A Twinkle in the Sky

By James KS Teo

An emir eager to exercise a devious plan sets his sights on Singapore. If he has his way, the small nation in Southeast Asia will disappear from the map.

Dangerous friends join the emir: a Russian physicist and a suicide bomber, Inaya Izz Din, whom both are key players in his plan. When the time comes, they will be ready.

The plot begins with packets of white powder that are mailed to nine foreign services in Singapore. The contents are mainly harmless, but chaos ensues, and the governments attention is diverted at a crucial time.

Meanwhile, Evelyn Lee, a semi-paralyzed woman, finds her life spiraling out of control. But when she has a vision of the Archangel Gabriel and then meets Inaya, her life changes dramatically. What she does not know is that she will play a critical role in the events that are about to unfold.

As Evelyn tries to make sense of what is happening, the authorities search frantically for the terrorists. If they fail to unravel the plot, Singapore will be destroyed in A Twinkle in the Sky.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 7, 2009
• ISBN: 9780595627196

James KS Teo

James KS Teo grew up in culturally diverse Singapore. He travels a fair bit and enjoys a spot of fishing once in a while. A nature lover, he believes that some day the sun will rise for each and everyone.

Book preview

A Twinkle in

the Sky

James KS Teo

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Bloomington\

A Twinkle in the Sky

Copyright © 2009 by James KS Teo

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-0-595-52665-9 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-0-595-62719-6 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 6/11/2009

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter 100

Chapter 101

Chapter 102

Chapter 103

Chapter 104

Chapter 105

Chapter 106

Chapter 107

Chapter 108

Chapter 109

Chapter 110

Chapter 111

Chapter 112

Chapter 113

Chapter 114

Chapter 115

Chapter 116

Chapter 117

Chapter 118

Epilogue

JAMES KS TEO grew up in culturally diverse Singapore. He travels a fair bit and enjoys a spot of fishing once in a while. A nature lover, he believes that some day the sun will rise for each and everyone.

For Leng Sin

your virtues, purity and innocence

have been constant reminders of life’s

inner beauty and strength,

in a world that is fragile, yet radiant.

Prologue

EVELYN

LEE W

AS blissful and reflective. She was listening to

Vincent

, her fav

orite song with its poetic lyrics and silky melody. A tribute to the famous Dutch painter, Vincent van Gogh, it had been made popular during the seventies. A time capsule beneath the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam held a set of the artist’s brushes and a copy of the music sheet.

Hers was a life filled with pain, loathing, and uncertainty. She could not appreciate her existence. To her, it was a nightmare.

Vincent van Gogh suffered from epilepsy, psychotic attacks, and delusions. He died in 1890 after shooting himself in the chest. Sadly, Evelyn had come to identify herself with the misunderstood man.

The year was 2029 when Evelyn recalled her encounter with a mysterious object that had fallen from the sky. It could have ruined her life. Or so she thought.

The hit tune was particularly nostalgic for her. She lapsed into nothingness as the last line of the last verse floated across the dimness of her room.

Perhaps they never will.

Chapter 1

ON APRIL 20, 2004, a major publication, the Front Times, carried a curious article on its first page with the headline, Hamas Men’s Killings Condemned by Singapore. In the report, the Republic criticized Israel’s targeted slaying of two Hamas leaders, Sheikhs Ahmed Yassin and Abdel Aziz Rantissi. It was concerned that this would only lead to more hostilities in the Middle East. Israeli commanders, however, pointed to the militant group’s campaign of suicide bombings as justification for its actions.

Hamas did not recognize Israel as a sovereign state and had called for its destruction. Two men had founded it in 1987. Born in 1938, Ahmed Yassin was injured during his youth in a playground accident. A quadriplegic, he was almost blind in later years. On March 22, 2004, the spiritual head was eliminated in an Israeli helicopter missile offensive. Upon his passing, Abdel Aziz Rantissi assumed the leadership of the establishment. A hardliner, he had opposed ending attacks on the Israelis, and he had vowed to kill Jews everywhere. Less than a month into his new role, at the age of fifty-seven, he became a victim of another Israeli air strike in Gaza City on April 17.

Hamas had gained prominence among many Palestinians because of its extensive welfare programs, and it was perceived as being efficient and honest. It had, however, also carried out attacks on civilian targets. Australia, Canada, the European Union, Japan, United Kingdom, and the United States had listed it as a terrorist organization.

