A Vision At Sunrise

By W. John Bowen

set in the first years of the 21st century, this book tells the story of miguel santiago, a boy of portuguese ancestry who is born into a life of poverty in the historic portuguese enclave of malacca in malaysia. by hard work and determination he rises above his life of poverty and pettiness to become the owner and ceo of one of the most prestigious firms in the country. however he makes some fateful decisions along the way which come back to haunt him in later years and ultimately destroys both his business and his personal life.

with his life in ruins he decides to commit the ultimate act and end it all on the deck of his luxury home at his favorite time of day, the early morning sunrise. in those final moments before slipping away he comes to understand both the joys and the futility of his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: W. John Bowen
• Release date: Sep 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301757299

Book preview

Chapter 1

Under the soothing monotony of rain on roof tile Miguel Joao Santiago sat on his patio leisurely sipping a cup of freshly brewed coffee, browsing through the day's paper. His wife Ester was inside making herself an iced tea and as Miguel waited for her to join him, he was absorbed in a blissful combination of satisfaction and contentment, and with good reason.

Though he had not yet retired, himself and Ester were now living a comfortable, leisurely life together and were able to spend almost unlimited amounts of quality time with each other since the last of their children had moved out on their own.

He was also the president and CEO of Del Gado Construction Sdn. Bhd., one of the most dynamic and successful companies in the whole of Malaysia. Not only that, his company was now on the verge of closing their biggest contract ever. In fact, at this very moment one of his top executives, a young man by the name of Billy Cheong, was negotiating the final stages of it. If everything went as planned the signing ceremony was set to take place about two weeks.

The contract was for the refurbishing of the entire port facilities for Penang, and it was worth over one billion Malaysian Ringgit. That translated into over three hundred million US dollars, and a sizeable chunk of that would be clear profit. Yes Miguel Santiago had good reason to feel contented on this particular afternoon, but it had not always been this way.

Born to the owners of a small sundry shop in Malacca some fifty four years earlier, Miguel was the eldest in a family of three girls and two boys. His younger brother and one of the girls had died in early childhood so Miguel was left with two younger sisters. His mother often related how on the day of his birth, there were heavy thunderstorms throughout the day which was very unusual for that time of year. An old Indian fakir had told her that this meant that the boy's life would be one of struggle and change but that it would also bring great prosperity. However he had added gravely, his path will also be marked by violence and tragedy. Miguel's mother had begged the old man to elaborate, but he would say nothing further. From the time he could first remember hearing them, the old fakir's mysterious words stayed with Miguel in a rather haunting fashion.

As a child growing up in their tiny quarters at the back of the family shop, Miguel Santiago had known the world only through the rheumic eyes of poverty. Being of full blooded Portuguese descent, the children were raised as devout Catholics, and one of Miguel's most vivid recollections of his childhood was that of the little wooden crucifix that hung in one corner of the main room of their living quarters over an ornately carved wooden altar. It was an ancient carving probably dating back to the days of the Portuguese colonization of Malacca, though there were no records of course, and the little emaciated figure was worn and chipped with the countless years. The pained look on that little carved face beneath the cruel crown of thorns impressed upon Miguel the image that life and suffering were inseparable, and that even moreso one somehow belonged to the other. It was to give him a lifelong sense of foreboding, some would say a phobia, that failure was so inextricably entwined with any notion of success that the fulfillment of the latter was bound to herald the inevitably of the former.

Miguel's mother was a hard working and deeply religious woman who had resigned herself to endure the hardships and injustices of this world for the promise of something better in the next. She spent virtually every working hour engaged in a battle against seemingly hopeless odds to ensure the daily survival of her family. She ran the family shop, attended to her household chores and strove to give her children the privilege of attending school so that they might have a chance to achieve something better in their lives than what had been allotted to her in hers. A stoic determination, born partly of her religion and inherited partly from her legendary forefathers, ran in her character like a deep and silent current. For those close to her, it was alternately a source of intense frustration and profound respect.

Miguel remembered her unfailing nightly ritual of kneeling before the little moribund altar in silent prayer, motionless except for the obligatory crossing of herself, and when she was finished, the same look, a curious mixture of hope and resignation was always left etched upon her features. To Miguel, a child who saw no noticeable improvement in his day to day circumstances, this constantly re-enacted scene of his kneeling mother being gazed down upon by that beatifically anguished face, served only to reaffirm in him his already fated sense of hopelessness that life and suffering were inseparable entities. It was also at the root of his burning determination to free himself from such an existence.

