The Author

'Charles, this is an interesting read. We might want to do this,' said Keith. 'What is it about? If it's not about horror, forget it. In Singapore, only horror sells. And self help books of course.' Keith suppressed a sigh. Charles was his friend and boss. But sometimes, he just wished that the latter was not so pragmatic and mercenary. Though if he was not, the company would not make money and if the company folds, they would all be out on the streets. It was just that for idealism, Keith had taken on the job with the publishing firm. He had loved books ever since he discovered the Ladybird tomes when he was a seven year old. This love affair with words carried on well into his teenage years and despite his parents protests (they wanted him to major in Engineering at university), he went on to graduate with honours in Literature. After graduation, he applied to various commercial firms ranging from advertising agencies to manufacturers. But after some serious consideration, he turned down offers from a couple of MNCs and a bank to take a job on this job with a local publishing firm. 

'Yeah, but we will never revolutionise the local publishing scene if we stick to the tried and tested formula. We need to do something different if we want to be trailblazers,' he argued. Charles looked at him with some alarm. Talk of revolutions and trailblazing tended to unsettle him. 'Whoa, calm down. What's the manuscript about?' he compromised. 'It's about the disillusionment of an average Singaporean chap who had followed all the rules laid down by family, society and convention. But when he grew up, the world had changed and it's no longer the study hard get a degree and you'll get a passport to the good life scenario anymore. So he felt cheated by the authorities and decided to exact revenge in his own way. the story's not exactly radical but I believe that many Singaporean can relate to it given the hard times that we are going through now. The writer also has a pop like, punchy style that is rather hip. I think we should try it.'

Charles looked doubtful but it was hard to be unaffected by Keith's fire and enthusiasm. That was why he had employed him in the first place, he had hoped that Keith's genuine passion for the written word would shake up the company and who knows, maybe the local publishing scene too. 'OK, tell you what. Why don't you give this guy a call and ask him to come down for a talk say, today or tomorrow? And pass me the manuscript; I'll browse through it.' Charles returned to his office with the manuscript. Keith picked up the cover letter that accompanied the manuscript and scanned through it, noting the author's name, Stanley Khoo and his contact number. Then he picked up the phone on his table and dialled the number. The phone was picked up almost before it started to ring, startling Keith who was caught off guard. 'Er... Hello, I would like to speak to Mr. Stanley Khoo please.' 

'Speaking.' 'Hello, Mr. Khoo, I'm Keith Soh calling from Alpha Publishing. I have read your manuscript and found it very promising and interesting. Can you please come down to our office? We would like to meet you and have a chat with you.' 'Certainly. When would be a good time for you?' 'How about ten o'clock tomorrow morning?' 'I'm afraid I won't be able to make it, I'll be leaving Singapore tomorrow. I'm going away for a while.' 'Oh dear. Let me check with my colleague. I'll get back to you. When will you be back in Singapore?' A pause. Then Stanley laughed, I really can't tell.' After hanging up the phone, Keith strode into Charles room. Charles looked up guiltily. He was eating a doughnut and the manuscript was buried under a pile of newspapers. 'Have you gone through the manuscript?' Before Charles could protest that he had less than ten minutes to read through the document, Keith went on, 'I just spoke to the author. He'll be leaving Singapore tomorrow. And it seems to be for quite a while. So if we want to sign him on, we have to move fast.'

The decisive businessman in Charles took over. 'I won't have time to finish the manuscript today. I'm meeting Leonard from Sembawang Publishing for lunch. After that, I have a couple of meetings lined up in the afternoon. So, tell you what, I'm going to put you in charge of this project. You have to read the manuscript and you seem to think it holds some promise. I'm going to trust you on this so think hard about it. If you really think we can make a profit on this, go ahead and get him to come down and sign the contract today.' Keith was touched. 'Thanks, Charles. I'll try my best.' Embarrassed by Keith's display of emotion, Charles dismissed him as abruptly as he had made his decision. Keith returned to his desk and called Stanley again. Again, the phone was picked up almost as soon as it started ringing. Does this guy just sit by the phone and wait for calls? Before he could say anything, Stanley had already spoken, 'Hi, Stanley here, is it Keith?'

