by Roland Perry
‘Use it if we’re followed,’ he said. Webb glared, and the tension between them was apparent to Cardinal. He and Charlie were told to lie flat as the boat picked up speed.
They had been going an hour when Webb tapped Cardinal on the shoulder, and he lifted his head to see a large crocodile on the bank. It moved like a race horse until it plunged into the river.
‘He better not come too close to this rubber duckie,’ Webb said. ‘Don’t fancy underwater ballet.’ Cardinal smiled.
They thumped along with the outboard at full throttle. A retort echoed behind them, and the water less than ten metres away rippled as a bullet drowned. Perdonny took the Zodiac closer to shore.
‘Over there!’ Cardinal said, pointing. A power boat swung around a bend in the river not one hundred metres behind them. Webb propped and fired the rifle three times, sending a flock of parakeets screaming skywards. There was an explosion from the pursuing craft as it swung out of control and sent up a wall of water.
‘That’ll slow them up!’ Webb yelled.
They were within striking distance of the small pier leading to Charlie’s hut. The tailing boat came into sight again. Webb lifted the rifle and, after taking careful aim, fired twice more. It made the power boat slow down.
Perdonny drove the Zodiac on to a beach, causing the engine to scrape against rocks and stall. They leapt ashore. Perdonny and Webb helped Cardinal while Charlie disappeared into his hut. With the plane only a hundred metres away, Cardinal and Perdonny stumbled on while Webb fired at the boat. It pitched and bounced near the abandoned Zodiac. The boat made a hasty, tight turn and retreated down-river another two hundred metres.
Webb dashed for the plane and was turning on the ignition as Perdonny helped Cardinal aboard. Webb had placed the rifle on the seat next to him. Perdonny grabbed it and began re-loading. Webb glared at him. The plane jumped forward.
‘Get us up!’ Perdonny ordered. ‘I’ll look after this!’ He pushed a window flap open, shoved the gun out and fired into the jungle. No one was yet in sight.
Webb taxied his plane as far as he dared into the undergrowth, and then the Beachcraft began its take off. The soft earth had Webb cursing, but the plane built power over the rough surface. It lifted with a wobble and a lurch that left their stomachs on the ground. It struggled to gain just enough height to clear the hut and trees.
Cardinal saw the flash of rifle fire seconds before cloud swallowed the Beachcraft. Webb yelled with relief as he jockeyed the aircraft above the cloud layer.
‘Say goodbye to Ambon,’ Webb said to Perdonny. ‘You may not be seeing it for some time.’
‘Just get us to Darwin,’ Perdonny said, giving Cardinal a sideways glance.
‘It’s a gamble,’ Webb declared after listening on his headphones. ‘Distance against time. Our main problem is Timor. They have military planes there. If someone raises the alarm before we hit Aussie waters, we’ll be shark bait!’
Thirty-five minutes later, Webb gave a whoop of delight.
I’ve got Darwin!’ he cried. ‘We can expect an escort!’
‘Ten o’clock!’ Perdonny shouted, and showing an unusual amount of animation, pointed to the horizon. Two specks grew into jet fighters with RAAF markings.
‘Shit!’ Webb said, pointing.
An Indonesian MIG fighter swooped under them. ‘Christ! It’s going to engage them.’
They watched as the MIG climbed towards the Australian fighters. Suddenly it banked and headed for cloud-cover. Through the static of the radio, Webb could hear the leader of the RAAF fighters warning the MIG that it was over Australian waters. They had made it.
9
The cool bush air was refreshing as Rhonda eased her car up the steep drive to Bill Hewson’s house at Eltham, east of Melbourne. It had been carved out of a thickly-forested hill of eucalypts.
Hewson had avoided seeing her in the usual places, but had finally invited her to his home. He had given her a strange route down dirt tracks, and she wondered if he always asked visitors to go through such a maze. Hewson proudly showed her over the house, which he had designed himself. Apart from the polished pine walls, Rhonda found it a little sterile and pristine, a reflection, she thought, of his clinical mind. A saving grace to her was a superb library of books and classical records.
