Muslim youths boarded the targeted bus and demanded money from the driver. When he refused the man was savagely beaten, his assailants yelling anti-Christian slogans as they then kicked and punched, dragging him feet-first down the steel steps and onto the street where they emptied his pockets. Fuelled by Muslim extremists this single criminal act sparked immediate reprisals from the Christian sector, Hambali’s teams of provocateurs well prepared for their enemies’ response. During the first days more than one hundred died on Ambon’s streets, the police and army electing to remain on the sidelines as the lawlessness intensified, spreading through the city unabated.
Hambali’s agitators took the fight from the town centre to the harbour where they attacked a karaoke bar, dragged two young women outside and hacked the Christian girls to death before throwing their mutilated bodies into the sea. The Christians retaliated; their bloody trail leaving decapi-tated bodies along footpaths wherever Muslim storekeepers took a stand. Then the carnage spilled from Ambon City into surrounding hamlets where the villagers were caught, unprepared, the slaughter intensifying with Hambali’s teams destabilising the countryside.
Nuci carried her granddaughter Anna on her hip as she strol ed down the street, her curiosity aroused as to the markings that had appeared overnight on the walls of the village dwellings. An intelligent woman, Nuci recognized that the small number of Muslim homes had different symbols to that of the Christians. Approaching her house Nuci was startled by a group of approaching men, chanting as they made their way along the main street. Suddenly, there was a scream; Nuci’s heart leapt when she realized that the mob had turned violent. Without hesitation she lifted the child from her hip and broke into a half-run, stumbling with the weight of the infant in her arms. She heard someone shout – Nuci looked back over her shoulder as several men ran towards them waving short-bladed swords, severing the head of an elderly woman caught in the bloody melee as she stood frozen in her tracks in the middle of the street.
Nuci’s husband had watched, terrified from inside their home. He half opened the door to call her inside, overwhelmed when he witnessed men running amok wielding their razor-sharp goloks at anyone in their path.
The mob had swept down from the neighbouring Muslim village of Hitu seeking revenge for an earlier attack, the spontaneous wave of reprisals sweeping Ambon Island and decimating entire village communities. Overnight, the pela tradition was invoked, Muslim and Christian villages united along sectarian lines.
Nuci made it to the safety of her home where she gripped her husband’s arm and shook him, terrified for her family. ‘The children…’ the words choked in her throat, ‘what… about the children?’
Lauren’s face was grim. ‘They should be safe at the school.’
Not convinced, Nuci’s face remained a sea of concern. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘I don’t know!’ He cried, ‘why are they attacking us?’
Lauren’s voice echoed her own anguish and she looked to her husband for comfort. ‘Will we be safe, here?’ At that moment she detected smoke in the air. Ashen-faced, she shook her husband wildly. ‘Lauren, you’ve got to get us out of here!’
‘How?’ he groaned, wringing his hands, ‘it would be suicidal to leave the house!’
‘Can’t you smell the smoke? They’re burning the village. We’ll die if we don’t flee!’
Nuci opened a window shutter and peered cautiously outside. Across the street she identified a number of village security personnel embracing the raiders.
Unbeknownst to Nuci’s fellow villagers, Muslim scouts had slipped into the village to disperse residents and place distinguishing marks on buildings to differentiate Christian from Muslim homes. A second group then arrived for the kill. Finally, a third group followed and looted whatever had not been burned. Indonesian police and army allowed Muslim riot-ers to pass through checkpoints unchallenged during the riots.
In the neighbouring village of Telaga Kodok, Nuci’s daughter Lisa screamed in horror as she was dragged from her dwelling and forced to the ground.
‘Torch it!’ one of the raiders demanded, and a soldier dressed in civilian attire stepped forward and threw kerosene into the home Johanis Matuanakotta’s mother had bequeathed to the couple. Lisa had been alone when Telaga Kodok had come under attack, her husband, somewhere between Benteng Karang and their home having dropped their daughter off at her parents’ for a few days.
‘Kill her!’ the group leader shouted, ‘we don’t have time to mess around with these Christian sluts.’