After the assassinations, Israeli officials were quick to declare that Yassin and Rantissi were marked as they were responsible for numerous terror assaults that had resulted in the deaths of many civilians, both Israelis and foreigners.

International reaction followed. The UN Secretary-General, British government, and White House all denounced the slaying. The United States, however, added that Israel had the right to defend itself.

A representative from Singapore’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs stated that the killings could not be condoned and were contrary to the peace process. They would only perpetuate the cycle of violence and did not serve the interest of Israel, the Palestinians, and the world.

In his office, Colonel Dexter Chia was a little perturbed. Being the pragmatist, he was certain that it would be a matter of time before the Israeli-Palestinian conflict resolved itself.

The road toward an amicable solution had been slippery but was now potholed. He was nevertheless optimistic, regardless of the periodical upheavals in the history of the two people since the 1880s.

It had long been forgotten by the gods, he ruminated.

But he was not going to let this minor detail distract him from the more pressing issues since 911. For now, the threats of terrorism loomed larger than ever before.

Chapter 2

2004 COULD ALSO mean the shortened form for April 20. To the local Chinese who feared the netherworld, the number four was inauspicious. It sounded like death to them. It was to be avoided as much as possible, more so when the figure popped up twice in a date with an eerie numerical coincidence.

The more gullible had chosen to stay home to shun the bad vibes that might wreak havoc on their lives. That day, however, had a different and profound significance for Jusse Yumin. The sprightly, young man had graduated with honors. Not quite twenty-nine, he fulfilled two-and-a-half years of compulsory military service prior to enrolling at an institution of higher learning. His passion was in computers, but he had opted for a course in Mechatronics to allow him maximum career opportunities. He took on the job of a systems engineer initially, but he left as soon as he had grasped the fundamentals.

The humidity on Wednesday was exceptionally high. At thirty-three degrees Celsius, the heat was stifling. Standing a few hundred meters from an underground rail excavation site along Nicoll Highway, he was swigging chilled soda that he had bought from a roadside stand. He had just left his agency in the Golden Mile complex on the opposite side of the road. At 12:45 PM, lunch was very much on his mind.

He heard a maddening roar just as he had crossed the heavy traffic to get to the cavernous Suntec City mall. He turned to his right and saw a fast-approaching motorbike. It whizzed past him at breakneck speed.

Maniac! he muttered as he narrowly missed being mowed down.

He reckoned the rider was going over a hundred kilometers per hour, but he managed to make out the license plate. JK 298. He appeared to be slim built, and he was clad in a dark T-shirt that covered three-fourths of his arms. A striped, red-and-blue helmet shielded him. On his back was a grey haversack.

Then a peculiar thing happened. The daredevil raised his left hand and punched the air, as if in triumph.

He must be in high spirits, Jusse thought.

At 1:20 PM, a deafening rumble greeted Jusse and his pal, who were both tucking into salmon steaks while seated at a congested restaurant at the hip shopping center. It was no clap of a thunder. It was more like an explosion. There was an immediate buzz as the diners craned their necks in the direction of the disturbance.

Jusse was seated near a glass panel, so he had an explicit view. A thick cloud of smoke billowed from the MRT worksite. Ill at ease, he did not know what to make of the midday incursion.

Seven minutes later, they heard another blast. This time, there was smoldering black smoke, and Jusse presumed it was a cave-in. His appetite came to an abrupt end.

Whoa! What in heavens was that? his lunchmate exclaimed. A bomb or something?

It looked nasty, Jusse said. Could be a landslip. Let’s hope so.

***

Inaya Izz Din eased her Phantom into a public car park by the sea off Elias Road in the northeastern mainland. She waved to a Caucasian man who was wearing a green shirt and standing at a bus stop. A bandanna encircled his neck. He gestured with the V-sign symbol for victory, and she briskly made her way to a jetty not far away while he strolled toward her two-wheeler.

She then boarded a motorboat and headed for the boomerang-shaped Granite Island, better known as Pulau Ubin and well-known for its natural and rustic charm.

Time had stood still for the nineteen-year-old when she learned of the highway collapse in the late afternoon. She was overwhelmed. She was glad she had pulled off the stunt.

