling it was. I gave them money for food and drink, and some as compensation. I was feeling truly awful about it. I was furious. I called Hasan Ali. He did not pick up the mobile phone I gave him. I called him every ten minutes for the next few hours, my anger rose like mercury in a thermometer, climbing steadily higher with each half hour he did not pick up. He was supposed to carry the mobile phone with him at all times. He infringed a ground rule. Worse still, he illegally detained, robbed, and abused Rahman and his friends; he broke the law. Finally, at around three o’clock, I saw an unknown number call my mobile. I remember sitting in the current administration area of our office probably ranting about the situation to Farhan. “Boosssss.” It was Hasan Ali. I intensified my listening to pick out the background noise. I could hear he was not in a room, he was outside, there was some traffic in the distance. He had the type of swagger to his voice that was emboldened by alcohol. Our conversation was originally in Malay. “Hasan. Why are you not on the phone I gave you?” “Uhhhh… Bosss. I missplaccceeed it.” “Where are you?” “I am in Klangggg.” “What are you doing there?” “I have some delivery to do here, bosss.” I turned to Farhan and asked him whether anyone sent Hasan to Klang. Without skipping a beat, he responded, “No, in fact, he has not been into the office these last three days. He hasn’t responded to any of our calls. Actually, we were going to bring it up to you.” If my fury were a bonfire, that reply felt like someone threw a tank of petrol on it. “You lied to me, Hasan. There is no work in Klang. You have not been in the office these last three days.” “Bosss. Bosss. I have a lot of work bosssss.” “Now listen. I am giving you a direct instruction, get back to the office right now. I give you until 430 pm to come here and explain yourself. I will hear you out. You understand?” He laughed. “Yah. Yah. I am busy bosssss. I cannot go to office.” “You have no work there Hasan. If you don’t get back here by 430 pm, things are not going to go well for you. And oh, Rahman came to see me. I know what you did to them. They told me about your sword. That is illegal, Hasan.” Suddenly, there was an absence of sound on the other side of the line. It was as if a vacuum sucked all sound from the other end. I sensed a change of vibe over the phone. “He is lying!! He is bloody liar! He
