The Timor Man (73 page)

As the territory had now been annexed by the Indonesians, those who resisted were now considered subversives and any captured separatist sympathizers were summarily executed without the benefit of trial. The Indonesians knew that they would be unable to prove in any court of law the legality of their brutal occupation of the small nation they had annexed. The list proclaimed by the new masters as to what constituted subversion was long. The charge carried the death penalty.

FRETILIN continued to fight, taking their resistance into the hills and away from the villages, where the mud walled shacks were burned, the young women raped and the children forced into camps to die from malnutrition and disease. FRETELIN was now severely outnumbered and out-gunned. The sky was consistently covered in strings of vapour trails as the efficient Broncos and Northrop fighter bombers ripped across the country, bringing devastation to even the most remote mountain tribes. Everyone had become a target for these aerial attacks, whether they were part of the resistance or just an appropriate and opportune target. Pilots killed indiscriminately, urged on by an incredible adrenaline rush to strafe the screaming villagers time and time again.

The guerrilla movement dissipated, unable to withstand the superior enemy numbers, breaking up into small bands which the Indonesians then had little difficulty crushing. Those who believed, carried on the fight from their mountain hideaways. Even these insignificant bands were sufficient to drive the Indonesians into a frenzy at being unable to completely wipe out all resistance without annihilating the entire population. They came close. Almost one third of the population was killed in those very short years of resistance.

Although the United Nations called for Indonesia's withdrawal of its troops the country simply ignored the UN vote, which recorded fifty-nine in favour of withdrawal with only thirty-nine countries against such recommendations.

The Australians had done a complete turn-around, and now supported the annexation even though their own country had become inundated with refugees flooding into the northern city of Darwin. The Australian banks froze their funds, which had been deposited from the sale of coffee and other produce, reducing the overseas supporters' capacity to provide any form of assistance to their brothers in Timor.

Nathan Seda's dream seemed to collapse along with the partial defeat of the resistance and separatist groups. The General had moved swiftly to protect his position, eliminating those who could directly connect him to the movement in Timor. Umar Suharjo had been kept very busy indeed. FRETILIN's President, Nicolau Lobato, was shot and killed in a surprise attack by Indonesian troops.

 

The first indication that Coleman had of any difficulties was when his conduit to the powerful man was disrupted, finally cutting him off completely from the Hong Kong apartment specifically maintained for their communication purposes. He had needed desperately to speak to his benefactor. He was scared and wanted the General's reassurance that his own personal security could be guaranteed after what had happened at his house and office.

He remembered driving for almost two hours that night, leaving for the mountains as soon as he had dropped the hysterical young girl back at the party where he'd found her earlier in the evening. That had been a mistake. He should have taken her with him and only returned after she'd spent a few days with him in the mountain villa, recovering from the shock of what she had witnessed in Coleman's driveway. At least she hadn't ventured inside!

His second mistake was not returning immediately after escorting the girl back to her friends. When he did return the next morning, the area was cordoned off by the police and even he had difficulty in entering his own office and home.

His office staff had all gathered outside in shock. He spoke to his personal secretary and briefly explained what had happened but she just stared at the dead as they were carried out to a waiting van, uncovered, for all to see. As the mutilated bodies were driven away, and after he had been briefly questioned by the police, Coleman asked one of the staff to find someone who could enter the house and clean it so that they could go about their business.

His secretary had looked at him in disbelief. ‘You must be mad!' she thought. ‘Go back in there?' She mumbled something quickly to her boss and left hurriedly, only to be followed by almost all of the other staff within minutes. Only one remained and Coleman instructed him to find the necessary cleaners. Promising those whom he was able to solicit a special bonus payment, the clerk returned within the hour with a team of ten men and women who commenced washing down the bloody walls and removing all signs of the brutal attack.

Over the next weeks Coleman's telephone lines were cut off from the exchange and, although he spent considerable time and a huge amount of sugar money, his phone remained dead. Then Stephen had a visit from a number of government department officials whom he had met regularly over the years, mostly when their annual ‘consultancy' fees were due.

But it was different this time. His old friend, Hasnul, from the Taxation Department arrived with four others and seized all of the office records. Stephen was flabbergasted when they started ripping files from the office cabinets.

“
What the hell's going on, Hasnul?
” he had asked, disbelievingly.

“
Orders, Mas. Sorry,
” was all he said.

The following day he had a visit from the immigration officers who wanted to examine his documents. While they were there, they asked about his former employee, Hart. They had left after only twenty minutes, their briefcases filled with cash, only to return late in the day to ask for his passport as it required endorsement.

“
What endorsement? My documents are all in order!
” he had yelled,

calling them thieving little bastards, his temper flaring. He received no explanation as he reluctantly surrendered his passport.

The following morning his credentials and other documents were returned. By the police. Next, the Macau clearing house was closed.

Stephen had attempted to contact the General directly in Jakarta without success. He had broken with established procedure and phoned Seda's house and was surprised when even the servants treated him coldly.

Then there were rumours that an attempt had been made on the lives of several of the high ranking military, including Nathan Seda, which, he assumed, explained the difficulty in being able to contact the powerful man. Even his HANKAM access dried up, leaving him feeling desperate and politically powerless. And then, for reasons he could not understand, it was as if nothing had ever happened! Within two weeks his business appeared to return to normal and, enormously relieved, he set about restoring the company by employing new staff and re-establishing communication links with all of the foreign callers who were, by then, more than curious with his lack of response to their many inquiries.

