Rogue Element

Jakarta, 1210 Zulu, Wednesday, 29 April

General Suluang found himself exercising considerably more care. He was just being prudent. Listening devices guaranteed there were not many places, if any, that one’s conversation could be kept confidential. The places he listed as unsecured now included his home, his office, his car. Indeed, thinking about it, the general wondered whether he could speak with anyone anywhere and be assured of keeping the exchange private.

Suluang speculated whether his caution was an indication that he was losing control of the situation, but he dismissed the thought instantly. The feeling of disquiet, however, once imbedded, was difficult to shake.

Lanti Rajasa, the head of the security police, was in the driver’s seat of the battered old teal-coloured Toyota Kijang, one of many that rattled slowly up into the hills behind Jakarta. Motorcycles overtook them in a steady stream, blowing oily smoke that swirled in their headlights. The Kijang passed a poor village quietly announcing its existence to the world with a small soft-drinks stand and a pathetic stall that sold carved junk to tourists.

The location of the meeting place was Rajasa’s choice but the general agreed to it. They drove in silence. The vehicle was unsafe. Rajasa had ordered it ‘cleansed’ beforehand and no bug had been found, but neither man was confident that Indonesia possessed technology equal to identifying the latest in listening devices.

Rajasa glanced regularly at the mirrors for following lights but this was Java, the most densely populated island on earth, and there would always be lights bobbing in the rear-vision mirrors.

The Toyota slowed and pulled off the crudely sealed road into a clearing past the small village. Both men got out and walked to the road, where they joined a steady stream of locals going about their business in the early hours of the evening. It was dark but for the constant glare from the lights of passing traffic and, with their heads lowered, it would be impossible for the casual passer-by to identify them, even though the general had one of the most recognised faces in Jakarta. ‘A seat number on the aircraft was identified as the location of the thief. It was in our power to kill the occupant and neutralise the threat. I don’t believe I had a choice,’ Suluang said, shaking his head slowly.

‘General, you did what was needed to protect Indonesia. We’re just lucky the means to maintain secrecy was in your power,’ said Rajasa.

Yes, but for how long? both men thought.

‘You’ve located the wreckage?’ Rajasa asked.

‘Yes, and the mopping up has begun. Any leaks from your end?’

‘No. Security has been tight. But for this one —’ he cleared his throat for dramatic effect ‘ — incident.’ Rajasa couldn’t help himself. ‘Incident’ was a hell of a euphemism for the shooting down of a jumbo jet. ‘How are you handling it with the government?’

‘The parliament knows only what we tell them, and that’s not very much. In fact, they’re unwitting accomplices, spreading disinformation. They’re telling the Australians that the 747 may or may not have come down in Indonesian airspace. Of course, the reasons for the crash are unknown. And we, Indonesia, are very sensitive about having foreigners telling us what to do. Etcetera, etcetera. You know, the usual line.

‘It has been easy to manipulate the search procedure to exclude all but hand-picked military personnel — our people. I think, actually, that the parliament is enjoying the game. Causing Australia anxiety and frustration is giving them a secret pleasure, but they’d never admit it.’

A trike pulled off the road in front of them and three people jumped off to help right another trike that had broken an axle under a heavy load of chopped wood. The general waited until they’d walked past the noisy melee before continuing. ‘All games aside, Rajasa, as I see it, we have two alternatives. But only one real choice.’

Rajasa nodded.

‘One: we can clean up the site as best we can, then announce the aircraft has been located. The government can then graciously allow in an international investigation team. We hold our breath and maintain our original timetable.

‘Two: we can move our plans forward and let the incident with the plane be seen in the context of the broader picture.’

‘I see what you mean about only having one choice.’

‘I knew you’d agree.’

General Suluang considered whether or not he should let Rajasa in on the fact that things were not going to plan at the crash site. Unfortunately, he was not exactly sure what the problem was. The Kopassus sergeant had communicated that the site was not secured but gave no other details in order to maintain mission secrecy. He was in the dark himself now, and that, given his exposure, was not a comfortable place to be. A particularly noisy two-stroke bike rattled past, piston slapping in its barrel, carrying mother, father, two young children and a baby. Suluang decided at that moment that there was already too much uncertainty and he would not pass on vagaries. Uncertainty bred nervousness.

