The Timor Man (64 page)

“I am sure he will be all right, Wanti.”

Hart thought quickly. Who could he call in HANKAM in Stephen's absence to assist with an inquiry?

“Look. Stephen will probably return today or, at the latest, tomorrow. I appreciate that it's difficult but if you try not to anticipate the worst and just believe that your brother is okay, then your husband will be able to use his contacts in HANKAM to reach Bambang,” Hart suggested. “Stephen has many senior contacts within the military and I'm sure he could put your mind at ease as soon as he returns.”

Albert continued quietly squeezing her hand reassuringly.

Wanti examined their faces as if attempting to determine the substance of what they proposed. She nodded her head slowly in acceptance. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin slightly.

“
Oh Allah!
” she whispered softly, praying for her brother's safety, “
Please watch over my Bambang!
”

Albert escorted her back to her room and instructed the houseboy to have one of the female servants stay with her.

Hart watched them leave the room. The company had the capacity to provide for its own but at this moment was powerless to do what was necessary without Stephen's presence. He knew that had Coleman been there his wife's fears could so easily be put to rest with just a few calls through his confidential military conduits. He didn't even know how to contact the man! Other than leaving messages with Coleman's private secretary should he phone, there was never any other avenue of communicating with him when he disappeared on these mysterious trips. Considering Stephen's strong contacts in the Indonesian defence establishment even these were useless without him being present to make the necessary personal calls.

Where in the hell was he?

 

Coleman sat across the table from the General. It was difficult for him to maintain the required level of conversation as Anderson's revelations continued to remain foremost in his mind, clouding his thinking.

He let his thoughts drift watching the ferries on the other side of the harbour prepare for departure. The Kowloon side appeared busier than usual. The mid channel chop had already grown, sending spray up over the bow and back down the sides of passing vessels as they made their way through the congested sea lanes.

Seda was dressed casually in comfortable slacks and a long-sleeve beige coloured shirt, the neck open down to the third button. He sat cross-legged, holding his left ankle with both hands as he continued his discourse, only occasionally moving his right hand through the air when emphasizing a point, speaking with authority as a lecturer would to an assembly of students.

Coleman sat there and listened to the man drone on describing events as he claimed to understand them and offering his opinions as to how these evolved. He attempted to appear his old relaxed self, knowing that the man sitting in front of him was blatantly lying to him, again. And with the ease and skill of a practiced master.

Anderson
had provided the most incredible insight into the powerful man he'd known all these years. Only now, Stephen realized, he hadn't really known him at all.

He continued to listen to Seda's monologue wishing he'd not come to the meeting. He should have taken more time to prepare himself. It was as if he was now swimming in one of those gas riddled oceans he'd read about when the undersea deposits suddenly aerate the surrounding waters, reducing the ocean to a wet bubble in which everything sinks and everybody drowns.

Anderson
had said that the man sitting in front of him was personally responsible for the military information leaks made to the Australian media and the constant supply of military hardware to the separatists and other guerrilla groups. He had said that, without Nathan Seda, there would be no resistance of any substance within the former colony and the lives of tens of thousands of ignorant villagers would not have been wasted supporting his dreams of an independent state.

Coleman immediately scoffed. The accusations were outrageous!

“But why would he do something that stupidly dangerous?” he'd asked.

“Because he's ambitious. Because he is greedy. And because he is dangerous!” had been the reply.

“What would he stand to gain?” Coleman had probed.

“For God's sake, Stephen! Didn't we teach you anything?”

“Again,” he'd insisted, “tell me again!”

“If you still have the capacity to be objective now is the time to do so. Ask yourself the question, why? The answers are clear.

Wake up, man, listen to your brain and not the sound of the endless stream of dollars hitting those hidden bank accounts!”

Stephen remembered how he'd felt when that particular comment had been thrown in to shake him just that little bit more. They had really done their homework, he decided.

“Let's cut to it, John. Just explain to me. Why?”

“It's not simple. People like Seda rarely embark on anything that is so bloody complicated to start with that even they lose sight of the initial objectives as their scheming continues. Seda has followed his course with total devotion. It has taken him years of patience and dedication to achieve what he has, and right under our noses. And yours.”

“You would know only too well, Stephen, just how much power he has acquired from the proceeds generated by the military contracts the two of you have enjoyed, awarded to your company year after year with his backing, the staggering amounts of commissions remaining offshore to fund his covert activities. In your case, your greed and ego sent you on a property hunt and the quest for the good life of the high-flyers. You were, sorry are, successful but nowhere near as competent as Seda. For the General, every penny he squirreled away was directed towards achieving his ultimate goal. Rebellion. Rebellion in East Timor and, hopefully, an amalgamation of both Timors under one flag. And quite possibly, one leader.”

“From your tone it sounds as if you're actually proud of him,” Coleman accused.

The older man had smiled as he responded. “Admire, Stephen, admire. When you consider that when he inherited the mantle from Sudomo the Indonesian Intelligence Services were practically a joke by our standards. Within just a few years he built an enormous network of agents and information sources even we would be pleased to have access to, today.”