‘They’ve all been catalogued,’ Hewson said, when Rhonda remarked on the number of volumes he had.
‘Of course,’ she said, thinking of her messy study, ‘just like my library.’
Hewson took her outside to a crescent-shaped pool, which formed a half moat around the rear of the house and acted as a firebreak. Bush-fires were always a threat when Melbourne scorched in February.
‘I wish you would drop the project,’ he told her. They sat down to champagne by the pool.
‘I thought you had been encouraging me.’
‘I had helped because you wanted it.’
‘Well, I’m asking again now.’
Hewson looked away. He seemed troubled. ‘I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. You’re into dangerous territory.’
‘I know I’m not making a fashion documentary. I was tailed in Sydney. Think it was the same van that followed Ken.’
Hewson looked at her. His eye was more unnerving than ever. ‘You may be under constant surveillance.’
‘No one followed me here. I nearly got lost following your bloody dirt tracks.’
Hewson beckoned her to a telescope which he angled towards the city. ‘You can see the main road from here.’
Rhonda put her eye to it. She adjusted the focus and settled on a car waiting by the side of the road.
‘You were followed,’ he said.
‘That Jaguar?’
‘Yes. I watched you turn off. It was a few seconds behind. It gave up after another kilometre or so and went back to the main road.’
‘At least they’re using a car in keeping with their quarry this time,’ she said.
‘You’ll have to take another route home.’
‘Who is it?’
‘I really can’t tell you.’
Rhonda straightened up. ‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘I’m advising you to stay away from this.’
Rhonda resumed her seat and the champagne. ‘Can’t and won’t,’ she said. ‘Are you going to help or not?’
Hewson sat down and studied her. ‘Really, you won’t get far anyway. The whole ball game has shifted. Our American cousins have informed us they think Richardson’s hijacked uranium has been flown to Kampuchea.’
‘Where, in Kampuchea?’
Hewson excused himself and returned with a map of South-East Asia. He placed a finger on the Cardomom Mountains near the Thai border and the Gulf of Thailand.
‘You won’t get a film crew in there,’ he said. ‘If the Khmer Rouge don’t get you, the Vietnamese will. Forget it.’
‘Can I ask what your info’s based on?’
‘Satellite photos.’
‘Who were the hijackers?’
‘The Khmer Rouge.’
‘I’ve been told that there was some kind of co-operation between the Americans and Khmer Rouge,’ she probed.
‘Was is the operative word. There may have been a split.’
‘Is that why the CIA has passed on these photos?’
‘Probably.’
‘Then wouldn’t it be useful for me to continue the project?’
‘Don’t be naive, Rhonda. Your story would expose the CIA’s follies. They hardly want that public’
‘So you want to cut me off because you’re back in bed with the CIA.’
Hewson flushed. ‘I don’t want you getting in too deep. I like you. It’s my duty to warn you.’
Rhonda waited. She could see he was troubled.
‘It’s all getting nasty,’ he said, grimacing. ‘The unofficial Kampuchean Embassy in Jakarta suffered an attack earlier in the week. Now it has been evacuated, according to our Jakarta Embassy.’
‘Anyone killed?
’
‘One person. An important Khmer Rouge leader was also hit and wounded. His name is Chan.’
Rhonda fidgeted.
‘Thought you might be interested in that.’
‘This Chan survived?’
Hewson nodded. ‘Whatever happened has also upset Utun,’ he said. ‘The Bandung reactor has been sealed off. So has the Van der Holland home nearby. We think the Khmer Rouge cleared out with a little excess baggage.’
‘Hartina?’
‘Your guess is as good as ours on that one,’ Hewson said phlegmatically. ‘Suffice to say that Utun is not happy with the Khmer Rouge or the CIA. The CIA is unhappy with Utun and the Khmer Rouge. So everybody is accusing everybody else, and we have been listening to all the bitching. The Russians are laughing and so are the French.’
