The Timor Man (69 page)

Surprisingly, the aircraft were then flown halfway across the globe virtually undetected; as all refuelling stops were located in Arab and Moslem nations until finally, the squadron arrived safely in Indonesia. He couldn't believe his eyes when they gathered at the aircraft hanger to witness the squadron's arrival.

They had landed in tandem, the aircrafts' magnificent lines displaying the latest technology in aircraft engineering, bringing tears to the eyes of the Deputy Chief of Air Staff as he observed his son in one of the two lead jets.

There was considerable mirth as the aircraft came to rest, in line, and the pilots had stood proudly beside the new machines, for the aircraft identification marks still bore their country of origin's insignia. The group had shaken their heads in awe that such a mission could have been so successful and secret. Each and every one of the sixteen attack aircraft sill bore the Israeli Star of David emblazoned on the fuselage!

Nathan had applauded the feat in his weekly discussions with other military chiefs but secretly he was most concerned at having been bypassed in the information chain. This fear was soon allayed as he discovered that all but the Airforce Chief and the President were aware of the arrangements until just hours prior to the jubilant arrival at Halim Perdanakusumah. The Americans had insisted that it be so! And now his freedom fighters were also losing press support as well.

The Indonesian Government placed a blanket on all information relating to the war and, within weeks, the Timor conflict moved off the front pages. He noted that the number of media reports in the international press had also decreased considerably. What he didn't know was that this policy had been put into place deliberately by the Americans who then advised the Australians that they now favoured the annexation in a de facto sense. Sensing an international political
coup
the Australians jumped the gun and announced their own
de jure
recognition before the Yanks could steal the limelight.

Australia
had been preoccupied with the former mandated territory of Papua New Guinea, which had achieved full independence just three months prior to the Indonesian invasion of Timor. Demands were already being pressed for the political separation of Papua from New Guinea and there was a strong secessionist movement developing on the copper rich Bougainville Island. Australian interest in the Timor conflict waned.

Indonesia
, detecting the decline in support for the opposing forces, decided to formalize their position in the island. And there were other problems. After Indonesia had formally annexed Portuguese Timor, to Seda's and the world's amazement, the act was promptly recognized by the former colonial masters. The FRETILIN death toll grew beyond belief and the party's President, Xavier do Amaral, was arrested by his own Central Committee once they had received Seda's secret reports that he was alleged to have opened negotiations directly with the Indonesian military. The General had listened intently as the information had been delivered verbally by one of the KOSTRAD Generals during a debriefing exercise.

Seda had been livid. Hadn't they all agreed never to surrender and definitely not negotiate under any circumstances with anybody but the United Nations? He'd felt betrayed.

In spite of the considerable international reaction, neighbouring countries protested little, if at all. The general consensus was that the conflict would soon be resolved, and regional stability would be ensured, a political position supported by the simple justification that it would be foolhardy to invite the animosity of their powerful neighbour by not standing up and being counted as a friendly supporter of the oil rich Moslem country.

Timor-Timur officially became known as Indonesia's newest and twenty-seventh province, the province of East Timor, and within a very short period of time the annexed state was only referred to by its new acronym.

It became known simply as Tim-Tim.

 

He disliked being faced with this conundrum, especially as it related to a situation over which he was not entirely convinced he had any real influence or control. Invariably, whenever this happened he would let whatever the problem might be run its natural course before deciding on any remedial action.

It was Stephen Coleman. He was the problem.

The time had come to dissolve their relationship and, although Seda believed that the Australian would not overly object as he had appeared to have lost interest anyway, his generous bank balances obviously in excess of his future wants and needs, there would always be the uncertainty of his disclosing details of their commercial arrangements.

The General refused to underestimate the man. It was he who had established the intricate network of their corporate structure and handled all of the offshore arrangements. Most, that is, before he had become personally involved. Seda imagined himself being Coleman and attempted to evaluate how he would have behaved in a similar situation.

Seda concluded that he would have put some mechanism in place to protect himselfagainst threat.

The question was, what and how?

The problem would not just go away and he knew that as long as Coleman lived he would be a danger, a threat. And yet, should Stephen suddenly disappear would he have left something behind to alert others to his activities and his relationship with the General?

The powerful man drummed his fingers on the teak arm rests. He remained seated for some hours before making the decision. It was worth a try and, if it failed, he could still distance himself from the outcome. He went into his private study, picked up the phone and dialled. A voice answered and listened to the instructions to meet later in the evening. He didn't need to write the information down. He had been there many times before. The General then prepared himself for his dinner.

Some hours later and across the roundabout facing the block of three story walk up apartments built for senior employees of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, a man exited the BAKIN building and walked slowly to his unmarked vehicle. As he turned out into the mainstream of traffic the unsmiling soldier cursed softly at the thought of yet another late night. One day, soon, he thought, one day soon I'll take a rest from them all, perhaps even the General!

He observed his rear vision mirror and then drove out through the outer suburbs towards an old village building which the Timorese had retained as one of his safe houses. He could remember when the trip could be completed within thirty minutes but now, with all of the new housing estates springing up everywhere and the enormous amount of congestion that had occurred over the past few years, he had to allow an hour to reach the same destination.