“Remember, Stephen,” he had continued, now enjoying his description of the Timorese's dark activities, “He had to develop a secure Intelligence section while consolidating his own position within the country's powerful hierarchy. It wasn't easy, being outside the Javanese clique and all that, but he did it.”

Coleman was surprised at Anderson's obvious admiration for the subject of their meeting.

“When the Apodeti first became a political force in East Timor very few knew that it was, in fact, an operational arm of the Indonesian military, under the direct control of BAKIN. We all know who controls that august body, don't we?” Anderson continued, rhetorically.

“This provided the man with a direct source of information from the colony. As the Senior Intelligence Director he also had the authority to censor information, question its reliability, control its entire flow in the dissemination process to other ABRI arms and, in short, become its puppeteer.”

“What makes him such an outstanding and manipulative bugger is the fact that while he was providing his own Armed Forces with information gleaned from the
Operasi Komodo, Apodeti
and other sources, he also briefed the FRETILIN providing them with a continuous flow of intelligence of such import they were able to ensconce themselves extremely quickly as a power base within the disputed territory.”

“Then, of course, we come to the arms shipments to which you were a party. I am still not convinced that you are so naive, Stephen, that you failed to identify what was really happening but elected to go along because of the enormous amount of wealth it was producing for you. For the time being let's just say that you have the benefit of the doubt and we'll reserve judgment until later.”

Anderson
went in harder. “You have compromised almost every ideal I believed you had. You are responsible for permitting the flow of not only substantial shipments of arms to what is potentially an enemy of the Commonwealth of Australia and its allies, but also you should consider the number of dead and wounded who represent the harvest of those weapons.”

Stephen had sat quietly. Numbed by the revelations being made to him. If, in fact, what Anderson had said could be substantiated then he recognized that the ramifications of his involvement with the shipments would, undoubtedly, result in hostile action being taken against him. And at any time.

Stephen's first reactions had been to immediately discount everything that the Australian Intelligence Chief had said. Not only did it border on the absurd and ridiculous but it offended his own intellect. Anderson was expecting him to accept whatever he was told, he thought, without question, as the Director was not accustomed to having others challenge the authenticity of his statements.

And his lies!

When Stephen had scoffed at the suggestions, Anderson had produced irrefutable evidence of the General's role in providing the journalists with sensitive military information, copies of communications between BAKIN and East Timor agents (Coleman didn't need to guess how he'd obtained those!) and copies also of bills-of-lading which he knew were related to consignments that he himself had arranged through Hong Kong. Only the annotated destinations were questionable. Stephen knew that the latter could have been falsified by anyone but, somehow, he just sensed that there was more to the documents than what could be assumed from a casual glance.

It was still difficult to accept. Tens of thousands of Indonesians and Timorese now lay dead, their corpses rotting in the fields of Timor partly as a result of his ignorance and, as they sat calmly discussing his position in terms of his own involvement, Coleman realized, for the first time, just how dangerous both Anderson and Seda had become to his own well being. And to each other.

It was complicated. Had the Australians accepted the military information and permitted its deliberate release? In so doing they would have not only condoned the slaughter of the Indonesians but actually assisted in the execution of the General's plan purely for his substantial monetary gain! Did Anderson and others in similar positions of power set a trap for the General in order to hook him for the future, just keeping him on line until they could see which way events would develop?

Or was it the other way around? Had Seda deliberately provided the separatist forces in Timor the opportunity as Anderson had suggested in order to orchestrate his own rise to power in the former colony?

Why hadn't the Australians gone to the Indonesians with this information and immediately ingratiated themselves by exposing the General?

God! he thought, rubbing his throbbing temples to ease a splitting ache, it was either all a load or crap or really was down in the hole so fucking deep they would need a crane to drag him out of the shit he was in!

“Where do we go from here then?” his voice betrayed fatigue.

“That's up to you now Stephen.”

The brief and enigmatic answer didn't help. He wanted to stand up and shout at the man in front of him, the other jet-lagged passengers, Seda, the world, everyone, for being unfair, for trying to destroy him and undo everything he'd built.

At that moment he hated Anderson more than even he thought possible. The man had enjoyed bringing him the news. And the ultimatum. Ah, yes, he remembered. The ultimatum.

And, as he now sat in the room with the man who had created this incredible quagmire of international intrigue involving gunrunning, terrorism and subversive support for revolution against his own country, he knew that he would never survive to enjoy the fruits of his involvement in these activities should the General became aware of his partner's recently acquired knowledge as to the real purpose of the company's operations.

On the other hand his former intelligence associates could just as easily place his name on the
‘unfriendlies list'
and it would only be a matter of time before he, too, would need to go into hiding or cooperate with them.

He turned his head slightly, looking at the General.

How did you manage to source all of that additional equipment? he wondered. Who has been assisting this man with the enormous amount of detail required to transfer shipments, re-box the supplies, change documentation and maintain the liaison necessary for such covert activities?'

The task was so unbelievably enormous Stephen had considerable difficulty in accepting that the information was indeed accurate.

He continued to rerun the details through his mind. It was clear that Anderson, and therefore others, had information — no, he corrected, proof — of his relationship with the General and their activities relating to the supply of weapons to the IndonesianArmed Forces. So far, he had not committed any offence except, perhaps, from the social aspects of being an arms supplier.