‘I can understand the Russian position,’ Rhonda said, ‘but why should the French be so happy?’
Hewson opened his hands. ‘The Khmer Rouge and the French have always had a special relationship. Pol Pot and company have maintained it since their student days. The French are very interested in a pay off.’
‘With the Americans out of the picture?’
‘Put it this way. If Van der Holland is caught up with the Khmer Rouge, she would only be there for one purpose: to develop laser technology. The French would like a share of it. They’ve been more interested in laser weaponry than just about anyone.’
Rhonda examined the stem of her glass.
‘Australia’s involved because two of our best people have gone missing,’ Hewson said.
Rhonda had extracted much more from Hewson than she had expected. It was time to leave. She used the telescope to take one last look. The Jaguar was still there.
Perdonny and Webb flew to Sydney for a debriefing by ASIO; Cardinal stayed a night in Darwin and Burra invited him to his house for a meal.
‘Judy is bloody inquisitive,’ Burra said as they dined. The old woman skulked away from the dinner table and sat in front of television. ‘She asks too many questions.’
‘Like what?’
‘She wanted to know if you were still having trouble at night, with those nightmares.’
‘Did I talk in my sleep?’ Cardinal asked her.
She muttered to herself, her eyes fixed on television.
‘My people, especially her generation,’ Burra said, ‘place enormous store in dreaming.’
‘So you said about Jimmy Goyong,’ Cardinal prompted.
‘You don’t want to know about that stuff,’ Burra said, zipping the top of another beer for both of them. ‘You would find it bullshit.’
Cardinal glanced at Judy. ‘I am still having trouble with those damned dreams.’
She half turned her head, the black sockets of her eyes glaring at her son-in-law.
‘Can I tell you about them?’ Cardinal asked.
Judy looked straight at him. She stood up and joined him at the table. Burra handed her a can. Cardinal told them of the dream where the figure was half buried.
‘The earth is symbolic of death to Aborigines,’ Burra explained. ‘Those nightmares mean that you and your son are in danger.’
Cardinal looked at Judy. ‘Is that why I tried to pull him from the grave . . . the earth?’
Judy listened with her eyes. ‘It’s broader than that. It suggests that your son’s life is on a road of self-destruction, and yours too, if you continue the way you are going.’
‘My whole life?’ Cardinal asked. ‘Or my current problem?’
‘Your dreams reflect your whole life,’ Burra said. ‘But it does not mean you cannot change direction.’
‘I want to know one other thing,’ Cardinal said. ‘Does all this dreaming mean I’m obsessed? Does it mean I can’t face my son’s death, or what?’
Judy responded.
‘She says you doubt he is dead,’ Burra explained, ‘and that you should stop having doubts and follow your instincts.’
Cardinal opened another can of beer.
‘We believe that all the symbols of our dreams are universal,’ Burra said. ‘We believe in a sort of universal, unconscious truth that all men know in their hearts and minds if they search for it.’
‘You said something like that before,’ Cardinal said, ‘that dreaming provides the clues to reality.’
Burra nodded.
‘In that case,’ Cardinal said, turning to Judy, ‘you are telling me I know the truth.’
She stared at him.
‘You are saying Harry is alive.’
Judy shook her grey, lank hair. ‘No. You are telling you.’
‘What do you think they’ll do about the Khmer Rouge?’ Webb said to Perdonny as their plane approached Sydney. ‘Would they consider taking out their base in the Cardomom mountains?’
‘You mean use commandos?’ Perdonny said.
‘That’s what they’re trained for.’
‘No,’ Perdonny said. ‘That won’t be an option. For one thing, the Khmer Rouge control a big section of those mountains. They’ll have dug in against the Vietnamese. If they can’t dislodge the Khmer Rouge, then not even ten Australian commando forces could. For another thing, the whole area will be crawling with Vietnamese troops. They’re on the offensive, it’s the dry season. Any effort by us to go in would meet dual opposition from the Khmers and the Vietnamese.’