Lisa’s assailant placed a knee on her chest and lifted her dress exposing her thighs. ‘Don’t! Please, I beg you, don’t!’ she pleaded, her eyes opening wide in fear as her attacker flashed a knife and grinned lewdly.
‘Get on with it!’ she heard someone snap as her panties were torn away. The raider applied greater pressure with his knee – Lisa struggling helplessly with the soldier’s foul breath hot upon her face. When he leaned down and whispered ‘Say hello to Jesus’ in her ear she felt the cold steel against the soft flesh of her thigh and she sobbed, uncontrollably, with the realization that death was imminent.
Lisa’s terrifying scream with the shock of his knife being driven up between her legs and deep into her womb brought only laughter from those gathered around.
‘Finish it!’ the soldier was ordered – but Lisa heard nothing above her pain when he twisted the knife as he extracted the weapon, then swiftly dragged the blade across her throat.
* * * *
The following morning Nuci and Laurens, together with their granddaughter, found their way to a temporary refuge at Hunuth village, their own hamlet now nothing more than a ghost town strewn with dead. They sought protection from KOSTRAD, the army strategic command’s 733 Unit, however the officer in charge simply ignored their plight and abandoned the area.
Fearing that Hunuth would also come under attack, Nuci and her family boarded a boat and sailed out to sea accompanied by a number of other villagers. With the army having deserted the settlement, Hunuth then fell to the Muslim raiders wearing white bandanas to distinguish their own from those they would murder. When word reached outlying villages, mosques, churches and government buildings were all burned to the ground, the escalation in violence bolstered by elements of Hambali’s army-trained assassins.
* * * *
Johanis Matuanakotta remained dry-eyed throughout the mass burial proceedings. A week had passed since his wife Lisa died in the slaughter. Armed Cokers now lined the streets, providing the necessary security as surrounding villages pooled their resources and came to bury the dead.
A visiting church elder from Ambon’s Marantha Protestant church placed a hand on Matuanakotta’s shoulder. ‘This is the work of extremists, my son. I know your heart is heavy with your loss but I must urge you not to join with the others in seeking revenge.’
The young man shrunk from the pendeta’s comforting hand, then turned and stared the minister down. ‘I will do what has to be done.’
* * * *
Efforts to provide support to the Christians had been severely hampered by confusion amongst the Indonesian military commanders who had arrived to resolve the conflict. The overall military commander was surprised when Strategic Command KOSTRAD troops under the influence of Islamist officers poured in from Makassar, even though there was fighting between Bug-inese and Makassarese at home. Upon their arrival, fighting had erupted between KOSTRAD troops, BRIMOB, (the elite police force), the Marines and the air force’s PASKASHAS units which remained under the control of (non-radical) nationalist officers.
Confusion reigned; Hambali and his murderous thugs were on a roll.
The strategic meeting was coming to a close when James Bolting, Deputy Undersecretary for Arms Control, S.E. Asia, threw the question back at the team of State Department analysts. ‘With Suharto gone, is the interim president, Habibie, strong enough to send the Indonesian military back to their barracks?’ Bolting’s responsibilities included directing and coordinating arms control policy, nonproliferation policy, military assistance for the State Department and foreign assistance programs. In the post-Suharto climate, due to the earlier Asian currency collapse that had led to massive unemployment, food shortages, a rapid rise in crime and a general social breakdown, Indonesia’s 450,000-member armed forces, which included 175,000 police, moved brutally to maintain internal security and stability. Growing international displeasure with the Indonesian military’s human rights violations had generated sufficient pressure for President Clinton to consider an embargo on all military cooperation with the Tentara Nasional Indonesia, the TNI. ‘And how will the generals respond to his imminent announcement of a referendum in East Timor?’
One of Bolting’s senior analysts fielded the question. ‘Habi-bie won’t go the distance. He doesn’t have a military background. While Indonesia grapples with the question of East Timor’s status, our relationship with the TNI remains crucial for the United States in view of Indonesia’s geostrategic position and regional influence. Our trade with S.E. Asia is nearing half a trillion dollars annually and this accounts for some three million American jobs.’
