The Timor Man (79 page)

And then there had been the occasional news of Stephen, but this too had ceased some years before. He felt extremely sad for his old friend. Bad news travels fast, so they say, and Stephen's fall from grace had been swift and severe, according to the gossip he had heard from other members of the Indonesian community in Melbourne. Perhaps it was for the best that they no longer communicated.

Maybe he was dead, although he thought that unlikely as this news would also have slowly filtered through the system. They had not spoken since Wanti's collapse and their departure from Jakarta. Albert had not returned to Indonesia nor made any attempt to contact her husband since those times. He still felt bitter at Stephen's treatment of Wanti.

If only they had known Wanti's secret then, perhaps their lives would not have resulted in so much despair, tragedy and disgrace. All Stephen had to do was agree to the divorce. It could have been handled in Jakarta within days and may have prevented, or at least softened the shock of her brother's death. He knew that the final decree would have been automatic and issued within the month even considering her condition at the time. The authorities in Indonesia would have been far more sympathetic to their needs than the bureaucrats in Melbourne. Now it was all too late.

Albert contemplated his past, reminiscing while strolling slowly along the cycle track, in the cool clear winter's day. He had long given up smoking cigarettes. His pipe was now one of the few remaining luxuries left in his life, and he puffed away furiously as he moved around the park opposite the apartment block.

Albert did not light his pipe when inside. His daughter, Seruni, would usher him outside immediately she detected the powerful odour.

“Please, father,”
she would scold in textbook Indonesian,
“you promised!
” and he would smile contentedly.

He had accepted her polite demands for, although barely out of her teens, he adored her bossy childlike tone. She had effectively become the lady of their household.

When her mother had passed away Albert did not feel that he had the strength to go on with his life. But as one soul had passed on to be replaced by another, he had found that it was possible for him to continue. He cherished the child who had been given to him to love, as he had loved her mother.

Wanti had meant everything to him and, even during her last months, Albert had tried in vain to persuade the authorities to let them marry before the birth of the child.

He thought back over those painful last months of Wanti's life. Her doctor had expressed surprise that the shock she had experienced while in Jakarta, let alone the return travel, had not induced a miscarriage spontaneously. As Wanti had remained silent regarding her condition during her early pregnancy it was not until she had advanced well into the fifth month that her startling diagnosis had been determined. An abortion was totally unacceptable to Albert and medical opinion merely confirmed that even under more favourable conditions such an operation would be ill-advised.

He had attempted to locate Stephen to seek his assistance in arranging an immediate divorce in Jakarta. Albert knew that Stephen had the influence and money to facilitate such matters. He had spent considerable time planning how to approach him. It was obvious that he would agree but it really came down to how well he could present the situation without having Stephen fly into one of his memorable temper tantrums.

Albert decided to gauge Stephen's reactions before proceeding with the request. Should his former friend be receptive, and not still carry a grudge over what had transpired, then it was his intention to ask that Stephen give consideration also to providing assistance in producing documentation evidencing the marriage of Wanti to Albert, backdated to when they had visited. He believed that this was imperative for his child's future.

Due to her mental condition no one, of course, would entertain their marrying in Australia even had she already been divorced. Divorce proceedings could no longer be initiated by Wanti due to her condition, this course of action only then being open to Stephen.

‘It isn't fair!' he wanted to yell at the bureaucrats who had explained the legalities of their problem and the limited options available to him. They couldn't even claim a de facto relationship due to her mental status.

He had phoned for days on end, attempting to locate Stephen, without success. Finally, having left messages everywhere regarding the seriousness of Wanti's condition, and the importance of his returning their calls, Albert decided that Coleman had deliberately ignored their requests out of spite. His disappointment became frustration and, eventually, totally disillusioned with the one time friend, he ceased further attempts and accepted the inevitable.

The pregnancy continued, the foetus alive in its own world slowly developing, oblivious to the fact that its life support systems were far more fragile than nature had ordained.

It was then that he grew to despise his former friend. And as the child inside approached term, preparing for its chance to enter the world, Albert sat and wondered what it would be. The nurse who now visited, out of a deep affection she had developed for the stricken woman, had volunteered her services regularly and Albert was extremely grateful for her kindness.

There had been little or few complications with the pregnancy. It was Wanti's mental condition that had induced her demise.

He had been at her side continuously. Within the minutes following his daughter's birth the baby was held to Wanti's breast, and suddenly, as the tiny child cried, the once beautiful woman squeezed Albert's hand, then called his name and smiled. Her twisted face even more grotesque with the effort of the labour, she had called out,
“Albert! Albert, the baby's beautiful!”
and he then believed, and always would, that God had blessed her with that one brief moment of consciousness to understand she had given birth. And then Wanti had died.

As she had closed her eyes Albert was certain that she had merely surrendered to exhaustion. He called her name, softly, and then urgently, still holding her hand, his heart tearing apart. The nurse had taken her hand away gently parting the couple. Suddenly the realization that she had really gone struck him with such force that he cried out loudly, his grief then taking charge.

The nursing staff had been efficient. He was sent away while they cleaned the body and prepared it for its next journey.

He had left the hospital complex, not knowing whether he wanted to live or die. The thought of the newborn child had not really registered as the pain of his loss was far greater in his mind than anything he had ever experienced, even as a child in that faraway place.

