Chapter 11

11

The plan is very straightforward. Well, as straightforward as rescue missions can go, which is to say not at all straightforward. First of all, we need to come up with a way of getting inside Kristofer’s house. Julia Child allows us to use her office as a strategy room, and after Googling Kristofer and reading a few articles on him, Nathan and I spend some time scouting Kristofer’s estate using Google Earth, a technology that mystifies Ma and Big Aunt.

“You mean, every house is on this Earth thing?” Big Aunt says, as we zoom closer in on Kristofer’s house.

“Yes,” Nathan says. He double clicks, and the satellite image goes to ground level, giving us a sharp view of the front facade of Kristofer’s mansion.

“Aiya, definitely not in America,” Ma says confidently. “America won’t let such peeping Tom thing to happen.”

Nathan and I exchange a glance. Which one of us is going to break her pure heart?

“You do realize Google is an American company?” Julia Child says.

Ma’s mouth snaps shut into a thin line. A deep crease appears between her eyebrows as the weight of Julia Child’s words sinks in. “But—” she says after a while. “Our house—it’s not on this thing, ya kan?”

“It is, Ma,” I say gently.

“What?” Ma cries. “So this whole time, there are all this people peeping at our house like—like—” She flaps her arms like an angry chicken. “Like we some peeping show for pervert to look at?”

“Who would want to do that?” Fourth Aunt says with a roll of her eyes. “You think people don’t have anything better to do than watch your boring old house?”

“Not boring,” Ma snaps. “Is only two years ago when—ah—”

I close my eyes. I can’t believe she was about to bring up that whole thing with Ah Guan just to win an argument against Fourth Aunt. Well, who am I kidding? Of course she would. “It’s fine, Ma,” I say loudly. “Nobody’s looking at our house from space. We’re just normal people.”

“From space?” Ma cries.

“Never mind, forget I said anything. Let’s focus on this.” I pat her hand and turn her attention back to the screen, where Nathan is expertly studying the house from every possible angle.

“Those are some serious walls,” Fourth Aunt muses. She’s right. The walls surrounding Kristofer’s house are definitely unscalable by the likes of us. And even if we did manage to somehow scale them, there are coils of barbed wire on top that would tear us to shreds.

“You’ll have to go in as his guests,” Julia Child says.

“Tch, he’ll know they’re strangers,” Abi sighs. “I’m loathe to say anything nice about Kristofer, but he’s a devil for details. You and I might not notice a handful of extra guests not on the list, but he would.”

Julia Child’s top lip curls into a sneer. “You’re right. He is a stickler for details.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “Um, we could go in as service staff. For a party this big, he’ll definitely have helpers, right? And probably caterers, maybe even photographers?”

They both look at me as though seeing me for the first time. “Good idea, girl,” Julia Child says.

Ma beams with unabashed pride. “Aduh, of course my Meddy coming up with good idea. She is best photographer, you know? Back in LA, she win this very prestigious photography award, and—”

Oh god. If I don’t stop her, she’ll talk their ears off about all of my achievements, which is sweet in a completely mortifying way. “Anyway,” I say loudly. “Maybe we can get in as caterers.”

Nathan nods at me. “Great idea. That way, we won’t even have to show our faces at the main party. We’d be inside the kitchen.”

“But how would we get in as caterers?” Fourth Aunt says with a frown. “We’d need a van, and not to mention food, and . . .” She trails off at the sight of our forlorn faces.

This is the thing about plotting something illicit. Even though I’ve been through it with Ah Guan’s death, and then again at our wedding with Staphanie’s family, I’m still taken aback by the sheer amount of planning that one has to do every step of the way. Committing a crime is never as easy as the movies make it seem. Obstacles sprout like weeds, and each one requires meticulous planning, otherwise the whole thing falls apart.

“Do you know who he might have hired as caterers?” I say to Julia Child. Despite her vehemence about loathing Kristofer, she seems to know a lot about what he’s up to.

Sure enough, Julia Child sniffs and says, “Oh, that unimaginative man? Every year he hires the same people. The Ritz. How boring does one have to be? I’ve hired them a couple of times myself. They’re good, but there’s something to be said for variety, you know.”

Big Aunt’s eyes widen. “The Ritz? I use to work there. I was head baker. They use to call me Mami.” Her face softens at fond memories of her years at the Ritz.

“Oh yes,” Ma laughs. “We use to call your chefs ‘the ducklings,’ because they always following you around like little ducklings. Aduh, those were good years.” For a moment, Ma and Big Aunt smile into the distance, lost in their memories.