‘Guess we should consider ourselves fortunate that a blockade against U.S. products could never be effective,’ Bolting mused.
The senior analyst grabbed the moment. ‘A blockade would cripple S. E. Asia and impact dangerously on China’s foreign oil dependency. The United States must maintain a cooperative bilateral defense relationship with the country. Its vast span over thousands of islands not only forms a three-thousand mile gateway between the Pacific and Indian Oceans, but straddles some of the world’s most critical sea lines of communication.’
‘We have to come up with something to justify ongoing military support.’ Bolting appealed to one of the older departmental hands, a senior analyst with the National Security Agency who had remained uncharacteristically silent. ‘What do you have, Pete?’
Peter Cook uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. ‘Well, Jim, you know that I’ve always supported the view that stronger U.S. ties with the Indonesian military is the only way to transform the TNI. Our International Military and Education Training program has provided a generation of TNI officers with human rights education, and an opportunity to develop long-term relationships between both countries’ future military leadership.’
The senior analyst intervened. ‘And if the U.S. refuses to meet their military equipment needs there is always the danger of the Ruskies moving back into play.’
Bolting considered the career officer’s point. The State Department had turned a blind eye to the blatant circumvention of standing legislation that was intended to curtail the flow of weaponry to nations with a history of human rights violations. The Deputy Undersecretary had still been in high school when the pro-West General Suharto grabbed power in 1966 and paved the way for the United States to displace the Soviets as the largest supplier of weapons and military training to Indonesia. Then in November 1991 when Indonesian troops armed with American M16s fired on a funeral procession in the Santa Cruz cemetery in East Timor, killing 271, the U.S. Congress had cut off Indonesia’s International Military Education and Training aid. The legislation had become law in 1993 and the Foreign Operations Appropriations Act was re-enacted 1994 and 1995. In 1996, the Pentagon facilitated Indonesia military training without congressional notification or consent throughout that year, causing Congress to limit all future appropriations.
In March 1998, the East Timor Action Network released Pentagon documents showing that U.S. Army and Marine personnel had trained Indonesian soldiers under the Joint Combined Exchange Training program every few months since 1992. Indonesia’s notorious Kopassus Special Forces had undergone U.S. training in air assault, urban warfare, and psy-chological operations between 1992 and 1997, without congressional knowledge or approval. While this training was technically legal, many in Congress felt as though the Pentagon had evaded the clear intention of the IMET prohibition. It was only in the past year that, in response to Congressional pressure, the Pentagon suspended the program for Indonesia. However, Bolting knew that even after Congress had closed many of the loopholes exploited by the Pentagon, the CIA, Justice and Customs Departments, the Drug Enforcement Agency, the FBI and U.S. Marshals all continued to train Indonesians. He addressed the senior analyst. ‘Where are we at with current training programs?’
‘Not much on the agenda at the moment; we’ve expended around a million dollars on training over the past twelve months.’
‘And where do we stand with hardware? If Habibie does announce a referendum we can be assured that the TNI will increase its presence on the ground.’
Confident that Peter Cook could deliver the information, verbatim, the senior analyst nodded in the older man’s direction and Cook assumed the floor. ‘As you know, Jim, we have exported over a billion dollars in U.S. arms sales to Indonesia since 1975, the year Indonesia first occupied East Timor. These weapon sales range from M16s to F16 fighter aircraft.’ Cook glanced over at an attentive White House aide monitoring the meeting. ‘Even under President Clinton’s Administration our arms export policy to Indonesia has been…’ Peter Cook hesitated, searching for a less offensive definition, ‘let’s say, supportive. Although not huge in relation to what we have given other nations, the critics are bound to raise comment that the Administration has supplied over one-hundred and fifty million in weapons and ammunition to Indonesia, which includes an increase of twelve million last year – plus another couple of million in manufacturing licenses and technical assistance to make U.S. designed weapons.’
The White House aide moved to influence the meeting’s outcome. ‘The Council on Foreign Relations and the U.S. – ASEAN Business Council are both of the consensus that the TNI is central to Indonesia’s stability.’