He had tremendous difficulty in getting everything back on track. It wasn't just inexperienced staff that were to blame. There were constant visits from government departments he'd never dealt with before; these continued to eat into his time, creating even more credibility problems with his international business relationships.

And then it all crumbled into shit again. The mountain resort development suddenly had more problems than he considered possible. Almost all of his nominees had refused to return his calls and the Provincial Governor had sent an urgent letter demanding to see the original licenses for each and every dwelling that had been constructed on the extensive project. Days later this was followed by calls from the construction department to send original copies of all engineering documents for their perusal.

Coleman started to panic. He had most of his wealth tied up in these land developments! Whoever was after him had created sufficient momentum to cause his world to collapse and he couldn't understand why.

He had asked himself a hundred times each day, who might be responsible for his predicament, but was uncertain as to who had either the power or resources to destroy his commercial empire that Seda had helped him build.

The possibility that this had all been the work of ASIS had crossed his mind but even John Anderson, Stephan decided did not have the access that Coleman had built over the years with senior Indonesians. It had to be Seda!

But why? He considered the question, going over and over in his mind why the General would do such a thing to him after all of these years. He'd done nothing to warrant this action, he was sure.

Time passed and his business activities turned into a nightmare of demands from overseas suppliers and an horrific claim from the Indonesian Taxation Department which, he believed, could be amicably settled as had been done in the years before.

When he tried to resolve this amicably they refused. He was asked to pay more than three million dollars in back taxes and fines! He just couldn't believe it. His whole world was collapsing and he didn't understand why.

Suddenly, none of his old friends or contacts wanted anything more to do with him. Somebody had closed the doors on him, the realization driving him into despair. He drank heavily, often alone, for even his once close drinking buddies had now identified that having Stephen Coleman as a friend was tantamount to asking for a quick and negative endorsement on one's work permit or visa extension.

His launch was impounded by the customs authorities as they claimed that it had been used for smuggling treasures out of the country from the recent black ship discoveries thereby depriving the nation of its valuable heritage. Stephen was aware that there had been a discovery, but this was part of a major haul which had been recovered by a British salvage expert and auctioned by Christies in Amsterdam, achieving seventeen million pounds in revenue from the illegal operation. He had not been a party to that.

And there was more. Having checked the original import declarations for his Grand Banks launch they claimed to have discovered errors in the shipping manifests, which reflected an underpayment on applicable sales tax. The penalty would have to be paid before he would be permitted use of the vessel again. He was devastated. The small ship was his pride and joy.

When an enigmatic message suggesting a rendezvous at an address in Macau arrived, he assumed it was from the General and felt a flood of relief. Now perhaps he would know why he had been deliberately targeted by the Government, his life turned inside out, his launch confiscated and the HANKAM doors suddenly closed. These were but a few of the many questions which raced through his mind as he prepared a simple carry-all for the trip. He had departed immediately and connected with a ferry within an hour of arriving at Kai Tak airport. The taxi to the Kowloon terminal had taken only twenty minutes.

The weather was foul. Even the flight had caused some concern as they hit the second hurricane warning that Hong Kong had seen in the course of the past few days. The aircraft had bounced around, forcing the captain to insist that the cabin staff secure the galley equipment and take their positions due to the turbulent conditions.

The seas were exceptionally rough. After boarding the ferry, the passengers were instructed to wait for an hour to see if the next weather signal would be hoisted to warn ships at sea and, when the winds had abated enough for the Captain to get under way, they departed. Even in the more protected area of the harbour waves smashed into the vessel. As the first of many spine-jarring jolts caused the passengers to hold firmly onto the head rests of the seats in front, most cursed themselves for not remaining ashore until the violent weather had passed.

When they berthed, Stephen waited patiently until the all clear signal had been given by the crew. The overpowering smell of vomit permeated everything aboard the vessel, threatening even those who had been stoic enough to endure the crossing without succumbing to the motion sickness.

He scrambled ashore with the others and went directly to one of the small tourist hotels. He slipped the receptionist an additional one hundred Hong Kong dollars to avoid producing his passport for registration.

Coleman knew that it would be foolish to risk exposing his whereabouts to anyone. He still wasn't entirely sure that the trip had been a wise decision, one that he'd taken in haste due to the turmoil that had inexplicably beset him.

The ageing porter had insisted on carrying his one light piece of baggage up to the room on the second floor. He tipped the man, not too generously and asked him to find him a girl. The porter had understood the request immediately and smiled.

An hour passed and then a loud knock announced the old man's return. Coleman was surprised to see that the porter had brought two women. When he looked inquiringly at the stooped Chinese porter he was met with a wave of the hand and the two girls settled down on the side of his bed ready for the negotiations.

He didn't really need the hookers. It was just another precaution he'd considered necessary to complete the picture of what the locals perceived to be natural behaviour for a tourist. None of the three could speak any English. The old man gave the shorter of the women a ballpen and disappeared into the bathroom, returning within moments with a section of toilet paper which he then passed to the prostitute. She wrote a figure down and passed it over to Coleman.