The Timor Man (87 page)

“Now I know it's bullshit!” he said.

Coleman was suddenly relieved. He had expected the Director to arrive at the end of his discourse with a more subtle conclusion, not something this melodramatic.

Anderson
's shoulders suddenly fell, as if his lungs had expelled all of the air contained in the ageing organs, almost as if in despair. Coleman noticed the reaction with surprise. He remained still, saying nothing more. The tall, thin and now very tired Chief slipped slowly off the bed, and walked towards the security door.

He said nothing, not even turning as he approached the exit and pressed the buzzer indicating he wished to speak to the man on the other side. When the observation hole had been opened and the guard identified Anderson, the door opened then closed quickly leaving Coleman suddenly alone. He remained alone without further contact for another three days.

When the Intelligence Chief returned it was if nothing had happened. He had just marched into the small detention area and dropped another newspaper on the bed. Coleman knew he was expected to read it immediately and did so, looking up from time to time to ensure that he was reading the appropriate story as intended by his visitor. He commenced with page one which displayed the aerial photographs with the supporting story and followed the article through the following pages. It was an incredible display of photographic journalism. The headline read,
Terrorists Attack Australian Oil Rigs.

The two oil rigs were caught perfectly by the photographer's equipment, as they burned furiously, spewing columns of black smoke and flames high into the atmosphere.

“Well, what do you think now?” Anderson had asked.

“More than provocative, I'd say,” he replied, attempting to be slightly nonchalant, when his true sentiment was of one indifference. He was still annoyed at having been left alone so suddenly and treated like some errant child who needed to be punished for his ways. “What happened?” he asked.

“Seda,” was all he said.

“How do you know?”

“It's got his mark all over it!”

“That's not good enough. How do you really know?”

“It fits with what he wants from all of us.”

“Come on!” he said, determined not to permit Anderson to just expect him to roll over and accept everything he said as gospel. “That's a fairly broad statement. Fits in with what, specifically?”

“It fits in with his plan to create anarchy, Stephen, that's what it fits in with,” Anderson replied, his voice still even but with an obvious edge to it.

“Is he really going to be the next Vice President or were you just winding me up?”

“I wish it weren't true either but it has all but been confirmed publicly by the Indonesian President. Seda arranged to be appointed as their Ambassador to Australia for approximately a year or so before taking up the new position. The fact that he selected this specific post when he could have had Washington or even Paris leads us to believe that he is right in the middle of something which has great importance to him. He has achieved tremendous power, Stephen, since the two of you parted company. I know you will have difficulty understanding this, but almost half of the entire country now supports him. It is even possible that he has just about enough strength in numbers outside Java to even succeed as President, although we still consider that most improbable due to the grip the Javanese Islamic groups have on the military.

“We feel certain that he is behind most of the sabre-rattling taking place in Indonesia, and definitely involved somehow with the intelligence reports we have of a possible terrorist attacks. We just can't get enough information to support our assumptions of possible targets. Hopefully, this is all it was going to be,” Anderson said, pointing at the sabotaged rigs in the newspaper. “But we can't afford to take that gamble.”

Coleman waited as Anderson rose, and stretched, then rubbed his long legs to assist with the circulation.

“Stephen,” he said sitting back down on the bed, “we are going to eliminate the problem with Executive Action.”

Stephen sighed. They had been at it now for just a few hours yet already his head ached.

Since their last session together, when Anderson had finally come to the conclusion of his Department's observations regarding the new Ambassador, Coleman had not been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time. The magnitude of what he had been told kept him awake right through the first night as he went over and over in his mind what his involvement might be in the covert action. He knew from his past association with the Service that whatever course was decided, it would be extremely dangerous for Stephen Coleman.

“I guess it's time we discussed your role in all of this,” Anderson had said.

Coleman sat anxiously waiting for him to continue and yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was urging him to ignore what he was about to hear from the Intelligence Chief.

“You will be responsible for the final stage in the operation.” By operation, he knew that this was to mean execution and immediately shook his head.

“No.”

“You don't have any choice,” he was told.

“That's crap and you know it, John. Apart from detaining me here you have no power over my life any more. That's all in the past. The answer is most definitely no, I won't do it!”

“You don't have a choice,” Anderson repeated. He then went on to recite the possible charges that could be laid against Stephen.

“You're not really serious? How could you possibly sit there and expect me to believe that you could actually consider making any of those charges stick?”

“Stephen,” he started, “you seem to have forgotten the wide range of powers that the department has in cases like these. Should we be obliged to bring charges against you then the hearing would be held in camera due to the nature and sensitivity of the Service's activities. We are well protected under The Act and, quite frankly, should I deem it necessary in the interests of our national security, all I have to do is speak privately with the PM and he will sanction whatever action I consider necessary with regards to your future.

“Do I make myself quite clear, Stephen?”

Coleman thought about what Anderson had just said. He knew that it was true. The man had incredible powers that could be applied against him if he refused to co-operate. He could just disappear and nobody would ever know. Suddenly this thought passed through his mind and he realized that he had already disappeared. He didn't even know where he was being detained!

His mind raced as he thought quickly about his predicament. Coleman knew that he was caught and they had a gun to his head. Thirty years would be more like a life sentence.

