The Timor Man (18 page)

They rested together, in a lovers' embrace, oblivious to the outside world. He dreamed. It was a peaceful dream and when he awoke he was totally rested. Coleman lay on his back savouring the clove cigarette. Louise's radio clock had turned itself on and he rested in the double bed listening to the Voice of America's music segment. He found himself humming along with Buddy Holly's ‘Heartbeat' although he didn't know the words. He was happy! And as the song continued, he hummed,
“why do you skip when my baby kisses me?”

Totally relaxed, at peace, and resisting the floating sensation merging on drowsiness he'd rarely experienced after previous sexual encounters, he smiled as he dragged on the sweet cigarette. This nothingness, this lack of ‘afterglow' should have a word more descriptive of how he felt, he mused. His lips compressed into a thin smile as he mentally envisaged a definition for this lack-luster feeling. They smoked marijuana; his first. And now he was suffering from post-coital depression.

He laughed. He turned his head just enough to observe her beautiful body, the soft lines of her milk white breasts and pink aureoles dominated by the tiny nipples standing lazily overlooking the lines falling away to the firm stomach and shapely thighs. He remembered the warmth of her tongue and the shuddering spasms which followed. They spent the entire weekend together, making love, sitting on the large cushions which lay carelessly thrown onto the floor over the broadloom carpet, listening to her collection of LPs and cooking for themselves while Louise's two servants looked on in dismay.

She played the guitar and sang, and when Stephen had tried to accompany her she threw the smaller cushions at him, pulling a childish face while mocking his poor voice. They wrestled and they showered together (Louise insisted that the two of them just couldn't squeeze into the bath!) and Stephen taught her how to play Five-Hundred, a card game he had picked up back in his boarding school days.

Late on Sunday evening as the unfinished bottle of Medoc stood on the floor, accompanied by two partially finished glasses of the soft red wine, Louise suddenly leaped to her feet and ran into the bathroom where she stayed until Stephen could coax her out. He knew exactly how she felt. As the weekend came to a close it was as if each would lose something extremely precious that they had shared together.

He held her closely in his arms and whispered to her until the tension of the moment was broken, and he tried to sing the Johnny Horton ballad she loved, softly into her ear. She collapsed to the floor laughing and then he knew they would be all right. They were in love. And neither wanted to say it for fear that they would break the spell.

Louise asked him to leave before morning. He didn't understand but he unhappily agreed to her wishes, leaving the apartment compound where she was billeted in search of a
becak
to take him home. To his amazement, Achmad was standing outside beside the Holden with a broad grin on his face.

“
Selamat pagi, tuan
,” he said, pulling the rear door of the sedan open for the young foreigner.

“
Ya, selamat pagi, Achmad
,” Coleman responded, alerting the driver to the fact that he was not all that happy to be going home.

 

Monday was hell in the office. Everybody wanted him for something or other. He phoned her office before lunch and then again late in the afternoon. He had left several messages for her before leaving for an official visit to Medan. When he returned he was disappointed to discover that there had been no reply at all.

The second week dragged slowly and Coleman felt that had Louise really wanted to respond she would have returned his calls. He was depressed. A few more weeks passed and he decided to get on with his work and, if necessary, put the affair quickly behind him. He tried, unsuccessfully, as Louise totally dominated his thoughts. Stephen had been required to attend yet another reception. He was averaging more than five per week due to his linguistic skills and was becoming more than a little testy with the over-demand on his time. He understood the cause of his moody behaviour and was determined to put her out of his mind, once and for all.

The evening had commenced well. He had accompanied the Ambassador's wife to the function at her request as she despised being alone and admired the young Coleman's knowledge of the local people. Her husband had been unable to return from Pontianak on time as the aircraft was grounded with engine trouble leaving his wife to carry on to represent them both.

Actually, she was quite pleased. Normally she found these cocktail parties as boring as hell but never indicated to those around her that she felt so. Tonight she would not be obliged to stand behind or to the side of her vociferous husband and listen to him carry on about the Commonwealth's interests being eroded in this hemisphere or how
that
man in Singapore was really a Communist, and so on.

Stephen held her by the elbow as he escorted her up the few steps to the formal reception line. He had developed considerable social skills and, dressed in his white jacket, attracted more than one second look from the ladies, most of whom were married and led very dull lives. The reception had been under way for just a short time when he spotted her. The other guests were moving around quickly, almost in a frenzy, snapping up the hors d'ouvres before the fresh Sydney rock oysters all disappeared. It had been quite a culinary coup for the New Zealand Ambassador to have a visiting RNZAF Hercules crew bring the ice packed shellfish on their visit in time for his function.

Peering over the heads of the crowded room he could see her standing talking to an Indonesian officer. He sauntered over to join in their conversation. As he approached, Louise's blue eyes sparkled as they had that first night they'd met and when he heard the soft laugh he felt the fist grab at his stomach. He moved in closer to them and was about to say ‘Why the hell didn't you answer my calls,' when their eyes met and he instantly felt foolish.

“
Selamat malam, Bapak Seda
,” was all he could muster, hoping at least his use of the language would impress her.

“Good evening, Mr Coleman,” the general replied in English as a courtesy to the young lady. “Have you met Miss Louise?”

“Yes, sir, I'm pleased to say,” he acknowledged adding “but I was not sure that at the time I hadn't been dreaming.”

The general looked at them both quizzically not understanding the connotation as the beautiful young woman flushed red with embarrassment. Louise regained her composure almost immediately and asked, “So, you are friends with General Seda?”

