The Timor Man (36 page)

The General understood the value of people. But he had a greater understanding of human nature and how values change proportionately to the volume of dollars involved. Recognizing the expression on the Australian's face, Seda was finally comfortable that he had made the right choice in selecting this man. Assured that his new associate understood the consequences of any disclosure concerning their relationship, Seda established a routine for their private telephone conversations which were scheduled to occur on a weekly basis.

They had also agreed that, in the interests of further distancing themselves from each other publicly, all personal meetings or sensitive transactions should be conducted strictly off-shore through nominated safe houses or via such people as the General may wish to designate.

Obviously, there was considerable detail yet to be discussed and resolved. They accepted that it was more important to establish the principles of their relationship and agree on a
modus operandi
for the company's overall activities during this day's discussions rather than attempt to cover too much detail.

“
That's just about it then, Mas
,” Seda suggested in a tired voice, “
we will talk again next week and commence from then. Don't concern yourself about funding, we will have it all in place within a few days or so. You should concentrate on finalizing your permits and other documentation with the immigration authorities. Everything must be done according to the regulations. We don't want you to attract unnecessary attention
.”

“
Phone this number
,” he instructed, passing the piece of paper to Stephen, “
and arrange an appointment with Sutrisno. I have already spoken to him, as you know, regarding your sponsorship. It's all settled but he will need to assist you put your applications together correctly
.”

“
No one's going to refuse his sponsorship,
” he stressed, referring to the Chairman of the influential Foreign Investment Board.

“
He will also provide you with a list of acceptable houses for you to occupy. Select one and he'll have it prepared through his offices. Power, water, telephones, everything. Then you should move in and settle down, preparing yourself for an interesting time
,” he paused, for the effect, “a
nd an exciting one, I'd expect.
”

They spoke for a few more minutes but as both were weary and Seda had to return for another appointment, he departed first, leaving Stephen alone in the smoke-filled village house.

An hour passed and he heard the horn blast twice. Coleman was annoyed with the driver's obvious display of contempt. The horn sounded again, impatiently. Coleman appeared and sauntered to the car, slamming the door as he entered, without effect, as the meticulously engineered doors clicked into place. Once again he sat in the rear and in silence, as they returned via a different route. The driver dropped him precisely where he'd waited earlier in the day. As Coleman left the Mercedes he deliberately left the door ajar so that the driver would have to close it.

He didn't. Instead, the car suddenly accelerated forward a few metres, jerked to a halt then accelerated again, causing the car's own momentum to close the door. Stephen shook his head in bewilderment as the brown sedan drove away, leaving him still standing in a hail of small gravel stones thrown by the spinning rear wheels.

The driver circled the block to observe the foreigner. He'd disappeared. Coleman, tired and not keen to walk the short distance home had quickly climbed aboard a
becak
and was already around the corner heading for a hot bath when the vehicle returned. The driver's eyes narrowed. Slowly, this time, he drove away from where he'd dropped the General's guest.

‘
One day
,' he muttered, ‘
one day you'll get it, bulé!
' the thought of which seemed to comfort him as he unclenched his tight grip on the steering wheel.

Umar Suharjo returned the Mercedes to the Seda household. He was angry to the pit of his stomach. He didn't appreciate being looked down on by others. He had skills beyond their comprehension and one day he would demonstrate some of these to the arrogant Australian, Coleman.

Wanti

 

Stephen Coleman enjoyed the transition from government to the private sector. He had returned to Australia briefly, spending a weekend with his mother on the Hawkesbury River with some of her friends, enjoying the wines and pollution free air. She had expressed disappointment, as he'd anticipated, at his decision to leave the government and enter the world of commerce.

“I guess there's nothing much can be done now, dear,” she had criticized, standing on the Canadian redwood sun deck overlooking the serene river, a flute glass filled with Chardonnay in her right hand, posturing, her head covered with an oversized straw hat. “I doubt you could return to your position now even if you wished to do so. ”

He knew that this was his mother's way of informing her son that he was practically in disgrace and that someone in Canberra had been talking to her about him. She enjoyed secrets, he knew, but Stephen guessed correctly that Anderson was responsible for her mood.

The following week had not been as pleasant. He'd made arrangements to meet with the Secret Service's Director and was twice left to cool his heels at the designated appointment without meeting the man. Stephen knew the importance of sitting down with Anderson and explaining his position. For that reason and the respect he still had for the senior civil servant, he tried a third time and was relieved when the Director's secretary confirmed their meeting.

Anderson
had agreed to meet him for lunch. Stephen had arrived first and walked across the lounge to greet his former department head. He had observed the tall, almost gaunt figure enter, his shoulders slightly stooped from the years of sitting behind a desk examining reports, the gray hair adding a touch of sophistication to the conservatively dressed Director. His handshake was firm but without warmth.

