Her Master's Voice

by Jacqueline George

  “I’ve got some bad news for you, Ranji. I think your father’s in trouble.”

  “What? How do you know my father?” Ranji was shocked and defensive.

  “I don’t. Never met him, but I’ve had a message from Alistair. He says your father’s in trouble.”

  “Oh no,” whispered Ranji, “What’s happened now?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not involved, but I’ll pass on the message. Apparently your father knows about a shipment of something. I don’t know what. Alistair wouldn’t say. Anyway, he wants to know where the shipment is because the Malaysian police are going to ask the Singaporeans to bring him in for questioning. They say they’ve got enough information to extradite him.”

  Ranji slumped in her seat. She seemed to have shrunk.

  “Oh no.” She did not know what to say. “When are they coming?”

  “Alistair wants to know where the shipment is. He doesn’t want your father but his hands are tied. Unless he can tell the police over there where the shipment is…”

  “But he doesn’t have it any more. It’s gone. Sold. The Irishman knows where it is now.”

  “Won’t do, Ranji. The Singapore police would be happy to get the Irishman, but they can’t do it without evidence. If your dad could provide details, of course, then they would act.”

  “Details about the Irishman? Impossible. He would die before he did that, because if he told anything, we’d all die. Everyone in the family.”

  “So what can you tell us? Do you want to call him?”

  Ranji hesitated. “Alistair will know I have told you.”

  “Well, yes. I guess so, but he knows about your father anyway, so it won’t make much difference. I can tell him to keep quiet, if you like.”

  “Yes, he must not tell anyone, or my father’s friends will hear and… Listen, one time I heard him speaking on the telephone. He was talking about the Aljunied industrial estate, and I know that he never does business down there.”

  “You think that’s where the shipment is?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I’ve heard.”

  “That’s a big area. Any details?”

  “I’m trying to remember. My father said you go past the swimming complex and turn left and then quickly right. Was it that? I’m not sure—maybe it was right and then quickly left. Then the place was on the right, not far away. He told them a number, I think, but I can’t remember.”

  Chapter 25

  Tim flew back to CampDua with a sense of anti-climax that even Tommo’s antics with the old Goose could not lift. At sometime during the night before Hangchi had left a note in the mailbox. Unsigned, it had read We found what we were looking for. Nothing more. It looked as if the excitement was over.

  On top of that, he was no longer so sure of Sherry. Nothing he could put his finger on, but she was not quite as biddable as she had been. He might have to bring the chains out again on his next break. He wondered if it was something he would have to repeat regularly.

  He made up an excuse to visit Captain Rais as soon as he arrived but found that he had gone on a visit to Jakarta. He shrugged off his mood and went looking for a ride. A major intermediate casing string being run on the Siak, and Sea Sprite IV would be needed to provide extra pumping capacity. Raymond had moored bow on against the swamp barge and brought the bulk cement barge in alongside. So far, so good. Now they just had to rig up enough gear to turn Sea Sprite IV from an acidising unit into a cementing unit. They would be busy.

  Tim disliked cementing. It was the hard and brutal end of Krumbein’s business, and it always seemed to happen at three in the morning in the rain. Quite unlike his normal operations which were carried out in daylight, and usually finished in time for dinner. The guys hated it too, if only because cement dust gets everywhere and is far harder to clean up.

  Tim was already tired from travelling but they now started on a process that would see them getting more and more spent as they prepared for the job. They would man-handle the heavy treating pipe and chiksans up to the rig floor far above water level. Test the line to ensure it was leak-free. Run hoses down from the rig to deliver the mix water for the cement. Stack 15 gallon plastic drums of chemicals near the pump unit to mix the required chemicals into the water. They would be very busy.

