The Timor Man (41 page)

In Indonesia, as a marriage was not considered truly consummated until a child had been produced, several of Wanti's card playing partners irritated Coleman with their playful innuendos suggesting that she should be careful, as there may be others waiting in the wings. Fortunately, Wanti's brother Bambang visited frequently and his presence had a calming effect on her.

Coleman admired his brother-in-law for the care and protection he had given his sister. The soldier never discussed the events leading up to their departure from the
kampung
. On one occasion, when Wanti appeared to be daydreaming but was, in fact, only concentrating on her schedule for the day, Bambang had whispered her name several times, calling to her as if she had fallen asleep. Bambang's apparent relief at his sister's response had mystified Coleman at the time. He was unaware of his wife's former, frequent relapses and, as her condition had obviously improved since their marriage, Bambang decided not to discuss his sister's attacks with his brother-in-law.

Wanti had only induced the effect once during this time. She had overheard one of her husband's senior employees discussing their
tuan's
frequent trips overseas, joking as to the nature of his short visits away from Jakarta.

“
Tuan must have arranged a regular cewek in Hong Kong
,” Pasaribu playfully announced, waving the air tickets for that destination around in the air. It was one of his responsibilities to ensure Coleman's travel arrangements, or at least those which Coleman permitted his staff to know about as many of his destinations after Hong Kong were kept confidential.

“
This is his third trip this month
,” he said. “
I'll bet she has big breasts and is very expensive,
” he continued, holding his hands out in front of his chest cupping his fingers in an exaggerated manner to approximately the shape he was describing.

Wanti's reaction was to immediately to look down at her own chest. Her breasts were so small!

Wanti accepted, reluctantly, that the conversation she'd overheard was just office gossip and that she should not permit such talk to upset her. Nevertheless her bust was small and she would suggest that Stephen take her on his next trip.

The Sumatran's actions were quite intentional. Pasaribu had positioned himself so that it would appear he had not seen
Wanti
enter the office. Raising the tickets he laughed, waving the travel documents in the air as he insinuated that the boss was obviously not just preoccupied with business when away.

Wanti had immediately slipped back out of the room to avoid embarrassment and drifted away to her private world alone in her bedroom.

The Batak's motives were quite simple; devious, but simple. As he was one of the senior managers, he expected to benefit directly should such a situation arise due to his seniority and fluency in English, which might find him relegated to travelling overseas in lieu of Coleman.

Pasaribu had no idea as to the real purpose of these trips, his employer had never discussed these excursions and he did not appear to maintain records concerning these activities. Curiosity caused the Sumatran to ponder possibilities quite beyond his sphere of responsibilities and influence. Whatever the reason, he suspected that these short journeys to the other Asian capitals were obviously connected in some way to their supply activities.

He was familiar with the volume of material and weapons supplied and consequently understood the staggering dollar value of the group sales to HANKAM, but often wondered why the company did not increase its profits by dealing directly with the manufactirers and bypass the Hong Kong middleman.

He had learned that the margins earned by the sales were thin and, according to the talkative accountant, too thin, as the company's declared profits were surprisingly small. Pasaribu appreciated that, although his role was purely that of employee, the company should endeavour to increase its profitability whenever the opportunity arose. He had also considered that should the company be obliged to pay more taxes he would have the opportunity to take advantage of this situation. His cousin's wife was on the district taxation audit team. Pasaribu believed that he would be able to nibble into any increased monthly payments together with his relatives without anyone being the wiser.

He decided to examine these opportunities more while waiting for a suitable opportunity to manoeuvre himself into a stronger position within the group. Maybe even accompany the
tuan
on one of those business holidays. Pasaribu knew that there were hidden secrets somewhere in the company's files and dossiers locked upstairs in the boss's bedroom. If only he could locate that data he knew that he could be a wealthy man.

 

As with the other office staff, the Sumatran was not aware that one of their number had been directly orchestrated into her position as a clerk, monitoring the other employees' activities. She reported everything to the Umar. He paid her thirty dollars every month for her loyalty. But she did it out of fear.

Six weeks after the incident regarding the air tickets Pasaribu's body was discovered, his throat cut from ear to ear and his wallet, wristwatch and other valuables missing. The office workers attended the funeral and, without exception, expressed their dismay that he could come to such a disgusting end, even though it was in the car park behind one of the more notorious massage parlors.

A few days later Coleman's accountant disappeared. Annoyed with losing two key personnel in the same week Coleman decided to look at the possibility of engaging foreign staff to assist with the ever-growing administrative support his company required. He advertised in the Straits Times in Singapore and was pleased with the standard and number of applicants who applied. Many were of Chinese extraction and, in his business, definitely not politically acceptable.

