That night, the air around Taman Ismail Marzuki felt dense and perilous. Audia stepped out of her car, her legs trembling. She wore a simple black dress, her face pale and without makeup, exactly like the image of a broken woman—the image they wanted to see.
She walked along the empty sidewalk, every step feeling like she was heading toward the edge of a cliff. In her small purse, a tracking device and a hidden microphone were attached, linking her to Alvin and the "Sweepers" team hiding in a surveillance van a few blocks away.
"We can hear you, Di," Alvin's voice came through the small receiver in her ear. "We're here. We won't let anything happen to you."
But that assurance felt hollow amid the storm of fear raging in her chest.
She reached the door of Studio 4. It felt like the dark mouth of a cave. She took a deep breath and pushed it open.
