The Timor Man (85 page)

Sitting inside the dark van as they journeyed from the airport, Stephen had been unable to see where they had taken him. He had no idea whatsoever that he now was imprisoned directly below the very building in which he had first obtained his basic administrative training some thirty years before, that he was locked in the basement below the offices of the Department of Defence in the nation's Capital. There he was detained incommunicado for three weeks.

The guards could not be seen as they slipped his food and drink through the small steel hatch and, although he had managed to remain in reasonable spirits during the first few days, eventually he surrendered to the silent treatment, the isolation and rising fear, yelling abuse at this unseen jailers as they arrived from time to time to deliver his meals and other basic necessities.

The detention cells had been, unfortunately for the very few who had ended up incarcerated there, one of the better kept secrets of the Service. These had originally been designed many years before as an interrogation centre for political radicals but had not been put to use for these purposes.

Towards the end of the Korean War, the country's xenophobic masters, believing with incredible zeal in the subversive intentions of the Communist nations, had sanctioned the secret construction of the facility. Originally it was designed as an atomic bomb shelter, or at least that's what the architects, engineers and construction teams believed. Once the civilian workers had completed the buildings another small team of skilled technicians moved in and went about installing their own equipment and modifications to the original design.

The access codes were so intricate and carefully monitored only a select few had ever been approved for the sensitive positions occupied by these highly paid officers.

The design was such it also prevented visual contact between the prisoners and the hand-picked security personnel. The spartan facilities contained only the basics, although these were adequate for their purposes. There were three sections, all identical in design and purpose. The planners had not thought that more than this number would be required and, as it happened, they had been correct.

A single bed had been pushed up against one wall tiled with small cream coloured ceramic squares. The cement used had faded in colour with the years and now created the impression that the many thousands of tiles would soon break away and fall. The secret installations were ten metres below the surface and the thickness of the walls at this depth was more than one metre. All concrete and steel. There would be no successful tunnel rats in this detention centre!

In the corner a compact shower and toilet had been installed, and two extractor fans activated whenever any of the plumbing functions were used. Fresh air was pumped through an uncomplicated series of ducts which seemed to hang, almost precariously, from the low concrete ceiling. He had one light but they had not provided him with any reading material.

They had permitted him to retain his watch, and Coleman managed to keep count of the days and nights as he remained locked away, completely cut off from the outside world. Until one day, when he knew he had already been incarcerated for precisely three weeks, along with his breakfast he was given a copy of the Canberra Times.

He grabbed at the paper and immediately commenced reading, convinced that the guards had committed an error and would soon retrieve the newspaper before he'd a chance to read it. Like a greedy man devouring food, Coleman's eyes quickly skimmed through the headlines before returning to the main news item.

Then he understood why he had been given the daily. At first, he completely missed the familiar face and article, on the third page. The photograph was captioned ‘GeneralNathanSedaArrives'and below was the story of Indonesia's new Ambassador to Australia.

Coleman read on. When he'd finished the article he sat back, deep in thought, before reading the article once more to ensure that he'd missed nothing. It was quite a build up for the man who had once been his partner. He tried to recall his conversation with Anderson years before when the Intelligence Chief had tried to warn him of the dangers of the
kongsi
Coleman had shared with Seda, his trusted partner in a multi-million dollar armament supply organization that ended up achieving two goals for the Timorese. Capital from the healthy and regular commissions made during the years the company continued to arrange weapons and other armament contracts with the Indonesian Armed Forces being the first, and secondly, cash and supplies for the separatists who had died by their tens of thousands in their struggle for independence.

It was clear to him now that somehow the former General's appointment had something to do with his incarceration. What was the connection? Why had he been detained? Where the hell had they buried him?

Frustrated by not knowing the answers, Coleman kicked at the solitary chair beside his steel framed bed, knocking it over loudly.

“Shit!” he cursed, knowing that the outburst was counter productive and that he had to continue to keep his temper from erupting again. He read the article again, for the third time.

Then slowly it came to him. They'd had him removed as he was considered a threat to the ageing Timorese!

But why? he thought, confused even more by his own questions. Why bother? Surely there would have been a much simpler solution? They already had him in Hong Kong where an accident would have been so easily arranged!

And where was Anderson? Was he still the Director? Or worse! Had John Anderson passed away, leaving the powerful post to another who could not vouch for him? Who had so much authority that they were able to authorize an airforce jet to have him delivered back to Australia, and why then lock him away, without any communication whatsoever?

All these questions continued to clutter his mind and Stephen became seriously conserned as to the length of his incarceration.

He heard the metalic click as the door to the prison suddenly opened and immediately he realized what a complete and bloody fool he had been. Of course! It had to have been him, all along. Who else could have manipulated so many and remained so obscure, while skilfully orchestrating all the players to carry out his commands?

He rose to his feet and stood to face the elderly man.

“Hello, Stephen,” was all Director Anderson said.

