The Timor Man (58 page)

Unlike their fellow citizens in Irian, the majority of Indonesians knew nothing of the art of tracking. Bambang decided that the best course of action would be to head around the mountain, maintaining the same elevation as necessary then dropping quickly down the far side. He thought that this may offer them the opportunity to place themselves ahead of the guerrillas and perhaps the chance to ambush them for a change! Should they not encounter the enemy there, he would swing back and reconnoitre before formulating another plan. He wished the Colonel was there with them to advise. The other platoon was to remain where it was until contact had been established. They were then to move across the hillside as well, dropping down behind the enemy, and attack from the rear.

He could not have selected a more dangerous route as this had been the exact same path taken by the three hundred strong guerrilla force. Budiman had not been able to assist with any detail as to the enemy's strength. Their latest intelligence reports suggested that they were less than twenty. Bambang thought about the estimated enemy numbers. He knew it was unlikely that just twenty men would be able to eliminate so great a number of their airborne as they had the day before, although shooting men in harnesses wasn't difficult. His anger returned as he recalled the number of men dead, hanging in the trees.

He called his platoon together and explained his plan. They then set out, walking in single file, trying to remember what they had learned as the platoon climbed up one hill and across a small ridge, staying close together under the forest's dense cover.

As evening fell Bambang began to lose confidence. He had now lost radio contact and, as darkness enveloped his force, images of his fallen comrades began to play tricks in the jungle darkness. He became afraid. His men felt his fear and they too began to pray silently, for their safety and his leadership. The sergeant went from man to man checking their gear as they rested, offering them support when they needed it, and instant reprimand when they deserved to be reminded of their mistakes.

 

Coleman had breakfast with Greg Hart in the Hotel Indonesia coffee shop. He didn't particularly enjoy eating there but he knew that his offsider would have been there anyway and it just seemed easier that day. He had arranged the meeting to avoid having to share his own table with the couple now occupying his home. He realized that his actions were childish and identified his feelings as more of pique than jealousy. It was of little compensation that the relationship had developed when Wanti's state of mind was questionable. Although his own behaviour had not been exactly chaste during their separation, he justified his sexual pursuits as necessary functions of his life which were not available, or could not be fulfilled, by his legitimate partner.

He could not have imagined himself sleeping with Wanti after her collapse. He felt it would have been totally incomprehensible that advances could be made when the woman was obviously not completely conscious of her own actions. Perhaps, he thought, this was the basic crux of the problem. He had imagined that Albert had taken advantage of her condition, as the Timorese was not exactly a younger or a more attractive man. Silently Stephen admonished himself for permitting his thoughts to follow this path. Albert had always been a kind close friend and what had happened had happened and that was that.

It was unlikely that with Albert's religious background, Stephen decided, Wanti had even slept together with the older man. ‘Damn!' he muttered, continuing to stir the already cold coffee, what a mess! He observed his assistant, Hart, staring at him.

“Problems?” he asked.

“A few.”

“You were supposed to take some time off. What happened?”

“HANKAM will undoubtedly be raising hell any time now. I decided to stick around for awhile and see if they needed to speak with me. Also, I hadn't anticipated having a wife around when I first made the arrangements. I was due out today and may still go. I'm of two minds at the moment although I could do with a break.”

“How is the invasion going?” Hart asked, for if anyone in the city outside the Indonesian Military would know then it would certainly be his boss, Coleman.

“Too soon to tell. Shouldn't be too much for them to handle though, as they outnumber the separatists at least five to one. And the FRETILIN are a disorganized bunch of misfits with no more than a few disillusioned Portuguese followers.”

“The Melbourne broadcasts were surprisingly specific with their reporting this morning,” Hart suggested, watching Coleman for his reactions.

Surprised, Stephen suddenly realised that he had missed the program, one which he regularly heard with his breakfast. It usually offered an up-to-date coverage of world news with, he believed, very little Australian bias.

“That's impossible, Greg. How in the hell could they be reporting the action?”

“This morning's broadcaster claimed they were receiving information directly from Timor. I must admit though, it was eerie to hear the Australian news actually identifying combat groups, casualties and troop positions.”

“My God, that's insane! The military will go berserk!”

“Maybe it's the station's revenge on the Indonesians for sending their representative home.”

“Greg, listen chum. If I was a part of their High Command right now I would be looking for blood. Let's hope that this lunacy does not result in the Indonesians losing any of their troops; otherwise we may as well close up shop and disappear. Are you certain that it wasn't the Voice of America? Was it really one of ours?”

Christ!” he exploded, “What a bunch of arseholes!”

“Spot on, I'm afraid.”

Coleman thought for a few moments and then decided.

“Greg, I have changed my mind again. You hold down the fort, I will be gone for a few days. Okay?”

“Sure, Stephen. Where are you going?”

Coleman ignored the question, signalled for the bill and when it came, paid in Rupiah and left Hart alone to finish his breakfast.

 

He watched Stephen hurry away to yet another of his secret assignations. Hart was annoyed with the action. He was disappointed that, even after the now lengthy time he had worked for the man, there was an obvious lack of trust, as considerable secrecy surrounded most of the company's operations.