  After everything had been prepared, there would be the nail biting period of waiting until the rig was ready for them. Finally, when their bodies were crying for sleep, the pump unit on the rig would fire up and start mixing. Following that lead, Tim would push his throttles forward and signal to Raymond. He would swing on the handle of the big surge can valve, and everything would disappear in cement dust as the powder dropped into the mixing system at something over a ton a minute. For the next four hours, if everything went well, they would be enveloped in noise and dust. The sodium lights would keep the darkness back and in their illuminated island beside the rig, they would labour and sweat and suffer until the last of the cement had been mixed and pumped. Then, at last, Tim would be able to relax and help the guys wash down the equipment.

  That was in the distant future. Right now he climbed up onto the rig and went in search of the plan.

  Two days later, he woke from a heavy sleep with the job behind him and the pressure off. His bed had moved and he crawled to the window to see what was happening. Mid-morning, and he looked over the deck of Sea Sprite IV at the Siak. It was moving. Or rather, they were moving. The tug had come and Sea Sprite IV was off to its next location. He had missed breakfast, and because they would be chugging through the delta for the next few hours, he would miss lunch as well. Never mind, he told himself, at least they would be free of the noisy, dirty and overpowering rig.

  Life was not too bad. Shaved and dressed, he stumbled out onto the verandah. The delta swept slowly by on either side. Down on the deck, Raymond had the guys cleaning and stowing the last of the cement mixing gear. He was up on the unit, breaking down the manifold so they could start repacking the pumps. It was good to have a reliable and experienced hand like Raymond running things. It made Tim’s work easy and, even better, a box of food from the rig waited at his door. Raymond looked up and waved good morning. Tim waved thank you for the breakfast and gestured that he would eat first and then come to help. Life was back to normal.

  The trouble that ended it all for Tim came two days later. They had finished an acid job the day before and had rigged down and waited to move on. Tim was idly looking out of his window, coffee in hand, when a boat nosed into view in the river channel. A standard Indonesian river boat, wooden, long, deeply flared bow. A roof covered most of its length and it had boxes and junk stowed on it. What made this boat different was the cargo. Instead of patient villagers with their bags and chickens sitting quietly below, the boat was covered with perhaps a dozen men. Young, aggressive men in a mixture of military clothing and Rambo head bands in red and white. They were hanging off the boat, ready to jump off and board, and they were armed. The iconic profile of AK-47 Kalashnikov assault rifles was everywhere. Tim’s stomach dropped. The Man Who Ate Pork sprang into his mind.

  He jumped back from the window. He had seconds at most. The door was out of the question. Running out onto the verandah would put him in clear view of the approaching boat. The only exit at the back would be through the bathroom window. He ran to clamber up onto the toilet and dived out. It was a tight fit and for a moment he thought he would be stuck. They would find him half in and half out of the window and he would be finished. In the end he struggled free, tearing his coveralls and breaking one of the window hinges, and fell clumsily into the water below. He scrambled back to the surface and let the current push him under the counter of the barge. For the moment he was out of sight of the deck, but if the boat carried on along the length of the barge, he would be obvious.

  He had to move, but where? They were moored at a well platform and the shelter of the nipa palms was too far away. He would be spotted long before he could reach them. Their protection was
probably illusory anyway. If he reached them, he would not be able to push his way ashore through the palms. The boat could still reach him easily. Even if he did get through the palms, he did not fancy his chance of escaping. His pursuers would be more at home in the swamp than he was, and his feet were bare. He forced himself to think, and taking a deep breath, dropped under the barge and let the current carry him.

  The bottom of the barge was rough and rusty. He pulled himself to the side of the barge, trying to reach the legs of the well platform. It was dark in the shadow of the barge but even in the muddy water he could see the daylight around it. He worked his way to the edge and found what he wanted. The excavator tyre fenders were shadowed at the side of the barge. Lungs bursting, he chose one that just touched the water line and thrust his face into the space between the curve of the tyre wall and the barge. He struggled to take a silent breath. With his body beneath the barge and his head below the fender, he was invisible from above. He would be safe for as long as no one did a serious search.

