Читать книгу The Timor Man - Kerry B Collison - Страница 22

Canberra — Australia

John W. Anderson briefed the Prime Minister with the Attorney General in attendance. As the special adviser liaising between ASIO, the Australian Security Intelligence Organization, and the Prime Minister’s office, it was his responsibility, inter-alia, to ensure that the country’s political leadership remained current regarding security matters. The session had not proceeded well.

The Prime Minister had exploded when the Attorney-General had dropped the bomb shell. “Jesus bloody Christ!” the politician hissed menacingly. “Jesus bloody Christ!” he repeated.

“Prime Minister, we will have an update within a few days and hopefully the report will not be as grim.”

The most powerful politician in the country glared furiously at Anderson. He despised cloak and dagger operatives even more than the career bureaucrats who controlled the public service.

“Are you telling me Mr Anderson that we will not have an update regarding critical defence information for at least another forty- eight hours?”

The liaison officer responded affirmatively. TheAttorney-General folded his arms and looked disapprovingly across the room at the senior departmental head.

“It’s not good enough John. Not good enough,” he intoned.

Anderson was not to be intimidated. His position was more or less permanent. Politicians come and go. He just wished that this one would go sooner than later.

“We have been successful in intercepting communications from an extremely high-ranking officer in Indonesia. We anticipate further intelligence regarding this source imminently, Prime Minister,” Anderson offered. The response was a cold accusatory glare.

“Get the Chiefs of Army, Navy and Air Staff here immediately,” the Prime Minister demanded.

Anderson smiled inwardly. Everything was always immediate when the shit hit the fan. He sat waiting for someone else to make the calls.

‘Damn!’he thought, if only the government was run by qualified people. He had never understood how the archaic Westminster System had survived so long.

‘Why weren’t these people required to have qualifications for their positions as other government employees?’he had often asked himself. It would be highly unlikely, he knew, that an executive would be appointed to head a major corporation anywhere in the developed world without having first demonstrated the necessary qualifications and experience applicable to the position. And yet government had no such established criteria! He felt contempt for these politicians, running around in their first pin-striped suits as if they were ordained, rather than simply being representatives elected by an ignorant public. Anderson remained seated.

The Attorney-General left the office and issued instructions via the Prime Minister’s personal secretary. Drawing a deep breath, John Anderson then followed as it wouldn’t do for him to be so obvious, so apparent, especially in the presence of the one politician who had the real power to create difficulties for his organization. He stood within earshot of the Attorney-General and clasped his hands in a submissive stance, as if now awaiting further instructions.

Less than thirty minutes had passed when all three senior officers summoned were sitting together with the Prime Minister, the Attorney-General, the Director of ASIO and Anderson. The Prime Minister listened while the Armed-Forces Chiefs discussed the information which had earlier been passed to him.

“In short, the armaments have been confirmed as having been shipped from Timor. We suspect that the consignments were received and rerouted via Dili,” informed the Chief-of-Air-Staff in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.

Anderson noted the four rows of campaign ribbons which, in the Commonwealth, reflected real time, unlike their non-Commonwealth counterparts.

“Who is responsible?” demanded the Admiral who felt that the navy should, as the senior service, control all activities relating to defence. It was an ongoing battle to maintain the Navy’s position as resources had been chipped away, little by little ever since the Australian aircraft carrier had sunk one of its own ships, the Voyager, with an incredible loss of Australian navy lives. Incredibly, the tragedy had later been duplicated and the carrier had sunk an American warship during a similar manoeuvre. As always, while lost in his own thoughts, he was answered.

“We have been unable to determine that at this point in time, however the ‘think-tank’lads in Defence have offered the following scenarios,” responded the Air Marshal, happy to retain the floor and assert his authority in the presence of the P.M.

“The first assumption is that the weapons have been financed to provide indigenous groups in West Irian the opportunity to prove they have the ability to resist the substantial influx of Indonesian troops prior to the United Nations controlled plebiscite, or Act of Free Choice as the general public refer to the vote. I believe that all present would agree that to give untrained villagers sophisticated weapons is, in itself, a seductive move. If the Irian people wished to become pro-active in their quest for independence it would be more beneficial to their cause not to resort to armed conflict against Indonesia’s superior forces. Should sufficient passive resistance occur perhaps world opinion will support a rethink by the United Nations to prevent the territory from continuing under Indonesian control. We should consider that there is considerable support for a free and independent West Irian. This has come about not just because ethnically they are not related to the Indonesians but also this support stems from the regional concern that Indonesia may eventually wish to swallow the rest of New Guinea, once they are firmly ensconced in the western half of the island.