Canberra

 

Coleman sighed. He and Anderson had talked throughout the day, breaking only for a light meal.

Anderson
had produced convincing evidence proving that Seda was involved in a most dangerous game which he had played successfully for almost three decades. He had never been detected by his fellow generals or any of the others who had worked side by side with him. Slowly, step by step, the Intelligence Chief laid the whole picture out before the disbelieving Coleman. Much of the earlier information he already knew, as this had been the core of their discussions some years before when Anderson had provided the most amazing detail of the General's hidden agenda for East Timor.

Coleman also remembered that he had been given an ultimatum at that time which he had unwisely ignored. In retrospect, had he listened and cooperated when the demand had been made then maybe, just maybe, he would have come out of the whole mess in much better financial shape. Still, he thought, as he listened to the detailed exposition from the well informed bureaucrat, he hadn't done too badly. At least, up to now.

He watched the Director as his hands punched at invisible points in the air, emphasizing his facts, changing the pitch of his voice when he wished the story to take a more visual form in the listener's mind, and it was then that Coleman decided that the powerful man sitting on the edge of his bed was indeed an incredibly dangerous person to be around.

Twice he had made the point that Coleman was fortunate to have left Indonesia when he had as it was most likely that he would have come to grief had he stayed for the long haul. He cited the attack on the house and office which resulted in all of the domestic staff being slain.

“That was just a warning, Stephen,” the Director said, “and a test.”

“Test?” he had asked.

“Seda couldn't afford to have you eliminated until he was certain that you had not left incriminating evidence behind somewhere. He was reasonably confident that you hadn't but he was not quite ready to take that risk. Instead, he managed to send you a rather blunt message which, fortunately, you eventually heeded.”

He looked directly at Coleman. “Have you kept any evidence that can compromise Seda?” he asked, examining the other man's face to detect whether or not he could identify anything in his manner which would help him determine the truthfulness of Coleman's response.

“No,” he lied, knowing that he was again on very dangerous ground.

“Then the General could have saved us all a great deal of trouble years ago, eh?” he half joked, knowing that the remark would unsettle the other man.

Anderson
went on to explain that Coleman's name had, on a number of occasions, been suggested for Executive Action by his department. This news sent a chill along his spine. He understood very clearly what the term meant in Service vocabulary and he looked quizzically at the Director.

“Why?” he asked, “what did I do that warranted such severe steps? Surely the armament company did nothing to jeopardize relationships between the two countries and I had certainly never disclosed any of my former activities.”

“It wasn't so much you by yourself. We had considered taking you both out together. It would have been cleaner and tidier for us.”

“Shit!” he exclaimed, “easier for you! What about me, for Chris-sakes!”

“Take it easy. It never happened, or at least, not that way. I will tell you this much though, we made two runs against Seda and missed him both times!”

Coleman was very surprised. Not just at the secrets Anderson had revealed but also that they had failed in their attempts. He sat silently for a few minutes, absorbing this new data. Now he was worried that he would not easily leave this place armed with the information he had just been given! Why was he being told all of this? The information was most sensitive and probably only known to a select few. He realized that he was being slowly prepared by this master of control.

Towards the late afternoon he could see thatAnderson was tiring. And fast. Even so, he continued to explain how precarious Coleman's position remained as he could no longer return to Indonesia; the government there, courtesy of his former partner, had placed his name on the list of approximately two hundred souls who had been identified as either politically dangerous, or had caused considerable economic harm to the people of the Republic.

“Bullshit!” Stephen had said, and then wished he hadn't as the other man withdrew several more sheets of paper from his coat pockets and placed them on the bed for him to read.

His name was half-way down the second page as being wanted by the government for taxation fraud and failure to pay the correct sales tax on a considerable number of shipments of non-military materials imported into Indonesia.

Coleman had just shaken his head. “Okay, so it's not bullshit. Why did they do this?” he asked, already guessing that it had something to do with Seda's powerful control over so many in the military machine's administration throughout their Defence Department.

“The penalty for what they claim you did carries the charge of subversion, Stephen,” he said, reasonably softly so that the required effect was achieved.

Coleman knew that this was another method used by the Indonesian authorities to either silence opposition or prohibit its spread. Subversion carried the death penalty.

Anderson
had then produced considerable evidence citing him as one of the co-conspirators behind the armaments supply lines to the FRETILIN guerrillas which, whether he was directly involved or not, had resulted in the loss of many thousands of lives.

“Bloody hell!” he had exploded, “how could they concoct such a load of crap?”

“Come on Stephen, don't pretend to be so damn naive!” he was answered in an admonishing tone. “Seda could do just about anything. Try and imagine just how much power the man had — has,” he corrected. “Sitting on the military boards, controlling their intelligence apparatus, funding covert operations for both the Indonesians against the Freedom Movements of New Guinea while still maintaining a serious resistance movement in
Tim-Tim
.”