‘A 737, actually,’ said Bongo.
‘Still a cheeky little monkey, I see,’ said Haryono, pulling up a chair to face Bongo. ‘What you know about a bonus?’
‘He’s lying -’ said Simon, but stopping at Haryono’s raised hand.
‘I want to hear this from the legendary Bongo Morales – might be the last lie he ever tells,’ said Haryono, prompting laughter from the Kopassus officers.
‘Simple, Ishy,’ said Bongo. ‘Simon’s spent your bonus.’
Staring at Bongo, Haryono’s eyes went through several emotional seasons before arriving back at the indulgent uncle.
‘Spent it?’ said Haryono, very slow.
‘The whole forty mill,’ said Bongo, like ice ran in his veins.
Mac gulped at his dry throat, wondering where Bongo got the balls. Swapping a look with Jim, he saw the American beside himself with fear; if there was one thing guaranteed to incite unpredictable acts of violence, it was stealing money from a Javanese soldier.
‘He’s messing with us -’ Simon started again, but this time a burly Kopassus second lieutenant moved in closer from the American’s three o’clock, silencing him immediately.
‘Tell me,’ said Haryono, smiling at Bongo with big white teeth.
‘Got a laptop?’ asked Bongo.
‘I think so,’ said Haryono, looking at Amir Sudarto and getting a nod.
‘See that bag over there,’ nodded Bongo at the backpack Jim had hauled through the jungle. ‘There’s a sat phone in there, it lets you connect with the internet, lets you see the trust account at the Koryo.’
‘Trust account? How he know that?’ said Haryono, turning on Simon like a shark. ‘How he know it Koryo?!’
‘He’s lying – we have bigger things -’ stammered Simon, stopping now as he realised the second lieutenant had a gun trained on him.
Snapping a command in Bahasa Indonesia, Haryono looked Bongo in the eye as the bag was brought to him and an officer retrieved a laptop.
Opening the laptop and connecting the data cable to the sat phone, Bongo remained calm while Mac’s heart did backflips – Haryono was waiting to confirm that Bongo was making a fool of him, at which point it was likely he’d personally execute the Filipino.
‘The Koryo website,’ said Bongo, turning the laptop for Haryono. ‘Put in your numbers and let’s see.’
Tapping at the keyboard, Haryono looked up momentarily with an expression which suggested Bongo was already dead. Then the laptop buzzed, there was a change of light reflected on Haryono’s face, and his eyes refocused.
Jessica writhed on the floor, hands busy behind her back, looking Mac in the eye. Mac wanted to tell her to stay down, stay tied up, but he didn’t dare speak.
Suddenly, Haryono’s hands flew away from the computer as if it was a leper and he erupted in a blast of Bahasa Indonesia. The second lieutenant pushed his gun into Simon’s ear, and confiscated the American’s handgun as Haryono stood in front of him.
‘We agreed, Mr Simon,’ said Haryono, putting out his hand for a SIG Sauer 9mm. ‘We bring Operasi Boa to a successful conclusion, and there is a bonus of forty million dollars US.’
‘It’s a trick,’ said Simon, wide-eyed. ‘Bongo’s a con man, you know who he -’
‘Do not tell me what I know,’ said Haryono. ‘Tell me what I don’t know, like where is my forty million dollars?’
‘It’s there!’ screamed Simon, pointing at the laptop. ‘It was there this morning – I checked because the first bonus was going to be paid tomorrow.’
‘Look for yourself,’ gestured Haryono.
Taking the laptop from Bongo, Simon sat and scrolled up and down frenetically, his face dropping as his eyes confirmed Haryono’s anger.
‘I can’t… it’s not possible,’ he said, then looked at Bongo. ‘What did you do with it?’ he yelled, going for Bongo’s throat.
Slapping Simon to the floor, Bongo looked at Haryono and shrugged.
Waving the handgun, Haryono fixed Bongo with a homicidal stare. ‘So, Morales – what do you know about this problem?’
‘Not much, Ishy,’ said Bongo, smoother than honey pouring out of a jar. ‘Just got a call from Joao about an hour ago.’
