Indonesian Gold (76 page)

Dressed in the dead soldier's uniform, Jonathan, assisted
by Amir, dragged Sharon Ducay across the shallow water and onto the sandbank, the soft, dry
surface tugging at their heavy boots, under an August sky. Subandi kept the approaching trio
under surveillance, shaking his head when a gust from the helicopter blew the hat from their
captive's head, and one of the soldiers chased after the Akubra, as it cart wheeled
away.

Jonathan Dau used the organized distraction to drag Sharon
closer to the chopper. He tightened his painful grip on her upper arm and turned her away from
view, elbowing her savagely in the stomach to be sure. Amir gave up the chase, ran back to rejoin
Jonathan, waving to his Captain when close enough to be identified. The officer raised a fist at
the trooper, Amir glancing down nervously at Jonathan's sidearm which, unlike his own, was
loaded.

‘No tricks!'
the Dayak
chief warned, prepared for any play.
‘Now help me lift her!'

They reached the helicopter, bundled their captive into
the rear compartment, and climbed inside. The pilot glanced back, acknowledged the chief's
thumbs-up, lifted the aircraft into the air, then drove the Bell 205 to five thousand feet as he
headed for the nearby timber concession, and the designated drop zone.

****

Angela observed the shenanigans with dispassionate calm
and, once the helicopter was lost from sight, signaled for one of the men to retrieve the
wide-brimmed hat. Then, distasteful as she found it to be, Angela dressed in the clothes
originally meant to be worn at her own death. She squeezed into the tight fitting jodhpurs and
khaki jacket, then made her way back through the forest, to where she'd been instructed to
wait.

****

Fifteen minutes out, Sharon lay in desperate state, part
of her silently screaming with the unfairness of it all, the rest consciously willing the pilot
to do something – anything – that would save her. The solider who had betrayed them sat with head
on knees, Sharon taking the opportunity to lash out, her heel striking Amir squarely on the side
of his head as he sat quietly considering where the aluminum case containing his share of the
gold bars might be. The soldier's head snapped to one side colliding with metal airframe. Blood
poured from the wound, Amir's vision blurred, giving Sharon yet another opportunity to strike.
She kicked out, again, her resistance brought to an end when Jonathan Dau pounced, and straddled
her legs, opening the wound on his thigh. She summoned whatever strength remained and raised her
head off the floor, her hate-filled eyes widening as the muffled words ‘Fuck you!' formed in her
mouth, her stifled rage unable to penetrate the choking gag.

The
Penehing
shaman bent forward until Sharon could
smell his wild breath, panicking even more when he placed his mouth against her ear. ‘Why do you
want to die?' Sharon felt the heat of his body, his hand on her face, her nostrils filling with
the stench of death. She clenched her eyes, but its presence lingered, Jonathan's fingers lifting
the lower edge of the cloth enabling Sharon to answer. ‘Tell me why my daughter was to die in
your place, and your life will be spared.' And then, to be sure, he asked her again in
Bahasa
Indonesia.

Sharon
heard the words, her
desire to live unquestionable. Praying that she might survive this ordeal, she responded with
amazing calm. ‘I meant no… harm,' she gasped, her voice barely audible as the Bell 205 thumped
along, Jonathan's ear pressed close to her mouth. ‘My uncle died… and the Longdamai operation was
taken over… by others… It seemed that I was to have nothing.' Jonathan's thumbs opened the gap
even further – Sharon blinked, thankfully, and returned to character. ‘The company… would pay
millions in insurance… if I died while… under contract. It was the pilot's idea to use… Angela.'
She coughed, and a cracked rib sent a fierce, stabbing pain through her chest. She gritted,
sucking air through her teeth. Then, painfully, ‘He was… to kill her… in my place.' Seizing the
opportunity, she mentioned the gold. ‘Please…please…don't…

kill me! If you let…me go…I can give you…gold.'

Jonathan ignored her offer. ‘This pilot is your
partner?'

‘Yes,' she struggled, again starting to choke. ‘We…we were
to…share… the benefits.'

Jonathan's lips moved back to her ear. ‘And if you were
the one to die?'

With the realization that she'd been tricked, Sharon
choked with rage, venom twisting her once beautiful face into a grotesque mask. The chief tugged
the gag back in place, his prisoner struggling with all her might to be free.

The helicopter chopped its way through light, clear-air
turbulence – Sharon's head coming into contact with an extended harness bolt rising from the
reinforced, plated floor. Feigning total surrender, she let her muscles go limp. Jonathan waited
for a few minutes then, satisfied that she had completed her course and could now offer only
minimum resistance, slid away, and regained his canvas seat.

The Bell dipped, shuddered, the turbulence cracking the
back of her head against the floor and she came close to losing consciousness. Out of the corner
of an eye she could see the bolt. And, with each movement of the helicopter as it bumped
sluggishly along, she drew closer and closer until finally, she could feel it's firmness against
her cheek. Sharon closed her eyes, her head following the aircraft's sway until the bolt was
caught firmly, underneath the gag. Blood flowed down the hidden cheek, and she knew this would be
her only chance to attract Subandi's attention. Sharon inhaled, deeply, through her nose, then
with a snap of her head down and to her left, drove the bolt up through the flesh of her cheek,
dangerously close to puncturing an eye. Leveraging the cloth loose from one side of her mouth,
she screamed,
‘Subandi! Help me! It's Sharon!'

Jonathan reacted spontaneously and lunged, his hand
groping at Sharon's bloody face, the once beautiful Filipino kicking and screaming for her very
life until he hit her squarely on the jaw, and her body went limp. The gag was hurriedly removed,
and her hands untied.

