Indonesian Gold (68 page)

****

Angela stared in shock as flimsy partitions disintegrated
before their eyes exposing a scene exploding in chaos, and she screamed at Campbell to get up,
shouting that the Longhouse had come under attack. Even in his weakened condition Campbell was
able to stand, dress, and slip into field boots, Angela supporting some of his weight as they
staggered out the rear of the building and down the congested, open stairway to the river's edge
where the smell of cordite in the air hit them both with full force.

‘Give him to us!'
two
middle-aged women grabbed the American by the arms and hurried him away. By now, their surrounds
were enveloped with flames roaring through the Longhouse's dry roof, the outlying buildings also
burning furiously as soldiers continued to spray the main building with automatic
fire.

‘I will catch up with you, later!'
she called after Campbell's disappearing form, then ran back up into the
Longhouse in search of her father, tearing through the burning structure as fast as her legs
could carry her, colliding with a dividing wall as it fell, dragging her to the floor. Dazed, she
climbed from under, stumbling forward, following the raised, wooden street that connected the
many dwellings one to another, calling her father's name as she progressed.
‘Papa! Papa!'
she screamed, panic rising as the far end of the Longhouse twisted, groaned ominously, then
collapsed to one side, engulfed in flame.
‘Papa! Where are you?'
Her voice was drowned
amidst the roaring fire, another near miss from spraying bullets sending her facedown,
momentarily stunned as her head cracked savagely against hard timbers.

‘Stay down!'
she heard
Jonathan Dau's choking voice, thickened smoke making it impossible for her to see.
‘Stay where
you are, Angela,'
her father yelled as loud as lungs would permit, his blurred image
appearing as powerful hands took her by the shoulders.
‘We have to get out, now!'
he
ordered, flames threatening from every side.
‘They won't be taking prisoners!'
Then, as an
afterthought,
‘Where's Stewart?'

‘He's gone with the others, into the
forest.'
Her eyes fell to the chief's bloodied leg.
‘You're
hurt?'

‘It's not that serious,'
Jonathan took his daughter by the arm,
‘now let's get the hell out of
here!'

As he shouted, another wall collapsed, exposing their
position to the troops outside – barely a second passing before bullets rained down upon the
pair.
‘Go, Angela. Go!'
The chief screamed, leveling his rifle down at the enemy, he fired
but two rounds before running out of ammunition then angrily discarded the weapon. Sweeping
through the thatched-lined roof and bamboo supports, the raging fire had all but gutted half the
Longhouse by this time. Favoring his wounded leg, Jonathan limped after Angela, ducking and
weaving, climbing through burning debris as bullets whistled overhead, their escape effected when
the village external fuel supply store suddenly exploded hurling bodies everywhere, adding
substantially to the tally of
Kopassus,
already dead. Jonathan and Angela crawled out
through the partially collapsed community hall, slipped down an embankment to the river's edge,
then made their way along the length of the burning, wooden edifice in the direction of the
waterfall. The chief tripped as he hobbled down the wooden pathway, and cursed.

‘Here,'
Angela offered
an arm,
‘let me help!'

‘
No! For God's sake hurry, girl – get out while you
can
!'

****

Stewart Campbell staggered across the unsteady suspension
bridge with the structure swaying precariously underfoot – his hands firmly gripped to rope on
either side as the village women urged him to hurry in their unintelligible tongue. Once across,
they led him by the hand, Campbell slipping and sliding along the inclined path, his eyes
refusing to leave the terrifying scene behind. By now, the Longhouse was an inferno of blazing
timbers, rattan and bamboo, thatched sections adding to the immeasurable heat, a thick black
plume billowing into the early morning sky causing him to stop and look back in dismay, for those
still trapped inside.

‘Hurry, hurry!'
an
older woman insisted, Campbell not recognizing the words. He stood transfixed as an explosion
ripped through one end of the Longhouse, sending large sections of the raised village collapsing,
in slow motion effect. Without further hesitation he turned, and started back towards the
suspension bridge, overtaken within steps by determined, and surprisingly strong
hands.

‘No!'
A villager
gripped his wrist with vice-like claws, others coming to the elderly man's aid to prevent
Campbell from suicidal form.
‘You mustn't go back!'

With more than a dozen hands holding him firmly, Campbell
reluctantly surrendered, his heart sinking further when another explosion destroyed most of the
remaining structure, the air filled with burning debris. The village women dragged him away, his
misty eyes continuing to search the confused scene hoping to distinguish Angela from amongst the
steady stream of others as they fled the devastation. Then, the carnage disappeared from view,
shielded by thunderous spray when the jungle track, slippery with mud led into a cavernous route,
behind the waterfall.

****

Where the Longhouse community building had once stood
proudly overlooking the river, only one section remained, the chief waving Angela away angrily as
he searched through burning rubble like some desperate scavenger.
‘Go!'
he pleaded,
hoarsely.
‘I'll catch up.'

‘What are you doing?'
she cried in desperation, Jonathan scrounging for something under a collapsed wall. On
the other side of the burning building,
Kopassus
troops continued to fire indiscriminately
into the blazing scene, their confidence restored in the absence of any response. The elders who
had fought were now all dead to a man – their bodies incinerated in the Longhouse
pyre.

