The majority of the guests were from Embassies, the business sector and the Indonesian Government. Rumour had it that one of the Vice President had actually purchased the magnificent premises which was once the residence of the United States Marine Attaché.
Wanti wasn't sure for certain but she felt that Stephen had brought her here, once before, when they had first met. There was just something about the magnificent gardens that sparked a faint recollection from her past. In fact, it was in this very mansion that they had met and fallen in love. Wanti could no longer recognize her surroundings as they had been altered considerably to accommodate the new restaurant's requirements.
The following day, feeling obliged to entertain Stephen's wife and friend once again, Hart had introduced them to one of the expatriate drinking spots. This English-style pub and restaurant was located across the canal from the Hotel Indonesia and adjacent to the Kartika Plaza hotel. He'd told them both that it was one of Stephen's favourite haunts where he would spend considerable time with his friends and business associates. Hart didn't mention that his boss often entertained the ladies here as well for the atmosphere and cuisine were, at that time, perhaps the best the city could offer.
They had been welcomed by the pub's owner who often stood propped at the small corner section of the bar with his âdrinking team', as they were known, for the group of six or seven were rarely seen drinking elsewhere and virtually claimed that area of the bar for themselves. They would arrive around midday and take up the exact positions they had occupied the day before. Rarely did the group break up before evening and their presence helped develop most of the character, the ambiance, and the profitably that The George and Dragon enjoyed over the years.
The colourful manager, a short Cockney with considerable culinary flair, added to the pub's atmosphere, as his repartee often lifted the level of conversation and stories to new highs, pleasing the hard core drinking clientele who kept the till happily ringing away.
Although Hart enjoyed himself at the bar surrounded by a variety of foreigners throwing back drinks faster than Albert imagined possible, neither of his two guests appeared to particularly enjoy the venue. Unbeknown to the visitors and the public in general, this establishment had, in fact, been used for more than one covert rendezvous until articles appeared in the Hong Kong press suggesting that the popular pub had more than one purpose for its existence. The Russian and British Embassies were situated directly across the street and, as The George's reputation grew, so did the mystique surrounding it.
Journalists frequented its bar along with tough sounding riggers off the oil platforms. All in all the place was basically a communications centre as it was more convenient and, in most cases, more productive to arrange to meet downtown in this bar than spend hours dialling hopelessly through the local telephone exchange.
Having finished their lunch Hart excused himself. “Take the car, I have only a short walk from here,” he'd offered.
The pair disappeared quickly, not content to sit around in the now noisy place, as they had friends to contact and more shopping to complete. Wanti had also made arrangements to meet with Bambang's former base Commander in Jakarta later in the afternoon as she was anxious to learn where he had been billeted at his new station. Phones were never connected to the men's single quarters and she wished desperately to contact him to see if he could get away and visit before they returned to Australia. Wanti intended using her Javanese charm to seek a special favour and ask the Colonel if there was some way her brother could be called to the officer's mess phone to speak with her. Bambang had written to her in Melbourne but she was unable to contact him prior to her departure.
They drove out to the military station and Wanti entered the building alone. Unfortunately the Garrison Commander was not available. Wanti had noticed the unusually active scene around her when shown into the officer's protocol liaison centre.
“
Sis, you indicated that you wished to see the Colonel,
” the liaison officer had asked. “
I'm sorry, but the command is very busy and it would be impossible for you to meet with him. Can I be of assistance?
”
Wanti smiled at the soldier.
She turned on the charm and the helpless little girl act that she'd found worked so well with others.
“
I really need your help, âbang, to contact my brother in the Surabaya barracks. I haven't seen him in years and I must return to Australia in a few days. I would be very sad if I missed him during this visit.
” With which she looked up at the young officer who had now leaned across the service counter separating the staff from visitors.
“
Give me his name and rank, and I'll do what I can,
” he offered.
Wanti had quickly written the information down and passed it across the counter. Without speaking, the protocol officer took the piece of paper and disappeared through a rear door, leaving her to sit on the rotan chair staring at the photographs of the Army Chief of Staff and those of the country's leadership. A large Garuda hung on one wall directly above a number of flags which had been placed on either side of the office entrance. She waited patiently for an hour.
Wanti was aware that her brother had been posted to his regiment in Surabaya a few months before and clearly understood the difficulty she would have had in attempting to arrange such a call herself through non-military communications, as the government's telephones were impossible enough for just city calls, let alone inter province. Expecting to make such a connection for a long distance call in less than three or four hours would be naive, she knew.
Another thirty minutes had passed when the Lieutenant returned.
“
Sorry, sis. All communications to the Surabaya command have been blocked for military traffic only. I've been trying to call one of my own friends down there to assist but everything seems to be very busy. I couldn't get any priority
.”
He observed the disappointed look on the girl's face. “
The traffic should die down a little before five if you want to wait and let me try again. Or, if you wish, I'll write down the officers mess number and you can try from the post office or from wherever you're staying.
”
“
Terima kasih
,” Wanti replied indicating that she would take the number and leave.
