The Fifth Season (49 page)

‘Tomorrow, we'll go out to the main fleet,' she announced, Anne casting her a look of disbelief in response.

‘They won't take us,' she said, believing this to be so.

‘We'll pay whatever it takes,' Mary Jo answered, determinedly. Anne became silent, considering the risks involved. Out there, anything could happen. Journalists were unpopular at the best of times, and she suddenly became concerned that her obstinate associate's life could be at risk should they proceed.

‘It would be dangerous, Mary Jo,' she said.

‘Then I want you to remain behind!' she ordered. Anne's initial reaction was relief. Then she realized that she was being tested again and became annoyed.

‘You will need me out there to interpret,' she said, matter-of-factly.

‘No, Anne,' Mary Jo insisted, ‘I am serious. I want you to help me arrange a ride out there but I want you to remain behind.'

‘Why?' she asked.

‘Firstly, we most probably don't have enough dollars to pay for two. The charter from Surabaya took care of that. And secondly, if we are unable to communicate with Jakarta tonight, then I want you beside the phones until we get through.' Mary Jo had a share arrangement in place with one of the other agency representatives. Twice she had taken mobile satellite phones out to the provinces and on both occasions these had been confiscated by security forces. Mary Jo had been unable to replace the expensive equipment and now depended on others to assist. Her photographic coverage of events was frustrated by these communication difficulties. On occasion she sought the help of other foreigners working with Aid agencies or foreign missions but these had diminished in number with the outbreak of civil war.

International communications outside major provincial cities had broken down more than six months before and, at best, her stories were now filed from wherever she might be in the country via Jakarta, and then forwarded to her editor in the States. Mary Jo was determined that this story should be wired to New York as expediently as humanly possible. Although the chances were now slim, Mary Jo believed her report might just prevent the catastrophe looming along the beaches of Pelabuhan Ratu.

In her mind, she had already written the story of the children who had been deserted and left to certain death by their parents. She stared out through the darkness towards the floating city in the distance, her anger burning deeply as she considered the parents who had fled, leaving their children behind. Tomorrow, she would walk amongst those people, taking their photographs without knowing who amongst their number had left their loved ones behind to die.

They returned to the Samudera Beach Hotel where Mary Jo completed writing her story, checking this before calling Anne to her room and then settled down to wait for a connection to be made to Jakarta. After several hours had elapsed, she left her assistant with this task, deciding to go down to the lobby to see if she could encourage the staff to expedite her call with a handful of American dollars. Mary Jo climbed into the lift and was no sooner under way when the power failed, sealing her inside the dark, airless space between floors, where she remained for more than two hours while the engineers worked to repair their generators.

Rattled, angry and saturated with perspiration when the lift doors finally opened at the ground level, Mary Jo's mood was volatile. She stormed across the lobby to where one of the staff continued to snuff candles placed along the reception desk when the power had failed, and vented her spleen on the astonished employee. She snatched the house phone angrily, phoned upstairs to see how Anne had fared, then instructed her to come down to see if they could find something to eat before the lights died again. While she waited, Mary Jo walked outside and took stock of the scene overlooking the salt-water pool. Waves breaking on the adjacent beach reminded her that she had not bathed and Mary Jo was tempted to return to her room and change out of her sticky, soiled clothes.

As her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, she could see that someone was swimming alone, and assumed this to be one of the staff from the deserted hotel. Her eyes roamed further, the silhouetted coconut branches moving gracefully to the soft, sea-breeze catching her attention. Suddenly, she frowned then moved closer to the railing and peered through the stand of trees, convinced that the natural lighting was playing tricks with her sight.

A cloud crossed, hiding the moon, and Mary Jo felt a chill standing there waiting, goose-bumps appearing as the evening breeze gently touched her skin. She crossed her arms, listening to the sounds of darkness, the waves crashing as they broke along these timeless shores. In that moment, the moon escaped its cover and she glanced back through the trees, startled by what was there. Mary Jo hurried down the steps through the pool area and towards the heli-pad. She stood with hands on hips, staring at the helicopter parked there, confused by its presence.

