The Fifth Season (45 page)

‘Get Tuti and the children out first,'
he demanded, and the room was immediately filled with an audible sigh of relief.

‘
We'll have them taken to Sukabumi by helicopter immediately,'
the adjutant promised.

‘Contact Winarko. Ask him to instruct his men not to fire on the aircraft.

Tell him who's on board.'
The adjutant nodded, moving quickly outside to make the necessary arrangements.
‘Now let's see what we can salvage
before Winarko blocks our retreat.'
Praboyo discussed their position with the brigadier and, satisfied that little else could be achieved by remaining there, he vacated the building leaving the other officer responsible for the withdrawal. Praboyo raced outside and jumped into a waiting staff car, ordering the driver to hurry.

As the vehicle sped through the streets congested with burnt-out armored-personnel carriers, trucks and battle-weary troops, he considered his options and decided that he had no other choice but to flee the country, taking Tuti and the children with him. Praboyo knew that it would be inconceivable that they could safely escape by air. All flights were monitored and any attempt to leave in this manner would, undoubtedly, result in their aircraft being destroyed. He knew that Winarko would grant Tuti and the children safe passage to Sukabumi but would never agree to any of the Suhaptos leaving the country, at least not while their tremendous wealth remained intact in Swiss and Singapore vaults.

Praboyo had not devised an escape plan. Until then, he had never considered the possibility that he might not win. His mind raced as the vehicle sped to its destination, coming to an abrupt halt in a cloud of swirling dust outside the grand old air force guest-house which housed his mistress.

* * * *

Half-packed suitcases and boxes were rushed outside to waiting vehicles as Tuti Suhapto conducted one final check. Jewelry, personal papers, a small collection of memorabilia, and a case filled with American dollars.

‘Leave that!'
she screamed at one of her children, her hand moving quickly through the air towards its target. The child cried out loudly, shocked that his mother had struck him. Tuti feared for her children, aware of what the
Mufti Muharam
vigilantes would do to them all should they be captured. This threat made her even more assertive, willing herself not to panic, her fear chilling the very marrow of her bones.

‘Don't just stand there, pick him up!'
she yelled at the two nurses responsible for the younger child. They grabbed the boy and hurried outside as instructed. Tuti turned, her eyes moving quickly, wondering what she had forgotten in their haste to leave. Unable to land in the densely-wooded area, their helicopter was positioned less than a kilometer from their home.

‘Where's the General?'
she demanded, glaring at her husband's adjutant.

‘He's still at command headquarters, madam,'
the colonel replied.

‘Then take us there first,'
Tuti ordered, deeply hurt that Praboyo had sent his aide, and not come in person.

‘My instructions are to place you and the children safely aboard, and see that
you are evacuated immediately, madam,'
the officer argued, uncomfortable with his role. He disliked the General's wife immensely, particularly her cutting tongue.

‘I'm not asking you, colonel, just do it!'
she yelled, her voice edging towards hysteria. The adjutant knew he had little choice. There had been other confrontations in the past, the result always the same. Strong-willed, stubborn, and convinced that she had been born privileged, Tuti Suhapto almost always had her own way. He acquiesced.

‘Then we should leave immediately,'
he pleaded, ushering the woman outside to where the others had already boarded the waiting vehicle. The colonel then gave their driver instructions to return to command headquarters. There they were greeted by a surprised group of soldiers who were in the process of evacuating the premises.

‘Where is the General?'
Tuti demanded, her face covered with anger.

‘He left more than ten minutes ago, Ibu,'
an NCO answered with deference.

‘Where did he go?'
she asked impatiently but none of the soldiers knew.

Panic rising, Tuti knew that their lives were in danger. She could hear the fighting getting closer but was determined to find Praboyo and insist that he accompany them. Then suddenly, as the thought struck her, Tuti's face clouded and she leaned forward and screamed instructions at the driver.

‘No! You can't!'
the colonel argued hotly, ‘
we must leave before it's too
late!
'

‘Take me to the guest-house, now!'
she yelled, frightening the driver. He gunned the engine and swung the vehicle around.