“They have been more than a little expansionist over the years and we should remember that Konfrontasi, had Soekarno succeeded, would have resulted in all of East Malaysia, that is, northern Borneo, falling under their control. Next would have been Singapore and perhaps even an attempt against the southern islands of the Philippines which have always been in dispute.”

The Air-Force officer paused, taking a glass of water, before he continued.

“As we are all too painfully aware, should Indonesia, or any other foreign force attempt to enter Papua New Guinea, then the Australian people would be obliged to send troops in to protect the country.

“There is also a high probability factor that the Indonesians are testing our resolve by positioning armaments along our northern corridors and may even be willing, God forbid, to push into Papua New Guinea if we appear to be overly receptive to their move.

“These, gentlemen, are the questions that this meeting must address and,” he added, “ask ourselves, why the Indonesians are sending weapons into the area, and what is their strategy behind utilizing these newly sourced arms supplies which have shown up during our own reconnaissance checks.”

There was stunned silence. The soft hum of the air-conditioning became evident as those present were struck by the import of what had just been imparted to them.

‘No,’they all thought, refusing to accept the information, ‘it was just not possible!’

Although the Chiefs-of-Staff had been briefed, none had actually paid any real credence to the initial reports. All present now knew that it was time to re-evaluate their earlier appraisals.

Again, they had been caught by their own complacency! They had erred by basically arriving at the same conclusion as the first scenario had offered, that small groups of armed tribes people were being supported by external interests. This is what they preferred to believe as this option was more palatable. However they had not been convinced that there was any real threat just because the Indonesians were pouring significant numbers of troops and equipment into the area. The possibility that the Indonesians themselves were positioning armaments from non-traditional sources and suppliers with the intent of a possible swing across the border was, to say the least, unthinkable!

“Why would the Indonesians not just send their own equipment in, assuming you are correct, instead of purchasing additional supplies?” inquired the Admiral. “Surely they could justify such a move?”

The Army General decided it was time for him to assume the role of senior spokesman.

“Obviously this is part or could be part of the overall deception.” The General continued. “Should their strategy be to infiltrate across the territorial lines terrorizing the inhabitants of the disputed border villages then they would be clever to use weaponry not associated with the ABRI, or Indonesian Armed Forces, as this would suggest an intrusion by yet a third party which, in itself, the Indonesians would claim as being provocative and maybe then march in under such a pretext to protect their borders!”

The veteran was enjoying himself. In fact, he almost relished the thought of the possibility of an Australian military intervention.

“The Indonesians have maintained for some time that they believed that both West Irian, or Irian Barat as they call it, and Papua New Guinea will eventually become targets for communist subversive elements,” he lectured.

“It is possible that the Indonesians will use the weapons themselves to incite some of the border tribes in an attempt to frustrate the plebiscite, push these ignorant indigenes across the New Guinea border and then rush after them as part of a terrorist sweep.”

The General paused for the greatest effect. “Then, with great difficulty, we would be involved in two police actions simultaneously,” he warned referring to the Vietnam commitment the Australian politicians had so foolishly entered into.

“Are you telling me that a second-rate, uneducated, third-world bunch of coconut eaters have the ability to sit down, plan an excursion into a neighbouring country with the forethought to embroil Australia deliberately into a regional military mess such as the scenario you have just suggested?” snapped the Prime Minister testily.

“May I suggest, gentleman, that at this time we do not have sufficient evidence to substantiate the conclusions or possible outcome suggested here today,” intervened the A.S.I.O. Director.

“Then what do you propose?” demanded the statesman.

“If I may ...?” the Air Marshall offered.

“Let’s hear it then,” the politician sighed, feeling the murky grip of this one already around his ankles.

“Prime Minister. We don’t have the resources to keep track of the weapon movements. Nor would we have the materials nor the supplies to support a prolonged and systematic campaign of aerial and ground surveillance over the next nine months leading up to the plebiscite. My recommendation is that we inform theAmericans if they don’t already know and request satellite surveillance. In the meantime, we should endeavour to ascertain more concerning the source of supply of the weapons and develop some strategy to either prevent further shipments or at least, slow them down.”

The Air Force officer completed his last sentence by first raising his hand and then slowly pushing it down demonstrating how he would resolve the supply flow.

“Shouldn’t the Ambassador in Jakarta make some attempt to determine the extent of the Indonesian military’s involvement?” suggested the Admiral.