‘Looking for a ride?' she heard someone call, and turned in time to see the swimmer climb from the pool. The voice obviously belonged to a foreigner. She frowned and tilted her head, then moved slowly towards the tall visitor as he stood, toweling himself. As she approached, Mary Jo suddenly hesitated, deciding the light was playing tricks again. She faltered, then moved forward again disbelieving her eyes.

‘Hamish?' she called, her voice reflecting her shock.

‘Mary Jo?' he replied, just as surprised. ‘My god! What are you doing here?' For a moment they stood facing each other, lost for words. Then Hamish stepped closer and placed his cold hands on her bare shoulders, sending a shudder through her spine. She started to say something, then stopped, glancing back towards the helicopter.

‘Yours?' she asked, turning back to him. Hamish nodded in the moonlight, releasing Mary Jo as he did so. He felt the cold and wrapped the towel around his shoulders.

‘I'm here with some others. We're on U.N. business, Jo,' he explained.

‘My god,' was all she could find to say, shaking her head slowly. ‘How long have you been here?'

‘We arrived earlier today and will head back to Jakarta before lunch, tomorrow.' Mary Jo could not see his worried expression in the dim light.

‘What are you doing here, Jo?'

‘Same old thing,' she replied, lightheartedly but Hamish detected a flatness in her voice. ‘We came in today, as well.'

‘I saw the aircraft earlier,' he said, ‘but I had no idea that it had landed.

Where's your pilot?'

‘My pilot?' she repeated, her mind suddenly elsewhere. ‘Well, he wasn't too pleased with the prospect of staying on.'

‘You have no way out of here?' Hamish asked, astonishment in his voice.

‘Something like that,' Mary Jo attempted nonchalance but disappointment was evident instead. ‘Seems that the
Mufti Muharam
will be here soon.'

‘Come back with us, tomorrow,' he urged.

‘Great!' Mary Jo shrieked, thinking that events could not have worked out better. Then she frowned again. ‘Is there room for Anne, my assistant?'

she asked. ‘You remember Anne don't you Hamish?'

‘Sure, I remember Anne,' he answered, his tone warning Mary Jo that there was a problem. She glanced back at the helicopter. It was a Bell Jet Ranger. She looked back into Hamish's eyes, unable to see clearly in the soft light.

‘Is there a problem?' she asked, sensing there was.

‘That chopper carries five, including the pilot. We have three on the team, and an interpreter. That makes five. Let's talk to the pilot and see if he can carry seven.'

‘If there is a problem, Hamish, perhaps you could arrange to have them return for us,' Mary Jo suggested. He considered this and nodded.

‘I don't think it will come to that, Jo. Let's wait to see what he says.' She nodded, looking up to the poorly lit lobby windows where she thought she could see Anne standing. A thought suddenly crossed her mind.

‘Where did your people eat?' she asked, having missed all meals that day.‘We brought some canned food. There's nothing much here and you can forget going outside,' Hamish warned. ‘The rest of my group are probably asleep already,' he added, looking up at the seven storey structure to see if any of the rooms were lit.

‘God, I'm starving,' she said, worried also for Anne. ‘Why don't you meet us in the coffee shop. I have to go. Anne is waiting up there now,' she said, waving at the shadowy figure upstairs. Hamish agreed, promising to catch up when he had changed. They walked back up to the lobby level together, Anne's mouth falling in surprise when she saw Hamish as he flashed through the lobby on his way to the lift.

‘The staff have rice, rice, and more rice, Mary Jo,' Anne told her, forcing a smile. ‘You can have it fried, steamed or served like porridge.'

‘There's nothing else?' she asked, dismayed.

‘There's a few eggs left. And some very suspect seafood,' Anne said.

Mary Jo settled for the fried rice and eggs, the offer of a lift the next day lifting her spirits in spite of the food. As they ate, Mary Jo outlined how she saw their movements for the following morning.

‘I won't have too much time,' Mary Jo informed her assistant. ‘Whoever takes me out to the fleet must agree to get me back in time for Hamish's departure. I think it wise that you wait for my return, Anne.'