The meal was a disaster. Anderson was reluctant to respond to Stephen's light-hearted attempts at casual conversation.

“There should still be plenty of snow, John,” he suggested, hoping an invitation to the last of the season's powdery falls would be offered as maybe a skiing trip would provide him with a more relaxed venue for discussion.

Anderson
refused the hint. “Don't have the time at the moment. Seems we are a little short-handed these days,” the inference aimed at Stephen's departure.

For a moment Stephen glimpsed an expression of sadness in the older man's eyes, but looking again he saw nothing and knew that he'd imagined it.

“Pity,” he said, rotating the ice cubes in his scotch slowly with a plastic stirrer, “your lodge will always be one of my fondest memories. ”

“Why, Stephen?'

“Well, because that is where you. . . ” he started before being interrupted.

“No!” the other man snapped. “Why did you resign?”

Coleman leaned back into his chair and sighed. He knew it was going to be difficult, but didn't appreciate just how complicated his position had become until then. Only when faced with the man who had been his benefactor, Director and close friend, did he understand how hopeless any argument would be.

He wanted to tell this man, who had been more of a father to him than his own during his formative years, that he no longer believed in the way governments moved silently, secretly, subversively, without accountability. And that the power of the covert organizations was created through fear. He was disillusioned by the lies and corruption that permeated all the other secret government agencies such as the CIA, MI6 and the KGB.

He couldn't find the words to describe the feeling of not being able to go home at night and take a shower to remove the filth of the day's work, and lie awake until morning unable to sleep because of the uncertainties and all too frequent self-examinations. Coleman didn't say these things because he was sure that this man already understood. He sat across the table and appraised the Director he'd

so greatly admired. Anderson looked weary.

It was the stress, Coleman knew.

“I'm out, John. I'm sorry you're disappointed, but it's over for me,” was all he found to say, pushing the inconspicuous package across to the other man.

Anderson
had said nothing ignoring the rectangular cardboard box placed in front of him. He sat for awhile silently thinking. All around others continued to talk as they dined. Only their table remained silent.

Suddenly Anderson rose and stood erect looking down at the shorter man. “The door is always open, Stephen,” he said quietly, then left, the brown parcel containing the PPK automatic held tightly in his right hand.

Coleman watched his friend walk away with his purposeful strides, hoping he would look back, just once, and wave or smile. He waited as the tall well dressed frame passed through the glass doors leading out to the car park and down the wide steps, until suddenly he was lost from view.

Stephen remained at the table for a few more minutes. He knew it would be difficult. It was just the hollow feeling of disappointment he now felt towards the man who had been his friend. He would never forget the final look Anderson had given him, as if he had betrayed their relationship and was no longer to be trusted. Saddened, Coleman paid the check and wandered outside into the sudden burst of sunshine as the Canberra sun broke through the clouds.

For a brief moment he experienced the despair that comes when long-established relationships are ultimately broken, leaving the participants with a moment of regret, even emptiness. Suddenly, as quickly as it had come the feeling was gone replaced immediately with a sense of bitterness. He looked across the avenue at his former offices.

“Fuck you, John Anderson!” he said, lifting his hand in mock salute. Then he turned and walked away from his life as a Secret Service agent, forever.

He had left for Melbourne the same evening, experiencing a sense of loss. Anderson had been a good friend, he knew, but Stephen had made his choice and was committed to at least giving it his best try. As he looked out the window, the city's lights were evident and he remembered that he must call Albert. He put the earlier events out of his mind and prepared himself for the landing.

Australia
's financial centre plays host to most of the country's corporate leaders. Coleman had introductions to several mining companies and an aviation group which wanted desperately to break into the lucrative Indonesian market. He took the opportunity to identify his company's activities and was pleased with the response. During his brief visit his phone rang continuously as more companies discovered his presence in their city. They were eager to discuss opportunities in the newly awakened giant called Indonesia, and identified Coleman as a possible means to enter the massive market without too much risk or exposure.

His credentials were excellent. A former government employee, fluent in the local language, an established office and considerable connections into the host country's government circles were enough to convince his clients that he could represent them adequately in the target area. He concluded several arrangements, in principle, and returned to Jakarta via Hong Kong where he repeated his performance, also successfully. Stephen discovered that foreign companies were desperate for representation to facilitate their way through the maze of bureaucracy found at every turn when dealing with government agencies. His background, contacts and local knowledge were suddenly in great demand.

Stephen selected an address in the ‘dress circle' and quickly established his activities in a newly constructed office-cum-residence along the main arterial road of Jalan Teuku Cik Ditiro, which connected Imam Bonjol through Menteng into Cut Mutiah, the administrative centre for the newly formed Foreign Investment Board. His company soon became the preffered alternative to the Embassy's Trade Commissioner's office for most visiting businessmen, as Coleman, courtesy of his silent partner, could offer realistic arrangements and often had greater access than the Embassy.