Checking his Rolex as he approached the dilapidated house he knew that he was still early for the meeting.

‘
What could be so important this time that couldn't be discussed back in the privacy of the General's own and very secure office in the building?
' Umar asked himself as he lit a cigarette and opened the window to wait.

     
Stephen had really enjoyed the party. Comfortably drunk, he laughed to himself, relishing a joke he had just remembered. As he

drove the red Mercedes towards his house weaving dangerously enough so that the following car elected not to overtake, he looked across at the girl sitting beside him and realized that he was still in a party mood. He reached out and placed his hands between her thighs. She giggled and he had to retrieve his hand momentarily to swerve away from the traffic island as the off-side tyres screamed their annoyance at his alarmingly close encounter.

They rounded the corner and he could see his house. Stephen nudged the car into the driveway and the engine died suddenly as he braked, barely stopping before touching the huge sliding steel security gate. He tapped the horn, once and waited as he looked at the girl and smiled through the alcoholic haze.

He hit the horn again, annoyed that his security had not immediately opened the gate.

“Bloody hell!” he muttered, opening the door, “the bugger's probably out having a pee, saying prayers or doing something or other to the bloody cook!”

The headlights permitted Stephen to see some of the yard beyond the gate and, noticing that it had been left open a fraction, he got out and pulled the heavy structure across the closed driveway as the small un-oiled wheels groaned fiercely. Puffing from the exertion he then returned to the car and restarted the engine, moving the expensive sedan, jerkingly, into the double garage area.

He noticed that his security had fallen asleep right in the middle of the entrance and, turning to the girl who was to be his companion for the night winked and said, “Watch this,” he said, “I'll frighten the shit out of him.”

Stephen exaggerated his drunken movements, lifting his arms high in the air moving into the glare thrown out in front as the powerful headlights caught his figure and cast a dark shadow behind. He approached the sleeping servant and was about to yell loudly for him to wake up when he became confused with what he actually saw on the ground. There was blood everywhere!

Shocked and confused, he bent down to touch the body and, as he rolled it over he could see, even in his inebriated state that it certainly was his servant. Only he was dead!

A shrill scream pierced his ears. Startled, Stephan fell forwards onto the slain security guard. His female companion stood in front of the sealed beam lights screaming in terror at the huge amount of blood and, of course, the servant's body.

Stephen scrambled to his feet and stumbled towards the night entrance door only to find that it was open. He continued quickly, bumping into furniture and columns without feeling the pain as he hurried forward towards the servants' quarters.

There were two rooms. Both had their single doors wide open and he could see through the dim light that there was no movement. His hand reached for the switch. As the room turned to brilliant light his eyes opened wide at the bloody mess that had been left. There were two more bodies here, the houseboy's wife and teenage son who occasionally helped his father around the house.

Stephen backed away from the scene, turning slowly to check the other room, fearing the worst. There he found another body, this one the inside maid. He was confused and disorientated by the bloody scene.

And then he remembered Kardi. Where was he? His brain now screamed as the import of what had occurred pumped more adrenaline through his body.

“Kardi,”
he called out loudly. “
Kardi, where the hell are you?
”

There was no answer, the deafening silence sending a chill through his spine. He crouched forward prepared to defend himself and moved deeper into the large rambling house, past the kitchen and store areas, past the preparation room where he checked the rooms downstairs.

There was nothing there. Not even signs of a break in or theft as everything appeared to be in order. He was completely mystified. Stephen returned to the stairway and cautiously climbed the flight of marble steps, listening for any sound which might alert him to another's presence on the next level. There was nothing which signalled evidence of danger.

At the top of the stairs he turned the remaining lights on, the wide verandah instantly illuminated before him.

Stephen approached the master bedroom slowly, his heart pumping furiously and pulled the sliding glass French doors open quickly revealing a room filled with fearful darkness. Long drapes brushed against his face and he flung these aside then groped through the dark towards his bedside lamp. He knew that this should be on, because the servants always prepared his room before retiring themselves and this light was left blazing to enable their
tuan
to cross the otherwise darkened room, as there was no place for a switch to be affixed to the glass panelled doors.

He stumbled and fell, cursing himself as he scrambled back up, holding the side of his double bed, finally finding the switch for the lamp. He pressed the small button and immediately the room was flooded with light.

Stephen froze. His rigid body choked the scream before it could escape from his lips.

Spread out across the top of his bed lay Sukardi, the man who had dedicated so much of his life to his
tuan's
well being. He lay spread-eagled, a distorted grin across his face, his eyes open wide as if he had been about to shout when the blade had been pulled quickly across his throat ending his life before any cry could emerge.

Staggered by the bloodied appearance of the
jongus'
body he turned quickly and fled, running from his bedroom down the steps until he reached his car and ripped the door open violently, yelling loudly for the girl to climb in quickly as he fumbled with the ignition keys, trying desperately to restart the car so that they could escape from the violence that had permeated his home.

As the effects of the alcoholic curtain rapidly lifted permitting his brain to function with some semblance of logic, Stephen Coleman experienced the chilling realization that, had he been home that evening, then it may easily have been his body now lying on the huge bed in the upstairs bedroom and not that of his dear and trusted old friend, Sukardi.