“And I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Harconan grinned back.
“Chris, what’s the word on Commander Arkady?” Amanda inquired.
She caught the happy flash of the Intel’s smile. “He’s airborne out of Singapore and should be back aboard in another twenty minutes.
His SPEED Cobra is secure and one of our transports will be airlifting it back
to the States.”
Amanda nodded and shared in Christine’s smile.
“The rebel staff officers and Ketalaman’s body will also be flown out of Singapore,” MacIntyre added. “We’ll be taking them to Bali to be handed over to the Indonesian authorities for
trial.” The Admiral cleared his throat. “We’ve also received orders from the State Department. Mr. Harconan is to be
delivered on the same flight.”
The bridge went silent. “Ah well,” Harconan said finally. “‘All good things’, as the saying goes.”
“It’s not quite that simple, Mr. Harconan,” MacIntyre went on. “You’ve seen a number of things you weren’t supposed to. You’re aware of the existence of this ship and of this force and that complicates
the equation.”
Harconan shook his head soberly. “Not really, Admiral. I am in great debt to you and to this vessel. Would you
accept my word that I will not reveal any information about her, or the true
status of her captain?”
“Oddly enough, Mr. Harconan, I would,” MacIntyre replied with a grim smile. “But that still leaves us with orders to turn you over to the Kediri government.
I say again that I will personally see to it that you will receive every
possible legal consideration for the assistance you’ve given NAVSPECFORCE in this campaign.”
“And that goes for me as well, Makara,” Amanda added quietly. “I promise I won’t forget you.”
Once more there came that bold and knowing corsair’s grin that encompassed her. “And I promise that you won’t either, my queen.”
Harconan moved before anyone else could even make a start, turning and bolting for the open door to the portside bridge wing. Even as the Marines were fumbling for their sidearms, the taipan vaulted the bridge railing, launching himself into the pre-dawn darkness. By the time Amanda and the others could reach the bridge wing, there was only a pale splash on the surface of the sea, already sweeping aft.
“Stop all engines!” Amanda exclaimed. “Man overboard! Hard left rudder! Mr. Carstairs, start your recovery plot!
Whaleboat crews stand to, on the double …”
“Belay those orders!” Elliot MacIntyre’s bellow overrode Amanda’s yell. “Helm, hold your course!”
Amanda and Christine stared stunned at the Admiral. “We’ve loitered around out here for too long already, Captain,” he growled. “Our security is at risk. I’m ordering you to get this ship into Malacca Strait and the cover of the
shipping channels before full daylight.”
“But what about Harconan?” Christine asked.
“Commander, it’s an eight-storey drop from this bridge to the ocean’s surface,” MacIntyre replied, bracing a hand on the rail. “If the fall didn’t kill that aggravating bastard outright, then he was probably sucked into the
propellers. And, if that didn’t finish him, it’s a two-mile swim through shark infested waters to reach the nearest land. Any
way you look at it, the man’s dead and good riddance.”
Amanda exchanged glances with MacIntyre and, in the faint but growing predawn
light, she could make out a faint, wry smile. “Or at least that’s what we can tell the Indonesians.”
Disengagement of Forces
Merdeka Square
Jakarta, Indonesia
1000 Hours; Zone Time, November 23, 2008
Like a man regaining consciousness from a protracted fever nightmare, Jakarta was awakening. Ravaged, exhausted – but with its temperature broken – the patient had survived. The people who had stayed were back in the streets, rebuilding their lives, jobs and homes – and the people who had fled were returning.
There were no more riots or protests. For the most part, the Indonesian populace had become weary unto death of confrontation, politics and violence. At least for a time, they hungered for peace and order.
Ambassador Randolph Goodyard stood on the wall gangway of the American embassy, looking out across the square. He was back in Jakarta with a skeleton staff, albeit sleeping on a cot in his gutted office. As per expectation, the embassy compound had been well and thoroughly looted – but a platoon of Navy Seabees were hard at work, making preliminary repairs and serving as a temporary security force.
What was important was that the flagpole was still standing and the flag was flying. Everything else would come in time.
Goodyard and his people were not the only ones returning to their duties. Across the square, repairs and refurbishment were also underway at the battered presidential complex and the Ministry of Defense had taken over one of the abandoned business hotels as its ad hoc headquarters. The square itself was still dotted with the burned-out wreckage of military vehicles and one helicopter, but a military band stood by at the base of the smoke-stained MONAS spire, along with a small cluster of government and civil officials.
A Seabee petty officer climbed to the gangway beside the ambassador and saluted
smartly. “Sir, communications reports President Kediri’s helicopter is inbound at this time.”
“Thank you, son. My respects to Lieutenant Culbertson. Could he have my car
ready?”
“Right away, sir.”
Goodyard turned to the slight, elderly Papuan in the summer weight suit standing
at his side. “Mr. Ambassador, would you care to accompany me to greet the President?”
Chief Akima, the Ambassador General of the newborn Papuan Republic of New
Guinea, nodded gravely. “I would be most pleased to do so, Mr. Ambassador. My nation wishes to become a
good neighbor.”
The White House
Washington D.C.
0850 Hours, Zone Time, November 24, 2008
“What do you think, Harry?” the President asked, buttering half of a biscuit.
“I think it’s about as favorable an outcome as we could have asked for, sir,” Harrison Van Lynden replied from across the table covered with their working
breakfast. “At least in the short term. The Ketalaman military coup has collapsed and the
Kediri government has regained nominal control over most of the archipelago.
Sporadic fighting is continuing on Sumatra, with the Islamic radicalists
swearing the usual fight to the death – but they lost their best troops aboard the captured ferries, along with a large
number of their senior, most fanatical command cadre. It’ll knock the wind out of their sails for a while. The Indonesians won’t be able to eliminate the radicals totally, but the previous status quo should
be restored.”
“What about that nasty situation on Bali?”
“The purge is over and some of the Muslim Balinese are returning. Both sides in
the conflict, Hindu and Muslim, are recognizing how they were set up by
Ketalaman. There are genuine regrets for how things turned out. If Kediri
follows through with his promised semi-autonomy for the Balinese, I think the
fences can be mended.”
“If he follows through,” President Childress said pointedly, taking a bite out of his biscuit.
