The Timor Man (49 page)

It was almost the end of another year. His work load, the pressures of the multi-million dollar monthly turnover, and his extravagant life style had started to show. He'd added a few kilos and his over exposed skin had become scaly from the constant damage imposed by the sun's ultra-violet rays.

The weekend cruises were not just all business. Amongst the more affluent foreigners, his was the most sought after weekend boating invitation. Stories of starlets and incredible parties preceded him whenever he attended dinner parties or other social events. Wherever he appeared as he was, unofficially, still considered an eligible bachelor, the younger women, foreigner and Indonesian alike, would become blatantly obvious with their attention, dominating all conversation just hoping for an invitation to one of his excursions to the islands. There had been no shortage of beautiful women. And money.

The company's activities continued to grow, his holdings in real estate alone so embarrassingly significant that his friends in the taxation department became overly friendly.

Stephen was obliged to use nominee names to hold most of the large acreages he'd acquired in the mountains for the new villa development the company had started there.

He estimated his net worth at more than eight million dollars. But it was tiresome and boring work. Particularly the mainstay of their activities, the ongoing defence contracts which provided the enormous cash-flow. He channelled his share of the profits into other ventures.

He had become a sought after figure. His advice was respected. Stephen had come to understand more about human nature and the incredible but superficially based respect people held for those who were successful. He despised them. And there were always problems with the younger women. It just never seemed to end. They went after it all with a dedication even he couldn't believe. They would do almost anything to secure a permanent place by his side. He acknowledged that this had been one of the reasons he'd never really considered divorcing Wanti. She had provided him with an acceptable social shield, protection from the insurmountable number of young females who continuously, he was sure, spent their spare time devising more schemes and more traps than one could consider possible just to get his dollars into the sack or a lock on his collar.

He thought about having a wife who was never present. Many of his friends, and certainly most of the women thought she was some figment of his imagination or a pretext he'd use to avoid being entangled. An excuse.

Slowly Stephen closed the diary and pushed it wearily to one side. He was resigned to the inevitable.

Yes, he had a wife. And she was returning. Soon. Perhaps even to stay.

Although he experienced an uneasiness with these thoughts of her return, he took the decision to provide Wanti with whatever opportunity she required to re-enter his life, even if it meant readjusting his household to provide an acceptable atmosphere conducive to her return. A token marriage. He felt sure that she was still ill, or at least continued to suffer from the traumatic seizures that had torn their lives apart. Those things just never went away. He knew. He'd corresponded with Wanti's doctors regularly at first, and they had all been of the same opinion. It was highly improbable that she would ever again enjoy the realities of the world as others knew it. In short, her mental illness had rendered her incapable of living a normal life, perhaps forever. He reached out and reopened the diary to the place where he had made the entries.

The uneasiness returned. He put it down to the effects of having over indulged the evening before and the ridiculous pool party he'd left sometime in the early hours of the morning. He suddenly remembered. He paged the houseboy and sent a note with a small envelope up to the master bedroom.

Coleman refused to move from the original quarters where the company first commenced its activities. Other offices were scattered throughout the city but this was still the nerve centre for his personal and joint activities with Seda.

He thought of the General. Their relationship had been lucrative. They still kept their distance from each other publicly although, occasionally, for appearances, one or the other would attend a function at the other's invitation.

Coleman was not a superstitious man but the sense of foreboding he experienced made him uncomfortable. Acknowledging that the sensation could have been precipitated by the unexpected news of his wife's pending return, he rose from the teak executive desk and placed the ribbon marker between the pages indicating the arrival dates. He would advise his staff that he would only be available for limited access during the initial period of her visit. Or return.

Greg Hart had become a most competent executive and was well versed in the general operating procedures of the company. Even Seda had agreed that the man's mastery of administrative matters was exceptional. He ensured that communication between the operational and administrative aspects of the
kongsi
flowed smoothly, almost mechanically. Coleman could confidently instruct his assistant to assume temporary control over the activities for the week. Having made his decision Stephen decided to lunch at one of his old haunts, The George and Dragon.

In the following week FRETILIN declared independence in the former Portuguese colony of East Timor.

 

The panic in the air was ominous. The Prime Minister's office resembled that of a football locker room as one by one the senior department bureaucrats came and went hurrying along the corridors as the news spread from office to office. The relatively inexperienced leader glared furiously at his subordinates gathered to discuss the incredible news.

“Why in the hell don't we have adequate intelligence regarding their strength and basic political intentions?” the tall articulate politician's voice boomed across the room.

“We have no representation there, Prime Minister and at this moment we're dependent wholly on isolated reports originating from the missionary posts in the area.”

The Attorney-General contemplated Anderson's predicament . He was already working out possible scenarios whereby he could pass the responsibility for this screw-up down the line to Anderson. This could mean the end of his career.