Coleman looked distantly into her eyes. Why hadn't she returned my calls he wondered? “We have met once or twice,” Seda replied before Coleman could. “Then I am sure you will have something to discuss. Please excuse me,” she said, smiling at the officer and quickly leaving to speak to another group she had spotted near the temporary bar.

Seda took mental note of the mild social skirmish and then he too excused himself leaving Coleman feeling like some disbeliever who had just been discovered in the midst of a holy gathering.

He headed for the bar and not finding Louise, settled down to enjoy the champagne.

Stephen did not go unobserved as he downed the Moet, too quickly, the bubbles forming an airlock in his throat. Louise stared at him, with mixed emotions, from the far side of the room while the Timorese casually observed them both. He reached for another glass from the silver serving tray as the
jongus
passed by. The house servants were always careful to ensure that this man always had their attention for more often than not, his presence in a household inevitably meant that the domestic staff were in trouble as he was the man who could speak their language and they knew they should watch him carefully.

Nathan considered the smartly dressed Australian. His dossier had been completed with additional input from Albert. He had identified some reluctance from his stepbrother when pushed for the information but eventually the data had flowed through. Nathan was surprised with his brother's glowing report and footnote concerning their apparent friendship. Albert had emphasized that his relationship with Nathan had never been disclosed.

Nathan had smiled when he read this annotation. Albert was no fool as he obviously realized the consequences that such disclosure would have brought to them both. Nathan's dedication had earned him the coveted star on his shoulder bringing him to the Attaché Corp's attention immediately. His job function under the newly reorganized HANKAM was described as Intelligence Protocol. This enabled Nathan to mix with the foreigners easily. His English was poor as he had forgotten most of what he had learned under the priests. To his delight, conversing with this new Information Attaché Coleman was, indeed, a pleasure.

Believing that he had inadvertently caught the young man's eye, he signalled. Coleman noticed Brigadier General Seda's wave and he returned the gesture. The General had been particularly helpful with assistance travelling to remote areas which still required military escort. Central Java and a few of the outlying provinces were unsafe for foreigners. In diplomatic terms this indicated that the Central Government was still mopping up some of the so called communist remnants in those areas.

Coleman had witnessed the execution of one hundred and twenty seven peasants near a small
kampung
in the Blitar region. The Captain responsible for the turkey shoot proudly paraded some fifteen rifles, the total armoury captured, hoping the representative of the Australian News and Information Bureau would congratulate him, perhaps even send photographs of this heroic soldier to Australia for inclusion in the newspapers.

There it would be picked up by
Antara
and perhaps included in the Armed Forces News. This would result in a rapid promotion for the cowboy Captain. Coleman understood this dangerous mentality and used it to improve his own position. Coleman praised the Captain, his men and their efforts to assist eradicate Communism. At first Coleman felt disappointed with himself for the hypocrite he had become. As the months passed and the horror of what had occurred in this beautiful country became apparent even he developed an affinity towards the hundreds of thousands of innocent victims who had been imprisoned on islands such as Pulau Buru and Nusa Kambangan. Rehabilitation camps appeared throughout the country and virtually a million men, women and children were ‘re- indoctrinated' into the
Panca Sila
way of life.

Along a dusty mountain track south of Blitar Coleman was disgusted to see pre-school children being instructed in the ways of the New Order, the
Orda Baru
. As his four wheel drive Toyota passed the newly erected
kampung
huts, row after row of little children were forced to stand with their right arms raised in a Hitlerstyle salute, yelling
Merdeka!
Freedom! in unison. These were the orphaned children of executed communists and it was here that the New Order practised its grass roots policy of indoctrination.

The sins of the fathers
. He remembered the text from his boarding school days when at least two hours each week were dedicated to the scriptures.

Although Coleman realized he was becoming drunk he decided that another drink would give him something to do with his hands. He heard his name being called and turned towards the guest responsible.

“Ah, there you are Coleman,” called the British Ambassador. “I wonder if you would mind interpreting for me for a moment old chap.” Coleman disliked this Ambassador intensely. He was, at best, extremely patronizing and excessively colonial in nature and, in Coleman's view, a poor choice to send to this country.

“Not at all Ambassador. To whom do you wish to speak?”

“Why, this chap here of course,” announced the gnome-like figure of Maxwell Westaway, in his deepest baritone, indicating the Asian figure to his left.

The object of the Ambassador's attention stiffened and turned to avoid what could presently become an unpleasant incident caused by the obnoxious diplomat. The British Ambassador would not be thwarted and he grabbed the man's arm.

“Just a moment old fellow, I would like to ask you something. This chap here speaks your lingo so don't run away.” Ambassador Westaway had, by this time, secured the embarrassed Asian with his left hand while gesturing for Coleman to approach closer and assist with the dialogue.

“Coleman, be a good fellow and ask this chap if he had that dinner jacket made here or in Singapore. I'll bet it's a Singaporean product if ever I've seen one. Very stylish. Very stylish indeed.”

The Asian gentleman diplomatically checked his anger over the Ambassador's obvious lack of finesse but the glint in his eyes suggested that he intended scoring off the pudgy British Queen's representative.

Turning to Coleman the Malaysian First Secretary asked in his own language, “
Are there very many more like him in Jakarta? My name is Ali bin Noor and I am the new First Secretary at the Malaysian Embassy. I overheard you speaking to our Ambassador in Bahasa Indonesia and I must admit, I'm impressed. Do you have difficulty with the slight differences in our two languages?
”