“And then, of course, there's the Indonesian problem, which still hangs over your head because Seda has kept it there, on the front burner, so to speak. I just never understood why he never really made any serious attempt to have you out of his life permanently.”

Coleman understood that once proven, his involvement in the arms shipments would attract the maximum penalty in Indonesia, as subversive activities are considered to be a capital offence. And, should he be charged and tried in Australia, he was cognizant with the standard thirty-year sentences which, inevitably, were spent in solitary confinement. All in all, he really had no choice.

He continued to listen to Anderson outline what was required of him. The man had already assumed that he would agree, Coleman thought angrily, frustrated with his impotence, and the feeling of total helplessness for the situation in which he now found himself.

It had taken considerable time to convince Coleman that Seda's death was the only realistic solution. He had offered many arguments and suggested alternatives to the extreme measures being considered, knowing before he had even mentioned these, that ASIS would have made its own evaluation as to their effectiveness.

He was shown further evidence of the former General's ongoing role in supporting the FRETILIN separatist movement and, to his dismay, the full report of Stephen's own shooting intelligence suggesting that Seda may have been behind the attempt. Even if this were true, revenge was not in his nature, Stephen had argued. The Intelligence Chief had merely smiled and cited the violent attack on Hart, to contradict the other man's almost righteous position.

They had, however, agreed that any attempt to expose the powerful Ambassador could now be counter-productive, as the Indonesians would be compelled to deny any such accusations and any such claim could even result in cancellation of the forthcoming bilateral talks.

“What about these talks. Won't they assist in resolving the question of sovereignty over the oil areas? Shouldn't you wait until there is a result from these discussions?” he had asked.

“There won't be any resolution. Seda doesn't want one. Time is crucial, Stephen, we know there's some serious military activity afoot and everything points to Seda as the power behind the threat. Even if it comes about that they attack say, New Guinea, we are virtually sucked into the fracas anyway, as both our countries are tied together under the defence agreements which date back to the time of their independence, over twenty years ago.”

“What about the defence pact we signed with Indonesia?” he asked.

“That's the greatest joke ever played on the Australians. Can you imagine signing an agreement which stipulates that both countries agree that they would come to the aid of the other in the event of attack, considering that the only country likely to do so inAustralia's case was the other signatory to the agreement?”

They talked on. Coleman was depressed with what was expected of him. He wasn't even sure if he could still do such things any more. Even for his country.

“Why me?” he had asked early in the discussions.

“It is imperative that we have someone who can identify him perfectly, Stephen, specifically his voice over the phone. We want this to be a clean operation. We don't want innocent bystanders taken out as well.”

“There must be a number of agents who could do the job for you without the necessity for all of this,” he had said, indicating the concrete surrounds.

“Not any more. Operatives today just don't seem to have the same commitment any more. Not that you were particular outstanding in that area yourself,” Anderson had said, referring to Coleman's sudden exit from the Service years before.

“Also, we would never be sure that we could guarantee their silence.”

When Anderson noticed the sudden change on the other man's face he moved quickly to calm his fears.

“Obviously, Stephen, you'll be taken care of in the appropriate manner. You will need to disappear as you have done before, except this time we will provide you with reasonable cover. That would be another identity and travel documents should it become necessary. I personally believe that it won't,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “You don't need funds from what I hear, so you will just have to be satisfied that we will consider your slate as being clean, thank you quietly for your participation, and ask that you go back to whatever you were doing before this bloody mess required our intervention. Okay?”

It required another two meetings before Coleman finally accepted the assignment. Until then he had remained adamant that he would not be Seda's executioner. Not until the last thirty minutes of their discussion.

“I had hoped that it would not come to this, Stephen.”

“Let's get on with it John. I've been here long enough, and you know that I just can't do it any more.”

It was then that Anderson embarked on an elaborate deception, one which he had concocted over the previous weeks once he had observed Coleman's determination not to participate, regardless of the possible consequences. He had tried threats, loyalty to his country, and that even referred to the old friendship they'd once enjoyed. None of these had worked.

“I just don't believe it!” Coleman had yelled.

“It's true, Stephen. I didn't want to raise the past unless I found it necessary. We all felt for you at the time. Your mother was very sad when she discovered how you felt for Louise. Of course, she was never aware of the circumstances. And, if revealing this information to you will result in the elimination of the very man who was responsible for what happened then I would call it sweet justice. Wouldn't you?”

That final discussion had clinched it. He had agreed.

The memories of Louise came flooding back as he remembered the brief time they'd had together. Brief only, as he had now discovered, as her life had been cut short deliberately by another.

 

That night, as he lay alone, he tried to conjure up her face in his mind; he found that his eyes were moist from the tears of sadness and despair he felt for the one woman he had really loved, knowing that she had died such a tragic death as a result of political opportunism. Remembering his own early fears of flying, Coleman was bitterly saddened to discover that Louise's life had to end in that way. She hadn't needed to die at all but Seda's interference had seen to that, or so he now believed. Anderson explained the conclusions, albeit speculative, which had been derived from intelligence, as to what had actually occurred during that fateful journey. He was reluctant to disclose the source of the information, even when Stephen had insisted that he would need to feel absolutely certain that the story was accurate, before he could even begin to accept it as truth.