Amanda nodded, her thoughts already distant. “Thank you, gentleman. Maintain the perimeter. I’ll be back shortly.”
“You figure on goin’ over to that beach by yourself, skipper?” Quillain asked.
“Yes.”
The Marine cut a sideways glance at Arkady. “Then I expect you figured wrong, ma’am. The Commander and I have discussed this matter to some extent and we figure
on coming right along with you.”
Diverted and annoyed, Amanda looked back. “You have my orders.”
“Yes, we do, Captain,” Arkady interjected. “And we intend to disregard them.”
“That could be construed as insubordination, if not mutiny, gentlemen.”
Arkady and Quillain looked at each other. “You’re absolutely right, Captain.”
Amanda started to explode, then caught herself. “Alright then,” she smiled wryly, “but I certainly don’t know what I’ve done to deserve so much personal concern on the part of so many people.”
Quillain chuckled lowly. “Oh, we’ll explain it to you as we go along.”
The path to the east beach began behind the main house, where the jungle was starting its reclamation. Still Amanda remembered it well: the orchid scents, the softness of the air, the looming presence of the trees. The last time she’d passed this way it had been a bright hot afternoon and she’d been wearing a swimsuit instead of camouflaged utilities. She’d also been a person surer of herself and more confident in the self-mastery of her soul.
Ten minutes later, they emerged onto the beach, the low inshore waves hissing up the broad sheet of black sand. She vividly remembered this place as well; she’d abandoned her swimsuit here as a needless burden on a perfect afternoon.
The bolt on Arkady’s P-90 rasped back. Wordlessly, he turned and dropped to one knee, covering the forest behind them. Quillain lifted his M-8 and scanned the beach through his night sights, the faint circle of green light projecting back from the aperture illuminating his narrowed eye.
“He’s out there,” he murmured. “About seventy-five yards down. Just at the tree line at the top of the beach. I’m only seein’ the one heat source.”
“Thank you, Stone. And now gentlemen, I will take it from here.”
She caught the flash of Arkady’s rogue’s grin. “Anything you say, Captain.”
She had started to move off when a soft whistle from Quillain caught her, “It’s not doin’ you any good in your holster, ma’am.”
She slid the SOC Model Colt .45 out of her belt and drew back the slide, jacking a shell into the chamber. As she walked up the sand, she could feel the invisible eye of the Marine’s rifle sights peering over her shoulder. She had to confess, albeit only to herself, that the presence of her two roughhewn guardian angels was something of a comfort.
Her boots hissed thinly through the dry sand. She was careful of her distance, and of keeping her dark-adapted eyes on the shadows, yet Harconan still took her by surprise.
“I think I prefer you dressed as you were the last time we met here.”
Startled, she looked down to find Harconan sitting cross-legged on the beach. From the angle of his silhouette, he had been looking out toward the sea.
“I’d prefer it myself,” she replied, recovering. “But nudity is not entirely practical at times.” She sank down six feet away, tucking her feet underneath her but keeping the automatic balanced on one knee.
“Practicality frequently does get into the way of good living,” he agreed. There was enough lingering horizon glow to make out the fine planed angularity of his features, and she felt the elemental stirring within her that his presence always triggered.
“You don’t need the gun, Amanda,” he continued, his voice lifting just over the roll of the surf. “There’s no trick here. No gambit is in play.”
“I’ve got to be sure of that, Makara.” In spite of all her assurances to Christine and MacIntyre, she maintained her
personal wariness. “After all, you’re a masterful liar. One of the best I’ve ever seen.”
“I will accept that as a compliment,” he chuckled. “But you are not entirely unskilled in the art yourself. I recall a parole that
was given and thoroughly violated at my base at Crab’s Claw Peninsula.”
Amanda shrugged. “I didn’t owe you anything, Makara. I was being held against my will and I’d given my oath to the navy and my country a long time before I ever made any
promises to you.”
“I quite understand. Honor can take several different formats. That’s why I hope you will accept this liar’s word when he says he tells you he’s speaking nothing but the absolute truth now. You can’t afford to not to believe me.”
“A liar’s word of honor? That’s an oxymoron applicable to both of us.”
“Then may I offer this as a pledge to honesty?” He took something from the pocket of his shirt and tossed it across to her. She caught it with her free hand and found that it was a CD case.
“I’ve already halted my arms shipments to all of the different insurgent groups. On
that disk you will find the GPS co-ordinates and inventories of all of my
remaining arms caches in the archipelago. Its accuracy should be easy enough to
verify. The only exceptions are the weapons stores being used by the Morning
Star Separatists in New Guinea. They are too close to their independence for me
to give them up.”
Amanda stowed it in a cargo pocket of her utilities. He was right; it would be
easy enough to verify. But somehow she already knew that the disk would be just
as represented. “All right, pledge accepted. But why, Makara? Just why?”
She suspected she already knew the answer, but she had to hear it from his own lips. She had to sense and learn the nuances of the exact scenario to judge the extent she could trust this man.
“I find I have an excellent reason, Amanda, the best possibly conceivable. The
simplest as well. Unfortunately, it will be the one most difficult for you to
believe.”
She tilted her head. “I’m listening.”
“Very well then. I was wrong.” Harconan scooped up a palmful of dark sand, letting it flow through his
fingers. “I was wrong and you were right. One bright clean slash of the sword resolves
nothing in these complex days. It only spills more blood.”
He caught up a second palmful, this time crushing it in a clenched fist. “I was wrong. I’m sorry now that I ever started this insanity and I want it stopped.” The taipan forced his hand open and poured the sand back onto the beach. “God, it sounds so incredibly puerile and pathetic when one says it that way.”
“It does seem to come rather late in the game,” she replied dryly. “Right when you’re on the verge of achieving what you’ve always wanted for Indonesia.”
“Damn it, Amanda, this is not what I wanted! I wanted the Indonesian peoples out
from under Jakarta’s thumb, not set at each other’s throats. I didn’t want an oppressive government replaced with a total dictatorship. I didn’t want Bali!”
She let him wait for a few seconds before answering, “All right. I can possibly buy that. Do you know about the man who does want all of this? This Admiral Ketalaman?”