James Bolting’s expression did not reveal his annoyance. U.S. multinationals had, in his opinion, far too great an influence over the State Department’s policy decisions and were notorious for their funding of TNI’s vested interest groups. Bolting’s files revealed that as much as eighty percent of the TNI’s budget originated from illegal activities, and security arrangements with corporations such as ExxonMobil’s Indonesian activities, and Freeport’s Grassburg copper and gold mining operation in West Papua. ‘It won’t be the Business Council the American people will penalize at next year’s presidential elections should the referendum go contrary to expectations, and the Indonesian military get out of hand again.’
‘The Pentagon supports Jakarta and Australia’s position that the referendum will not result in any dramatic change to Dili’s status quo,’ the aide offered. ‘After two decades of Indonesian occupation, the East Timorese won’t invite further reprisal. They’ll vote to remain within the Indonesian Republic – of that we’re certain.’
‘Well, let’s just pray that we won’t see TNI soldiers carrying American-made M16s on the front cover of Time Magazine before it’s all over.’
* * * *
With the meeting concluded Bolting indicated to Peter Cook that he sought a few words in private.
‘Nasty business, this Australian guy, Jenkins topping himself,’ the Deputy Undersecretary led Cook to a quiet corner.
‘Why did he do it?’
The NSA officer glanced around to ensure they could not be overheard. ‘His death won’t impact on State in any way,’ Cook understood that would be his old friend’s primary concern. ‘Seems Langley was really squeezing this guys gonads for more material than the Aussies were prepared to give.’
‘Just wanted to know in case any shit started to flow our way,’ Bolting said, observing the White House aide reappearing and heading in their direction. ‘Thanks for coming over today,’ he placed a hand on Cook’s shoulder as he indicated the approaching aide and whispered, ‘Don’t know where the White House finds some of these idiots.’
The First Secretary remained deep in thought as he entered the embassy, Merv Jenkins’ death foremost on his mind. Word had spread quickly through the closely-knit diplomatic community that morning, the ASIS chief being among those who were aware of the machinations that had led to the senior intelligence officer’s apparent suicide.
Canberra’s politicians, acting against the advice of their intelligence chiefs, had decided to conceal the depth of Jakarta’s involvement in the East Timor massacres, to take the position that the Indonesian military was not involved, to mislead the Americans by blaming the militia violence on rogue elements within the TNI.
Jenkins had been under close scrutiny by his own intelligence agencies for having leaked highly sensitive material relating to the activities of Indonesian militias and troops in East Timor. This included detailed information that had been intercepted by the Shoal Bay station near Darwin. He had been severely reprimanded. However the damage had been done with the CIA then aware that the Australians had been withholding intelligence from the United States. The screws tightened, and Jenkins became the object of bitter recriminations from within Australian intelligence circles with some suggesting terminating his highly-questionable activities with extreme prejudice. When an investigation had been launched, Jenkins had crumbled, offering to return to Canberra in August to account for his actions. Then, in contradiction, Jenkins had hung himself outside his residence in Arlington.
The diplomat remained introspective as he caught the lift up to the quarantined floor where ASIS maintained its offices, curious that Jenkins had elected to end his life earlier that morning, on his forty-eight birthday.
* * * *
Across the Potomac in Virginia, senior CIA analysts remained disgruntled with Australia’s failure to divulge specific intelligence to its closest ally; this perceived betrayal the very genesis of constraints being placed on future information flow, resulting in the most internecine of quid pro quos in modern history.
Nick Dennison stomped the gas pedal hard to the floor as he wres-tled with the 4WD, correcting the vehicle’s dangerous slide along the road’s shoulder. Back on the macadam he checked the Oyster chronometer strapped to his heavily tanned wrist, and squinted in the harbor city’s direction – Darwin but a shimmer in the distance ahead. The senior communications analyst glanced at the rear vision mirror, evidence of the ultra-secret listening post with its nine satellite tracking dishes locked into regional communications satellites, now lost with distance as he drove the fifty kilometers to his meeting at his favorite drinking hole, Rourke’s Drift.