“That will be attended to,” warned the Intelligence director.

The last thing this agency wanted was some career diplomat identifying an opportunity to ingratiate himself with the Minister, yelling insults at Adam Malik, Indonesia’s Foreign Minister.

The Australian Intelligence Agency, ASIO had no charter to operate overseas and was, to some extent, similar to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. These delicate matters of foreign inquiry were best left to those authorized.

The Prime Minister examined the faces of the men around him. He felt a wave of tiredness beginning to creep up from his feet indicating that he was not convinced that they had resolved the major problem, merely postponed the hard decisions. Still, he thought, that was how one often survived. Do nothing, appear to be doing everything and most party observers would applaud the non-decision making process as an integral survival tactic of the politician.

“Keep me informed,” was all their leader demanded which indicated the end to the security discussions.

As the group departed, the Prime Minister indicated with a cursory nod that he wished the Intelligence director to remain.

Alone, the Prime Minister commenced issuing his instructions to one of Australia’s most powerful non-public departmental heads. Unlike many other western nations, the head of Australia’s Intelligence Service was not approved by consensus but more appropriately, by selection, in camera, of the most qualified candidate. He was responsible personally to the Attorney-General. It was not unusual for the Prime Minister to communicate directly with the powerful director.

“What do you really think?” he inquired, the tiredness in his voice apparent.

“The Chief-of-Air-Staff is a good man. Sensible. I would go along with his suggestions for the time being,” the Director advised.

“Is there something else I should know?” the politician asked challenging. “You didn’t appear convinced that we understood the real substance of the reports.”

It was always difficult when asked for opinions relating to information collected by the intelligence gathering apparatus. So often the information was just a red herring; and yet, more often than not, when there was detail such as he had examined but not released to the other departments in relation to these arms shipments his sixth sense warned him, as it had in the past, that there was a subtlety behind the strategy that they had missed.

“It’s tricky. We are missing something but it eludes me,” he explained. “I just can’t put a handle on why the shipments are coming out of Timor through Indonesian waters when it would have been far more expedient to dispatch via the Philippines if there actually is third party involvement and, if not, why not just move it directly from one of the closer ports?”

“The Americans are probably still our best bet for a quick answer. In the meantime I will arrange to activate one of our operatives.”

“Don’t get caught!” instructed the politician not comfortable that they were exceeding the organization’s charter.

The Director smiled weakly. “We won’t,” he responded realizing that he had included the Prime Minister in his undertaking.

That evening the Prime Minister attended a formal state function and noticed the Indonesian delegation across the room. He was tempted to orchestrate an encounter but his political experience warned him to wait for developments to occur.

“Damn the little bastards,” he muttered under his breath before turning his thoughts to the argument taking place behind him regarding the Second Test cricket series.

Merauke — Irian Barat

Indonesian New Guinea

The weapons were moved out of the safe houses during fajar as this was when the villagers were least observant, engrossed in going about their own morning ablutions. This had been the eighth load, as the inventory had to be broken down into manageable shipments. Another four, maybe five days and the entire group could vacate the premises pending the next cargo’s arrival.

“Awas, lu!” the leader warned as the heavy box containing South African semi-automatic rifles began to slip from the lead man’s grip. “ Cepat, cepat ,” he urged, encouraging them to hurry. The team of Timorese struggled and groaned as they carried the crates out to the waiting vehicle. “Cukup dulu ,” enough, the leader hissed, “ kunci pintunya dan jaga baik-baik!” ordered the Javanese, to ensure that the security locked the premises and guarded the armoury well.

“Besok saja kembali,” he advised, undertaking to return the following morning. The dilapidated four wheeled drive Russian version of the American A-2 Jeep then departed, carrying the officer and the remaining two team members.

They headed east for an hour and then stopped. Another vehicle was waiting for them. The weapons were transferred to the other vehicle. The men all worked silently.

No one spoke. This had been one of their instructions, and the teams now always adhered to their leader’s orders. They had all witnessed the execution of two of their number for ignoring orders. Before departing from Dili they had been warned. Now they obeyed. The transfer completed, the men returned to town and slept in the losmen, remaining in their rooms until being called.

They repeated this procedure over the following four days until the gudang was empty of any remaining evidence that weapons had been stored there. On the fifth day they boarded a small coastal freighter and returned to Dili. There were now seven thousand rifles stored in twenty hidden armories throughout the New Guinea border area.