Miguel's father, who had completed several years of schooling, was a different matter altogether and he contributed to Miguel's feeling of life being filled with inescapable misery, in an entirely different and much more tangible respect. He was by certain measures an intelligent man. He dressed smart, considering his circumstances, was well spoken and had a sharp, if somewhat overly acid wit. However any constructiveness that may have been gleaned from these characteristics were offset by a deep rooted negativity which, combined with an overblown sense of self worth, reduced the man to a perpetual state of pettiness. In addition to this or maybe partially because of it, he was embodied by an all pervasive sense of remorse cum anger that is often peculiar to those nationalities who are the sons and daughters of once glorious empires.

In stark contrast to the silent stoicism of his wife, and this was a constant source of irritation to him, he had a hot, quick temper, and often brooded over his lot in life, blaming anyone but himself for his unenviable position in the overall scheme of things. In his lesser moments when the excesses of the Vinho Tinto had taken its toll, he would rant and rave about the glorious old days when the Portuguese controlled the spice routes to the Orient and were considered foremost amongst the finest sailor-warriors in the world.

Although he loudly proclaimed to run the family business as he called their little shop, he in fact did little or nothing to help Miguel's mother with the day to day management of it, while his alcoholic indulgences claimed most of the modest income that it managed to generate. It was this latter fact that was the main cause of the recurring violent arguments that Miguel remembered as home life throughout his childhood years. If there was one positive contribution that his father had made to Miguel's life through all of this, it was to instill in him the determination never to be like that when he grew up.

Chapter 2

Ester emerged from the house smiling, with a tray bearing a jug of iced lemon tea and two glasses. She was a rather tall woman with a still trim figure and striking aristocratic features, and it was easy to see that in her younger days, she had been one of those rare classic beauties. Looking at her now, Miguel still found it hard to believe that she was the fifty two year old mother of three grown children and a grandmother to five.

At your service, she said jokingly, setting down the tray.

They did not have a maid although they could have afforded any number of servants. After the last of the children had left Miguel had wanted her to retain at least one servant but Ester had been adamant on the point of doing things herself, so he had agreed to let all the help go. Now there was just the one girl who came in a couple of times a week to help dust and clean the place.

Ester had said, quote: I do not want to become one of these awful ladies who go around dripping with gold ornaments and organizing countless afternoon teas for forgettable causes, just to create some sort of filler for the years between now and death. A little domestic toil would keep her in touch with reality and give her life a sense of meaning, she had said. Besides she had added with a twinkle in her eye, it will give us our first chance to be alone together since we were first married. Miguel had found it hard to argue with that last point.

They often ate out in the evenings and when circumstances permitted they had wonderful candlelit dinners at home, complete with a nice bottle of Portuguese wine, usually an aged Dao or a chilled Mateus Rose, and often followed with a glass of the world famous Vinho Porto. One of the things that Miguel had done when his fortunes had first permitted, was to visit his ancestral Portugal and revive some of his roots there. While it had not become an obsession with him, there were many things about it that he enjoyed, and the fine Portuguese wines were one of those things.

Thanks said Miguel but I'll stick with the coffee.

Miguel was himself a portly man who, while preferring to dress conservatively, managed to do so with a certain style and grace. There was still a strikingly boyish aspect to his facial features, and with his thinning hair, graying at the temples, and soft, brown Latino eyes, he carried his fifty four years well.

Do you have any plans for the weekend, Ester asked, taking a glass and pouring herself a glass of tea.

No, nothing special, Miguel set the newspaper down and reached for his coffee, why, do you have anything in mind?

Well I thought. we might slip up to Langkawi Saturday afternoon, get a cottage for the night and come back Sunday evening. It's been some time since we have gotten away from the city, and I'm starting to feel a little claustrophobic. What do you think?

I wouldn't mind that at all. Thoughts of the azure tropical sea and the wonderful white beaches of Langkawi Island made it seem like a marvelous idea. Let's see tomorrow is Friday, I'll see what's happening at the office in the morning and..., the sentence was cut short by an intrusive ringing. Miguel picked up his phone from where it lay beside the newspaper.

Hello.

Hello, Miguel Santiago please.

Miguel froze, even though he had not heard that voice in almost fifteen years, he recognized it instantly.

Yes Jason, what is it? He hoped his voice sounded at least close to normal.