‘But surely something will be done,’ Webb said. ‘I can’t see ASIO and the CIA sitting on their bums knowing that our uranium and scientists are there!’
‘I doubt there’ll be much co-operation with the CIA,’ Perdonny said. ‘Besides, any attack on the mountain base could endanger the scientists.’
‘But something has to be done!’ Webb said. ‘Otherwise the Vietnamese will take out the base.’
‘They could if they located it.’
‘Do you think Harry Cardinal is with the Khmer Rouge?’
‘It is a big problem if both he and Van der Holland have been captured. The CIA is worried.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, why else would it be scrambling to get our help? Things are out of hand.’
‘I would love to get into those damned mountains,’ Webb said.
Perdonny gave him a quizzical look. ‘You’re crazy, Spider! Do you want to commit suicide?’
Webb’s large nose bent as he broke into a mysterious grin. ‘Not necessarily. We have been told the French may be trying to fill the support vacuum for the Khmer Rouge.’
‘So?’
‘So the French will have to send somebody to negotiate,’ Webb said. ‘We could intercept them.’
‘How the hell would we do that?’
‘It’s not so tough, Robert. If the CIA had a connection to the Khmers, as you suspected, they would have had contacts in Bangkok or in the Khmer Rouge refugee camps on the Thai-Kampuchean border. The French will go to the same people.’
‘Okay,’ Perdonny said, in a less sceptical note. ‘Suppose we found the French, intercepted them, and even posed as them with the Khmer Rouge representatives in the camp . . .”
‘And they led us into the mountains,’ Webb interjected, ‘to the Khmer base.’
‘I’m intrigued. What then? What if we got agents in? What could they do? Wipe out the base and grab Van der Holland and the yellowcake and make an escape?’
‘No. But those observers could gain enough intelligence on the route, and the base, to prepare something bigger.’
Perdonny was sceptical.
‘Don’t you think we owe it to Van der Holland and Ken Cardinal’s son, if he is alive, to try to help them?’ Webb asked.
‘Why the change in attitude?’ Perdonny said. ‘You weren’t so gung-ho about helping Cardinal.’
‘I thought Bum was a suicide mission,’ Webb said. ‘You knew the damned place. You had been there before.’
‘Well, do you know Kampuchea?’
‘You bet your sweet Ambonese arse I do!’ Webb said.
Cardinal awoke with the early morni
ng sun streaming through the balcony window of his son’s Bronte home. Rhonda was asleep next to him, and although he was far from content he was riding high: he had survived Buru.
Cardinal made fresh filtered coffee and sat on the balcony watching surfers. A strong breeze was building consistent waves. He was joined by Rhonda who draped an arm around him and kissed him.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Cardinal said.
‘Why would you actually use your brain on a lovely morning like this?’ Rhonda said with a laugh.
He smiled.
‘Okay, Mr Art Dealer, what’s on that complex mind of yours?’ she said, kissing his forehead.
‘This interview you want,’ he said, ‘I can’t do it.’
‘Why not?’
‘I still want to find Harry, if I can. Publicity is not what I need.’
‘All I want is to do the interview with you. We don’t broadcast it until you’re satisfied and ready.’
‘Have you that much editorial control?’
‘All you have to do is stipulate the conditions you want, and I’ll get them. And there’s money in it for you.’
Cardinal looked surprised.
‘This is an exclusive. We are not a poor network. The exclusivity is worth much to us.’
Cardinal drew breath. ‘I don’t want to disclose too much. I was, after all, a wanted man. I’m a fugitive from the Indonesians.’
‘Have you done anything wrong?’
‘If I have, would you want to expose it?’
‘Not if it got you into trouble.’
‘But can’t you see? It would cause me problems!’
‘Did you shoot Chan?’
‘If I had, would you want it to be known?’
Rhonda did not know what to say.
‘I wouldn’t want that sort of notoriety,’ he said.
‘But the world would support your action!’ Rhonda said, testing him. ‘You would be seen as a hero. God! How many people would have the guts to track down someone like Chan?’