“I will call them,” Big Aunt says. “Maybe they allow us to come along with them.”

We’re all silent as Big Aunt goes through her contact list on her phone, muttering to herself. After a minute, she goes, “Okay. I know who best to call.” I swear none of us even dares to breathe as she hits Call. She puts the phone on speaker for our benefit. It takes three rings before it’s answered.

“Mami Friya?” the man on the other side booms in Indonesian, the joy in his voice palpable. “Can it really be you? It’s been so long!”

A smile spreads across Big Aunt’s face, rearranging the wrinkles on it into a picture of sheer happiness. “How are you, my dear Wito? Aduh, it’s been too, too long.”

“Take the carrots out now,” Wito calls out to somebody in the background. “Fork tender, not mushy, okay?” He directs his attention back to the phone. “Mami, it’s good to hear from you. Are you in town? You must come and visit the kitchen. Everyone will be so happy to see you.”

Big Aunt nods as though he could see her right now. “Ah, I would love to, Wito. I hear you have been promoted to sous chef. How wonderful. Congratulations!”

“Well, yes, after that glowing recommendation letter you wrote, there was no way I wasn’t going to get the promotion. Aduh, Mami, I owe it all to you.”

Tears form in Big Aunt’s eyes and she blinks them away rapidly. It’s only then that I realize I’m beaming too. Seeing Big Aunt in her element, adored and admired by her ex-colleague, is wonderful. It reminds me just what a rich and fulfilling life she had back here.

“So is there anything I can do for you?” Wito says.

The smile fades from Big Aunt’s face. “Yes, actually. I heard that you’re catering to Mr. Hermansah’s feast tonight?”

“Oh yes. We’re prepping for it right now, in fact.”

“Would it be possible if I—ah, if I tagged along?”

There’s a short pause. When Wito next speaks, his words ring with confusion. “Tagged along to the event?”

“Yes.” Big Aunt’s eyes roam the room for a second, moving in rapid panic, then she quickly adds, “I heard that his mansion is amazing, and I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like. I will help out with the catering, of course. For free! I can make my famous mocha velvet cake with brandy frosting?”

“Waduh, Mami, this is . . .” It’s obvious that Wito is torn between enthusiasm and concern. “Wah, gimana, ya? Hmm. I—” He’s interrupted by someone talking to him in the background. “It’s Mami Friya,” he says to the person on his end.

“Mami Friya?” she cries with unabashed excitement. Her voice comes out loud through the phone. “It’s Nana!”

“Oh, Nana, hello,” Big Aunt calls out, smiling again.

“Mami, it’s been too long. How are you? I follow your Insta and your cakes are even more beautiful than I remember. Hey guys, it’s Mami Friya!”

A chorus of happy greetings pour out of the phone, and by now, we’re all beaming at Big Aunt, loving every moment of her being worshipped like the goddess she is.

“Mami Friya is asking if she could help us cater to the Hermansah event tonight,” Wito says to the other chefs.

Immediately, there is a loud chorus of yeses. “That will be amazing, Mami!” Nana shouts.

“Great, wonderful,” Big Aunt says, somewhat less enthusiastically. “I will meet you all at the kitchen.”

“Be here at four. We’ll start loading up then.”

They say their goodbyes and hang up. As soon as the call ends, Big Aunt’s shoulders droop like a deflated balloon.

Julia Child claps politely. “That was beautiful to watch. They did not suspect a thing.” She considers Big Aunt. “I could use someone like you.”

A scowl takes over Big Aunt’s face. “I hated lying to them. They’re as good as family to me.”

Julia Child shrugs. “In this line of business, you’ll have to get used to this kind of thing. Sons will stab their fathers in the back.”

I hate seeing Big Aunt looking so conflicted, so I quickly say, “Well, we have no other choice. We need to save Second Aunt.”

“Yes, Dajie, you did good,” Fourth Aunt pipes up.

Big Aunt manages a small, sad nod and reverts to English for Nathan’s and my sake. “But now how? I have a way inside the mansion, but you all still don’t have a way inside. I don’t think they will let all of you to join the catering, you know? Will look very strange.”

For a moment, we’re all silent. Then Fourth Aunt steps up. “Don’t worry about it, Dajie. Sanjie and I will take care of it.”

Ma gapes openly at her. So do I. “What you mean, you and I taking care of it?” Ma says, obviously aghast at the thought of having to cooperate with Fourth Aunt.