‘And if we don't get through to Jakarta tonight?'

‘Then we will leave it until we return to the capital,' Mary Jo answered.

Her priorities had not changed. It seemed most unlikely that they would be able to make contact with Jakarta now, considering the complete breakdown in communications. Besides, she would be able to file her story, together with the startling imagery, directly from the capital. New York would have everything they needed to inform the world as to what was happening in this quiet corner of Java.

‘Then I can come with you tomorrow?' Anne asked.

‘No,' Mary Jo replied, snappishly.

‘Why not ask Hamish if he would lend us the money for me to go with you?' Anne suggested. It made sense. Mary Jo thought about this for a moment and promised to do so.

‘Sure. But if he can't, then we stand by the original plan. Okay?'

‘Okay,' Anne agreed. She wasn't particularly keen to accompany Mary Jo but would do so if Hamish could assist.

‘Have you organized transport for the morning? We won't have much time to play with,' Mary Jo cautioned.

‘I've already made the arrangements,' Anne promised. Mary Jo knew that her assistant sometimes considered her naïve. There was still no guarantee that they would be able to secure passage out to the fleet. In fact, the more she thought about this, the more unlikely it appeared. But at least she would give it her best shot.

‘Tell the driver we want him on deck around four,' Mary Jo insisted.

‘If we can hit the beach before sunrise, we will have at least three to four hours to play with. Anne nodded, but Mary Jo sensed some reticence.

Even after two years together, she knew that her junior quietly questioned her brash, aggressive behavior, often falling into pensive, uncommunicative moods when they were traveling together through difficult and often dangerous situations.

* * * *

When Hamish returned, Mary Jo flashed a warning look at Anne which she failed to understand. Several steamed dishes arrived and the two women hungrily devoured the bland food, while Hamish McLoughlin looked on amused. When they had finished Anne awkwardly excused herself, aware that only a few hours remained before they would need to be prepared to leave again.

‘Wake me early,' Mary Jo warned.

‘Goodnight Hamish,' she said, tired to the bones. ‘And thanks for the lift back,' she added.

‘We'll do what we can, Anne,' he responded, uncomfortably. He had still to discuss this with the pilot. ‘Catch you in the morning,' he said.

‘Will you return to the camp?' she asked, rising to her feet. Anne hoped this to be true, unhappy with having to remain alone while Mary Jo visited the fleet.

‘Just briefly,' he answered solemnly. As there was no organized refugee camp per se, their mission had been purely fact finding in nature. Their pilot had insisted that they remain overnight as night flying conditions, under current circumstances, were extremely hazardous. Hamish expected his team would depart well before lunch and return to the capital, following the same circuitous route as before to avoid flying over the trouble spots. They had carried additional fuel for this purpose and Hamish was concerned that this may be the only hitch regarding taking on extra weight.

He expected that once his associates were aware of Mary Jo's predicament, none would object to accommodating the additional passengers, providing, of course, the pilot agreed. His eyes locked with Mary Jo's, the flickering candle-light casting playful shadows across her face. She was still beautiful, he thought, and realizing that he had been staring, dropped his gaze, embarrassed.

‘Do you still travel with a bottle of whiskey in your case?' she asked.

Hamish's face immediately broke into a grin.

‘Of course,' he laughed, identifying the hint. ‘Care to sit out on the balcony upstairs and reminisce?' Mary Jo did not hesitate. She could taste the whisky already and stood, looked around for service, but the remaining staff had slipped out quietly and gone to bed as soon as the meal had been served. There had been no senior management around this hotel for months, the local staff now treating the premises as their own.

‘Don't expect any ice,' he said. ‘Besides, you wouldn't want to drink anything here that hadn't been boiled while you were watching.' They caught the lift up to Hamish's room, Mary Jo recounting her earlier experience when caught in the blackout.

They settled down on rusting, plastic-covered deck chairs, placing the full bottle of Chivas on the table between them. Hamish poured two neat shots of whiskey, passed one to Mary Jo, then raised his glass to hers.