Perhaps he should stop drinking. His mind needed clarity for what he needed to do. He had thought that a few glasses would make this all easier. But in this state of mind, somewhere on the road between lucidity and the gateway to inebriation, he felt a concern that perhaps the alcohol was having just the opposite effect. Perhaps he should abort this mission.
The alcohol. The ambiance of it all…
He buried his left hand in the sand, stared at the sea, and then turned and gazed at her.
Madina was sipping her second glass of wine, and she seemed overwhelmed by the romance of it all. She smiled and beamed like a schoolgirl. And what an inviting smile it was.
Had he miscalculated the situation? Another sip of wine suggested that perhaps he had. Yet another sip left him hoping that he had, that he would be able to keep her around a while for his personal pleasure.
How luscious, how delectably irresistible she was, as she lay there on the blanket beside him, sipping wine in her lime-green sundress. Her smile was stunning, especially when the breeze blew those locks of long, curly brown hair onto her face, accentuating the slight dimples in her cheeks when she smiled.
Surely he had miscalculated.
Here, she seemed so naïve, so innocent, so totally enamored with everything other than politics. She could not be a double agent.
As her dancing brown eyes seemed to cast an enchanting spell on him, he looked for every reason to reconsider.
He leaned toward her, and instinctively, as if this were the most natural thing in the world, her lips moved toward him. Their kiss was long and passionate, and the touch of her hands and arms was gentle as she caressed his back. The magnetism was dynamic.
Perhaps she would make a good officer’s mistress.
Then he remembered. The security breach!
Think, Hassan. All this could compromise the future national security of Indonesia.
Alcohol had gotten him into this mess to begin with.
He pulled away.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, disappointment set in her voice.
“Nothing,” he said. He took another sip.
She sat up and hugged her knees with her arms. “This place is so beautiful. It is amazing that we have the beach to ourselves, that no one is here.”
“A resort is on the other side of the island,” he said. “But it is rare that anyone is ever here.”
Her hand found his back, and she began to caress it. “You are amazing,” she said. “You leave out no details. A soldier who handles a boat, crossing over forty miles of water, as if you are an experienced sailor.”
He looked out over the sea, now imbued with tinges of orange on the blue wavelets, a reflection of the setting sun.
“Has this place always been so peaceful?”
“No.” He finished his second glass of wine and poured a third. “The waters once played host to one of the fiercest naval battles in modern history.”
“Really?” She massaged his neck now with a renewed vigor. “Who would want to have a battle in paradise?”
Hassan pulled out a cigarette from the picnic basket and lit it. “It was 1942. The Dutch controlled all of Indonesia at the time. They called our country the Dutch East Indies. Stretched across more than two thousand miles of the peaceful waters to the south are the many islands of our country. And then beyond that”-he found himself pointing in a southerly direction-“is Australia.
“The Japanese wanted Australia. But to get it, they needed to go through Indonesia, or the Dutch East Indies, as we were then called. So the British and the Americans brought their Pacific fleets here, just north of our coastline.” He took a satisfying drag of nicotine. “The Dutch and Aussies had their ships here too, but even then not much was different than now. Mostly the Americans and British getting involved in areas of the world in which they have no business.”
Another drag. Another sip of wine.
“What happened?”
“The biggest, bloodiest naval battle since World War I happened. The Americans attacked the Japanese fleet, but things went bad for them. The historians call it the Battle of Java Sea. Before it was over, more than ten American and British ships were sunk, and more than two thousand sailors died. It was a crushing defeat for the US and the UK.”
“Hmm,” she said. “At least perhaps they were trying to protect us from an invasion by the Japanese, no?”
“It wasn’t us they were interested in protecting. Oh, the Dutch wanted to protect their colony, but the Americans and the British were interested only in protecting Australia. The Japanese needed our homeland as a springboard to attack Australia.”
He buried the cigarette in the white sand, and in one huge gulp, downed his third glass of wine.
She sipped from her glass and scooted closer to him. “You are so knowledgeable. So confident.” Her adoring eyes gazed at him for a moment. “You are the most amazing man I have ever met, Hassan. You are destined for greatness.”
She fell into his arms once again. She closed her eyes, her lips found his, and their long kiss fueled the chemistry between them. She was right about one thing. He was destined for greatness. And his greatness would bring about more opportunities with beautiful women like this.
She knew nothing of the assassination plan, he now decided. She would be good to keep around, as a paramour if nothing else. After all, the general had his paramour. Men of power needed women at their disposal for their pleasure.
He, Captain Hassan Taplus, had become a man of power. And he would rise as a comet streaking through the sky to even greater heights.
“I think I will need air soon,” she said flirtatiously, beaming with adoration as she allowed their lips to separate for a moment.
“What’s the matter?” He stroked her chin. “The air here isn’t fresh enough? We are forty miles across the sea from all the fumes and smog in Jakarta.”
She ran her hand through the back of his hair. “Oh, by the way, the television people came by before I left.”
“The television people?”
“Yes. From TVRI.”
“What did they want?”
“They wanted to come into the general’s study to set up television cameras.”
“And you let them?”
“Yes. They said Colonel Croon had ordered it. They even showed me his signature on the authorization form.” She massaged his shoulders. “Come, my dear Hassan. Can’t you tell me what is going on? They wanted to transform the general’s study into a television studio.” She poured another glass of wine, handed it to him, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Maybe the general is going to address the nation on television? No?”
An instant sensation of hot and cold flushed through his body. His neck was still hot and his head was swirling, but at the same time, his shoulders felt as if someone had just dumped bags of ice on them.
He glared at her. Her pretty face bore a dazed smile. “Why would you say something like that?” he demanded.
“Ahh, Hassan.” She kissed him again and rubbed her soft hand on his thigh. “You are so cute when you are angry.” She sipped more wine and smiled even wider. “You mean, why would the general go on national television to address the nation, when we already have a president who goes on national television to address the nation? Hmm…Now come, my Hassan. Your secret will always be safe with me.”
He leaned into her and kissed her again. She pulled herself to him, but for him the chemistry had fizzled. He faked the kiss for a moment longer, then pulled away. “I have an idea, my dear.”
“Really? And what might that be?”
“The sun is setting. Why don’t we take a stroll in the surf? And maybe, just maybe, I will tell you all the secrets you wish to know.”
“That’s a great idea,” she said.
He stood, took her outstretched hand, and pulled her up.
The water was warm and refreshing to their feet. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her into the gentle, lapping waves until they were about knee-deep.