Fourth Aunt looks at her with all the innocence in the world, which is when I know she’s plotting something nefarious, because Fourth Aunt is a lot of things, but innocent isn’t one of them. “Oh, you’ll see. Don’t worry, I have a fabulous idea.”

“That’s when we should worry, when you say you got fabulous idea,” Ma mutters.

Fourth Aunt grins and wiggles her eyebrows. I swallow the lump in my throat and wonder just what in the world we’re all about to get ourselves into.

Big Aunt spends the rest of the late morning and early afternoon baking her famous mocha velvet cake in Julia Child’s enormous, state-of-the-art kitchen. Hah, it’s only after thinking of the words “Julia Child’s enormous, state-of-the-art kitchen” that it hits me how ironic it is that I’m not even referring to the original Julia Child, who also probably had an enormous, state-of-the-art kitchen. But no, we’re referring to the knockoff Julia Child, the one who is totally-not-a-triad-leader but also happens to have a kitchen that the original Julia Child would’ve approved of. God, I’m even rambling in my own head. This is a sure sign that I’m losing it.

The rest of us pore over the dining table, working on making our plan as watertight as we can. Nathan writes the plan into a list. A to-do list on How to Break into a Not-Triad Leader’s House.

Convince caterers to let the rest of us join their catering group somehow. (Key person: Fourth Aunt. Method: TBA.)

Go into the house. (Method: TBA.)

Locate Second Aunt. (Method: TBA.)

Dress Second Aunt in caterer’s uniform. (Note: Must have extra caterer’s uniform handy.)

Steal out of the house without anyone noticing. (Method: TBA.)

Drive straight to airstrip. Fly off on Abi’s Julia’s Abi’s plane to Dubai, refuel. (Julia Child: “Hah! My plane has the capacity to fly all the way to LA without having to refuel in Dubai.”) Fly off in Julia’s plane. (Abi: “Too obvious. They’ll be looking for you in LA. A layover in Dubai would throw them off the scent.”) Fly off on a plane.

Despair threatens to overwhelm me as I stare at the list. There are so many ways that it could go wrong. But apparently, Ma and Fourth Aunt must be looking at a different list, because they both straighten up with gusto, their faces shining with triumph.

“Good plan,” Ma announces. “Very simple. So easy.”

“In and out,” Fourth Aunt agrees. “So straightforward.”

Really? For once they’re agreeing, and this is what they choose to agree on?

“I don’t know that it’s as straightforward as you guys think,” I mutter. “Each step has a lot more to it than it seems. I mean, the first step, convincing the caterers—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Fourth Aunt flaps her hand at me, her bejeweled nails very nearly taking out an eye. “I’ve got it all under control.”

I let the silence hang for a second before I go to the next foreseeable obstacle. “Then there’s locating Second Aunt. The house looks humongous. How are we going to—”

Abi holds up a finger. “Ah, I might be of some help there. I think there are a few likely options: a guest bedroom . . .”

Nathan dutifully jots this down on the list.

“The helpers’ quarters, away from the main party . . .”

We all nod thoughtfully.

Abi’s face darkens as he says, “Or a dungeon.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I blurt out.

Abi and Julia Child glance at each other and sigh. “Well, there is a high chance that Kristofer has a specific room made for—”

“For what?” I cry out. “For imprisoning people? Torturing them? Oh god. How can you still maintain that he’s a legit businessman?”

Abi frowns. “Not to torture them. God, I’m telling you, we’re not triad leaders. We don’t do such things.”

“No, you just kidnap people and lock them up in a literal cell in your mansions. Oh god,” I moan.

“Tch.” Julia Child shakes her head. “I wouldn’t call it a dungeon. How silly. It’s more like a wine cellar. We all have one, we’re not animals. Where else would we keep our vintage wines, so carefully imported from France, if not the cellar?”

So this is what being gaslit feels like. I honestly have no idea who’s telling the truth. But I guess it doesn’t matter. Either way, whatever they are, legit businesspeople or triad leaders, there is no question about it. We’re still going to get Second Aunt out.

“You can do this,” Abi says to all of us. “Julia Child and I will be waiting right outside. As soon as you get out, we’ll drive you straight to the airstrip. Before the day is over, we’ll all be on a flight out of Jakarta.”

Hope flutters frantically, tangled with fear and anxiety. My hand finds Nathan’s, and our fingers weave through each other’s before squeezing tight. I breathe a little easier, knowing that Nathan is going to be with me every step of the way. And this time, we’re going in with a plan. We’re going to be okay.