‘Got to find something to cut the ropes,'
the chief muttered
.
‘Ropes?'
she asked, bewildered
.
‘The crossing, Angela, we have to
destroy the crossing!'
he snapped, his

face coming alive when fingers located a familiar piece.
‘Help me!'
and without hesitation, Angela leapt forward and thrust her hands under the
broken timbers, their combined strength lifting the solid piece, revealing the tool.

‘Now, run!'
he ordered,
pushing Angela ahead,
‘we don't have much time,'
both scurrying along the planked, river
path, their escape hidden from view.

Waves of intense heat sucked the air dry of oxygen when
the remaining structure imploded, scattering burning timber debris in all directions, a ten-meter
crossbeam which had once rested directly above Jonathan's office was blown clear of the main
building, destroying the community's satellite dish as it thudded to earth. For any who might
have been trapped within the structure when it collapsed, the end would have been swift – the
temperatures so extreme surrounding coconut trees exploded into flame, the resulting,
running-crown-fire dancing across treetops through the island colony, until naturally contained.
Jonathan fell as he made his way across the unsteady, rope-and-twine suspension bridge straddling
the river, his voice lost against the waterfall's thunderous roar. Struggling to regain his feet,
he wobbled to the other side, raised the axe and commenced hacking at the impossibly thick
ropes.

‘We have to destroy the bridge!'

‘Papa, we don't have time. They're coming!'
They had no weapons – defenseless against further attack.

‘Come on, let go!'
he
cried out, in anguish, slicing furiously at an unforgiving rope he had so laboriously and
meticulously tied to strengthen the bridge, only months before.

‘They're coming, Papa!'
Angela counted more than a dozen silhouetted shapes running towards the bridge.
‘Leave it! We're too late!'

But Jonathan Dau was driven by more than his desire to
live. Hate burned through to his soul – he would have his revenge. The
Kopassus
soldiers
were now dangerously close, clawing their way across the unsteady bridge, several aiming
recklessly in their direction, firing from the hip. One fell into the river, the others grasping
to regain balance when the manmade crossing started to yaw. Pumped with anger, Jonathan Dau swung
the axe viciously, rope and twine giving, strand by strand, one side of the forty-meter structure
swaying perilously in favor of the weakened side. Suddenly, a main support rope snapped, tipping
the soldiers into the tricky currents.

‘Papa,'
Angela pointed
across the river some two hundred meters at the remaining body of troops running in line, towards
them.

‘Hurry!'
With arms
locked around each other's waists for support, they moved as quickly as Jonathan's wound would
permit, the axe dragged behind. The approaching soldiers opened fire, their accuracy hindered by
the heavily foliaged, riverbank along which their quarry finally managed to escape.

The
Kopassus
soldiers were now without leadership,
the remaining soldiers without appetite for any pursuit that would take them deeper into the
Dayaks' natural habitat, where they could easily lose their heads. Comrades were assisted from
the river, the severely demoralized unit gathering their dead and conducting one final sweep of
the island community area, before returning to base.

****

Longdamai Mining Camp

Baird had dispatched his assistant to see what the
kafuffle was all about. The camp had come alive in a roar with the discovery of the soldier's
bodies, and the realization of just how severely their security had been compromised. The
Madurese section erupted, many attempting to abandon the site, their departure thwarted by over
zealous
Kostrad
troopers who unhesitatingly aimed their weapons, threatening to
shoot.

‘Someone cut off their heads,'
Mardidi was trembling uncontrollably,
‘and left the bodies on the jetty!'
He
glanced around the quasi canteen, avoiding the expatriate drillers who were deeply engrossed in
their own summations of events.

‘
How many?
'
‘
Seemed like six, maybe seven.
'
‘
Who did it, Dayaks?
'
‘There's no doubt about that.The
laborers are clamoring for places on the 
longboats. It's bedlam over there.'
Mardidi indicated
the squalid quarters

bunched on the far side of the camp.

‘
Has Campbell returned yet?'

‘No.'

‘Do you know if he took any communications with
him?'

‘Don't think so.'

‘Where's Sharon?'

‘Down at the jetty with the army commander.'

‘Has he said what he's going to do?
'

‘I couldn't hear. The soldiers chased me away. Eric, don't
you think we should leave?'

The situation was extremely hostile and Baird seriously
considered the suggestion. Reluctant to go anywhere near the headless bodies, he pushed his
unfinished breakfast to one side.

‘I'll speak to Sharon as soon as she's finished down
there.'

****

Sharon stood with one hand on hip, another cupped
protecting her mouth as she stared, disgusted, at the line of headless corpses, the severed necks
smothered with swarms of persistent blowflies brazenly feasting on their congealed
meal.

It seemed that her world was collapsing; Angela had not
returned and Sharon's alternative plan was now unrealistic due to the hostilities along the
Mahakam River. With no guarantee that Angela
would
return, Sharon needed full access to
her pilot now, more than ever. Then, there was the problem with the
Kostrad
commander who
had apparently received orders to reposition his troops to secure the migrant settlements,
downstream – this resulting in her temporarily losing use of the helicopter.

Sharon
had interrupted the
Colonel while he was overseeing the removal of the headless bodies, the commander's anger at
their deaths directed at her when she broached the subject of an evacuation.

‘Miss Sharon, now is not the time,'
he had warned.
‘You can see that I have incurred casualties. Please, out
of respect for these men?'

‘
I don't think there is going to be a better time,
Colonel. Please, give us back our transport so that we can move the foreigners out, if the
situation deteriorates.
'