Dennison was looking forward to that first schooner of beer away from the high-pressure environment in which he worked, the isolated location in the country’s “Top End” irreverently dubbed by the 1,400 Defence Signals Directorate employees as ‘Australia’s Siberia’. The past few days at the communications station had been extremely demanding, with operators working additional shifts listening to high-band radio frequency traffic between Jakarta and Timor. Transcripts of digitally recorded conversations between Brigadier General Mahidin Simbolon, the Chief of Staff of the Udayana regional command based in Bali and Eurico Gutteres, the head of the Jakarta-sponsored militias in East Timor, had gravely concerned Canberra.
With an advance party of Australian troops preparing to embark, the government intensified its monitoring activities of Indonesian units, the current flow of information supporting claims that the murderous militia squads were receiving substantial support from Jakarta.
As he hurried towards his destination, Dennison considered the rising risk of a direct confrontation with Indonesia, and the significant role DSD played in maintaining the high level of intelligence reporting over S.E. Asia, through its ring of powerful satellite and radio intercept ground stations. DSD used state-of-the-art sophisticated electronic spying techniques to intercept phone and radio calls across the Asia-Pacific region, Dennison’s station beaming the information gathered to Russell Offices’ Defence Headquarters in Canberra where it was processed and analyzed.
It was not Dennison’s concerns over Indonesia’s provocative position in East Timor that occupied his mind as he drove into Darwin, but the intrusive nature of the American government which had, in his mind, threatened to compromise the integrity of the Shoal Bay operation. Until recently, the signals intelligence or SIGINT flow collected by the station had been for Australian Eyes Only and excluded both the United States and the British, a matter of some contention as Australia was a signatory to the UKUSA (a contraction of UK and USA) agreement. The U.S. National Security Agency along with its British, Canadian, New Zealand and Australian counterpart, DSD, had joined forces to operate a giant network of highly automated tracking stations around the globe. These stations targeted commercial satellites and downloaded all computer data messages and every fax, telex, email and telephone calls that were transmitted. Dennison’s secretly objected to the American and British moves to force the Australians to provide even greater access to the Shoal Bay station intercepts.
Dennison was incensed that Australia’s primary listening post was scheduled to become part of the UKUSA chain, which would allow the United States to spy on Australian citizens, at home. And, as the greater part of all information gathered was forwarded directly to the CIA and NSA, bypassing Australia’s own intelligence apparatus, he believed it his duty to reveal this intrusion to the general public. Having secured an undertaking that his identity would be protected, the analyst made arrangements to meet with Eddy Kwang, a Singapore-based journalist, at his favorite drinking hole.
* * * *
‘Wait!’ the journalist raised a hand, ‘have to change the tape.’
Dennison waited patiently, eager to tell all. He had steadied himself with two drinks at Rourke’s Drift then strolled slowly down to the corner of Mitchell and McLachlan Streets, where he cased the Poinciana Inn’s poolside for familiar faces. Satisfied that he would not be recognized, he then ventured up to the journalist’s room.
‘Okay, it’s rolling.’ Kwang, the defence specialist writer then remained silent, permitting Dennison to continue his one-sided dialogue.
‘As I was saying, ‘Echelon’, is a global spy system established and controlled by the NSA with its headquarters in Menwith Hill on the English moors where some two thousand American and British Ministry of Defence staff manage the site. Other intercept stations are located around the world and maintained by the U.S., Australia, England, Canada and New Zealand, all bound together in a still-secret agreement called UKUSA, this vast network of electronic spy stations designed to spy on each other’s citizens by intercepting and gathering electronic signals. That is the problem I have with what’s happening with our Australian stations. The system captures and analyzes virtually every electronic communication that passes through the airwaves, recording all phone calls, Internet emails, facsimile transmissions and telex messages across the globe.’
Dennison rose and helped himself to a whiskey from the mini bar before continuing, the journalist taking advantage of the pause. ‘And you’re saying that the Shoal Bay station hasn’t been part of the Echelon system until now?’ Dennison’s voice was dripping with contempt. ‘Bloody right. The Brits and the Yanks have their own analysts staffing the Pine Gap and Kojarena stations so it might not be long before we see them here in Darwin.’
