The coordinates took Pistachio and Malik to a warehouse in the industrial part of Penjaringan. The air was full of the smell of salt from the sea and old iron that was rusting. Inside the warehouse, it was really big and empty with only a little bit of sunlight coming in through the holes in the roof.
In the middle of the room, there were no guys or people wearing hoods. There were two men, tied to chairs that were exactly the same.
One of the men was a big shot CEO who was accused of taking billions of dollars from a fund that was supposed to help people buy homes. The other man was a guy who got into trouble for hitting a lady during a fight over a parking spot, and the whole thing was caught on video.
There were two men, and they both owed for what they did, a voice said from the speakers above.
Pistachio pulled out his gun. Looked around the catwalks. Show yourself, he said. This is not justice; it is like a show.
The voice said, Justice is like a show, Detective.. I am the one who stopped the bad people from running it. If we did things your way, it would take five years to figure out if the CEO really meant to do what he did, and the other guy would just get a slap on the wrist for hitting the lady. Look at this.
On a screen above the two men, two bars appeared. They were not counting money or time in jail. They were looking at how stressed out the men were.
The tiny robots in their blood can tell when they feel guilty, the voice explained. When they admit to themselves that they did something, the robots can tell. The punishment is automatic it is fair. It is exact.
Malik stepped forward. His voice was shaking. You cannot do this, he said. The guy who hit the lady just lost his temper; it was not a big deal.
The voice got sharper. Is it not a deal it asked. The old lady who got hit had a stroke. Died three days later because of what he did. Your system has not even started to deal with it, but my system has already figured it out.
The screen turned all of a sudden.
The CEO started gasping for air and holding his chest. The thing in his chest that was supposed to keep him alive started to malfunction. Sent bad signals to his heart. At the time, the other guy's watch started to glow orange and got really hot, burning his wrist and releasing bad stuff into his body.
Stop it, Pistachio. He ran towards them.
It was all over in just a few seconds. Both men fell forward at the time. The rich guy and the mean guy both ended up the same way.
Pistachio checked to see if they were still alive. They were not.
You see, Pistachio, the voice said, now it sounded a little sad. In death, they are finally equal. No lawyers to save the guy, no way for the mean guy to get out of it. Everything is balanced now.
Pistachio looked at the two men. He thought about all the files on his desk, all the people he had to deal with. He realized that the Executioner was not just killing people, he was killing the idea of being kind and forgiving.
You are not a judge Pistachio said to the room. His voice was cold and empty. You are a machine that does not know how to forgive.
The voice said, Forgiveness is a luxury that only people who have not been hurt can afford. I am the one who makes sure people pay for what they do. Jakarta is a city that is all about debt.
The screen went black, and a printer, in the corner of the room, started to work printing out two papers that said the men were dead. The papers had all the details of what they did, how they were caught, and exactly when they died.
Pistachio picked up the papers. The writing was perfect, the proof was clear. It was the police work he had ever seen, and it was all done by a killer.
Malik Pistachio said, staring at the papers. Call the people who take care of the dead and tell them to bring a truck. This is the start of the Cleansing.