STOLEN Chapter 1-8

*warning: Everything you read here are works of fiction
Part 8
Zakri scanned the document skipping passages that doesn't interest him. His eyes scanned from whereabouts to possible areas to possible work. He threw the document to the side and frowned. "A former marine. Discharged for behavioral problem. Changed work sixteen times before settling as a helper for a traditional medicine practitioner before went missing again when the practitioner was found dead in his drug lab." He tried to connect  every information but it was too little and too sporadic. He needed some more so pulled out a second document, thicker than the first but not much different. Zakri frowned at the name written on the document. "Hans Klipnoff?" he said. He looked to the sky and squints. "Never heard of him" he said and continue with the document.
He scanned the pages with the same finesse as the first and pull back pages after pages, running from paragraphs to paragraphs, skimming from pictures of evidence to another picture of another evidence. He rubbed his chin and threw the document on top of the first. He pulls out a small notebook he placed at the side compartment of his car and wrote what he knew from the two documents.

"Never was a marine? A marine? - need more answer"
"Was with the traditional medicine practitioner, Haji Samrin Haji Awang under the guise company name of E'LA Traditional before disappearing without a trace the night of Haji Samrin's murder – possible suspect? Witness?"
"Last known address: E'LA Traditional -> he lives inside the facility? -> need answer. But how?"
"Love boots and shirts, tight shirts with camo design. -> possible jungle trekker? Sign of a skilled hunter?"
"Various 'medical tools' were found at his abandoned house. Most are of questionable uses -> picture shows a large pincer -> what for?"

Zakri took a deep breath and closed the notebook. He slides the pen into the ring that binds the book together and slapped it back into the side compartment. He rubbed his eyes and stretched. His mind numbed and his stomach growls. He winced. "I need something to eat." he said and turned the ignition on again. The car roared back to life continue to join the crowded road heading towards the nearest fast food joints.

Zakri wiped the chilli sauce from the edge of his mouth and threw the tissue to the brown tray. He picked the pieces of fries still visible and nip on them like a small animal savoring it long before gulping it down his throat. His mind kept on repeating the words he had written in his notebook. He wondered what really happened to the man. He could feel a weird nagging feeling that somehow things are bigger than it seems but threw the thought away, dissing them as his curse for having too many information in his head.
He finished the last of his french fries and was about to get up from his seat when his eyes caught something. It was a man, moving across the huge glass window where he sat. The man had his hood pulled back but under the killer sun, it was clearly visible to his proud green eyes. It was Rosli Hakim.