“I know!” Amanda snapped back. “I’ve heard his intentions and his goals from his own lips and I know that this
action is simply not right for the man.”
MacIntyre stared out of his screen at her. “And are you sure you know the man that well?”
She met his glare head on. Suddenly, and for one flaring moment, it wasn’t about Indonesia or military strategy and tactics. “Damn it, Elliot, I slept with the man! If anybody in the world has the right to
say they know Harconan’s mind, it would be me.”
“That’s right, Amanda.” MacIntyre’s voice was dead cold. “You did sleep with him.”
“On several occasions.” Amanda braced her hands on the edge of the desk and held MacIntyre’s eyes. “And you knew that, Elliot, and you still gave me Phantom and sent me in here to
kill him. Now is one hell of a time to start questioning my judgment in this
matter!”
The three-way circuit was silent for what seemed a long time. Then Christine
Rendino spoke. “Admiral, a while ago I was reminded of an Intelligence truism. When there is a
deviation from an established norm for no apparent reason, then there must be a
reason that isn’t apparent.” She took a breath. “Amanda’s theory of a third faction could account for a number of inexplicable events we’ve seen recently, like the sinking of that Indonesian task force in the Banda
Sea. If you were to ask me to make a professional assessment of this third
faction theory, I would have to say that it could very well be valid.”
“Very well.” MacIntyre had yielded his position. “Let’s grant the possibility. But we’re still operating with just opinion – damn it, Amanda, even if it is yours and Christine’s. We don’t have anything solid to go on.”
Amanda could only shrug. “You’re absolutely right,” she replied quietly. “But opinion is all we have right now. If we wait until we have something more
concrete, we’re going to lose. It’s death or glory time. We can cover our collective asses or we can try and win
this damn war. We have to decide now.”
MacIntyre sat back and ran a hand through his iron-streaked hair. “So, let’s assume that we have a third faction in play. What do we do about it? Amanda,
the keystone of this theory is essentially your personal assessment of
Harconan. Are you sure enough on this assessment to be willing operate on it?”
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have approached you with it,” she replied somberly.
MacIntyre studied her for a moment more. Then he sighed and a wry, self-derisive
smile crept across his face. “All right, Amanda. I suppose I’ve come too far to change horses at this late date. But, even if I might buy
this package, I can promise you that it won’t sell in Washington. We’re going to need to show proof of the existence of this third faction to the
State Department and the National Command Authority. And that doesn’t even begin to address the question of what we might be able to do about it, if
they’re even willing to try.”
“I suggest we eat the apple one bite at a time,” Amanda replied, sinking back into her desk chair. “Over the short term, we have to buy ourselves and the Kediri government some
breathing room until the situation clarifies and we can develop the necessary
evidence to prove the existence of this third faction. Do we still have our
covert orders to prevent the breakup of the Indonesian government?”
MacIntyre lifted an eyebrow. “Those have not yet been altered to the best of my knowledge.”
“Then that gives us our sanction to act.”
“What do you propose?”
“That we take a little detour on the road to Bali.”
Somewhere Within the Moluku Island Group.
2150 Hours; Zone Time, October 25, 2008
Makara Harconan glanced out of his bedroom window, the one that looked out across the inlet. The big twin-engined Canadair amphibian was just touching down on the glassy waters, its wake a white streak in the starlight.
They would have to refuel the plane before departure. He still had a few minutes.
Zipping up the single waterproof diver’s carryall he would take with him, he slid the big Browning Hi-power under the waistband of his jeans, distributing the stack of fifteen round magazines among the pockets of his safari jacket. Then, taking up the bag, he strode into the main room of the plantation house.
Lo and half a dozen of his silent Nung bodyguards stood there, the Nungs clad in camouflage with assault rifles and sub-machineguns slung over their shoulders.
“The plane has arrived, sir,” Lo said quietly. “We’re in contact with the Sangeang raider group and they’ll be standing by at the rendezvous point. As per your orders, all uncommitted
clan vessels in the Java and Flores Seas and in the lesser Sundas are
converging on Bali.”
“What’s the situation on the island itself?”
“Continuing to deteriorate. Our colonies are evacuating to Flores and Sulawesi
using their own sea craft. Our armed cells have gone active and are covering
the withdrawal, engaging Hindu extremist groups where necessary.”
“What about the government security forces on the island?”
“Overwhelmed, sir, and crippled by sabotage. For all intents and purposes, they
no longer exist.”
“I never thought to hear myself saying this about the police, but that’s unfortunate. Lo, make sure our captains know they’re to lift out anyone who wishes to leave Bali; Muslim, Christian, Hindu, anyone
who wishes to go. This is a command of the Raja Samudra.”
“It shall be done, Mr. Harconan.” The Chinese hesitated, subtleties of expression hinting at some massive
internal struggle. “Mr. Harconan, I must protest this action on your part as … imprudent.”
Such a thing was unheard of and Harconan smiled. “Why so, bapak?”
“By moving out of concealment, by resuming active command of the clans in this
manner, you are placing yourself at risk, sir. Grievously so.”
“Possibly, but I suspect that both the government and the other regional powers
have other concerns at the moment.”
“But what of this third faction, Mr. Harconan? We have yet to determine their
identities, their capabilities or their intentions toward you.”
“None of the answers will be good, I suspect, but we shall see. At any rate, it’s irrelevant at the moment. I can’t deal with this situation hiding out here like an old orangutan in his tree. I’ve got to be with my captains. I’ve got to regain control of this situation. And that reminds me – have we discontinued all arms deliveries to everyone except the Morning Stars
and our own clanspeople?’
“As per your orders, Mr. Harconan,” Lan Lo replied. “But I submit to you that the situation on Bali has passed beyond any man’s control, including your own.”
“Very possibly, but a man must try.” Harconan hesitated. “What is the latest from Intelligence Group Amanda?”
“The Galaxy Shenandoah has just taken its departure from the anchorage at Pulau Seribu and is
apparently leaving Indonesian Waters.”
“And there was no indication of … abnormalities?”
“No sir, all collected Intelligence indicates that Captain Garrett is merely a
merchant marine officer and her ship a common freighter.”
Harconan grimaced and shook off a random hope. “It is a true thing, Lo. You must be careful about what you wish for – for the Gods may be cruel and grant you your wish.” He hesitated. “Mind things here, Lo. I must be going.”