  His body fell in the water and he felt for the bottom with his feet. His heels settled into the mud and moving cautiously, he brought his feet back underneath him. He sank into the mud until his foot reached something hard and rough. A piece of steel probably. Construction debris from the well platform. He was crouching slightly with his head tipped back and only his nose and mouth above water.

  He became aware of the noises around him. The chugging of the boat engine was getting nearer. It had not reached the barge yet and Tim was surprised. It had not been so far away when he had run from it. Panic must have given his feet wings. He wondered if they had seen the splash when he fell from the window. There was a thud as the boat came alongside and immediately he heard and felt running feet drumming on the deck above as the men jumped aboard. Frantically, he tried to understand what they were doing. He guessed they would run straight up to his cabin to find him, the foreigner, and not bother with the crew beyond keeping them under control. He thought he could hear shouting muffled by the water, but he could not make out any words. The running feet continued on the deck, moving in all directions. He would wait and pray.

  Later, he did not know how much later, he heard the boat engine pick up revs again. It was moving on. For a moment he thought it was leaving, but he could still hear shouting on deck. He guessed they were searching the nipa palms. They had figured out how he had escaped and were looking for him. He prayed that they would keep concentrating on the river’s edge. He waited and worried about the falling tide and how much room would be left under the barge.

  Very much later he became aware of a heavier engine in the water. He could feel the vibration as much as hear it. He guessed it was the tug, coming to move them. This was serious. If the tug moved Sea Sprite IV now he would be drawn through the water under his tyre and he did not know if he could hang on. He would be forced to let go and be left alone and obvious in the water.

  Then the boat was coming back. Perhaps the bandits would not stay. Perhaps they had given up. The boat touched for a minute and pushed off. Tim could hear its chugging start to soften as it left, running away from the approaching tug. He could not believe his luck, not yet. He waited in the increasing sound of the tug engine until he felt it nose gently against the end of the barge and throttle back. He risked pushing the tyre away from the barge to get his ears out of the water. Now he could hear them, his guys, his friends shouting at the river bank “Mr. Tim, Mr. Tim, all good now.” He had survived.

  He was shaking and he did not trust his eyes not to water as he pulled himself up onto the fender. The guys were there immediately, helping him up through the railing. It felt good to be home safe. The tug hooked up and started to move. Tim sent Raymond up to the tug Captain to get on their marine radio and report what had happened. He went to get a shower and a change of clothes, and a coffee to calm his trembling.

  Two of Captain Rais’s men were waiting for them when they tied up at CampDua. They were all led away, but Tim was taken alone to Captain Rais’s office. The Captain looked small and nervous behind his desk. He did not invite Tim to sit down but he took a chair without thinking.

  Captain Rais did not question him about what had happened. He had other things on his mind. “Mr. Armstrong, we have a problem with Darti. You must help her.”

  “Darti? What’s wrong with her?”

  “After the terrorists attacked you, they went to get her also.”

  “Oh God, is she OK?”

  “Yes. Safe at the moment. I was in my office this afternoon and her cousin pushed her way in here. She said that Darti had trouble with some bad men. I ordered my men to come and took a fast boat out there. We were too late, of course, but we caught the terrorists getting back into their boat. One of them started to shoot, but we got most of them and their boat. It is under the water now.

  “Darti’s house was burnt. We could see the smoke over the trees, but when I went to her place, she was waiting for me. She knew they were coming and she hid in the trees. Now she is safe with the police, but she must be moved. You will take her to Singapore.”

  “But—but—” Thoughts raced through Tim’s head. “How did her cousin know?”

  Captain Rais smiled. “It is better not to ask this question,” he said complacently. “Darti is not a normal person. She knows things that we do not know. Now, when are you leaving? You must make a place for her on the plane.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “She must be outside Indonesia. These people will try again and again until you are both dead. Now you will telephone your office and make the arranging.”