Chapter 3

THE SPECIAL PEOPLE Association aimed to reach out to the intellectually, visually, and physically challenged. The intellectually disadvantaged were often referred to as slow learners while the visually handicapped could not see beyond a distance of six meters. Any disability that permanently restricted mobility was considered a physical disability, and this included speech impediments.

At the age of thirty-seven, Evelyn Lee was as contented as ever. She was happy to have joined the group where she could share her experiences with the less fortunate. It suited her in many ways. She had come a long way, and she was pleased she could lend her voice in a concert by special people. The Color of Optimism was staged at the Hope Community Theatre on December 29, 2002. Even though it was a rainy Sunday, the auditorium was filled to capacity.

Evelyn played the role of an unfeeling sister drawn to partying and fashion. She didn’t care much for her sightless brother. Her attitude changed completely when she lost a leg in a hit-and-run car mishap. She realized her wanton ways and sought her kindred’s forgiveness when she had recovered from her trauma. She acted and sang well, and the audience gave her an ovation during the closing credits. It was a short play, but it was a tremendous booster for her.

That evening, she arrived home alone. She walked with a limp with her gait slightly tilted to the right. There were two rows of potted plants of ferns and cacti and a pair of flip-flops outside her three-room residential flat in Tampines. It was barely furnished. As she switched on the lights in the living room, she sighed. She had made her way back without any assistance. Years ago, that was so hard to accomplish.

She was wheelchair-bound in 1992 for three terrifying years. She was at her prime. A stroke had left her semi-paralyzed. Her mouth was twisted, and she was close to losing her ability to speak. She loathed her repulsive look. As luck would have it, she had to put on glasses. From perfect eyesight, she was now six hundred and fifty degrees myopic.

Some days, she thought she had lost her mind as she could not even count from one to ten. Her cognitive process had taken a tumble. She felt so much older than her twenty-eight years.

By the time she was able to walk on her own again, she had incurred a debt of almost $100,000. It was a struggle after that. Her monthly loan repayment meant an eternity. She was subsisting on her daily wage of $16 as a newspaper vendor, working four days a week from 2:00 to 10:00 PM. It was never enough. The days were unbearable.

Evelyn had no one to turn to for help. She was scared of the days ahead. She was broke and wretched. Her self-confidence had been flattened. Her desperation and despair overflowed. She blamed her Creator for the misery.

Chapter 4

MRT WORKSITE COLLAPSE Mangles Nicoll Highway. That was the shattering front-page news in the Front Times on April 21, 2004. Similar upsetting, attention-grabbing headlines appeared in other publications.

The massive collapse of the construction site stunned many. It wrecked a stretch of the sizzling road near the Merdeka Bridge. The incident resulted in the death of a construction worker. Three persons were missing and feared dead, while several others sustained injuries.

From the look of it, the highway has to be closed for a while. It’s going to take six to nine months, the transport minister commented.

Meanwhile, thousands of commuters were affected. The traffic disruption was unprecedented. The expressway was a popular route to the workplaces in the financial hub of Shenton Way.

There has been no indication that foul play was involved, echoed a spokesman from the Ministry of Home Affairs, responding to a grim-faced reporter’s inquiry.

Six days later, traffic police from Johore in West Malaysia were alerted to an abandoned, burnt motorcycle near the seaside resort of Desaru, not far from Singapore. It carried the license plate TNA53-002, which was still evident.

The Kriss speculated that the vehicle could have come from neighboring Narathiwat in southern Thailand. The owner had apparently taken off after the machine had caught fire. Inquiries did not reveal anything.

A distance away, a beachcomber had chanced upon a rectangular, bright yellow piece of plastic that the waves had washed up. It looked like a nice find. He salvaged it and hung it outside his corrugated hut. He hoped it would bring him fortune.

The recent events bothered Jusse Yumin as he read the bulletin in his room in the Kuala Lumpur Hilton. It was midnight, and he was still awake after a full day’s seminar on combative science and a dinner engagement at the opulent Jade Peony. He recalled the speeding bike and the rider punching the air. Then the highway disaster had happened. He mulled over the reported wreckage that he surmised as a trifle freakish.

Wondering if there were any connection in all of this, he thought, Was it the wrath of nature? Or had a case of human negligence led to the MRT tragedy? Or could it be remotely possible that it was a terrorist attack?

It was a fascinating equation.

