NO SINGING! BECOME AN ACTOR OR DIE

Chapter 7: Rendra's Information

Dirga stepped back. He spent the remainder of the week immersed in filming his new Fantasy Film (Double Glass), burying his financial anxiety within the new role.

Yet, every morning upon waking, his primary mission—to save the family's money from the Ponzi scheme—reverberated louder than the Director’s shouts of praise. 240 days were left, and financial ruin could strike at any moment.

He had to find information without asking his Father directly.

Dirga observed his Father’s routine for three consecutive days. Every day after dawn, his Father would sit at the small living room table, sipping coffee and compiling a small report which he always stored beneath a stack of documents. Dirga knew this report concerned Rendra’s 200% project.

That afternoon, Dirga went home early. Mother and Anya were at the market. Father wouldn't be home until six o’clock. He had 45 minutes before his Father arrived.

The role of the junior detective began. Dirga quickly walked over to the small cabinet in the living room, his heart pounding with the thrill of the transgression. His seven-year-old body felt nervous, light, and clumsy.

Dirga pulled away his Father’s neat stack of documents from the corner of the table. There was nothing. Not under the bottom stack, nor beneath the drawer.

Dirga exhaled in frustration. Too clean. His Father was too organised for something so vital.

Suddenly, Dirga’s keen eyes spotted an item hidden within one of his Father’s stacks of old books: a small volume labelled ‘Old Financial Journal Book’. It wasn't a new passbook. It was a list of investors in Father’s company before the ’98 crisis. His Father did have an obsession with documenting the past.

The journal was secured with a worn rubber band and felt cold and dry when Dirga opened it. Page after page contained only ordinary figures and raw data. Then, on the very last, barely used page, there was his Father’s agitated handwriting. Scrawled in haste, the ballpoint pen appeared to have leaked slightly.

Date: 17/1/1991 (Eight months from now).

Investment Plan R.A. Perdana.

Funds Allocated: Rp 20 Million.

Target Profit: 60 million.

Contact Person: Rendra Anggara, Ph.D.

Seeing the allocated amount, Dirga was certain it represented the family’s entire savings for the last five years.

Dirga had the identity, the company, and the timeline. He estimated eight months remained before the disaster became reality. Even so, he was sure the fraudulent investment scheme was already in progress. He just needed a phone number or an operational location.

Dirga searched around again. The smell of dust from the worn carpet hit his nose. Nothing important. He had already checked his Father’s room.

“Focus, Dirga,” he muttered, pulling himself together. The front door area already echoed with the sound of a neighbour’s car pulling up, and time was running out.

He remembered that his Father always kept business cards from influential people inside a worn shoe box on top of the cupboard in the storage room.

The storage room was cold, filled with piles of childhood belongings that made Dirga sentimental. He had to use a small stool, and his legs were trembling. It was a far cry from a luxurious film set, filled with the texture of damp wood and cold, dusty air.

Inside the battered trainer box, a stack of faded papers was hidden. Dirga quickly sifted through them with his small hands and found three dozen business cards neatly tied with a rubber band. He hastily searched for the name ‘Rendra Anggara’.

His Father was already in the yard. The sound of his shoes scraping could be heard.

On the 46th business card.

[R. A. P. Consult—Short-Term & Futures Investment Consultancy (PT).]

Office Address: Grand Sinta Building, 12th Floor.

Two telephone numbers were listed: Office and Personal.

On the reverse, written in gold ink:

Rendra Anggara. Managing Director.

His Father sounded like he was talking on the phone in the front garden, perhaps wrapping up a serious conversation before coming inside.

Dirga held his breath. He had done it. This business card provided the location, contact details, and the company’s operating hours. With this, he could ask his manager, Dina, to investigate further, keeping the matter far from his Father’s suspicion.

Dirga crept out of the storage room. He placed his Father’s journal back in its original spot, ensuring no folds had been altered.

Almost safe. He turned towards the doorway.

The door opened. Dirga’s Father stared at Dirga, who was startled to be caught in the living room, swallowing nervously in fear. His Father had just slipped off his shoes and looked at his sweaty young son.

“Where have you been, son? Your Mother and Anya aren’t home yet, are they?” Dirga’s Father asked. His Father’s tone was serious, sensing something amiss in his gaze.

His Father approached, suspicious. He noticed Dirga’s hands were behind his back, as if hiding some treasure.

“What is it, son? What have you got there?” Dirga’s Father pressed. He reached his hand towards Dirga’s back.

Dirga knew he couldn't fight him. He decided to use a counter-attack. Real tears began to stream from his eyes.

“No, Father! Don’t touch it!” Dirga shrieked. He knew his seven-year-old voice, full of fear, sounded utterly authentic and irresistible.

His Father froze, confused. Then he reached out, pulling the boy closer. He took the business card and read it curiously, intrigued by his son’s defensiveness.

“Why did you have to hide this?” Father asked, his voice gentle again. His Father sighed deeply and then smiled, returning to his parental role, “Trying to keep a secret, are we?”

Dirga wiped his tears. This had almost worked until his Father took another business card from his other hand: Rendra Anggara’s card.

Father read it, and his expression immediately hardened into one of confusion and shock.

“Rendra? Why do you have this, son?”

[Plot Detected. Detective Doorway Uncovered.]

[System Instruction: Ask Father to explain Rendra, immediately! Time is pressing!]

“It belongs to Dina. She got it from a friend on set,” Dirga answered quickly.

“Why? Do you know him, Father?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

Dirga’s Father stared at him silently, highly suspicious that his son was lying and had taken the card from his stored box. Dirga’s emotional shift was too sudden, moving from tears to feigned ignorance.

“Ah, I know. He’s your acquaintance, isn’t he? Hmm, the 200% thing?” Dirga exclaimed, placing his index finger on his chin, playing the part of someone who had just stumbled upon a brilliant idea.

“Hmm... Father, can I borrow some money? Rp 200, I want to make a call at the front of the complex,” Dirga whispered urgently, startling his Father again with the sudden, sharp transition.

“Who are you going to call?” his Father asked, his suspicion momentarily forgotten, worried instead by Dirga’s rapid emotional changes. It seemed his son was acting too much.

“Uncle Rendra, I want to ask about presents. Dina taught me what an investment is. If Uncle Rendra wants to give a 200% profit, that means Father must buy lots of presents. Dirga wants to give him a present as a thank you, too. If you meet him, can I come along, Father?”

Dirga’s Father fell silent. He let out a tired sigh.

Dirga had successfully diverted his Father’s attention away from the business card.

“Thank you, Dirga, but that won’t be necessary, son,” his Father said, stroking Dirga’s hair. “The presents are Father’s business. But if you want to come along to the meeting, you can.” Dirga’s Father said this to reassure his son.

“When are you meeting him? I’m curious about that uncle, can’t we meet him tomorrow, Father? We have to make sure the investment is safe and not dangerous,” Dirga whined, secretly retrieving Rendra’s business card again.

“Yesterday, I heard a film crew member got scammed, so I’m worried about you, Father. Dina also said we have to be careful when investing.”

Hearing this, his Father was touched by Dirga’s concern.

“He said he’s meeting a client tomorrow morning at nine o’clock at the Bintang Jaya Hotel. Do you want to come along and listen?”

Jackpot.

“Of course, Father,” Dirga replied excitedly. That was all Dirga needed: information on when Rendra was meeting another potential victim of his Ponzi scheme.

His Father didn't need to know his exact plan. Dirga would go there and secure his family’s assets. Once and for all. He knew his enemy; now he knew his location.