‘Kojarena, where’s that?’ Eddie Kwang pretended not to know.
‘Near Geraldton in Western Australia. It was built a few years back to monitor Indian and Pacific Ocean satellites. You can’t miss the bloody thing,’ he added sarcastically, ‘the station has four huge satellite tracking dishes wrapped inside radomes, those golf ball-like structures often shown in aerial shots of Pine Gap. These stations are on Australian soil yet some eighty percent of all messages intercepted at the Kojarena installation are automatically forwarded to the Americans with us having to beg for access to the information.’
‘Are you willing to reveal what specific targets Kojarena covers?’
The analyst nodded. ‘Kojarena mainly targets our more northerly neighbors, from Japan across to Pakistan.’
‘And the S.E. Asian countries?’
‘Not as a rule,’ Dennison replied. ‘That’s mainly our bailiwick here at Shoal Bay. Our facility is a much larger station but not as technologically advanced as Kojarena. If you were able to fly over the location you would see that we have nine tacking dishes. What you wouldn’t be able to determine is that these are locked into regional communication satellites such as the Indonesian Palapa birds, in their geostationary orbits above the equator.’
‘Security must be very tight?’ the journalist probed.
‘Not as great as it should be,’ Dennison smiled sardonically. ‘The Kiwis also have an interception site at a place called Waihopai on the South Island. It’s about half the size of Kojarena but mainly just monitors a couple of Pac rim comsats.’ He paused again and looked over wistfully at the refrigerator.
‘Help yourself, Nick,’ the journalist offered, waving at the mini-bar. He was already aware of the New Zealand installation as its existence had been all over the newspapers several years before.
‘Thanks.’ Dennison did so then returned to his seat alongside the recorder. ‘Is it still on?’
‘Yes…you were saying something about the Kiwi operation?’
The analyst shook his head. ‘You’d think that with so much at stake they’d at least put a decent security system into place.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Echelon stations…and I should mention here that in Oz we don’t use that terminology to deflect the claims that we are, in fact, doing what the Brits and Yanks want us to. The facilities are protected by electrified fences, and state-of-the-art detectors on the assumption that these will suffice.’
‘And you don’t think so?’
‘No,’ Dennison swirled the swizzle stick in his glass, ‘in my opinion it’s only a matter of time before one of the installations is seriously compromised. Those New Zealand reporters who broke into Waihopai a couple of years back is proof of that.’
The journalist leaned forward to check the recorder’s counter. ‘Let’s get back to the Australian stations. What other installations contribute to the spy network?’
‘Well, apart from Kojarena and Shoal Bay the most important facility to the Yanks would be Pine Gap. That’s where they have their Air Force’s seismic nuclear detection system but, more importantly, Pine Gap is where they control the CIA’s Rhyo-lite, Magnum and Aquacade electronic listening satellites. Then there’s our own defence communication posts such as Cabarlah in Toowoomba and other Aussie defence units around the continent which Mister Public knows all about anyway, and that’s about it except for the new station at Wagga Wagga.’ He sighed heavily and finished the whiskey. ‘Look, mate, I don’t have any problem with what we do for ourselves…even with sharing our intelligence. But, what really gives me the shits is how we are giving the Yanks what amounts virtually to carte blanche over our intelligence apparatus. There is a much more sinister side to what is happening here. At DSD we monitor communication traffic only outside Australia…or, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Our domestic spooks, ASIO have control over all internal eavesdropping.’ He looked the interviewer directly in the eye. ‘Did you know that, just two years back the Feds forced our telecom carriers to incorporate an intercept capability into all domestic networks? Only a fool would think there’s any such thing as privacy, anymore.’
‘Yeah, I’d had a piece that I was going to run but the story was squashed.’
‘Well, what do you think will happen once we give the Yanks a similar access to Shoal Bay as they currently enjoy in the other so-called, joint facilities? There, they just filter out information from those stations before disseminating intelligence scraps back to us. Under their control, Shoal Bay would suffer similarly. Let’s face it, we have a very limited defense capability and will always be dependent on the Americans. If they want Shoal Bay then Canberra will most likely give it to them. And, when that happens, we can all kiss our privacy goodbye.’