On his way back, the private investigator made an unscheduled stop. The modest town of Desaru was tranquil. Swaying coconut trees dotted the beach. He was surprised that it was rather deserted. Then what he saw struck him.

A registration plate hung from the dwelling of a villager. It had JK 298 on it. His lower jaw stiffened.

Chapter 5

IN HER YOUTH, a pretty and dimpled Evelyn was a picture of health and innocence. She was, however, not academically inclined. Six years of primary education in a Christian school was all that she had. By then, her mother had decided she should help her peddle meat buns and cream puffs in filthy Banda Street in busy Chinatown.

At seventeen, she met Errol Ahn, a long-haired drifter eight years her senior. He was a smooth talker, and she came under his spell. Ten months later, they had a shotgun marriage. They named their daughter Rinci. Her constant cries added to the rising stress. It was trouble right from the start.

Poverty drove Evelyn to work the third shift as a factory operator with Nizho Semiconductor in resuscitated Toa Payoh, once a swampy area. It paid little. She didn’t have much of a choice. It at least settled the bills of her baby’s milk powder. She left Rinci in the care of her mother. During the day, she helped in the family’s shabby pastry shop.

Errol became aggressive, and he couldn’t hold down a job for long. They began to drift apart. At dinner one day, he told her that he’d be flying to Taipei with a partner who wanted to set up a dim sum restaurant there. His friend had suggested that he join him there. They’d be in the Taiwanese capital for a month to size up the location.

She saw a glimmer of hope, but she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic because it implied that he’d be overseas indefinitely. But it was a better option, and she was persuaded.

He came back a week too soon. The business deal was a flop. She was disappointed, but she didn’t show it. When she got home from work at eight thirty the next morning, he had already left. She deemed it unusual. The loafer would normally still be lying around.

His travel bag was on the floor. The zipper was unfastened. A few items of clothing were inside. They were crumpled and obviously soiled. Shaking her head, Evelyn bent down and drew out the clothes. As she did so, several polyethylene squares spilled out. The sight of the packs of condoms sickened her.

Errol was intoxicated and in bed when she returned the next day. Fuming and suspicious, she had to find out. She reached into his trouser pocket and took out his wallet. More than $2,000 was inside. She was bewildered, thinking he could not have that much cash on him. But she was totally unprepared for her next find, a snapshot of a young female who was neither curvy nor appealing. Actually, she was chubby and looked rather sad. Behind the photo, she had neatly written, Darling Errol, the Taipei trip was memorable. Cui Fen. Jul 15, 1982.

Whatever he saw in her and she in him were of no consequence. Evelyn was too devastated to delve into it. She was seven months pregnant.

Chapter 6

INAYA IZZ DIN had often read about American imperialism and the turmoil in the Middle East. She grinned as she watched the collapse of the mighty Twin Towers in Manhattan.

In her bedroom in Kensington Walk in London, she deduced wistfully, The U.S. has been brought to her knees.

Following the extremists’ aggression, her curiosity grew.

Born into a wealthy household in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, she had a blessed but mixed childhood. Her mother was a fair maiden from Jordan, and Inaya took after her mother’s flawless complexion with big eyes and high cheekbones. By the age of twelve, she was already admired for her fine form. But her father was uneasy with her selection of toys. She liked playing with guns and trains, and she was adept at putting together model airplanes and race cars. Such things were not supposed to fascinate girls.

He figured he had to do something drastic to revise her outlook and safeguard her future. In the wrong company, one could never know what could go wrong. He loved her too much to lose her. He settled on sending her to a boarding school in England.

Inaya arrived in London in the summer of 2000, accompanied by a strict aunt. She didn’t agree with her father’s decision, and she had protested. She was headstrong. But her patriarch’s word was final. She couldn’t understand his logic that a Western education was in her best interest.

The capital has a huge student population. There are about three hundred and fifty thousand of them. It is advanced in research. You will do well in such an environment, the senior Nadeem said, coughing erratically. You will also benefit from the diverse cultures and peoples. Londoners speak an assortment of three hundred languages. You will find the opportunity to mingle and stay connected. It will be very instructive.

It wasn’t a splendid start though. The Y2K bug threatened the new millennium. Analysts gathered it would cripple key industries in banking, manufacturing, telecommunications, utilities, and transportation. The crisis never did surface. But, for the youngster, it was the beginning of a moving journey and an unknown destination.