Rajasa’s mind was racing. If they weren’t bold, everything would be lost. Obviously, the events of the last twenty-four hours had forced them to play their hand. They had to move, and fast.

‘I assume the 747 was shot down with some kind of missile.’

‘Heat-seekers.’

‘They leave distinctive results.’

The general frowned.

‘General, you did the right thing. The terrorist could easily have emailed the details around the world.’

That had occurred to the general too, and it had worried him considerably.

‘But I don’t think that happened,’ continued Rajasa. ‘We’d have all kinds of other pressures on us now if that were the case. We’re not ready yet though, are we?’

‘No, we need more time.’

‘How much?’

‘A month would be good, but three weeks minimum.’

‘Can we hold out that long?’

‘We’ll have to.’

‘What do you suggest, General?’

‘Continue to say that we’re searching thoroughly and that nothing has turned up. Aircraft from the Second World War are still being discovered after more than fifty years. It’s not beyond belief that finding a 747 in such a remote place as Sulawesi could prove difficult.’

‘How loyal are our troops at the scene?’

The general knew that the lives of his men would depend on his next words. ‘I can speak for Sergeant Marturak, but of the rest, I can’t be certain.’ After a moment’s pause, he continued. ‘As for the pilot who fired the missiles…’ He shrugged. The unfinished sentence, together with the questioning tilt of the general’s head, was a death sentence.

The police chief pulled a pad from his top pocket and made a notation on it. Suluang found Rajasa’s attention to detail reassuring. ‘We’ll need to keep security as tight as possible. I believe a certain Bali air traffic controller is no longer with us.’

‘We had to act fast,’ said the general.

‘I agree. Have you heard from your men at the crash site yet?’

Here it was, the question Suluang had been dreading. ‘No,’ he lied. ‘But they are due to report soon,’ he said after checking his watch. ‘I take your point about continuing the disinformation,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘But we can’t control the knowledge of the crash site for too much longer.’

‘Because?’

‘Sulawesi is rugged and largely uninhabited, but it’s not the moon. There are mining interests on the island — logging, tourists. But the main reason is spy satellites.’

‘Australia doesn’t have them.’

‘No, but its allies do and they’ll find the wreckage of a burning 747 in an instant. In the short term, though, we have a window,’ said the general, thinking aloud. ‘It is up to us to make the best use of that. But we’ll have to be careful, and stay on our toes. Events are going to be difficult to control when the truth is known.’

‘We should meet with our comrades,’ said Rajasa, his tone resolute.

‘Yes,’ said the general. ‘But if time allows, I would prefer to defer any debriefing until I have a report from the site. What about Mao? Is he committed?’

‘I believe so.’

‘That’s not the emphatic answer I was hoping for.’

‘General, you know Kukuh Masri better than me. He is always considered, rarely excited or excitable. I’m as sure as I can be that he is with us one hundred percent.’

‘Okay, Lanti, but do me a favour and keep an eye on him.’

‘His driver is one of my people.’

The general patted him on the shoulder. ‘As always, you’re ahead of me in many things.’

‘Doing my job, General.’ Lanti felt energised. His fingers tingled. They were poised on the very knife-edge of history. ‘So we go?’

‘Yes, old friend. There is now no turning back.’

‘God is great!’ said Suluang

‘Allah Akbar!’ agreed Rajasa.

The two men paused at a satay stall and bought some sticks from a young man fanning the coals with a scrap of cardboard. They turned and began the walk back to the car, both, for a time, lost in the minutiae of their own plans. A woman drifting by on a Yamaha scooter wearing Western clothes caught the general’s eye. She smiled at him, reminding him of Elizabeth, his mistress. There was something about her hair, or the dress she wore. He glanced at his Rolex. Plenty of time to make their rendezvous at the Hyatt. The other night she opened the door for him wearing something short and tight and vaguely transparent. Perhaps tonight she would greet him wearing nothing at all…