The pilot heard nothing of the commotion, of course. Even
without headphones it was unlikely that Sharon's shrieks would have reached his ears. Subandi
reached back from the cockpit and tapped against the half partition for attention. With the
signal indicating that they were there, Jonathan opened the sliding hatch, and tossed her
semi-conscious body into space. Watching as she tumbled earthwards towards the slashed and burned
forest floor below, the shaman offered a prayer, thanking ancestral spirits for his daughter's
delivery from the hands of this wretched woman, known as Sharon Ducay.

Captain Subandi had also followed ‘Angela's' body falling
as it disappeared through space, relieved that it was all over. He had never before participated
in the senseless killing of women – even during his tours in East Timor. He stared down into the
empty void unable to see the burnt plains below, suddenly filled with an unexplainable sense of
loss. Then, with a philosophical shrug to counter his annoying attack of conscience, he turned
the chopper back and retraced their steps, to collect Sharon. With more than adequate fuel
reserves to continue onto Samarinda, Subandi would deliver Sharon to her rendezvous off the coast
before noon – then return to the provincial capital to confirm ‘her' tragic suicide. The pilot
smiled, selecting the appropriate communications channel as he prepared to break the news of
‘Sharon Ducay's' death, and minutes later he was relaying the somber story with convincing
embellishment.

****

The Bell 205's skids hit the ground hard, Subandi
stretching his neck and snapping at the two troopers back in the main cabin even before the
aircraft settled.
‘Go and find her!'

Amir saluted, ‘
Yes sir!',
opened the sliding hatch
and hit the ground running, Jonathan Dau, his head still covered with the regulation issue,
wide-brimmed, camouflage bush hat followed – Captain Subandi still none the wiser that the second
soldier was an imposter.

‘Keep running!'
the
chief ordered, hard on Amir's heels. No sooner had they disappeared into the thick underbrush,
than the
Penehing
chief called for him to halt.
‘You have done well,
Amir.'

The
Kopassus
soldier removed his floppy hat and
wiped an arm across his brow.
‘What happens next?'
he asked, aware they were no longer
alone.

Jonathan stepped away from Udir's line of sight.
‘As
promised, now we'll send you home.'

Amir sighed, tensed muscles blessed with relief, the look
of surprise grotesquely evident across his face when his head parted company with the rest of his
body, and hit the ground with a sickening thud. Angela, who had never once witnessed a
traditional execution stood locked by the bloody extravaganza as exposed jugular sprayed
fountains of blood, everywhere.

‘Place his body with the other one,'
Jonathan ordered,
‘then come with me.'

****

The pilot kept the Bell 205's, one-thousand-kilowatt
Lycoming engine turning over, his impatience growing exponentially with each antagonizing
minute.

They had flown over the river island, hovering whenever he
caught a glimpse of movement, but the woman he had returned for was nowhere to be seen. The
Captain checked his fuel – satisfied that he remained within acceptable limits, then settled back
to wait for his men to reappear. Twenty minutes passed before Subandi accepted that something had
gone terribly wrong, and he closed the chopper down, then waited. Another hour dragged slowly by
– he climbed out of the ‘205 to relieve himself, somebody waving from amongst the trees finally
caught his attention. Unlike their
Kostrad
counterparts who carried 9mm Beretta 92Fs in a
shoulder holster, the elitist
Kopassus
flyers concealed their handguns. He reached down
and checked the stainless steel, .45 caliber, ‘DAO Backup' strapped to the inside of his leg,
then walked slowly towards the tall figure standing at the forest's edge.

‘Don't come any closer!'
Jonathan Dau warned, now back in his own clothes. Suddenly, four others were at his
side.
Dayaks!
Subandi froze, a sickening feeling rising as his mind became congested with
runaway fears.
Had they kidnapped his woman?

‘What do you want?'
He
found the courage to call.

‘We just want to talk. Stay there and we'll
approach.'
Jonathan had reason to keep the pilot where he
was.

‘Who are you?'
Subandi
tried again, his feet slowly shuffling in the direction of the helicopter.

‘Jonathan Dau,Chief of the Penehing and this is my land.
Are you carrying a weapon?'

Subandi ignored the insolent man. Instead, he demanded,
‘Where is the woman?'

‘
The foreigner with skin like us?
'

‘Yes,'
Subandi broke
out into a sweat, ready to turn and run if they attacked.

‘We are going to keep her hostage,'
the chief lied.

‘Hostage?'
the pilot
ceased his slow retreat.
At least she was still alive!

‘Yes.'

The Captain's mind started its slow descent into hell.
‘Where are my men?'

‘We sent them home.'

Subandi guessed what this meant.
‘They're
dead?'

‘Yes,'
followed the
monosyllabic reply.

‘
Why?
'

‘Because they were Kopassus.'
The shaman raised his hand and pointed towards where the Longhouse once stood.
‘Kopassus attacked the Penehing.'

The pilot calculated the distance to the chopper, and
considered escape. Mentally, he counted off the time it would take to start the engine and get
the bird airborne, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Then he remembered Sharon's
briefcase.

‘Produce the woman and I'll give you gold!'
he offered.

‘How much gold?'
the
chief came back. Angela, out of sight but still within earshot, frowned.
What was her father
playing at?

‘Two kilos,'
Sharon
's aluminum briefcase remained in ‘205's cabin. Her
original plan called for Subandi to use the contents to pay off his men.

‘That's not enough.'

The pilot was chilled by the cold dispassion displayed on
the other man's face.
‘That's all I have.'

‘You have it here?'
Jonathan and the four
Penehing
started forward.

‘In the aircraft.'
Subandi knew the risk he was taking revealing that the gold was onboard.
‘I'll get it
for you.'