Chapter 7

WHY ARE YOU doing this to me? Evelyn screamed. Can’t you see I am carrying your child? Our second child?

I could not help it, the scoundrel said sheepishly.

You are so irresponsible. What have I done to deserve this? How long have you been doing this behind my back? You bloodsucker! she yelled, hysterical now.

Beaten, Errol tried to apologize, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at his wife.

He explained. I don’t mean to cheat on you. You were always working the late shift. It wasn’t easy for me. Rinci was also giving problems. Then I met Fen. She was good to me. She provided for me and gave me lots of encouragement.

Enraged, Evelyn knew she couldn’t live with the ungrateful parasite anymore. She hated him now. Anger seethed in her. In the heat of the moment, she found herself snatching a flower vase on the dressing table and flinging it at him. It grazed his shoulder. He got up, not quite knowing what to do.

Then he spoke passively, I’ll leave it to you. I won’t stand in your way. I think it’s preferable that we go our separate ways. Fen’s the one for me.

It was the only remedy he could come up with, but it infuriated Evelyn even more. She raised her right hand to slap him. Before it could reach him, he caught hold of her and instinctively pushed her back. She went sprawling. Her face struck the side of the bed, and she yelled loudly. Blood poured out of her mouth. She passed out.

In her dream, Evelyn met an astrologer, who said, You will be rich. You will have five children. But your sorrows are as deep as the oceans. You are likely to live only for the present. Your star is aligned with the sun. You need not subscribe to what others had been saying. You have to make plans to counter the raw energy that is encircling you.

It was odd what he had said. It was inconsistent and incomprehensible. When she awoke later, she visualized a smile on her. As she felt her dry lips with her tongue, she felt a sharp pain on the left side of her face. Reflexively, she touched it. It was bandaged. Then she saw the doctor.

Take it easy, Evelyn, he said. You were unconscious for the past two days. You were bleeding from the mouth, and we had to operate. We had to stitch the inside of your left cheek. You are lucky. Your baby’s all right.

Then it all came back. It was all over for her. She was never going to forgive the two-timer. Tears streamed down her cheeks, staining the bandage. She was to know gradually that her charming dimples had also forsaken her.

She gave birth two months after being put in the hospital. She had a caesarian section and named her inopportune bundle after the Ritschschwaige hotel in Italy where she had her. She thought Ritsch was a propitious choice, having won the holiday trip in a contest.

She filed for divorce on the grounds of adultery, and she was granted a decree nisi. She was free again at the age of twenty-two, albeit for the wrong reason.

Chapter 8

ON A BACKSTREET in the West End of London’s entertainment district, Thaqib Khan stood smoking a Camel. Somewhat scruffy, he was nonetheless promising and capable. At twenty-seven and a little under two meters tall, he was all eighty-two kilograms of hunk. But what attracted most people was his sincere, brown eyes.

He spoke lilting Arabic and fluent English. Caring, he’d occasionally buy lunch for Inaya. She was impressed with his knowledge of the Quran.

She walked toward him as he waved at her.

Here’s a guy who’s kind and reticent, she mused as he slipped a note with a coded message into the back pocket of his baggy pants.

Have you heard of the case of Aswan Rasul and his family? Thaqib ventured. It’s all very pitiful. And the police spoke about law and order. What rubbish! It’s clearly a case of discrimination.

"I’ve read about it in the Daily Mail. Rasul ran a support network for terrorists in Uzbekistan, and he was linked to a series of bombings. Seems the police had acted appropriately."

It’s not what was reported. Excessive force was used to extract a confession from the detainee. He was repeatedly punched and kicked in the genitals. His human rights lawyer had difficulty getting to him. There was even speculation that he was set up and he might be extradited to the U.S. to face other charges.

You think it’s a miscarriage of justice? Inaya asked. It’s more widespread than I think.

Rasul is an African Muslim. If he were white and non-Muslim, the government’s approach would surely be different. His wife and children weren’t spared either.

Now dismayed, Inaya asked, What about? I’ve not come across any report on them.

Let’s not go into it. It’s kind of gross. It will repulse you. You might puke.

No, let me into it. I have to know. It’s a matter of principle.

Thaqib looked down and said, "An interrogator threatened his wife. Said her home would be burned down with her children in it. She was confined for seventy-two hours in a room smeared with feces and filled with mosquitoes. She was fed stale food, which made her