Riani lay on a folding bed behind the DOC pharmacy. His breathing was regular, but his face was wrinkled, as if he was having a bad dream. Doc has succeeded in removing the pressure of his jacket and gave him a mild medicine.
"He will sleep until tomorrow morning," said Doc, cleaning his glasses. "His spiritual mind is in a state of shock. He needs a break."
Bimo and Pak Daru sat in two wooden chairs, the heavy atmosphere wrapped them. The word "traitor" echoes in silence.
"We can't stay here for a long time," said Mr. Daru finally. "Tofu syndicate we are looking for allies. They will tighten supervision."
"How do we find the traitor?" Bimo asked, staring at his folded hand on his lap.
"We cannot trust anyone for a while," answered Mr. Daru. "We have to work alone. Only you and me. And we have to hit back."
"Hitting back? How? We were almost killed earlier."
"Because we react. Now we must be proactive. We know their headquarters in Menteng. We know they have cleansers. But they also have weaknesses."
"What are the weaknesses?"
"They are afraid of you, Bimo. They want to catch you, not kill you. It gives us an advantage. And they depend on their jinn network. If we can disturb the supply of their negative energy, we can weaken them."
Pak Daru stood up and began to walk pacing. "Every high -level destroyer requires a 'source' - a place or person full of negative energy to be fed. Kesha must have one. If we can find and destroy it, it will be a big blow for him and his operation in Jakarta."
"How do we find the source?"
"You, Bimo. The tracks will feel the strongest in the red line. We return to the energy map. But this time, we are looking for the center of darkness, a knot of all black threads."
They asked for permission from DOC to use a small back room. Pak Daru held a map of his energy on the table. Bimo closed his eyes, putting the tip of his finger above the Menteng area where the headquarters was.
He empties his mind, looking for the cold and slippery oil that he associated with Kesha. He felt it, vaguely. He strengthened his concentration, following in the footsteps. The trail is not fixed in one place. The trail moves, circling around the Menteng area, but always returns to a certain point: an exclusive nightclub in the golden triangle area.
"Here," Bimo said, pointing to a building on the map. "This is the center. It feels ... like a hole that absorbs all the light. All red black lines head there."
"Paradiso club," murmured Mr. Daru, checking its location. "A suitable place. Luxury, lies, and greed that is disguised as entertainment. That is the perfect place to feed the jinn."
"We're going there?" Bimo asked, doubtful.
"Not like that. We will not infiltrate. We will cause interference from outside. If the source is a place, we can 'poison it'."
"Poisoning? How do you do it?"
"With the opposite of negative energy. With strong and pure positive energy. It will be like inserting clean water into an oil tank. It will disrupt their frequency, making the place unwored for the jinn, at least for a while."
"But I don't have positive energy. I have fire."
"And the fire is not only to destroy, Bimo. Fire also purifies. Your spiritual fire, when directed with the right intention, can burn fear and hatred, leaving clarity. That is purification. That is what we will do. We will purify the place from outside."
The plan is risky. They waited until late at night, when the club was filled with visitors. They parked in a dark hallway across the street, had a clear view to the luxurious club entrance.
Bimo can see it even without focusing vision. The constant negative energy flow flows into the club like an invisible river. He can also see the high shadows floating on the roof, the spiritual guard who is on guard.
"From here," said Mr. Daru. "Focus on the building. Do not be to the people. Imagine your fire not as a weapon, but as a cleanser. Imagine it spreads like fog, infiltrated every gap, burning all dirty energy without hurting anyone inside."
Bimo nodded. He closed his eyes. He found a hotspot on his chest. This time, he did not call anger or fear. He thought of feeling relieved Andi and Lani. He thought of his determination to protect. He thought of the desire to clean this place of invisible diseases.
The fire that appeared in his hand was different. The color is brighter, almost white, and does not flare up wildly. It rotates calmly, like a throbbing energy ball.
"Now," whispered Mr. Daru. "Remove. Spread it towards the building. Slowly."
Bimo pointed his palm at the Paradiso club. He imagined the white fire spread like a large light net, covering the entire building. He felt his strength drained quickly, much faster than when throwing a fireball. This requires a very large concentration and control.
For a few moments, nothing happened. Then, the lights at the club flicker. The rumbling music was suddenly cut off for a moment, causing a surprising silence before returning to lights up. Some people inside shouted, sounded confused.
Bimo, with his focused vision, see more dramatic changes. The fog of negative energy that enveloped the club began to dispersed, burned by its white fire net. Two guards on the roof screamed in pain and discomfort before escaping into the darkness, could not stand the new energy frequency.
He also saw something else. A familiar figure appeared on the second floor balcony. Kesha. He looked at the road, his pale blue eyes narrowed, his face furrowed in anger and recognition. He could not see Bimo directly, but he would feel the source of the disturbance.
"Enough!" said Mr. Daru suddenly, pulling Bimo's arm. "Stop it! He knows we are here!"
Bimo decided his concentration, staggered backwards. He felt very tired, like he had just run marathon.
From the balcony, Kesha raised her hand. He did not make movements on them. Instead, he made a circular motion with his fingers. Bimo saw the red line around him moving, twisted and pulled.
Suddenly, a garbage truck that was passing on the streets lost control. The front tires erupted, and the truck turned sharply, sliding directly towards their car!
"Go out!" Pak Daru shouted, pushing Bimo out of the car.