Look Miguel I'm in Singapore at the moment, I arrived here yesterday to take care of some business and I will be flying up to Kuala Lumpur in the morning. Now look, I know this is not what we agreed to but I would like to see you. Maybe we could meet for lunch or something.

Yes I suppose that could be arranged, said Miguel cautiously. He had been caught completely off guard and didn't know what else to say. Where would you like to meet.

How about Eden Jason suggested, the food is passable there as I remember and we can have a little privacy.

Eden will be fine, Miguel's heart was pounding now and the already slowing adrenalin was serving to increase the sense of misgiving that was settling over him. I'll meet you there at one o'clock. His voice had by now resisted all efforts of self control, and came out as dead as driftwood. They exchanged goodbyes and he listlessly put down the phone.

Was it him? Ester didn't have to ask.

Yes it was him, answered Miguel, speaking in rote fashion. He's in Singapore and will be coming to KL tomorrow morning. He wants me to meet him for lunch.

Did he say what it was about, asked Ester?

No, but you can bet it's nothing good, answered Miguel, his misgivings and anger clearly showing.

Don't worry about it now, Ester put an hand on his shoulder and tried to sound reassuring. Don't jump to any conclusions before you've met with him.

I suppose you're right, Miguel mumbled, not at all convinced. He drained the rest of his coffee and sighed, Langkawi Island seemed like a thousand light-years away.

Jason Wong was a person whom Miguel wished he had never met, and certainly wished he had never done business with. However he had done both, and financially speaking, he had profited handsomely from the latter, but the price had been high. Miguel had often since termed it as devastating.

Jason was cruel and ruthless but he also possessed a head for figures and a knack for making a buck. He was, Miguel thought, a white collar thug if there ever was such a thing, and while these attributes had made him a wealthy man, Miguel had seen ample evidence that he simply didn't care about any of it, not people, not the money, not anything. There was only one word that could describe Jason Wong. That word was dangerous.

Chapter 3

Eden restaurant was a somewhat aging edifice but it was still ranked among the better dining establishments in Kuala Lumpur and more importantly it was a place where one could meet and discuss any manner of business, personal or professional in complete privacy. There was an indoor and outdoor section to the place and in the evenings there were cultural shows in the latter, featuring representative dances from all three of Malaysia's major cultural groups, Malay, Indian and Chinese as well as some of the indigenous tribes, of East Malaysia. At lunch-time it was a popular spot with the more successful class of businesspeople. The menu was excellent and Jason's previous comment about the food being passable was just another example of his affected swagger.

They met at the reception area and exchanged only brief hellos before a hostess led them to a table in a secluded section of the restaurant where they would be assured of uninterrupted privacy. Their waiter came and Miguel ordered cognac while Jason had his trademark single malt scotch.

Miguel, good to see you again Jason began, looks like life has been treating you well, you've filled out a little since the old days.

He's in cheerful banter mode, thought Miguel. Lots of nice sounding noise without a shred of emotion. The conversational equivalent of elevator music".

I'm OK, he said aloud. Now I'm sure you didn't come all the way here after fifteen years to tell me that I've gained weight. So would you mind telling me what this is all about.

You never change, thought Jason, still in an eternal state of near panic, I wonder how many ulcers you have grown by now. Aloud he continued in his applied cheerful manner, Come now Miguel, is that any way to treat an old comrade, let's have our drinks and order food before we get down to business.

The waiter appeared with their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. Miguel ordered a Waldorf Salad and poached Rainbow Trout, while Jason with his usual flamboyance, had Shrimp cocktail and a combination of Lobster Termidor and Fillet Mignon with Black Mushrooms.

While they were waiting for the food to arrive Jason continued on with general talk about some recent investments of his in Singapore and the ongoing solidification of the economy in Hong Kong. Finally the appetizers arrived and Miguel, being fed up with all the pretense, could constrain himself no longer. Jason was saying, and some banks are even moving their entire, when he interrupted him in mid sentence.

Shall we cut the crap Jason. We both agreed to a certain arrangement a long time ago, and I would like to know why the Hell you've chosen now to come here and break it.

Listen my friend , it is not like that. Jason still tried to sound congenial.

Oh but it is like that Jason, and just for record, we are not friends. Now state your business and let's have done with it.

If that's what you want, said Jason, throwing up his hands in mock resignation.

That's what I want, was Miguel's laconic reply. Now what is it?" He took a forkful of salad and chewed it deliberately, holding a steady gaze on Jason.

