Sun Dinghuang was now clinging to the outside windowsill of his room, trying desperately to find a foothold, a wire, a gutter, anything to get away. He had just shot two armed, ragged-looking men who had entered his room brandishing AK-47s and was now desperately trying to escape two more. He decided to take his chances with a jump- it was only the second floor. Sun pushed off the building, contorting his body as he fell and coming down in a roll. He staggered to his feet and took off into the sparse woodland behind the hotel just in time to avoid a burst of gunfire. Behind him, his pursuers- Abidin and his cousin- were trying to leave via the window as well. Wong groped in his pocket for the cell phone Leah Silverstone had returned to him a mere fifteen minutes earlier with his free hand. The other held his pistol, now down four bullets. Finding the phone, he typed out a simple message to Bob Sadeski: HELP.
The pirates had apparently made their way to the ground. Shouts in Iban could be heard somewhere behind him. Sun kept running, heading deeper inland as he moved southward.
Back at the hotel, the clerk had found the two dead bodies. After cursing the damage to the hotel, he examined the bodies more closely, and his dismay turned to satisfaction upon discovering that the corpses were those of pirates. There would be bounties on these men. His attitude soured again when he noticed the occupant of the room had disappeared.
Mortimer Funke made his way up the stairs from the basement just in time to hear a Dutch bellhop recounting what had happened for the clerk. "First, Abidin ran in, not shouting, just ran upstairs. Three men, Iban, ran in after him, also quiet. They were following Abidin. Then, the running noises stopped for about thirty seconds. After that, the shooting noises started. The guest from room two-eighteen jumped out the window." So Abidin and the pirates had failed. Funke's heart sank. There would be a mess waiting upstairs. "Right after that, Abidin jumped out the same window. Then, after them, the man who is not dead jumped out the window. They ran off to the south." The Dutchman nodded.
So, the hotel employees wouldn't suspect Abidin. It still sounded like Abidin was running from pirates rather than leading them. The Malay clerk's eyes cast about the room, finally settling on Mortimer. "Go find Abidin. Bring him back. Be very careful." Funke opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped by a glare from the clerk. He made a resigned gesture of obedience and slouched out of the building.
Sun Dinghuang tried to run away from the sounds of brush rustling in the distance. He had been moving almost due south, but swung westward after a wild pig came galloping past from that direction. Perhaps it would distract the pirates just long enough for him to reach a safer place. The sounds continued off to the south for some time, forcing him to move due west, then northwest to avoid being caught. His run slowed to a trot, then a walk as his legs grew cramped and tired.
The pig successfully diverted Abidin's cousin to the east, but the bellhop stubbornly followed his target, pistol drawn. He pursued Sun westward, eventually finding himself in the presence of Mortimer Funke. Funke had almost immediately become disoriented in the jungle and gone west, rather than making the long loop. Mortimer was relieved to find Abidin alive, and recounted the Dutchman's version of the botched attack.
"Good, good." Abidin wheezed. "They won't suspect me at all, even if we do get him."
"Let's go back. He probably got away by now." Funke did not especially want a showdown with a man who could kill two armed pirates despite having been surprised by them.
Abidin started to protest, but realized that Funke's idea of "back" was to the north- the direction he had last heard Sun traveling in. An evil grin spread over the bellhop's features, and he kept pace with his friend, gun still drawn.
The pilot, however, was out of energy. Sun Dinghuang stumbled into a clearing, driven onward by rustling sounds that seemed to be coming from both sides. His better judgment screamed to keep running, but his legs burned with every step. He decided to find a thicket or some kind of bush to hide in until his legs recovered. The phones had GPS chips- Bob Sadeski would find him. He was counting on it.
His decision not to avoid the clearing had been a mistake, though. Abidin and Mortimer Funke were now approaching from the south, silently creeping through the underbrush. A snake slithered past, and Funke found it very difficult to keep quiet, but somehow he managed.
As they reached the edge of the clearing, a spray of red burst from Sun's back, and the pilot dropped to the ground, a shocked expression frozen on his features. From somewhere in the trees above, a swirl of black cloth descended to earth, landing smoothly above the prostrate Sun. The cloth rapidly assumed the form of a man, his long black trench coat settling into a recognizable shape as he rose to his full, impressive height. A hood covered most of his head, and the face was a featureless white mask with oversize black spots where the eyes should be.
Mortimer was frightened enough by the sudden appearance of this man, but Abidin's features were the very image of terror. "G-Gerasi Burong," he whispered. The masked figure, apparently hearing this noise, stretched out one black-gloved hand in their direction, without turning his head, and a spray of dirt erupted from the ground mere inches from the custodian's face. That was too much. Abidin fled, screaming, into the jungle, and Funke followed close behind.
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