Mark Abernethy - Double back

‘Rifle – M16 I think. Through the thigh muscle,’ grunted Didge, staunch in spite of the pain.

There was a small commotion and then a group of four men entered the camp, senior by the look of how their captors came to attention. After some muffled discussions in the darkness, Mac saw the glow of the Nikon’s viewing panel light up.

Mac’s adrenaline surged as the chatter around the Nikon became animated. He held his breath, waiting for one of them to take exception to what he’d been photographing.

Finally the tall figure in dark fatigues who was handling the camera came out of the darkness and crouched where Mac could see his face.

‘Well, Mr Richard,’ he said, holding a Browning handgun at Mac’s throat. ‘Decided to return to sunny Timor-Leste?’

‘Well it’s cheaper than Bali,’ said Mac with no conviction. ‘How you been, anyway, Joao?’

A huge explosion shook the trees and they looked down at the Lombok facility, parts of which were now engulfed in flames.

‘So tell me what you saw down there, Mr Richard,’ said Joao.

‘The buildings you can see house an official vaccine program, registered with the WHO and everything,’ said Mac.

‘Vaccine program?’ asked Joao.

‘Yeah, but there’s a hidden underground facility. It’s three, four times as big as the one you can see. I thought it was a drug lab, but there’s a lot of people down there.’

‘People?’ said Joao.

‘Hundreds – I think they’re being used for testing,’ said Mac, still trying to work it out for himself.

‘Testing? What, they’re guinea pigs for the vaccine?’ asked Joao, even and calm.

‘I don’t know – that’s what the pics are for,’ said Mac, working towards an information swap that would set them free and perhaps create the diversion he needed for the Blackbird snatch.

‘Alive?’ asked Joao.

‘Some,’ said Mac. ‘About eighty or so.’

‘So people are dying from this vaccine?’ asked Joao.

‘Too early to tell,’ nodded Mac. ‘We saw a lot of bodies being loaded onto the back of a truck, taken to the incinerator.’

‘A vaccine that kills people? Sounds more like a weapon,’ said Joao.

Pausing at Joao’s comment, Mac wondered; surely the Indonesians wouldn’t have a bio-weapons program.

‘I understand this vaccine covers the super-pneumonia they’re calling SARS,’ said Mac. ‘Maybe they’re using their manmade SARS on human beings to create a better vaccine? Either way, it’s entirely illegal.’

Going silent for a moment, Joao grew pensive as he looked down at the burning hulk of Lombok AgriCorp. ‘Is this anything to do with the camp we found behind Memo?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Mac, slightly taken aback.

Looking over his shoulder, Joao called forth one of his lieutenants and issued a command which saw some of his men run off into the bush.

‘You’re not a salesman, I take it?’ said Joao, watching a posse of Falintil run from the jungle and race towards the Lombok buildings. Soon they were leading their comrades towards the ventilators in the paddock. Although annoyed at being made, Mac was elated that some survivors would get out of there.

‘Look, Joao, we’re friendlies, okay? We’re on the same side – those were Indonesians who shot Didge down there,’ said Mac, trying to work out if divulging the Blackbird gig to Joao might help him. ‘And we’ve got business in Maliana.’

In the distance, the sound of helos boomed against the hills, signalling that the Indonesian Army’s Kodim 1636 in Maliana was mobilised. That wasn’t totally bad news for Mac so long as he could get himself and his escort out of the area before the soldiers came and engaged the Falintil fighters.

‘Maliana’s hot,’ said Joao, still observing Mac with scepticism.

‘I don’t have a choice,’ said Mac.

‘Who?’ asked Joao.

‘No one important,’ said Mac.

‘I’ve got the gun, Mr Richard. And I have every reason to shoot you.’

‘What was I going to do with eighty people, Joao?’ snapped Mac, knowing he sounded guilty.

‘Letting them go home would have been a start,’ said Joao.

‘They wouldn’t have got home, Joao, and you know it,’ said Mac.

‘Okay,’ nodded the guerrilla. ‘But standing there, taking their photo – that was the best you could do?’

The helos’ thromping was coming closer and Mac could see the lights of four of the aircraft heading their way.

‘Could have done much better than that, Joao,’ agreed Mac.

Joao was quiet, thinking, and Mac decided to try another tack. ‘Well, that’s me, mate – what are your guys doing here?’

Joao’s face darkened. ‘Some of the southcoast villages have been losing people – they’ve been disappearing. That camp at Memo was a dead-end, right, but then we got word that they were also being taken here.’

Mac waited, sensing he shouldn’t push any further.

‘You’ve put me in a position,’ snarled Joao. ‘I’ve got an Aussie spy and Aussie soldiers working undercover in the jungle, and by morning half of Falintil is going to be saying that you stood by and took photos of genocide – of our people!’

‘Look, Joao -’

‘And these same people kidnapped a couple of local boys, faked their deaths, made their families think they’d gone.’

‘Okay, so -’

‘And by the time that story has gone around the island, they’re going to be asking one question.’

‘Joao -’

‘They gonna say, Why the priest let those Aussies go? Why they not pig-food? ’

‘Okay, mate,’ said Mac. ‘But let the soldiers go, okay? They’re just an escort and they wanted to open those doors, let the prisoners go free.’

‘Really?’ said Joao.

‘Yes, and I argued it would compromise all of us – no way the Indonesians would allow those people to tell the world what happened. They’d be caught and shot.’

Joao stood silently as the helos flared over the Lombok buildings. Mac could see he was tired and angry. Looking Mac in the eye, Joao stepped forward and held his Browning to Mac’s forehead. Closing his eyes, Mac prepared for death as he decided to try one final option.

‘Does Falintil need money?’ asked Mac, opening one eye. ‘US dollars, cash, tax-free?’

‘US dollars?’ asked Joao, pulling the gun’s muzzle away from Mac’s skin.

‘One hundred thousand now – could be as much as two million later,’ said Mac as he exhaled.

Joao made a face that said Don’t manipulate me you arrogant Australian prick. Lack of funds was always a big issue for Falintil, especially if independence should win the day in the East Timor ballot. It was one thing to have an independent new nation, but without a financial base the Falintil freedom fighters would lose the subsequent political battle to the returning bankers, industrialists and powerful families – all the elites who cleared out in 1975.

‘And let me guess, Mr Richard – you show me how to get this money, and you get to live, right?’

‘Could be a plan,’ said Mac, smiling thinly.

‘Just a pity more Timorese don’t have that kind of cash floating around, eh Mr Richard? Wouldn’t have to sit in a cage, being fed a disease.’

‘Falintil’s going to need cash for East Timor’s new nationhood,’ said Mac, trying not to seem cocky. ‘You don’t win the peace – you buy it.’

‘You think I needed a privileged white man to tell me that?’ asked Joao, shouldering Mac out of the way as he left.

Sitting with the commandos, Mac tried to send his photos while Toolie rechecked Didge’s wound. At the base of the hill, fighting still raged, most of it now underground.