His access to whatever Stephen's activities were off-shore was strictly blocked as the man made most of his own arrangements when travelling and there was practically no company record of his movements when he disappeared, sometimes for almost a week at a time. He needed to have this information if he was to feel that Stephen really trusted him.

The general business of the company was quite easy for Hart to follow. It was the armament supply arrangements which were complex and jealously guarded by Coleman himself.

Hart had guessed that most of the company's financial success had originated from the secret deals Coleman had obviously struck with HANKAM, as he was very close to most of the military leaders and was practically the only foreigner who was regularly seen at the Saturday night
Ramayana
puppet shows the Presidential household held for special guests and close friends of the Indonesian hierarchy. It was also obvious that the man's wealth had grown immensely over the years.

He was practically a legend amongst the other foreigners his success story, although often distorted out of all proportion provided for them a sense of their own achievement, for one of their number had been able to beat the system and secure the helm of a substantial enterprise, not as an employee, but as its owner. And all of this before he was even thirty!

Hart had estimated the company's worth at around fifteen million dollars but he knew he could never be sure. Even the string of nominees holding most of the property in the mountain resort areas had been arranged without his knowledge. He had a fair indication of who these people were as their names appeared regularly in correspondence relating to other matters, mainly in the defence representation contracts which the company held with a number of shadowy Hong Kong and Macau suppliers. These were the names who, more often than not, appeared as some of the approved signatories at the Indonesian Department of Defence, HANKAM.

On occasion he had approached Coleman and suggested that the operation could benefit from a more open relationship, as he personally had now made a substantial commitment to the company and believed that if he was to make the association a career then, perhaps, Coleman might like to consider bringing him into the company on a different basis. His superior had treated the suggestion coolly and indicated that there would be no immediate change.

 

Upon leaving the other man to finish his coffee, Stephen had driven directly to his house. He didn't spend much time thinking about the man he'd just left. He did his job well and that's all that was required. Hart had little personality, he felt, and could go nowhere in the commercial sector as his leadership qualities were also questionable.

The amount of energy required to administer the known activities of the company was huge and, Coleman knew, Hart dedicated himself well when it came to the paperwork and more mundane requirements of his operation.

He didn't underestimate his assistant. Stephen decided that it would be a mistake to sell the man short as he had seen him take what would have been an administrative nightmare for others and turn the mess into a coherent form suitably presented and clear enough for his office staff to understand. He just didn't like the man.

Stephen thought he had the personality of a mangy dog. He didn't understand why he felt that way about Hart. Maybe, he thought smiling to himself as the Mercedes pulled into his driveway, it was because the man was an accountant.

Arriving at what he considered his nerve centre, Stephen checked in with his personal secretary and sat down to prepare the message he believed should be sent urgently to his associate. He sent a telex to the Hong Kong office with the necessary codes and settled back awaiting a response. It would take less than an hour, he knew.

Sukardi interrupted his thoughts as he lay on the sofa.

“
Tuan, is it all right for Njonja Wanti to use the car for awhile?
” his
jongus
asked, having knocked first to alert his employer of his presence at the open doorway.

“
Sure
,” he answered quickly, almost impatiently.

The houseboy disappeared, sensing the
tuan's
mood. It was always best to distance one's self as far as possible when he was like this. The last time the
tuan
had threatened to fire him again, and at last count that would make it almost thirty times in just this new period of the Moslem calendar, he appeared really serious!

The servants had discussed this together and all had agreed. The
tuan's
mood swings were directly related to the fact that his wife was in his home but not in his bed. Since she had arrived the laundry and chamber maids had all observed that nothing much had happened since she returned. Not that the
njonja
looked all that sick. They all hoped something would happen quickly. The
tuan
had never gone this long before without a woman's company in his bed.

After the houseboy had left Stephen rose impatiently and strolled over to the tall windows overlooking the well manicured garden driveway. Albert and Wanti could be seen standing outside the office alongside his Mercedes.

He continued to watch them together.

‘God!' he thought, ‘please don't let them hold hands!'

As he observed the two entering his car his thoughts were interrupted by the telex machine noisily coming to life. He waited impatiently until the lengthy signal had been received and, using the established references, decoded the deliberately ambiguous message. It was as he had anticipated. There was trouble and he was required in Hong Kong immediately.

Stephen instructed the servants to advise his wife and guest that he had to depart suddenly and ordered his secretary to phone Garuda and get him on the first flight to Singapore. Once at Changi Airport he would purchase the next leg of the ticket to avoid his office discovering his whereabouts and any other detail he felt it prudent to keep to himself. It had been burdensome maintaining this level of secrecy but it had paid off. Stephen was not about to destroy the years of hard work by ignoring the basic premise which had protected his secret operations throughout the past decade.

Seda had made it quite clear to him during the embryonic stages of their relationship that everything depended on their ability to keep their dealings strictly confidential. If their positions were compromised in any way, the result would be more than disastrous. For both of them.

His secretary knocked and entered. “Y
our ticket will be waiting for you at Halim. It leaves in just over three hours, boss. Shall I inform Mister Hart?
” she asked, not particularly fond of the other man, who continuously needled her for more information than she thought he should have about Coleman's travel arrangements and other personal details. She had never discussed this annoyance with her employer, fearing that the foreigners always stuck together when it came to staff. He'd even asked her out but she'd refused.