What was the point in maintaining covert operations overseas if they were unable to provide current and crucial intelligence information when it was needed? The limited budget allocated to clandestine operations prevented reliable intelligence sources from remaining current and the lack of suitable communication centres in the vicinity of the Timor group of islands made information gathering very difficult. They had sought the assistance of an Australian hotelier who had established a small operation in Dili but, as the man was an amateur and followed everywhere by Indonesian and former Portuguese agents, his services were practically useless. And then, of course, there was that poorly trained Consul and his uninformed opinions!

Funding such operations were also extremely difficult. Due to the nature and sensitivity of the work involved, the number of support personnel or those who needed to know of the covert activity was always kept to the bare minimum. As it was, ASIO's Chief regularly complained that his own domestic operations now suffered as the funding for the overseas activities could not be acknowledged publicly. For obvious reasons, these expenditures were hidden within the domestic budget.

When the Prime Minister came to power he and his colleagues wasted little time taking control of the Intelligence Services. He was shocked to discover that Australia had been running a clandestine department for years under the direction of the Attorney-General's office and, as files had been kept also on members of his own political party due to their affiliations with the Left and other Socialist or Communist groups sympathetic to Australia's enemies, he was rightfully outraged. The Deputy Prime Minister had been vocal in suggesting that Australia withdraw its troops from Vietnam. Upon winning power, in one of its first announcements, the new Government signalled its intentions of carrying out a full withdrawal from the war-torn country. The Americans were furious.

Australia
's allies had been concerned with its swing to the Left and had, for a considerable time, kept regular surveillance teams operating in the country observing some of the more radical elements in the leadership Down Under.

As the votes had been counted and it became quite apparent that the Conservatives would lose power to the Socialists the lights in Canberra's offices burned well into the night as the shredders worked overtime clearing the decks of all compromising material. Anderson had personally overseen the destruction of at least four hundred files. Having destroyed the last vestiges of damaging evidence collected over the years, he had felt relieved at the time but later, along with many others within the Defence and Intelligence community, he was not entirely convinced that he had acted in the interests of the nation.

There had been considerable soul searching within the walls surrounding the highly sensitive security department. He'd even contemplated resigning his position, as he didn't believe that any of the incoming rabble could even understand the importance of maintaining the Service's secrecy, let alone support its covert overseas activities.

It was quite clear to him that the success of their teams depended not just on their abilities as operatives but also the necessity for them to function in a world ignorant of their existence. It appeared that this would no longer be, as already the list of those who were now aware of the secret operations had been dramatically increased to include senior party rank and file members who, just months before, had also been listed on the department's surveillance sheets.

Anderson
felt disgusted with the unprofessional approach the incoming Attorney-General had taken regarding accessing the most secret files. The AG had almost been cavalier about whom he added to the list. The Director believed that it was now only a matter of time before the department's existence became public knowledge

— that is if it hadn't already been compromised by one of the new members whose name now appeared in the highly classified file.

He looked up into the Prime Minister's red-jowled face, his pulse now evident above the cheek lines as it pumped with the rising blood pressure.

“Are you telling me that we don't have any bloody idea whatsoever what these, uhm, FRETILIN terrorists are up to?”

“Sir, our reports indicate that they are only interested in maintaining sovereignty over the former Portuguese colony. ”

“What about the American intelligence that they have showing satellite proof of Russian weaponry?” demanded the Minister for External Affairs.

“What?” the Prime Minister exclaimed, paling considerably at the news. “Are you telling us that these bastards have actually been stockpiling Communist war supplies without our knowledge? And why in hell have I not been informed of this development? For Chrissakes!” he yelled, slamming the palm of his hand hard down onto the desk to his right.

“The reports were sent to us by the Americans just hours after the FRETILIN announcement, sir, and we have not had the opportunity to disseminate the material to all departments. ”

The leader's face turned crimson. His voice was deep and he spoke slowly, glaring icily at the Attorney-General.

“Your office was aware of the contents of the report. The External Affairs Ministry was aware also of the report. Why wasn't the information passed to my office?”

The men shuffled their feet. Several coughed.

The Chairman of the Joint Intelligence Services viewed the politicians around him with disgust. If he had had his way, none of these incompetent bunglers would have access to any of the intelligence communities'information. He believed that this group represented everything that the previous Government had warned against during their many years of office but, unfortunately, complacency had ruled, thrusting the Left into power for the first time in many years. As a result of an indifferent middle class vote, the Socialist Party had finally broken the Conservative grip on Australian politics.

The JIS Chairman looked around the room and identified several of those present who had vowed to dismantle the very political system which had brought them to power. The Chairman was certain that anarchy was only one step away.