  “Me? But I can’t. They won’t listen to me. I’m just an engineer. You call them. They’ll do whatever you ask, especially when you tell them about me too.”

  Captain Rais looked uncomfortable. He did not like the idea of leaning on a foreign company. It could mean trouble for him. “It’s OK,” Tim reassured him. “Just speak to Mr. Bang Bang. He’s the one who fixes things.”

  “Ah, I see. Bang Bang? That is his name?”

  “Well, something like that. Anyway, that’s what we call him. He’s our Indonesian who manages the contacts with government offices and so on. Tell them they’ve got to get me out for safety reasons. Then tell them that Darti’s your sister or something and she has to go to Singapore to the doctor. That should do it. Tell them they’ve got to help or you’ll keep me in prison until you catch the terrorists. You know how it goes.”

  Tim sat and listened as Captain Rais called Bang Bang. It took a while to find him but they eventually ran him down at home. Tim was surprised at the roughness in Captain Rais’s manner as he spoke. Perhaps he was just emphasising his position, but he smiled as he put the telephone down. “Very good. He will have places on the plane for you.”

  “But does Darti have a passport? And a visa?”

  Again the Captain smiled. “We are able to do some things very quickly, Mr. Armstrong, when it is necessary. Darti is already in Balikpapan. She will be at the airport with her passport tomorrow, and so will you. Tonight there will be guards on your barge, and tomorrow you will fly on a police helicopter.”

  Tim went to the radio room to telephone Pierre in Balikpapan. He did not like the bad news but immediately started preparations for getting Tim out.

  Chapter 26

  The police came for him before breakfast. He was awake and waiting. He had hardly slept as he replayed the afternoon over and over in his mind. And now he would have to go. Raymond and the guys gathered on deck to shake his hand as he left. He climbed through the railing and Raymond passed his bag. He was leaving one of his homes. A last look back at Sea Sprite IV with its untidy assemblage of gear and his accommodation unit perched above the stern, a wave for Raymond and the guys, and he turned the corner. He marched with his bag over his shoulder and an immaculately pressed policeman with a machine pistol on either side. As they passed the mess hall he could see his friends at breakfast. He waved. It must have appeared that he had been ar
rested.

  The police helicopter was a serious piece of equipment—a Huey, big and navy blue, threatening, polished clean enough to eat off, and holding more armed policemen. Captain Rais stood at the edge of the helipad with a senior officer. He did not acknowledge Tim.

  Tim threw his bag aboard and clambered up. Hands helped him to a centre seat. Moments later the rotations increased, the helicopter lifted and lurched forward, and they were airborne over the Mahakam. Tim looked out of the open doorway at the muddy river and CampDua. He caught a glimpse of Sea Sprite IV. For a moment Raymond was walking on the deck, and then he had gone. Tim settled back in his seat and closed his eyes.

  They landed on the military side of the airport. Tim was escorted across the tarmac to wait in an office. He took out his book and settled down to read. He had missed breakfast but there was no sign of anything to eat. After about an hour the door eased open and a deferential Indonesian brought him perfumed tea in a cup with a lid. He waited some more, and then he heard voices in the corridor and Darti was ushered in. She looked lost and small, but her face lit up. She wore a simple cotton dress and her hair was held back with a rubber band.

  “Timmee! I am here!” She came to sit beside him but did not touch. She had a small dirty holdall packed to bursting that she pushed under her chair. “You are good? Yesterday was very bad. My house is gone. Finished.”

  “Yes, I heard. You lost everything.”

  “Yes. All finished,” she said sadly. “I only have this.” She pointed at her bag.

  “How did you get away?”

  She smiled at him. “I am waiting with the monkeys! I hide my bag and climb up to sit with the big nose monkeys. They are my friends. Then the bad men come and my friends run away. They not understand and the men are shooting bang-bang-bang. Stupid men! And they make fire and my house is finished, all gone.” There were tears in her eyes.