‘Joao?’ said Haryono, his face darkening. ‘Yeah, he’d just been told about a very large, very recent deposit in the bank,’ said Bongo. ‘He thought I might see the funny side of it.’
‘Joao?!’ yelled Simon. ‘Who the fuck is Joao?!’
‘Silence!’ barked Amir Sudarto, training his gun on the American scientist.
The room fell quiet, except for the sounds of Simon whimpering on the carpet. Haryono stood over him and looked at his SIG. ‘It’s one thing for a man to get greedy, steal something for himself, for his family,’ said Haryono.
‘You can’t -’ said Simon.
‘But when a man steals from me and then adds the insult, then it is time for the hard hand, right?’ said Haryono, almost whispering.
‘He did it!’ cried Simon, pointing at Bongo.
‘How would Bongo get bank codes for the North Korean Department of Defense bank?’ asked Haryono, pointing the SIG at Simon. ‘Unless you gave them to him? Bongo pretends to be homosexual at the Lar, he drug passenger in first class and then search their bags. Bongo not the computer thief, Mr Simon. That you.’
‘It’s them,’ spluttered Simon, sweeping his arm at Mac, Tommy and Jim. ‘They’re spies, they set this up!’
‘Really?’ asked Haryono.
‘Yes – they traced Lee Wa Dae through the Koryo Bank.’
‘You know how I know you the liar?’ asked Haryono, his face impassive.
‘No, I -’
‘Look at where the money gone!’
‘To the Sentosa Pacific Bank in Singapore,’ said Simon, having seen the transfer. ‘It’s one of McQueen’s accounts!’
‘Really?’ asked Haryono. ‘So the spies steal forty million dollars from me, and then they travel all the way here, into army compound in East Timor – four against two hundred – to say hello to me?’
‘Well…’ said Simon.
‘But it the insult,’ said Haryono, doing a big Javanese shrug. ‘You had to send my money to these people?’
‘What people?’ asked Simon, confused.
‘Look at the account,’ instructed Haryono, grabbing Simon by the hair and forcing his face at the screen.
‘It’s… I… I don’t know any Santa Cruz Trust,’ said Simon, looking at the details on the screen, tears streaming down his face. ‘What is -’
‘Santa Cruz Trust Number Three,’ snarled Haryono, cocking the SIG with his thumb. ‘Think – what communist organisation in Tim-Tim would name their bank accounts after the Santa Cruz cemetery?’
Simon wiped his tears and looked up at Haryono. ‘Look, Ish, I -’
‘Which organisation?!’ screamed Haryono.
‘Falinitil?’ asked Simon quietly.
‘Correct,’ said Haryono, shooting the American in the face. ‘And do not call me Ish.’
CHAPTER 66
The pre-dawn birdsong started and Mac felt Jessica snoring on his chest. The first grey light snuck in through the barred window at the top of the cell wall, illuminating Bongo, who was pacing beside the door, mumbling.
‘What’s up?’ whispered Mac, as Bongo raised his hand for silence.
Bongo’s mumbled conversations had started up each time they’d heard footfalls in the stockade outside their cell door. The base stockade was staffed by soldiers of the 1635 Regiment, and Bongo was conversing with them in Tetum, the native dialect of East Timor.
‘He says one of the white people will be found in a helicopter, after the spraying,’ said Bongo. ‘The others will be found in the rubble of the base – they’re dynamiting the whole place.’
Their first plan had been to turn Haryono against Simon, which had worked too well. Simon was dead, and the rest of them – with Jessica along for the ride – now looked like being the fall guys for Operasi Boa. The Indonesian Army would find their bodies, connect them with the SARS deaths and the helicopters, and the story would hit the newspapers. Mac already knew what part he’d play – he was connected with Shareholder Services under his Don Jeffries alias, and he had no doubt he’d be ‘found’ in a downed helo belonging to Pik Berger’s company, filled with the SARS bio-weapon. He’d be just another greedy Aussie mercenary, and the papers would love it.