The Timor Man (48 page)

She was now one of several stars in what was known in Hong Kong as The Lim Collection. Lim's exclusive agency arranged escorts for wealthy and powerful clients. This provided the Chinese entrepreneur with considerably more than the substantial income generated by the beautiful ladies. Lim also traded in information, and secrets.

Angelique would be questioned at length as to what she might have heard or seen while in the company of the wealthy arms dealer. Areport would then be made to those who paid handsomely for the occasional surveillance Lim's girls carried out whenever Stephen Coleman visited Hong Kong.

Lim would personally deliver any such information to the client although he was never comfortable with this chore. Raised in the world of Triads he was all too familiar with the dangers of such covert activities. Lim feared few people but always felt uneasy when alone with Umar Suharjo.

 

The lighting inside the old warehouse was limited to one corner where the storeman sat, smoking, surrounded by bundles of documents. Coleman waited for an hour. The air was humid and the dilapidated building had little ventilation. A car horn sounded and he checked his watch. A solitary passenger alighted, paused, looked around carefully then entered through the poorly lit doorway. Stephen identified the courier and nodded in his direction.

“
You're late
,” the Australian admonished.

The Javanese ignored the complaint and walked directly to the storeman's table. He removed an envelope from inside his jacket and dropped it casually onto the desk.

The storeman retrieved the documents and handed them to Coleman who, conscious of the trace of arrogance displayed by the courier, examined Seda's signature carefully to ensure that this man had been delegated the unusual responsibility of accepting delivery of this particular consignment.

The papers were in order. Stephen instructed the storeman to pass control of the shipment to the latecomer. There were no further signatures required. Satisfied that this surly little courier, who had obviously been promoted by the General, could now handle the next phase of the delivery, Coleman prepared to depart.

He watched the Indonesian walk around the stacked cases containing the Cuban consignment, concerned that Seda had appointed this man to ensure final delivery of the weapons. Stephen had met this courier perhaps as many as thirty or forty times over the past few years.

He rarely spoke. Stephen had attempted to be civil on these occasions however the Javanese would merely grunt then surrender Seda's written instructions and depart without so much as one word. Whenever he was around this man , Stephen felt uneasy. There was something about him that worried him, even frightened him.

Coleman turned to leave as the courier completed his cursory inspection of the shipment. Strolling towards the corner table, a
kretek
cigarette now dangling from his mouth, he removed his jacket and sat on the corner of the storeman's cluttered desk displaying an air of arrogant overconfidence. He dropped the almost spent
kretek
and stepped on it with his left shoe.

Coleman now understood the reason for the light weight jacket. The man was armed. The revolver hung menacingly from its shoulder holster.

Umar Suharjo's gaze followed the departing Australian. He spat on the floor, removed a packet of
Gudang Garam
from the jacket and lighted yet another of the aromatic clove cigarettes. Minutes later his team arrived. They had been instructed to wait for Coleman to depart before entering the warehouse. They worked through the night loading the cases onto the fishing trawlers.

The men worked hard, their sinewy arms and legs bulging with the effort of moving the cases from the warehouse. Sweat poured from their bodies. There was no conversation, just hand signals and the occasional grunt as the men moved quickly to complete their task before morning. Umar checked the warehouse one last time to ensure that they had left no tell-tale identification of their activities. Satisfied, he ordered his team to join the trawler crews and prepare for departure. He re-entered the building alone.

Minutes later his men noticed him return. The flotilla departed, the destructive cargo well secured and camouflaged to avoid detection as the vessels headed for the southern Filipino islands in the Mindanao Sea. Behind, in the warehouse, everything was still. And quiet.

The dead storeman's body was not found for three days. One of the Macau police investigators at the murder scene checked the victim's pockets. The contents were placed in a small pile on the dead man's desk. The detective examined the items. With the exception of a few dollars and the victim's ID card there was nothing of value.

He noticed the loose cigarette which the storeman had extracted from his killer's packet left on the desk during the loading operation. Rolling the
kretek
between his fingers and, out of habit, the policeman placed the clove cigarette in his mouth and lighted the only evidence left by the Javanese. Moments later, recovering from the worst coughing fit he had experienced in many years, the investigator recovered the remaining stub.

Convinced that the cigarette was marijuana, he placed the remains in an evidence bag and returned it to the pile of personal effects. The detective knew that the murder investigation would have a low priority as it was probably drug related and his department already had its quota for the month, courtesy of the Triads.

 

Seven days passed before the innocent fishing trawlers were positioned off the former Portuguese colony's coast. The passage had been relatively easy. They had sailed down through the Mindanao Sea and then headed directly for Timor.

Umar Suharjo leaned against the railing scanning the coastline for activity. Satisfied that there was no threat, he ordered the teams to prepare for arrival. Later, under cover of darkness, two hundred men assisted to unload the valuable cargo. Within days, the small band of guerrillas had stashed the rifles, ammunition and grenades in discreet locations surrounding the town of Dili.

