chase.’
‘We translate them,’ said Ali. ‘And get them to your guys at the section in Jakarta.’
‘Really?’ said Mac, surprised.
‘Really.’
‘This one?’ asked Mac.
Ali paused, exhaled his smoke and finally broke his stare with Mac. ‘No, McQueen – not this one.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because your people aren’t interested,’ said Ali.
Mac blinked hard to maintain concentration. ‘You said we – who are you, Ali?’
‘I’m working for the President.’
‘Oh really?’ scoffed Mac. ‘Don’t tell me, personally working for Habibie, that it?’
Ali stared back, no comment.
‘Okay,’ said Mac, slightly intimidated by a direct approach from the President’s office. ‘What do you want?’
‘We need enough people in your DFAT and ASIS, and your armed forces, to see this. It’s genuine.’
‘Why not go direct to the Prime Minister’s office?’ asked Mac, confused now. Presidents dealt with prime ministers, not with spies crawling around in cemeteries, pretending to be sandalwood merchants.
‘No use,’ said Ali and shook his head. ‘The Australian government has been swayed by the generals’ propaganda, and the President is in no situation to stop this Operation Extermination. He wants a genuine ballot and a peaceful transition to independence if that’s what East Timor wants.’
‘He told our Prime Minister that?’
‘Sure,’ smiled Ali. ‘The ballot is being held at your government’s urging, remember?’
Mac nodded. ‘So the generals undermine the President, and -’
‘And your government sides with the generals, tells the world that the militias are not connected to the military, that it must be rogue elements, right?’ Ali said. ‘The President can’t do this alone from Jakarta – he needs Australian government help. If the Aussies will change, the Americans will also change their East Timor posture.’
‘Shit,’ said Mac, sensing a trick. ‘You’re good, mate. You’re very good.’
‘I can’t do anything more, except ask you to get this to the right people – people with open minds, if they still exist.’
‘So, you BAKIN?’ asked Mac, meaning Indonesia’s version of the CIA.
‘No,’ said Ali, lighting a new cigarette. ‘I was Kopassus intel -’
‘Oh, great,’ said Mac. ‘Now I’m feeling comfortable.’
‘But I became a military attaché and then diplomat under Soeharto, and I spent a decade in France in private business.’
‘So?’
‘So, I was asked to come back by my president – he needed an untainted intelligence operation that answered only to him. An inner circle.’
‘Secret too, right?’ smiled Mac.
‘I’m still alive aren’t I?’
Mac mulled on how quickly Ali would be assassinated if the generals knew he was doing secret intel work for Habibie.
‘So why me?’
Ali laughed, and looked down at the handgun that was still steady at Mac’s heart. ‘There is a Javanese saying that you need a pure heart to be a pure warrior.’
Now Mac laughed. ‘Mate, I’m no warrior – you know exactly what I am, so spare me the Asian proverbs.’ His head swam with the possibilities: did Indonesia have a person in Canberra or at the Aussie Embassy in Jakarta? Who had fingered Mac as a man not with the pro-Jakarta program?
‘You have the papers, they are genuine,’ said Ali, looking around for an exit. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you this, but you may as well hear it. I believe, from sources on the general staff, that the document I gave you is a false flag for another campaign.’
‘False flag? Inside the general staff?’ said Mac.
‘Maybe. They get the order signed off, so they’re legal and they cover themselves,’ said Ali. ‘But there’s either sections of the orders that most of the general staff haven’t seen, or there’s ambiguous clauses that let the rogues do what they want – you know how it works, McQueen.’
‘Sure, so what operation is being hidden by this false flag?’ he said, nodding at the
‘We translate them,’ said Ali. ‘And get them to your guys at the section in Jakarta.’
‘Really?’ said Mac, surprised.
‘Really.’
‘This one?’ asked Mac.
Ali paused, exhaled his smoke and finally broke his stare with Mac. ‘No, McQueen – not this one.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because your people aren’t interested,’ said Ali.
Mac blinked hard to maintain concentration. ‘You said we – who are you, Ali?’
‘I’m working for the President.’
‘Oh really?’ scoffed Mac. ‘Don’t tell me, personally working for Habibie, that it?’
Ali stared back, no comment.
‘Okay,’ said Mac, slightly intimidated by a direct approach from the President’s office. ‘What do you want?’
‘We need enough people in your DFAT and ASIS, and your armed forces, to see this. It’s genuine.’
‘Why not go direct to the Prime Minister’s office?’ asked Mac, confused now. Presidents dealt with prime ministers, not with spies crawling around in cemeteries, pretending to be sandalwood merchants.
‘No use,’ said Ali and shook his head. ‘The Australian government has been swayed by the generals’ propaganda, and the President is in no situation to stop this Operation Extermination. He wants a genuine ballot and a peaceful transition to independence if that’s what East Timor wants.’
‘He told our Prime Minister that?’
‘Sure,’ smiled Ali. ‘The ballot is being held at your government’s urging, remember?’
Mac nodded. ‘So the generals undermine the President, and -’
‘And your government sides with the generals, tells the world that the militias are not connected to the military, that it must be rogue elements, right?’ Ali said. ‘The President can’t do this alone from Jakarta – he needs Australian government help. If the Aussies will change, the Americans will also change their East Timor posture.’
‘Shit,’ said Mac, sensing a trick. ‘You’re good, mate. You’re very good.’
‘I can’t do anything more, except ask you to get this to the right people – people with open minds, if they still exist.’
‘So, you BAKIN?’ asked Mac, meaning Indonesia’s version of the CIA.
‘No,’ said Ali, lighting a new cigarette. ‘I was Kopassus intel -’
‘Oh, great,’ said Mac. ‘Now I’m feeling comfortable.’
‘But I became a military attaché and then diplomat under Soeharto, and I spent a decade in France in private business.’
‘So?’
‘So, I was asked to come back by my president – he needed an untainted intelligence operation that answered only to him. An inner circle.’
‘Secret too, right?’ smiled Mac.
‘I’m still alive aren’t I?’
Mac mulled on how quickly Ali would be assassinated if the generals knew he was doing secret intel work for Habibie.
‘So why me?’
Ali laughed, and looked down at the handgun that was still steady at Mac’s heart. ‘There is a Javanese saying that you need a pure heart to be a pure warrior.’
Now Mac laughed. ‘Mate, I’m no warrior – you know exactly what I am, so spare me the Asian proverbs.’ His head swam with the possibilities: did Indonesia have a person in Canberra or at the Aussie Embassy in Jakarta? Who had fingered Mac as a man not with the pro-Jakarta program?
‘You have the papers, they are genuine,’ said Ali, looking around for an exit. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you this, but you may as well hear it. I believe, from sources on the general staff, that the document I gave you is a false flag for another campaign.’
‘False flag? Inside the general staff?’ said Mac.
‘Maybe. They get the order signed off, so they’re legal and they cover themselves,’ said Ali. ‘But there’s either sections of the orders that most of the general staff haven’t seen, or there’s ambiguous clauses that let the rogues do what they want – you know how it works, McQueen.’
‘Sure, so what operation is being hidden by this false flag?’ he said, nodding at the
Similar Books
