Anwar Suprapto’s loss of his twin brother, Imam coupled with the illness that had beset the Garuda pilot was more than he could possibly bear. When he learned that some parts of the wreckage had been identified and the search for survivors had been terminated on the fourth day, Anwar had requested and was granted compassionate leave from work.
When, after a week following Imam’s demise, an aide from General Supadi’s Special Forces visited his accommodations and suggested that they take a ride, he obeyed but greeted the invitation with deep reservation. However, the suggestion that the General had important information relating to Imam’s accident piqued his curiosity and he set his concerns aside. He was escorted to the General’s residence, Anwar somewhat bewildered by the warm reception he received upon meeting with the Special Forces commander.
‘My condolences at the loss of your brother,’ the General shook Anwar’s hand considerately, ‘his, was a tragic death.’
‘Thank you Pak Supadi. I still can’t believe that he’s gone.’
‘He left family?’ the General asked, even though he already knew.
‘Yes, a wife and two children.’
‘That will be hard for them.’
‘Imam was no longer entitled to an air force pension.’ Anwar’s eyes swept the room. A Kopassus regimental flag hung listlessly in one corner, the walls covered with a black and white ménage of photographs reflecting highlights in the Special Forces commander’s career.
‘His life would have been covered by company insurance.’
‘I spoke to the personnel officer at Bimaton. It appears that there is some dispute.’
‘Dispute?’ the General feigned surprise.
‘Yes,’ Anwar elaborated. ‘There is some suggestion that the insurance company might deny the claim on the grounds that Imam should not have flown the aircraft out of Bali until he was certain that the technical problem that occurred, had been resolved.’
‘That shouldn’t affect his life insurance. What about Jam-sostek?’ Supadi inquired, referring to Indonesia’s mandatory, massive superannuation fund with its fifty million members.
‘That won’t provide enough. We’ll manage somehow,’ Anwar’s attention was drawn to a fading photograph intentionally positioned at eye level next to where he had been invited to sit. He leaned closer to the wall to examine the face then turned to the General with surprise written across his face. ‘Is that my father?’
‘Yes.’
‘How…?’
‘I knew your father,’ Supadi revealed.
‘May I?’ he rose without waiting for the General’s response.
Supadi watched the Garuda pilot closely as he held the framed picture in both hands. ‘We bumped into each other from time to time.’
‘Here, in Jakarta?’
‘Yes,’ the General raised his eyes to the ceiling in reflection, ‘when he was at AURI headquarters in Gatot Subroto.’
‘That was well before he was killed in Bangkok.’
‘Yes, that was most unfortunate.’ The General referred to the Garuda Indonesian Airlines DC-9 aircraft “Woyla”, designated Flight 206, that had been ‘hijacked’ by five members of the Komando Jihad when en route from Jakarta to Palembang –and flown to Bangkok. Anwar’s father had been the undercover air force officer killed when the Special Forces had attempted their rescue mission.
Anwar’s face clouded. ‘We never did receive a satisfactory explanation as to what he was doing on that flight.’
‘And we most likely never will.’ The General flicked a hand in the air relegating the past to diminished history. Nearby, the amplified call to afternoon prayers wafted in their direction.
Anwar replaced the photograph then returned to his seat. ‘I was told that you wished to discuss my brother’s accident,’ Anwar reminded, not impolitely.
General Supadi’s mouth firmed. ‘It wasn’t an accident.’
Anwar stared at the General in disbelief. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘We have evidence that the Australians shot his aircraft down.’
Anwar shook his head vehemently. ‘How could that be?’
‘It’s true,’ the General’s face a mask covering his mendacious side. ‘RAAF fighters, we believe F-18s, were scrambled for whatever reason and were responsible for the aircraft going down.’
‘How do you know?’ Anwar struggled to understand.
‘From our own intelligence sources both here and abroad.’
‘Why would the Australians want to shoot down a civilian aircraft?’
‘We don’t know. There was a military exercise under way at the time so we can only assume that the Cessna strayed and was shot down in error.’
Anwar lifted his head with a jolt. ‘The aircraft did have a malfunction before departing Bali.’ He stared at Supadi. ‘Do you think that the insurance people are right… that there’s some connection?’
‘The question remains, was it an accident or did the Australians deliberately destroy the aircraft believing Agus Sumarsono was on board?’
‘What would that have achieved?’ the Garuda captain asked, heatedly.
‘There’s been some conjecture but, to be honest, we don’t really know.’
General Supadi observed the younger man closely gauging his response, cautiously manipulating the conversation through the confusing grey line separating supposition from fact. ‘It has become apparent that the Australians are supportive of the separatist movements in Ambon and West Papua. Some of our analysts have suggested that the downing of the aircraft is part of a greater agenda to ensure the collapse of the Indonesian unitary state.’
Anwar coughed then rose angrily to his feet. ‘And there’ll be justice for my brother?’
‘Insha Allah – God willing,’ the General replied, the meeting ending soon thereafter with an invitation for Anwar to return.