Keith felt an icy shiver down his back, chilled by the uncanny promptness and accuracy of Stanley's response. 'Hello, are you still on the line?' 'Yeah, yeah, Stanley. How did you know that it was I calling you?' Stanley laughed, 'You did say you were going to call me back. So when the phone rang, I just assumed it was you.' Keith felt like an idiot of the worst sort for his foolish suspicions. 'Yeah. Well, we would like to offer you a contract for your book. But as you're flying off tomorrow, we need to sign the contract today. Can you come down to our office this afternoon?' 'I'm afraid not. I'm very busy with my preparations for leaving Singapore. I have some errands to run this afternoon. I can only make it in the evening.' 'Right. Then shall we fix it at eight this evening then?' 'Can. I'm so sorry that I will have to make you stay back.' 'No problem. See you then.'

The rest of the afternoon, Keith busied himself preparing the contract for Stanley Khoo. At six, he left for dinner with Lam, a newly acquired friend from another publishing firm whom he met in the course of work. Over dinner, he mentioned that he would be returning to the office after dinner. 'Oi, surely there's no need to be so on,' Lam teased him. 'It's not that I'm on but the writer is flying off tomorrow, so we have to sign the contract by tonight.' 'Wah, you're so keen on him, he must be pretty good. Is he a newbie?' Keith nodded. 'His name is Stanley Khoo.' At the mention of the name, Lam paled. Realizing that something was amiss, Keith asked, 'Do you know him?' I think someone must be playing a hoax on you. It cannot be Stanley Khoo, not unless it's a case of two guys having the same name and surname.' 'What are you talking about?' 'Everyone in publishing knows about Stanley Khoo. Two years ago, he sent out a manuscript to almost every publisher in Singapore. But no one was interested. He wanted to be the Graham Swift of Singapore, but let's face it, this is Singapore. Singaporeans are generally not interested in their own stories. The only local stories that they are into are the ghost stories. After Stanley Khoo was rejected, he went round to each of the publishers, begging them to publish his book. 

None would. Then one day, he turned up at a publisher, gun in his hand (don't ask me whre he got the gun from), ranting and raving about how no one cared about the Singaporean story. Things got out of hand and he blow himself in the head.' 'Which publisher was that?' Keith did not realize that he was whispering until her heard himself. He realized that his hands were trembling too. Lam shot a look at him. 'Actually, it was Alpha Publishing, your company.' Lam's voice had also fallen into a whisper. 'That's why it can't be Stanley Khoo. He's dead.' Keith shook his head, trying to think rationally. 'What was the story that Stanley Khoo wrote about?' 'Something about this guy who followed the straight and narrow path that his parents and teachers were always harping about. Studied hard, went into university but when he graduated, he couldn't get a job. His girlfriend left him for a richer guy, pressure piled up when he saw some of his schoolmates getting ahead in life and his parents also started to nag at him for being useless. Then...'

'That's the manuscript that I received.' Even Keith's voice was shaking now. 'Shit. I mean, don't worry, someone must be trying to pull a fast one over you. Didn't Charles warn you? He was around when it happened.' 'He didn't read the manuscript. I also don't remember telling him that the writer was Stanley Khoo.' 'Never mind, Why don't you just go hjome and forget about this? Explain to Charles tomorrow and I'm sure he'll understand.' 'But what if we are wrong? What if it is another Stanley Khoo?' 'Come on. Get real. Think. What is the possibility of two Stanley Khoos writing the same type of story? I tell you, someone is playing a trick on you. Go home. Don't fall into the trap.' Dazedly, Keith nodded. The men settled their bill and Lam offered to send Keith home. Then Keith remembered something. 'I need to go back to the office.' Lam groaned. 

'I need to go back to the office. I've left my briefcase in the office because I thought I could pick it up after meeting S... Anyway, there are two manuscripts in my briefcase that I need to go through tonight.' Lam sighed, 'OK. I'll detour to your office.' Lam stopped his car in front of the building. The digital clock in his car read 7.58. 'Keith, do you want me to accompany you upstairs?' Keith wanted him to desperately. But he thought he had been enough of a fool that day. He did not want to come across as being cowardly, or worse, childish. 'No, it's alright. It won't take long.' With that, he left the car and took the lift up to his office. The whole building was eerily quiet. It was after office hours and most of the workers had gone home, including Keith's colleagues. He groaned inwardly when he saw that the office was all shut up. He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the glass door. Not bothering to switch on the lights, he walked quickly to his desk, trying to ignore the shadows and silence encompassing him.

'Hi Keith, you're late. You said eight in the evening and now it's five past eight.' Keith's mouth opened in a silent scream. Although the room was in darkness, light was streaming in through the glass windows from the street lamps, illuminating the room just enough for Keith to see the figure seated in his chair with the gunshot wound like an obscene mark on his forehead.