The weapons, coupled with earlier shipments of stolen equipment delivered directly from within Indonesia and the numerous caches now buried around the island, represented a substantial armoury for the group which would soon receive international attention as FRETILIN, the
Frente Revolucionarla de Timor Leste Independente.
The Revolutionary Front for the Independence of East Timor.

They were ready.

Canberra
— Jakarta

 

Albert was struck speechless when it happened. It took place without any warning whatsoever.

He had finished his breakfast and was engrossed in reading
The Age
when Wanti approached the small alcove and sat beside him. At first, he had not really noticed her presence. Until she spoke. Albert's initial reaction was that the nurse had called his name but immediately he realized that this was not one of her scheduled days.

He turned with an inquiring look and the young woman had smiled, leaned across to inspect the newspaper and asked, “
What are you reading, Albert?
”

Tears filled his eyes with disbelief. He took her hands and held them tightly.

“
Wanti?
” he asked.

Two hours later she sat holding an intelligent conversation with her psychoanalyst. Just five hours later they sat in a Dutch Indonesian restaurant together ordering a selection of dishes from the
rijstaffel
, celebrating her remarkable recovery.

The rapid change in Wanti was incredible and, although cautioned by her doctors, Albert knew that she had finally broken through those barriers which had held her mind chained to the dreadful memories of her childhood. For days Albert waited to see if her recovery continued to show signs of permanency before phoning Stephen. He didn't want to build up his friend's hopes only to discover that after a short time she would retreat back into her secret world once again.

A week went by. And then another. They talked continuously. About Indonesia, her brother, her schooling, while Albert discussed his unsuccessful marriage, the racial bigotry he'd encountered in Australia and his early childhood, deliberately omitting the severe hardships he'd experienced. He was concerned that he might inadvertently trigger some reaction with his tales of the desperate life he'd suffered in Timor.

She rarely spoke of her husband, Stephen. He thought it better to wait for her to raise the subject of his absence. Only twice did she mention his name and even then the subject was quickly forgotten.

Albert doted on her every move. He took time off work to spend with her, visiting the zoo, Phillip Island and as many other scenic places as he could manage, believing that the outings would assist with her ongoing rehabilitation. Instead, they grew closer, and Wanti became dependent on his support and tender attention. Albert and Wanti were content together and went about their lives in a comfortable and orderly fashion as if it were the natural thing to do. It was inevitable. Albert just hadn't seen it happening. He couldn't understand the signs at first but when he recognized what had happened he was overjoyed.

They became lovers.

Albert had never intended for this to happen but it seemed so natural when the moment came. He delighted in the warmth and sincerity of the relationship. He had never really been a very physical person but the tenderness they shared reminded him of the first months of his marriage and the terrible void that had enveloped his very being when the comfort of his first woman was removed from his life. In his mind Albert accepted the possibility that this still quite beautiful young woman had merely slipped into this new role as part of her recovery process. And she was so much younger. He didn't care.

He loved her dearly. He felt no guilt.

Stephen had not communicated with her for some time and it became apparent that he too had developed other relationships back in Jakarta. He was, nevertheless, concerned as to how best to break the news to Stephen.

They discussed their feelings for each other and Albert expressed concerns that, once she met her husband face to face, Wanti may discover that she still loved him. He really didn't want to take that risk but when he had suggested the possibility to her Wanti had held him warmly and reassured him of her affections. She had then agreed to marry Albert. It was decided that they would travel to Jakarta to meet with her husband and settle the matter quickly. Divorce in Indonesia was not a complicated process and Stephen was unlikely to object.

Albert hoped that too much time had now passed for Stephen and Wanti to ever recover their previous relationship, or restore the feelings they had once shared so intimately together. Albert set about making the necessary arrangements for their journey. It would soon be Christmas and he wished to return in time to celebrate with his loving companion as man and wife.

 

Coleman was surprised by Albert's telex advising of their visit. He responded immediately, informing his old friend that he would meet them both at Halim Perdanakusumah airport. AlthoughAlbert had not advised Stephen of his wife's progress, he acknowledged that it was obvious there had been considerable improvement in her mental health for her to be able to travel back to Indonesia. He hoped she could now at least converse.

Coleman considered Wanti's return and accepted that he would be obliged to make considerable changes to his current lifestyle to accommodate the existence of a spouse once more. A lady of the house. The official lady. It had been so long and he almost resented the intrusion.

Stephen felt a twinge of annoyance. His life as it was, and at this moment, left little to be desired, but he understood that this would change dramatically with her arrival. He made a note to tell Sukardi to clear the rooms of whatever paraphernalia might still remain in his room left behind by his numerous female guests.

It was unlikely that their relationship could ever return to whatever status it had achieved prior to Wanti's collapse. He wondered if she could accept that he had obviously acquired new friends and if this discovery might trigger a recurrence of her illness. He didn't understand why Albert had dropped all of this on him so suddenly. And why inform him by telex? Why not just phone? Coleman sat staring at the message momentarily and, opening his diary, drew lines across the days commencing with his wife's arrival to provide them both with the time they would so obviously require to readjust to each other. He wanted to feel responsible but his heart just wasn't in it.