* * * *
Upon Anwar Suprapto’s departure General Supadi sat quietly considering what had transpired, confident that the toxic seed he had planted would germinate and grow in preparation for their next meeting. He unlocked the top drawer to a polished teak desk and removed the confidential folder containing Captain Anwar Suprapto’s records.
These indicated that the Garuda pilot’s flying career had been less than exemplary, and was imminently facing retrenchment.
General Supadi then made a call to the Garuda offices to ensure that this would not be so.
Shocked by the report of Mohamed Aziz Derashid’s murder, Greg and Agus returned immediately to Jakarta. Agus Sumarsono’s visit to Australia had been disastrous with the business community shunning invitations to attend discussions with the former Bimaton chairman, the mood soured by Agus’ undiplomatic and vitriolic attack against BHP Billiton. On the day Agus was to speak at the Canberra Press Club the Sydney Morning Herald reported that the company had initiated discussions with separatist leaders in both the Moluccas and West Papua with respect to future resource acquisitions.
Greg Young was obliged to immediately examine his options considering the devastating collapse in fortunes for all associated with the Bimaton Holdings Group. When news broke of Derashid’s death during what was described as a botched kidnapping attempt close to the Thai border, the Malaysian’s untimely demise had naturally panicked bankers – Bimaton’s accounts then temporarily frozen.
Across the Straits in Malaysia the Bulan Sabit conglomerate’s administrators moved expeditiously to offload the Raja Seram Field investments, the financial albatross immediately optioned by the Japanese. Tokyo had offered to recognize the Maluku Brigade officially raising the stakes with Beijing in the race for the extensive oil and gas deposits.
With the threat of a nuclear attack having been averted by the Bimaton executive jet’s fortuitous loss, the nation’s intelligence leaders pressed for stronger legislation. As the government controlled both the Lower House and the Senate, amendments to the Security Legislation Amendment (Terrorism) Bill and the ASIO Legislation Amendment (Terrorism) Bill were passed, ignoring strong opposition from Civil Libertarians.
A succession of ASIO raids were conducted across the continent resulting in a substantial number of arrests. However, the Lakemba, Saudi-linked cell was already abandoned when the troops arrived, a copy of Amir Subroto’s Studies In Jihad Against the Tyrants the only evidence that an extremist group had operated there.
Rima Passelima returned from Seram Island where the tide had turned against the Indonesian troops with the Maluku Brigade claiming control over the greater part of the province. Ambon remained a hostile environment with Jakarta’s forces heavily entrenched, the number of casualties from both sides now having reached twenty-five thousand over the past month. Rima’s NGO continued to play an integral role in providing support to the local population, her activities rewarded with an occasional drive-by attack on her offices by Jakarta-backed militia and Laskar PAI thugs. She had been highly critical of Johanis’ actions, deeply relieved that Greg Young had not become another victim of the Moluccan separatist movement. Rima and Greg had talked briefly upon his return to Jakarta, Rima burdened with guilt when learning of his financial demise with the collapse of the Bimaton Group, conscious from their conversations that his spirit had been broken by the turn in events.
Anwar Suprapto stared through the rear window of General Supadi’s Mercedes as Jalan Sudirman’s buildings with their exaggerated portals passed slowly by – Anwar mentally bidding the city he had grown to love, farewell.
Having considered his doctor’s prognosis Anwar decided that there was only one way he could escape his predicament. In consequence, he accepted the General’s proposition; Imam’s wife and children would be adequately cared for, the ten-thou-sand dollars to be paid to the family of Anwar’s late-brother upon completion of the proposed mission. Philosophical with respect to ending his own life Anwar felt that at least he would have the satisfaction of knowing he would be punishing those responsible for Imam’s death – whilst sending a clear warning to the Australian public as to what they might expect should their government continue to support the disintegration of the Indonesian republic.
He was scheduled to fly to Melbourne and Sydney the following week – the Boeing 777-300 with its three-hundred-and-seventy-passenger configuration most likely to be fully laden when, having refueled in Sydney, he would drive the aircraft into the city’s centre.
Jack McBride’s chest swelled with pride as he lifted Netty’s veil, the assembly erupting with applause when he gently kissed his bride.
‘I will always love and care for you, Net,’ he promised, lifting his voice so all present could bear witness, ‘and with God’s grace, our children.’
The couple turned with arms entwined and walked slowly along the aisle, smiling broadly as they exited the church, the sound of bells ringing surreal amidst the sectarian-torn environment.
Jack looked across Tentena’s surrounding hills, the memory of all that had transpired leaving him with mixed emotions. He placed his arm around Netty and held her reassuringly. ‘We will build a new life in Australia.’ Jack and Netty McBride had accepted the offer to work at an Outback mission in Queensland’s west, Jack proposing to Netty the month before.
Stepping outside they posed for the traditional photographs, an hour later the couple were whisked away by car to Poso where they caught the feeder flight to Menado, connecting to Bali, en route to Australia.