‘This is foolish,'
the adjutant appealed,
‘Winarko's forces have already
entered the city.'

‘Shut up, Colonel,'
she snapped, anger welling up inside as they sped towards the guest-house. The driver pushed the vehicle to its limit, braking hard to negotiate a corner section covered with pot-holes. His passengers bounced around, one nurse shouting in pain as her head cracked hard against the overhead supports. They climbed a hill dotted with colonial-style homes, partly-hidden amongst stands of tall, elegant pines. As they crossed the summit, the driver turned into a driveway, waving as he drove past two white-helmeted military police guards stationed there.

There were two vehicles parked in front of the splendid structure. The first, a metallic-blue Mercedes sedan, and the other a military jeep. Tuti glanced at the stars affixed to the vehicle's registration plates. There were no other generals of Praboyo's rank in Bandung. She leapt out, tripping as she did so.

She fell heavily, the pain shooting through her right arm as her elbow struck something hard. Before Tuti could climb to her feet, the driver had run to her aid and lifted her clumsily, holding her firmly as she struggled for balance. She looked down in dismay, the front of her dress covered with ugly smears from the fall. Tuti rolled her arm slightly, revealing a badly-skinned elbow.

Confused, for a moment Tuti teetered between tears of anger and humiliation before something inside snapped. The years of tolerating Praboyo's indiscreet relationships, his blatant disregard for his family and his obvious contempt for the danger in which he had placed his wife and children exploded through her mind. Her eyes dropped to the driver's belt.

Without warning, she grabbed for the open-holstered revolver and lunged forward, knocking the unsuspecting man off-balance. As he fell, Tuti retained her grip on the weapon, holding it close to her side as she limped determinedly towards the building. Before the colonel realized what had happened, Tuti had already entered the foyer and, ignoring the stabbing pain inflicted by the fall, she scrambled up the carpeted-stairway which led upstairs to the bedrooms.

‘Tuti! Don't!'
the colonel cried, formalities forgotten. He ran to the steps and called again.
‘Don't do this, Tuti!'
She turned, her face smothered with anger, waving the gun threateningly.

‘Get back!'
she hissed, her finger wrapped dangerously around the gun's trigger. The colonel hesitated, then moved forward a step, encouraging her to hand the weapon to his extended hand. She fired to his left. The bullet screamed past his head, burying itself into the plaster before exiting, then crossing the foyer where it struck a marble column. The colonel paled, remaining deathly-still.

Tuti turned, then continued up the stairs until reaching the hallway which ran in both directions to a number of bedrooms and suites. She looked in both directions, as if uncertain as what to do next. Down the corridor to her right, Tuti could see where mud had been carried along the carpet. She looked down at her soiled dress and without hesitating further, marched down the hall, throwing the doors open as she went, then peering inside. Tuti stopped outside the second-last doorway and, gripping the handle firmly, she threw the door open wide and stormed inside.

Praboyo had heard the isolated shot when the weapon discharged. He thrust his lover to one side and leapt for his own weapon, lying hidden beneath an untidy mound of hurriedly-discarded, military clothing. He threw the clothes to one side, found his sidearm, and placed the automatic on the bed.

When the door was thrown open, revealing Praboyo standing, half-naked, attempting to climb into his trousers, Tuti stepped inside the room, facing the startled, Menadonese mistress. The girl's almond-shaped eyes opened wide in shock, her hands darting to cover soft, fair-skinned, youthful breasts.

Tuti stepped closer, stunned by the young girl's beauty, slowly lowering the gun's barrel as she approached. Tuti tilted her head inquiringly, the familiar fragrance of the girl's perfume triggering the response she had unconsciously tried to avoid. The barrel snapped up and Tuti waved the weapon menacingly, her hands shaking with rage.

‘Tuti! Wait! I can explain!'
Praboyo called, still struggling with only one leg in his trousers. She turned, the gun following so that it pointed directly at his chest, his nakedness blurring her vision.

‘You bastard!'
she cried, her heart breaking, faced with the reality of her husband's callous indiscretion. The room began to swim before her eyes, darkness threatening to swallow her whole.