Days had passed before he could bring himself to visit the hospital again. As the nurse held his daughter for him to see through the plate glass partition, Albert's heart had skipped a beat and he felt awash with the proof of Wanti's love for him.

He had the child registered with his surname. That, he knew, was his right as the natural father. He even waited to be challenged as he submitted the forms, eager for some form of confrontation to question his rights over the infant, but none occurred.

The first time he held her in his arms he cried softly, the hardened nurses around him turning away, holding back their own tears and as Albert proudly walked out of the hospital with a new life in his care, he swore that he would always watch over her and that nothing would ever harm his daughter as long as he lived. She was later christened Seruni and Albert dedicated his life to her.

As her features took shape Albert became more and more pleased with her appearance. Her hair was a little wiry and perhaps she was not quite as pretty as her mother had been. But she was his daughter and he loved her dearly. Albert remembered her early days and smiled to himself. Scenes of their lives together flashed through his mind as he continued to walk around the tree-lined pathway, not really uncomfortable with the cold morning air. He remembered her as a tall slender teenager, intelligent and slightly over-demanding.

Now she was a young adult. Almost a woman.

‘Ni, as her friends took to calling her was, he thought, most unlike her mother. Albert was pleased that she had become so independent, so strong and yet there was still a softness which he knew came from the magic of her mother's soul. As she had left her teens he tried not to be overly protective even though he was concerned that she would be hurt, or that soon he would lose her.

As the years progressed Albert had buried the sorrows of the past and now, as his child grew into a young adult, she would soon discover their secrets. He prayed that when the time came ‘Ni would understand that her parents had been given no other choice.

Albert, however, would never forgive the man whom he held responsible for all of the suffering he and his family had born. He resented the intrusion of the man's memory in his thoughts.

As the ageing man climbed the few stairs leading to the apartment lift, he attempted to erase the face of Stephen Coleman from his mind.

 

Saigon

Hart knew there would be a confrontation. There was no point in avoiding it. He accepted the call from Coleman and had consented to the meeting.

Greg Hart had agreed to his suggestion of midday in the beer garden behind the lobby of the Continental Hotel. The setting was normally quiet and not overly frequented by foreigners other than tourists. Hart walked through the lobby just minutes after the other Australian had seated himself on the far side of the terraced area which, he observed, permitted Coleman the opportunity to scrutinize arriving guests.

He'd seen his former employer a few days before when he almost knocked him down in his haste to get to his next appointment. He recognized the man instantly even with the additional weight and greying hair. It was the second time in less than four days that he had come that close to Stephen.

Hart had known of his presence in the city the very same day the man had been confined to his hotel room recovering from an obvious state of alcoholic poisoning. Identifying new arrivals was one of his tasks in Ho Chi Minh City and Coleman's presence had not exactly been low profile. He had reported immediately to Canberra and was instructed to maintain quiet surveillance, and in the event that he was seen, contact was approved conditional on his carrying the Berretta issued through the Hanoi Station Chief.

Coleman had also selected the Continental's rear terrace because it was on the ground floor with three separate exits should a discreet departure suddenly become necessary.

Coleman spotted Hart and raised his hand in recognition. Hart approached feeling wary and aggressive.

This was Hart's first opportunity to observe the other man closely and he was now startled by the change.

Stephen Coleman had aged considerably.

As he approached, Coleman rose but did not extend his hand.

“Hello Hart.”

“Stephen,” the younger man responded and slipped into one of the heavy chairs, unbuttoning his jacket.

The silence was broken by one of the staff who had approached their table to take orders. They both accepted coffee.

Hart was the first to begin. “I trust we won't have any unpleasantness?”

“Why?” Coleman replied. “It would certainly be in character!”

“Shit, Stephen, I wouldn't have agreed to see you if I'd known that you were going to cause a scene.”

“Mate,” Coleman started, years of bitterness welling up as he now sat faced with the man he believed had caused so many of his problems with the authorities back in Indonesia, not to mention the expatriate community, “Why else would I bother to look you up? You don't really expect me to believe that you honestly think there is no bad blood between us? For Chrissakes, what you did to me in Jakarta would have earned you a box in most countries!”

“You don't understand, and probably never will. I did only what I thought was best.”

“What a crock of shit! How could you possibly sit there and make that statement when I know, for a fact, that you spread so much shit around the market place regarding what had happened between Wanti and me that the gossip mongers had a field day!” Coleman was trying desperately to keep his cool. “And the bullshit you also started about my company and its activities. I hold you personally responsible for that, as well!”

“I think that this meeting was a mistake,” Hart said, beginning to rise out of his seat.

“Sit down, you arsehole!” Coleman yelled, losing control of his temper.

“Go fuck yourself, Coleman,” the other said, now on his feet and buttoning his light weight jacket.

Coleman caught a glimpse of the weapon as Hart hurriedly buttoned the coat.

“What the..!” he started to say, leaning across to rip the jacket open.

Hart resisted and suddenly they started yelling at each other, not loudly, but enough to cause considerable anxiety over at the waiter's station. They were watched carefully by the hotel employee as they argued. The concerned waiter decided it would be inappropriate for him to interrupt and stood discreetly away from the two foreigners as their voices rose.

Suddenly there was a shout and the Vietnamese was startled when the older man jumped to his feet and delivered several blows to his companion. The waiter fled in search of the hotel security.