“Oh yes.” She could hear the bleakness in his voice. “I suspect that I helped to create him. Admiral Merpati Ketalaman, the commander
of the Indonesian Western Fleet Area, was one of my more useful tools in the
days of my piracy cartel. I recall I was rather smug about his purchase. He was
my prized shadow puppet within the Indonesian military – but, in my smugness, I never calculated that my little wayang kulit might take on a life of his own. His military coup against the Kediri government
was no doubt partially financed by my bribe money.”
“What did you ever expect, Makara?” Amanda mused. “Did you actually think that that you were the only man with grand ambitions?
Didn’t you realize that such men always come out from under the rocks when someone
lets loose chaos and anarchy?”
“I’m afraid I couldn’t be bothered with such details,” Harconan mocked himself bitterly. “I had my eye fixed on greater things.”
“Marvelous! Well, now that you’ve let the genie out of the bottle, what do you want me to do about it?”
“Help me to stop him. Or rather, let me help you.”
Amanda snorted. “You mean you want to come over to the side of the angels at this late date?
Admitting you’re a damned fool is a gesture in the right direction, Makara, but it still doesn’t make me believe you.”
Harconan’s head came around angrily. “You want more proof? You can have it. You must know about the shelling at Port
Paotere on Sulawesi. That was aimed at me, Amanda, personally, to bring both my
organization and myself under Ketalaman’s heel. He’s putting his knife to the throat of the Bugi people. My people, Amanda! He’s threatening to make them a hate target along with the Balinese unless I
support him!”
“The puppet seeking to control the puppet master. I can appreciate that you could
be a useful individual to have on a leash, Makara.” She kept her reply casual, almost airy, goading at the taipan’s frustration level. “But it’s still not enough.”
“Damn it, Amanda! What do you want me to say?”
“Why!” she demanded mercilessly. If she wished, she could call this her revenge for what had happened to her on this self-same beach a few months ago.
Harconan personalized his leadership. He saw the people he ruled and commanded as people, not as a faceless group or organization. It was a far more difficult mode of leadership, especially when one’s trade was war – Amanda understood this full well for this was her brand of leadership as well.
To flip his switch so radically, there must have been a personal reason, a blood reason, beyond mere strategy, tactics or clan alliances. If there wasn’t, then Elliot and Chris were right and this was all some elaborate scheme.
“Why, Makara?”
“Do you remember my factotum, Mr. Lo?” Harconan’s voice was toneless.
“The little Straits Chinese gentleman I met here on Pilau Piri?”
“Yes. Lan Lo was a servant in my parent’s house before I was born. He was my personal tutor and oversaw my education
from my earliest days. When I entered the family businesses and began to
rebuild the Harconan Empire, he was my counselor, my assistant, my guide and
the one individual whom I could totally and without question trust in all
things. He was a brilliant man. Brilliant! He could have effortlessly become a
man of wealth and power in his own right, but instead he chose to serve me.” Amanda felt the brush of something cold. “What happened?”
“I had a concealed command base in the Spice Islands. Ketalaman located it. His
people moved in to seize me, but it happened that I wasn’t present. I’d left to oversee the evacuation operations in Bali, leaving Lan Lo in charge.” Harconan paused. “Lo died, Amanda. I don’t know if he was killed or if … something else happened, but he died.” That coldness and an echo of some vast internal pain were in Harconan’s voice now. “I have loved two men in my life, Amanda. One was my mother’s father, the Bugi clan chief who taught me about the sea and ships and about
who I am. The other was my friend, Lan Lo.” Once more, he dug his fingers into the sand. “For Lo, I will end the madness I have started – and destroy the man who killed him. Please help me do this thing, Amanda. I can’t do it alone.”
Amanda uncrossed her legs and got back to her feet. Snapping on her pistol’s safety, she slid it back into her belt holster.
“Now I can believe you,” she replied, holding out her hand.
The USS Shenandoah
Off the Northwestern Coast of Bali
2233 Hours, Zone Time, November 2, 2008
Hydraulics moaned as the aircraft elevator sank to the hangar deck level, the MacGregor hatch sliding closed over the recovered SPEED Hawk.
The interior of the bay went to white lighting, and Christine Rendino and Elliot MacIntyre looked on as the side hatches of the helicopter slid open, the Intel with interest, the Admiral stone-faced.
Amanda hopped lightly down to the deck, Stone Quillain following a few moments
later. The third figure followed with greater caution, hampered by a blindfold.
Amanda led him across to the small reception committee. “Admiral MacIntyre, I believe you remember Makara Harconan.”
Still blindfolded, Harconan extended his hand. After a hesitation, MacIntyre positioned himself to accept the handshake. “I remember Mr. Harconan quite vividly,” he said.
“As I remember the Admiral,” Harconan replied with a slight smile. “Especially our meeting at Crab’s Claw peninsula. Your application of the Campbeltown maneuver was most
masterful. I look forward to working with you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Harconan,” MacIntyre replied grimly. “As for the rest, that’s yet to be seen.”
Amanda turned to Stone and the assembled Force Recon Marines. “Captain Quillain, would you see about appropriate quarters for our guest,
please?”
Stone already knew what she meant by “appropriate.” Harconan would be given a guest cabin within the hold section, but there would be a Sea Devil sentry at his door at all times and he would be held isolated and incommunicado from the rest of the ship until further notice.
Quillain nodded and clamped a massive hand on Harconan’s shoulder. “Yes, ma’am. If you’d come this way, sir.”
“It’s unlikely I could refuse the invitation, Captain. Good evening, Amanda … Admiral.”
MacIntyre waited for a few moments until Quillain and his charge were out of
hearing range, then turned on Amanda. “Captain, you’re with me. We need to talk.”
“Yes sir,” she replied, returning his gaze levelly. “We do.”
Christine Rendino, who had been fervently trying to imitate a patch of paint on the bulkhead, took a deep breath. With his flight helmet cradled under one arm, Vince Arkady came to stand beside her. “Why do I think there’s a lot more going on here than I know about?” he asked, looking after the two departing senior officers.
“Fa’sure, you don’t even want to know,” Christine replied, claiming his free arm with her own. “Take me to the geedunk shop, Vincent. I urgently require a chocolate cherry
fudge milkshake and let’s make it a double.”
*
MacIntyre held off until the soundproof door of the owner’s cabin closed behind them. “I don’t know about this, Amanda. We’ve just gone through some the most elaborate security evolutions since the
Manhattan Project to build the Shenandoah and here you are, dragging the enemy right back to our decks!”
“His people have no idea where he is,” Amanda replied, turning to face him, her hands braced on her hips. “Neither does he for that matter. He’s been blindfolded ever since we departed Pulau Piri. As long as we keep him
below decks in the hold section, all he can ever say for sure is that he was
held aboard a large US man of war.”
“Given your presence, I’m willing to wager he’ll be able to make a pretty good guess.”