The two of them dive into the sidewalk right when the garbage truck crashed into Mr. Daru's car hard. Metal creak, and broken glass scattered. The car was destroyed.
The driver of the garbage truck staggered out, looking confused and scared.
Bimo rose, dust all over his body. He looked at the balcony. Kesha is still standing there. This time, he smiled. A cold and triumphant smile before he turned and went inside.
He didn't try to kill them. He just sent a message. He can reach them whenever he wants.
The police and the crowd began to swarm. Pak Daru pulled Bimo away from the scene.
"We have to go. Now."
Meak walked fast, along the dark hallway, leaving the destruction left by the message of Kesha.
They returned to the hiding house in Cengkareng on foot, tired and frustrated.
"We failed," Bimo murmured, dropped himself on the chair. "We don't even hurt him. He just destroyed your car."
"We did not fail," said Mr. Daru, even though he looked tired. "You see that Jin-jin runs away, right? That means your disturbance is working. He must use physical tricks, manipulate destiny to cause accidents, because his spiritual power is disturbed for a while. It is a small victory."
"But he's still out there. And he knows we will try again."
"Of course he knows. But now, we also know something else." Pak Daru looked at Bimo. "He reacted. He did not send other cleansers or jinn's troops. He used accidents. That means two things: he is not supported by many people, or he wants to hide our war from the human world. That is weakness."
Bimo nodded, starting to understand. "So we have to keep pushing. Make it keep reacting until he makes mistakes."
"Appropriate." Pak Daru took out an old mobile phone from his pocket. "And now, it's time we contact someone we can trust. Someone who is even a syndicate will not be suspecting."
"Who?" Bimo asked, curious.
"His name is Anton. He is a taxi driver. He cannot see the jinn or red line. But his wife has been the target of syndicate. We saved him many years ago. Since then, he vowed to help us in any way he could. His loyalty was no doubt because it came from gratitude, not from strength or ideology."
Mr. Daru called him. The conversation was short.
"Anton. I need help. My car is destroyed ... yes, in Menteng ... we need a safe transportation. Meet us in an ordinary place in one hour."
An hour later, an old blue taxi stopped at the end of the road near the hiding house. A fat man with a thick mustache and a friendly face nodded at them from behind the wheel.
"Anton," said Mr. Daru, opening the back door for Bimo.
"Pak Daru. Listen, you have a car problem," Anton said in a hoarse voice. "Come on, I'll take you."
Traveling with Anton's taxi feels strange normal. He drove smoothly, turning on the radio that played old pop songs. He did not ask about anything. He only did his job.
Bimo saw Anton's red line. The color is clean and strong, connecting it to a woman (maybe his wife) and with Mr. Daru. No black spots. That's a relief.
"Where to, sir?" Anton asked.
"Turn a moment, Anton," said Mr. Daru. "We need to make sure we are not followed."
Anton nodded and began to turn through small streets.
Bimo looked out the window, his eyes unconsciously scanning the environment. And then, he saw it. A familiar black car. A dark sedan without a number plate. It followed them from two back cars.
"Mr. Daru," Bimo whispered, pointing to the middle rearview mirror.
Pak Daru saw and his face became hard. "Anton. We have a tail. Black car."
Anton glanced at the rearview mirror. "Don't worry. I know the way in Jakarta is better than them." He suddenly turned right, entering a very narrow alley that almost did not fit for a taxi. The black car was forced to follow.
"Hold it tight!" Anton's warning.
He slammed the steering wheel to the left and right, passing through the hallways that were not even visible on the map. He passed the wet market that had been closed, crossed the yard of a workshop, and even driving briefly on a quiet sidewalk. His expertise is extraordinary driving.
After ten minutes of crazy maneuvers, Anton looked at the rearview mirror again and smiled. "Already lost."
Bimo looked back. The black car was already gone.
"Thank you, Anton," said Mr. Daru, leaning in his chair, relieved.
"It's normal, sir," Anton said simply. "Just a job."
They finally arrived at their new destination: a small boarding house that was not conspicuous in the Palmerah area. Anton refused to be paid.
"For my wife," he told Mr. Daru, shaking hands tightly. "If you need something more, just call."
They watched Anton's taxi away. Bimo felt a little better to know that there were ordinary people who were willing to help them.
The boarding house is simple but clean. Pak Daru locked the door and put a few small amulets on the door and window threshold.
"The reconnaissance anticipation," he explained. "This will give us a warning if someone tries to feel us in a spiritual way."
Bimo dropped himself on a thin bed on the floor. That day felt very long. He has used his strength in a new way, attacked by a garbage truck, and being chased by a dark car.
"He's strong, right? Kesha?" Bimo asked Mr. Daru, who was boiling water for tea.
"Very," answered Mr. Daru. "But remember, Bimo, his strength comes from the outside. From the genie he serves. Your strength comes from the inside. That is a difference that will determine everything."
Bimo looked at the ceiling. He raised his hand and called out a little fire. A warm and white small fire blazed at the tip of his finger. Purification fire.
He might still be afraid. He might still be unsure. But he began to understand the game. This is not about big battles. This is about perseverance. About continuing to push, keep cleaning, one knot of darkness at a time.
He clenched his fist, putting out the fire. They have resigned today, but they haven't lost. The fight for Jakarta, and for his future, is still ongoing. And Bimo intends to survive.