‘Tuti! Put the gun down! I still love you, Tuti!'
Praboyo pleaded, still struggling to get dressed. She gripped the closest bedpost, steadying herself, the gun's barrel again falling away gently. Tuti felt the giddiness taking control. She glanced back towards her husband's mistress, now crouched on the bed with her arms wrapped around her bare, slender legs. As her eyes passed over the girl's beautiful body, they came to rest on a gold ankle-bracelet set with tiny, tear-shaped stones. As she stared at the fine piece of jewelry which had once been hers, slithers of light danced across the room's walls and ceiling, taunting Tuti even further. She turned her attention back to Praboyo. Her eyes filled with tears, her voice became but a whisper as she sadly shook her head.

‘I loved you too, ‘Boyo,'
she said, softly, then squeezed the trigger.

Those downstairs heard the first shot and were still contemplating what to do when they heard the ominous report of a second bullet echo through the building. The colonel barked an order at the two military police guards who had rushed into the mansion with weapons drawn, ordering them to return to watch the children. Then, fearing the worst, he climbed the stairs slowly, his heart heavy with what surely waited for him inside the stately room.

* * * *

She coughed, grimacing as she rolled slowly onto her badly-bruised side.

The uncomfortably-hard, timber deck had become unbearably hot under the midday-sun's scorching rays, her thirst reminding Lily that it was her turn to go ashore and fetch the water-filled plastic containers for those on her boat. She rose wearily, another coughing attack forcing her back to her knees as she struggled to breathe. Lily held her ribs as each racking cough sent piercing pain through her side, an injury she sustained during the fateful expedition into seas off Bali.

Only days had passed since they had attempted to sail around the northern reaches of the island. The moonless night had not afforded Lily the opportunity to observe anything but the occasional flicker of coastal lights, as they sailed past Singaraja, Tejakula and Kubu, before turning south into the Lombok Strait. It had been there that misfortune had struck. Ahead, the lead ships had fought to remain together as the notorious channel's swift currents challenged the diesel-driven fishing-boats. The seven knot current had forced the three flotillas closer to shore, where Lily's group became separated, contaminated fuel in the lead ship's lines causing their delay. By the time repairs had been completed the distance between the ships had grown considerably. She stood for awhile and could see the faint lights of Amlapura Harbor on the eastern coast blinking, as the swell played with the timber below her feet. Exhausted, she lay down on the deck, the monotonous diesel-engine hum gently coaxing her to sleep.

When the dark, evening sky had suddenly exploded into light, only moments passed before the refugees realized they were under attack.

Panic swept through the unarmed fishing-fleets as the raiders continued their onslaught, firing wildly into the crowded vessels before torching the wooden ships. Molotov cocktails crashed against decks, spilling their deadly contents amongst the terrified refugees. Flames spread quickly, fanned by the late night breeze.

They could offer no resistance, their screams ignored as the Balinese raiders' small power-boats raced around the floating city, dousing decks with fuel and shooting indiscriminately. Many of the refugees threw themselves into the sea only to be crushed between the ships' hulls as these crashed together. Unable to swim, others cringed below decks, praying that their attackers would leave, finally succumbing to smoke and fumes as they lay down and perished.

Paralyzed with fear, Lily stood watching the fleet ahead burn, her eyes gauging the distance to see if she could swim to shore. It was then that the captain leading her group had wisely turned his vessel and taken advantage of the powerful currents. The others quickly followed his lead, distancing themselves from the savage scene which had already taken thousands of lives. Lily continued to peer back at the blazing ships, grateful that fate had placed her at the rear of the line.

Her heart filled with fear when she observed one of the powerful boats turn and take chase. She watched, transfixed at the oncoming sight as gunfire ripped through the night. Someone screamed and Lily threw herself to the deck, her heart thumping as the high-pitched whine of her attackers' twin outboard engines approached. Lily heard automatic fire as one of the men sprayed bullets arbitrarily in her direction the dull thudding noise of impact precariously close, as a companion fell dead alongside.