ROGUE ANGEL - Book One: The Beginning

Somewhere in Perak, Malaysia   IT BEGAN with two dead men. They were lying before me on the grassy ground, their necks brutally snapped. The first thing that came to my mind was: did I kill them? It appeared that way; my hands were bloody. But I was not entirely sure as my head was feeling foggy. And badly shaken. It took me a little while to get some of my bearings back. It was only then that I realized I was sitting with my back against a big tree. I got up and looked around. We were alone in the woods. It was quite dark; the sunlight seemed to find it hard to pierce the forest roof covered with thick green leaves. Pricking up my ears, I heard the sound of rushing water; a stream lay ahead. That’s good, I thought. I needed to clean up. Perhaps I could think better after that. A short distance away, the gurgling stream unfolded itself to me, the current splashing against the rocks as it slipped by. The day was hot and the warm breeze blowing towards me only made the temperature soar higher. I didn’t like it. Luckily the fresh cold water did a fantastic job of cooling me down. Once reinvigorated, I returned and looked at the corpses again. They were dark-colored Asians – Indians I presumed – most probably in their thirties.Both wore a shoulder holster underneath their open black coats but I saw no guns. Glancing around, I finally spotted their firearms lying beside the shrubs a few feet behind them. This begged the question: who were they? I didn’t know them. Were they cops? … hit-men? … robbers? … what? They had no identification papers. And my mind was a complete blank. Then, to my horror, I realized something else: I couldn’t remember who I was! Swiftly I searched myself; I was in jeans and a T-shirt beneath a dark brown leather jacket. In my jeans’ pocket were an ID card, a driver’s license and some cash. And a key … a motorcycle key. “So I am Alison King from Kuala Lumpur,” I murmured, my eyes on the ID card. A pause. Nope, the name didn’t ring a bell … s**t!       When I saw a faint path on my left that seemed to lead out of the woods,I decided to get out of here before anything else. Walking briskly along, the distance between the path and the stream became further apart. On the other hand, as I trudged up a hillock, the trees, big and gnarled, were drawing closer to each other, making it quite difficult for me to see far ahead. And it was quiet, so quiet that the occasional rustling of dead leaves sounded like a tornado in my ears. There was also no sight or scent of animals, but I got an uncomfortable feeling that I was being watched with evil intentions. The feeling slowly grew until I found myself looking over my shoulder, as if I expected an attack by a werewolf or something. I shuddered – this is one ominous old forest. The light drew clearer as I puffed forward. To my great relief, I emerged from the trees at last and found myself at the lay-by. A big green sign informing drivers that Ipoh was seventy-five kilometers away told me that I was at the northern route of the North-South Expressway. The sky was in brilliant orange and purple as the sun set. I guessed it must be evening since I didn’t have a watch. It was then that I realized I didn’t have my cellphone with me either.I must have dropped it inside the forest. Should I go back in and search for it? Yeah, like hell I would.        About ten paces from my right were a parked white Toyota Vios and a big bike. My bike? My heart rejoiced; my immediate thought was to jump on my two-wheeler and leave this place, but a little bird told me to check the unlocked car first. It was obvious that the vehicle belonged to the dead men and it might provide some clues to their identities. A search of its interior and trunk came up with two packets of Marlboro, a lighter, a Coldplay CD, and a prepaid ancient cellphone with only one message on its screen:  Alison King has escaped me. She’s coming your way through the NSE route. You and Samy must stop her at all costs. She must not reach Ipoh! To say I was shocked was an understatement. Goodness me, I was being hunted like an escaped convict! Why were they so hell-bent on intercepting my journey to Ipoh? And who sent this message? All I saw was the name, The Fellowship, with an unlisted number.I had never heard of this entity before. Was it an organization, a society, or a cult? But one thing was for certain. Samy and the other unnamed guy must be the two dead men. With this came the next question: how did I manage to take them down? I mean, they were big-sized gorillas while I was just a woman of average build. Was I a kung fu fighter? I shrugged; why was I asking myself so many questions when I knew I couldn’t answer any of them? Dumb.     The sight of the black Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle offered some respite to my troubled mind. With its huge mufflers, fat tires, air-vanes on the fairing,and protruding antenna-like wing mirrors, it was one sexy beauty! This was a machine meant for the big boys, but I didn’t feel intimidated. Rather, an electrifying sensation surged all over me, and I hadn’t even begun riding yet; I must be a fervent biker. When I unhooked the helmet from its side compartment, the door inadvertently opened. Inside was a map of Ipoh with red markings made on a historical place called Ng Chan Villa. A footnote stated that the now-derelict mansion was built by Spencer Wang, a tycoon who died in 1962. Somehow the name sounded familiar. Suddenly a glimmer of memory struck my mind: I was supposed to go to Ng Chan Villa and save a man … a man whose name was also Spencer Wang!