‘Then why do you think they’re considering going down that path?’
Dennison shrugged. ‘Beats me…I can only speculate that it’s got something to do with that Star Wars crap the Republicans came up with. Australia’s position geographically would be essential to establishing any such preemptive satellite strike capability.’ The analyst’s shoulders slumped. ‘I don’t really care about all that. As far as I’m concerned I just want Canberra to rethink its position and keep intercept facilities on Australian soil, under our own control.’ A thought crossed Dennison’s mind. ‘For instance…’ he hesitated and frowned, unaware that his words were a touch slurred. ‘Look, what I’m about to reveal must remain off the record. Okay?’
The journalist nodded then checked the recorder again.
‘Let’s assume that the Darwin facility was already under U.S. control. Over the past days we have been monitoring a shitload of activity relating to the militias in East Timor and a build up of Special Forces activity across the country’s east. You don’t believe that the Americans wouldn’t sanitize that intelligence if they were in the driver’s seat before passing it onto us? Shit, it’s U.S. weaponry the bastards are using!’
The journalist raised is eyebrows. ‘You have intercepts substantiating Jakarta’s involvement in what’s been happening in Dili?’
Dennison flashed an annoying look across the table. ‘Not just Dili, but in Aceh and Ambon. All hell’s gonna break loose in the Moluccas…and that’s off the record.’
‘Okay, but I’d like to hear more.’
The analyst shuffled his feet uneasily. ‘They’d hang me out by the balls to dry if you use it.’
‘I won’t…trust me.’
Dennis tried to read the other man’s eyes. ‘If you do, they’ll be able to identify me as a possible source.’
‘You have my word.’ The Singaporean leaned across and turned the tape recorder off, slipped a hand into his trousers’ pocket and activated the backup he carried. Placated, Dennison then revealed the names of the Indonesian officers whose conversations directing militia elements in East Timor had been intercepted –amongst these, a Kopassus Special Forces Major by the name of Supadi whose name was listed on file as a member of Group 5, more commonly known as Detachment 81, the TNI’s ‘dirty tricks’ center.
Within two hours transcripts of both tapes would be on the Director of Security and Intelligence Department (SID)’s desk in Singapore.
Four months later when the story broke in the press, American spy agencies decided unanimously to be far more circumspect in any future dealings with the Aussies. The U.S. dominated intercept station at Kojarena in Western Australia was instructed to broaden its brief to include the Indonesian Palapa satellites. Information gleaned from communications between the militant Islamic groups, the Philippine Abu Sayyaf and the Moro Liberation Front, the Jemaah Islamiyah in Java and Malaysia was monitored and sent directly to the U.S. National Security Agency.
Emphasis at the Shoal Bay installation remained concentrated more on Indonesian military interception – and the flow of information relating to the alarming rise in communications between militant Muslim extremist groups across S.E. Asia was channeled to Washington. ASIO and ASIS’s preoccupation with the approaching East Timor referendum and the Indonesian presidential elections continued to blind Canberra’s intelligence eye, permitting Abu Bakar Bashir and Hambali to pass through immigration channels undetected during their frequent visits into Australia.
General Suharman ground his teeth when he came to the end of the report, intensely annoyed that Major Supadi’s teams had still been unable to locate and remove Riduan Isamuddin from the Moluccan scene. He glared at Colonel Sutrisno, the BAKIN ‘Dirty Ops’ departmental head. ‘What do you make of this?’ he demanded, ‘are we supposed to believe that even the Kopassus can’t find this piece of shit?’
The Colonel stood uneasily. It was his ‘housekeeping’ team that had failed the General. ‘Hambali has proven to be most elusive,’
‘Elusive?’ Suharman’s chuffy cheeks filling with blood as he prepared to explode, ‘I don’t want to hear, elusive, Colonel,’ he pointed at the report, his hand shaking angrily. ‘And they are now referring to him as a field commander?’ He stabbed at Hambali’s photo staring back up at him. ‘He’s nothing but dog’s vomit,’ he scoffed; his voice then becoming menacing, ‘just get me his head!’