Albert had waited in the car. He was nervous enough just being in the military compound without having to enter one of their buildings. He didn't require any reminders of his last visit to an army establishment, the memories of which had haunted him for years before he could put the whole thing behind him. When Wanti returned to the vehicle she found him sitting in a pool of perspiration, his face quite pale. She didn't understand why he hadn't turned the air-conditioning back on if he'd been that uncomfortably hot.
She explained what had occurred inside. Understanding her disappointment at not being able to contact him directly, Albert offered to fly down with her to meet with Bambang, before returning to Australia. They discussed this alternative.
“
Of course, there is still the possibility that we can make the call direct to the Surabaya station and arrange for Bambang to be called to the phone, now you have his mess number,
” Albert suggested.
She had agreed. They returned to the house, tired but determined and immediately started dialling the long distance number themselves. After some hours they gave up any further attempts for the day as it was then probable that the mess would have closed, having finished with the evening meal some time before.
The next morning they asked for Hart's assistance in arranging for the change in tickets and bookings. He came over from the other office and, having been told about the connection difficulties they'd experienced, instructed Stephen's secretary to keep on trying until the operators were successful.
“Mr Hart,” the woman had started, entering the guest lounge area without knocking, “the lines are going to be congested to Surabaya for some time. Especially all military installations.”
“Just keep trying,” he had ordered, dismissing the personal secretary brusquely.
“I don't expect we will have much luck,” Hart said turning to his guest, “the military will have everything tied up what with the action in Timor right now. Even flights will be difficult if you really wish to go down that way.”
The conversation then centred on the Indonesian invasion of Timor-Timur.
“The losses are outrageously high.
“According to the Indonesian Sinar Harapan paper the Armed Forces information bureau has released data suggesting that Radio Australia has deliberately exaggerated the Indonesian casualty figures to create doom and gloom in retaliation over the expulsion of one of their reporters some time before. They also challenged the Radio Australia broadcasters to identify their sources as, according to the Indonesian Minister for Information, no permits have been issued for any foreign journalists to enter the region,” Albert advised, having read the
Bahasa Indonesia
language newspaper.
“That's a good point,” Hart agreed, “but I doubt that their sources would be exposed. Still, it is quite amazing that they are able to report what the diplomatic community here suggest is reasonably accurate information.”
“Well, one thing is for certain. This will certainly test relationships between the two countries. Australia and Indonesia will require some time to repair the considerable political damage sustained as a result of the broadcasts.”
Hart considered Albert's last remark. Public reaction in Jakarta to the broadcast would, undoubtedly, affect the warm relationships Australia had enjoyed over the years with its giant neighbour. It was not inconceivable to expect student unrest and even demonstrations against the Australian Embassy. Hart felt uncomfortable with the thought of rioting students as he recalled the anti-Japanese demonstrations of some years before.
“Perhaps it would be wise for you to skip Surabaya and return to Melbourne, just in case things take a turn for the worse here?”
Albert laughed. “It is unlikely that the inhabitants of even this city would throw stones at a Timorese, Greg!”
“And besides,” he continued, “Wanti would never forgive me if she missed the chance to see her brother.”
“Albert, we will push the operator again for the Surabaya connection. If that is successful and you don't need to visit him or if he can't get leave to come here then, why not just return via Singapore? Chances are that you will have considerably less difficulty arranging seating from there.”
Albert didn't respond.
The offended secretary returned and suggested that Hart attempt to speak to the operator himself as often a foreign voice would be enough to swing their attention and assistance in the caller's favour. He agreed. It was a good idea and he understood the reasoning.
Many of the operators were looking for better paying positions with the foreign companies as most were reasonably fluent in the English language.
Hart settled beside the lounge room extension and commenced dialling. The lines to Surabaya were very busy the operator had complained, but should the
tuan
care to hold maybe she could connect as the opportunity arose. Hart had agreed, struggling to find the correct words to facilitate the conversation from his limited vocabulary, as he had the misfortune to strike one of the non-English speaking operators.
The minutes dragged on and suddenly Hart motioned Albert urgently to come to the phone.
“Contact!” he announced excitedly. “I'll call Wanti while you keep him on the line.” he instructed, moving quickly to the rear of the building to alert the servants to call their
njonja
to the phone.
Wanti appeared within what seemed to be seconds, flushed with the news that they finally had Bambang on the phone. She took the receiver from Albert who also was smiling, for Wanti was obviously in high spirits. He stood beside the other man and together they watched the attractive woman as she spoke.
Hart noticed a look of concern begin to grow on Albert's face as Wanti continued to speak to the Surabaya party. Suddenly the call was finished and she replaced the receiver. Surprised, Hart looked questioningly at the two as Albert stepped forward towards the young woman. They spoke quickly and the Australian was unable to understand all that they said.
“What is it, Albert, is everything okay?” he asked.
“Maybe,” he replied, “maybe.”
“Wanti?” Hart questioned.
As she spoke he noticed that Albert had moved up alongside her and had taken her hand. He did not interpret the gesture for anything but for what it was, the hand of comfort for a friend in distress.
“My brother is not available as he was sent along with his division to Timor. They have no further news as all communication with Kupang must be requested through HANKAM in Jakarta.”