I need a favour from you. Jason was no longer the amicable businessman at lunch, he was now cold and direct. Both men stared across the table at each other, testing the icy waters between them.

Fifteen years ago I paid you a great deal of money for your agreement that we would never have this conversation, Miguel said.

And for fifteen years I have kept my end of the bargain, replied Jason, but now I have no choice, I need your help Miguel.

You have never needed anyone's help and you never will, thought Miguel. You just continually come up with ways to use people for your own filthy gain. Well the way I see it Jason, he said aloud, turning back the skin of the trout with his knife to expose the delicate pink flesh within, is that our arrangement is still in force and it always will be. You agreed never to contact me again under any circumstances and for that pledge I considerably fattened a certain Swiss Bank account under the number that you gave me. Therefore I see no reason to entertain this request for me to do you a favour because of some whim of yours fifteen years later.

Now listen you pompous ass, Jason began, the raw black ugliness that was his true nature now showing clearly. I made you what you are. If it wasn't for me you wouldn't have had the money to put into any Swiss Bank account in the first place, either for me or for anyone else. You were struggling to pay the rent on your office before I came along and pulled you out of that mess, so don't come on to me about how you won't entertain this and you refuse to consider that. I'm calling the shots on this, and if there is any dispute about that let's put things back into perspective right now. There is still the matter of C. K. Lau which I'm sure you must remember, and which I am equally sure that the authorities would be very keen to discuss with you. The case on him is still not officially closed you know, and your knowledge of certain pertinent facts regarding it, which you chose not to disclose at the time they questioned you, would be very, shall we say revealing, were they ever to come to light.

You dirty bastard, hissed Miguel, his knuckles white with the force of his grip on the knife handle while on the end of his fork a portion of trout stood motionless halfway to his mouth. Hearing the name that he had not even permitted himself to mention in his own mind for fifteen years, seared through him like a hot knife You know that it would be suicide for you to ever bring that up. They'd hang you.

Jason studied the effect of his last statement as he savored a morsel of lobster. He knew that he had shaken Miguel to the very core. It was time to change tactics. Don't get uptight, he said lightly, this is nothing personal, it is a matter of survival, for you and for me. You remember Andrew Lee, my friend from Hong Kong who covered for me, and indirectly for you too I might add, during the whole affair with Lau and the Golden Investments thing. Well I needed his help on another matter last year and now he is calling in the favour. If I don't come through for him what will happen to me will be far worse than anything the authorities here could do to me. My back is against the wall on this one Miguel, and it so happens that you can help me out with it. If you refuse I will be going down one way or the other, and if that happens I will be taking you with me, that you can count on". He waited a moment to let the full effect of this to sink in before continuing.

These are just simple laws of nature Miguel, the natural laws of survival. They were around a long time before we ever existed, and they will be around a long time after we are gone. Now why don't you think this over carefully and at least hear what it is that I have to ask of you before you go blowing up over it. He spoke almost as if talking to a child.

Miguel was well aware of the powerlessness of his position and the fact that he knew that Jason was also aware of it, made it doubly hard to swallow. So just what is this favour that you want to ask of me, he quietly asked?

Just a flicker of triumph showed in Jason's eyes as he bit into a tender portion of fillet. He still had some distance to go with Miguel on this, so he didn't want to make a point of gloating just yet.

I don't know how much you know about Andrew Lee these days, but he still has considerable and discrete business interests here in Malaysia. Now it seems that as of late the people responsible for overseeing these interests have been getting a little sloppy in their work. On the accounting side the books are not being balanced to Mr. Lee's satisfaction, while on the operational side, there are certain rival interests which have been acquiring rather substantial slices of his action, err, business. Mr. Lee feels that this could not possibly be happening without the knowledge, if not the tacit support, of some highly placed members within his own organization here. I'm sure you know what I mean".

Miguel knew exactly what he meant. Some of Mr. Lee's managers as Jason euphemistically called them, were obviously not only dipping their hands in the till, they were cutting deals with rival gang members for a kickback on the action. He also knew that these managers were the sort of people who would find it extremely difficult to get life insurance coverage. So what do you want me to do about it, he asked? His anger was fast dissipating into resignation, and he was already looking for possible ways to minimize his risk in all of this.

Jason knew that he was in complete control of the situation now. Well naturally our friend, he deliberately injected the word our, "is not too happy about all of this. It also happens that he has been presented with the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with