The following month Coleman employed his first foreign assistant. His résumé had provided the applicant with an almost guaranteed position with the company. He had the correct academi
c
qualifications and background. He was young and appeare
d
to be

comfortable living in the fast moving world of armamen
t
and equipment dealings. His credentials indicated that he ha
d
worked with one of the Australian Small Arms

manufacturer
s
and it was this particular reference which influenced Coleman'
s
final decision
.
Not that the new employee would have immediate access t
o
many sensitive aspects of the company's activities such as actually arranging purchases and delivery of weapons— Colema
n
would always retain that responsibility for himself. It was essential to the security of his relationship with Seda that only h
e
be conversant with such sensitive detail. The knowledge of th
e
arrangements already in place would be too

dangerous in another's hands
.

Not mentioned in the man's curriculum vitae was his expertis
e
as a skilled hand gun expert and dedicated skier. And that he'
d
fine tuned both of these abilities under the watchful eye of Joh
n
Anderson. He was an ASIS mole - and his name was Gregor
y
James Hart
.

Jakarta
— The Riots

 

Umar Suharjo was delighted with the riots. Cars and buildings were burning everywhere. Sirens screamed as fire tenders and police raced frantically from one location to the next, unable to keep pace with the deliberate destruction of property. Anything of Japanese manufacture came under attack. All of this excitement and none of it any of his doing!

Tension had been mounting ever since the Japanese Prime Minister's visit had been announced. In just a few short years the Japanese economic machine had moved into Indonesia and virtually dominated the consumer market. There were cries of unfair trade practices, such as buyer's commission and dumping. The Japanese elected to ignore the obvious signs of dissent and suddenly, without further warning, violence erupted throughout the capital.

Students ran
amok
, while soldiers stood by and watched, permitting the chaos to continue unchecked. It was if the government itself wanted this violent display against their economic benefactors. Vehicles of Japanese origin were blocked by the huge crowds and drivers invited to vacate their cars before the vehicles were destroyed. At first many drivers did not appreciate the seriousness of their position and immediately became the first fatalities.

All of Jakarta's major arterial roads were blocked by damaged and burning Datsuns, Nissans and Toyotas as the riots spread out of control. Crowds vented their hate, burning school buses and motor bikes, the violence finally spilling over into buildings displaying Japanese products or neon signs.

 
Coleman sat in the rear of the new Nissan. The traffic had slowed, and he could see smoke billowing from what appeared to be an accident up ahead on the junction of Jalan Juanda and Jalan Hajam Wuruk.

“Shit!” he muttered, turning to speak to his co-passenger, “another screwed-up morning. ”

He was referring to the previous day's appointments, missed due to traffic confusion and rescheduled for that day. Moments later the traffic ceased to flow completely. Both of the passengers immediately felt the discomfort as the air-conditioner laboured, struggling to cool the stationary vehicle. Several youngsters ran along between the blocked lines of stagnated cars, trucks and buses and, as they passed between the Nissan and the adjacent vehicle, they banged the side heavily with their fists, startling the occupants.

“Little bastards,” called Hart, not entirely happy with the situation, his clothes developing moist patches because of the failing air-conditioner.

“Okay,” Stephen decided, “let's walk. This jam is impossible. We'll slip down past the accident and grab a taxi on the other side.”

Leaning forward he touched Achmad on the shoulder. He turned his head slightly.

“
Nanti, kalau sudah bisa jalan, pulang saja
,” Coleman instructed Achmad to find his own way when the road cleared. The dedicated man who had driven for him when he had first arrived in the country and had resigned from the Embassy to follow the former Attaché.

Stephen and Greg then both left their locked briefcases behind and began walking towards the stagnated vehicles. They were within fifty metres of the intersection when the mob appeared.

At first Coleman assumed that the crowd was moving in their direction urged by traffic police. And then it dawned on him. He called his companion.

“Greg. Quickly! Follow me. And don't panic!” he added urgently.

Hart started to ask why when a team of well organized students commenced throwing stones at selected cars. Startled by the sudden violence he ran after Stephen, following him to the side of the street closest to the canal which divided the road.

“Cross here!” Coleman ordered, a note of alarm in his tone. Hart identified the urgency in Coleman's command. The small footbridge permitted the two foreigners to hurry across the canal, avoiding the coagulated brown mess below. Hart continued to follow his associate now moving quickly back away from the burning cars as the first vehicle erupted with a deafening explosion.

They stopped and stared back at the incredible sight. Bottles filled with petrol were hurled through the air at the expensive cars, exploding upon impact.

“For Chrissakes!” Hart yelled, “they're throwing Molotov cocktails!”

At least a dozen more vehicles caught fire. They were already burning furiously as the mob surged along the other side of the
kali,
screaming slogans, smashing shop windows and torching more cars. Their numbers multiplied by the moment.

“What are they yelling?” the visibly shaken Hart asked, “are we in real danger?”