Jakarta

The Ambassador was furious. The Military Attaché had, en passant , mentioned the visitor to the Head of Mission. He had not been informed. As ambassador he had absolute authority over all communications and any other activities which involved the Australian Embassy in Indonesia. He dictated a strongly worded message and instructed his secretary to ensure that the Communications Centre expedited his inquiry at level one traffic priority. The response to his tirade was immediate.

MOST SECRET

FROM: MINISTER EXTERNAL AFFAIRS .

FOR: ADDRESSEE ONLY .

ADDRESSEE: AMBASSADOR/AUSTEMBA/JAKARTA/INDONESI A

YOUR COMMUNICATION RECEIVED AND APPRECIATED. YO U

ARE TO ASSIST IF REQUESTED AND SUPPORT THE INITIATIVE ACTIVATED BY THE ATTORNEY GENERAL’S DEPARTMENT .

THIS AUTHORITY ORIGINATES DIRECTLY FROM THE PRIME MINISTER’S OFFICE AND YOU ARE FURTHER INSTRUCTED NOT T O

ENTER INTO ANY FURTHER COMMUNICATION REGARDIN G

THE SUBJECT .

COURIER DIRECTED TO NON-DIPLOMATIC RECIPIENT .

MESSAGE ENDS .

EXAFF/REF/PM

CODE:173224. NO ACKNOWLEDGMENT REQUIRED.

MOST SECRET

John Anderson had not ventured into the field for some considerable time. His seniority and knowledge of the subject matter demanded his personal participation. The director had no choice but to elect to keep this particular activity strictly covert in nature. The Prime Minister was explicit. He would accept no responsibility should it fall, as they say, ‘off the tracks’. He had slipped surreptitiously out of Canberra, travelled via Hong Kong and Bangkok and was now in Indonesia. Upon arrival at Kemayoran Airport, Anderson went immediately to the old Hotel Duta and used the archaic telephone. Reaching his party he delivered guarded instructions for the meeting then, settling back in the rotan chair, removed his tie and waited.

Twenty minutes passed and his contact arrived not in an Embassy vehicle but in an old Mercedes 190. The black pirate taxi pulled into the driveway adjacent to the beer garden where the passenger alighted, paid the fare, and waited for the cumbersome vehicle to depart. Identifying the visitor sitting on the patio, he then approached, obviously agitated.

“Hello, Stephen,” Anderson said, rising perfunctorily to shake the annoyed Attaché’s hand, “you made good time considering the appalling traffic.”

Platitudes, always platitudes, Coleman thought. He really didn’t need to be called out at this time. He was already up to his neck in other assignments and was angry at being dragged away from these tasks. Even by his director!

“It wasn’t all that far,” Stephen replied, anxious to cut through the pleasantries quickly to discover the nature of Anderson’s visit.

He was surprised to receive the call and was concerned when he identified the voice. They had not communicated directly for some time.

“Sorry about the surprise. We decided not to advise you via the Embassy channels as this visit is strictly on a need to know basis.”

‘Aren’t they all?’ Coleman thought, annoyed that he had been dragged out in public to meet at the Duta Hotel, of all places.

He looked anxiously at his watch. The older man understood the gesture and wasted no time in imparting his instructions. Stephen would understand the urgency once he had been briefed. The director knew that.

Anderson continued. “Not even Foreign Affairs has been informed, however I will need to appear at the Embassy to speak to the Military Attaché briefly. He will be advised that I am travelling informally and I will treat the meeting as a courtesy call.”

The soft spoken Intelligence Liaison Chief than dropped his voice to a level at which even Coleman had difficulty hearing. He bent forward and listened. Occasionally he shook his head or merely nodded to indicate agreement. They continued in this way for almost an hour before Coleman took his leave, disappearing into the pedestrian traffic as inconspicuously as he had appeared. The director watched him leave concerned that Coleman showed signs of stress. He ordered more coffee, paid the bon and waited for his change while carefully scrutinizing his surroundings. Confident that sufficient time had elapsed since the other man’s departure he also left, following Coleman’s steps.

Thirty minutes later Anderson arrived at the Embassy and asked the reception if he could speak with Colonel Wilson, the Military Attaché. He was ushered upstairs to the third level of the new building. The butterfly roofed four storied structure was often mistaken for the Japanese Embassy which stood alongside, all twelve stories, most of which were their Trade representative offices. The Japanese had understood, even then, how to impose their presence and economic grip on neighbouring countries.

The Warrant Officer escorted the visitor immediately to the Colonel’s subtly furnished office, offered coffee, then returned to his own post. He had taken weeks learning not to stamp his feet with every movement in this undisciplined environment. It was a difficult habit to correct. The officer, even when he sat, exuded military bearing. He was just ten months off retiring and enjoying the pleasantries of his final posting. The Colonel didn’t need any problems in his comfortable life at this time. Not this close to retirement! He was counting off the days to when his handsome pension would commence and when he appeared to forget, his wife would remind him that soon he could look forward to doing nothing more than having coffee each morning together, taking long walks, and doing whatever they had always wanted to do when he retired.

The ageing Colonel could not think of anything he would really enjoy doing with the woman who had been his wife for thirty-five years. Especially sitting and talking together. He smiled at the civilian whose very presence caused him concern.

The Colonel remembered being escorted down and through the underground labyrinth which contained the highly secret section. There, isolated from other sections of the Department of Defence, he was shown a list of names of operating agents and personnel cleared to access the sensitive information relating to the service.

As the Senior Military Advisor, it was essential that the Colonel be briefed prior to his departure for Indonesia and taking up his post as Military Attaché. He was, to say the least, flabbergasted.

All of those years in the army without any knowledge whatsoever that his government had been running such a clandestine operation. At first he was excited at being included on the list of less than seventy personnel. Then he worried that this information would compromise his career, and his pension. He knew the man in front of him by name. It had been high on the list.

“Well, this is a very pleasant surprise, John!” he announced, with as much sincerity as he could muster. “When did you arrive?”

Anderson smiled warmly at the older man. “Just this morning. This time it’s unofficial as I am heading for Singapore for a little, and much overdue, ‘R and R’.”

“I am pleased that you took the time to drop in,” said Wilson, adding, “had you sent us a cable we could have had you met at the airport.”

The visitor’s eyes twinkled. “Travelling with company I’m afraid, and I suggested that I leave her shopping down at Sarinah while I drop in just to say ‘hello’ on my way through.”

“Touching base, so to speak,” the civilian added.

The Colonel nodded thoughtfully. Must be discreet! He could understand this sort of reasoning and, although uneasy, he was pleased that this senior officer had made the time to drop in.

“Can I offer any assistance while you are here. Maybe dinner tonight?” the officer offered.

“Very kind of you, Peter,” Anderson answered using Wilson’s first name, “however I plan to leave for Singapore tonight. Maybe a rain-check?”

“Of course, of course, John,” both now relaxed with each other’s use of Christian names, the Attaché considerably relieved that there was no official demand being made on his office.

“I thought that I should report in just so they are able to keep track of me down South. You know how they are about our travelling abroad, Peter.”

The Colonel nodded knowingly. He called the Warrant Officer. “Have a signal, Warrant. Take it down for my guest please and dispatch the message by routine. What classification John?” asked the Attaché.

“Oh, just send it as a standard restricted notification to my department that I have dropped in and am departing today for Singapore.” Anderson said, now enjoying the discomfort the military duo were experiencing.

“Would you care to write the message yourself, sir?” the Warrant Officer inquired, not knowing the guest’s official designation..

“Surely,” Anderson responded, taking his pen, reaching for the Colonel’s blank pad to draft his message.

Minutes later the simple message was being encrypted by the registry clerk also on the third floor for obvious security reasons and, within the hour, the brief and enigmatic signal was being read by the Deputy Intelligence Director in Canberra.

Anderson departed for Singapore later that day on the MSA flight, inter-connecting with the Cathay Pacific service into Hong Kong. There he briefed the Resident Officer who, due to the nature of the Colony’s status, decided that it would be inconvenient to accommodate their activities in the High Commission.

John Anderson went immediately to The Lodge upon his return to the Australian Capital. The Prime Minister had sat silently, listening to how the mechanisms now being put into place would resolve the looming crisis.

‘Or, God help me, even bring down the government!’ he worried Looking out through the row of pines partly obscuring the fine view of the well planned city he felt the dread of being alone, unable to impart or discuss the secrets for which he had become the nation’s keeper and he knew that, whatever the outcome, lives would be lost and few would ever know.

The Prime Minister also understood, and accepted, that he must live with the knowledge that it was on his authority and his alone that the order had been given.

‘Is it the politics or the burden of responsibility that makes one age prematurely in this job?’ he wondered momentarily and, not wishing to dwell any further on the possible demise of others, turned back to the papers he had been working on when interrupted by Anderson’s visit.

“God save the Prime Minister,” he muttered rubbing his weary eyes.