Bali Bule Hunter

by Michael Powers

  Aji fanned his face with the note. “You must trust this Jaya very much to allow him to handle such an important matter for you.”

  Greg looked deep into Aji’s eyes. “I’m not much of a gambler, but I’m betting my life on this e-mail.”

  “So you have,” Aji nodded grimly, then left the room.

  Greg faced the others. He could see in their eyes how much they wanted to ask questions. Holding up his hand, he shook his head, indicating there could be no discussion. As he headed to the refrigerator, Greg asked over his shoulder, “Can I get anyone a drink? I sure need something. I’m dry as the desert.”

  Aji left the pad and pen with Greg, so he scrawled a quick note then handed it to Budi. “Must escape SOON. Need weapons. Ideas?” Budi passed the note to Liana, Rial, and Donny. As they studied Greg’s note, he rummaged through a utensil drawer in the kitchen. He found plastic ladles, forks, spoons, and knives, a meat tongs, and a metal cheese slicer.

  Turning excitedly to the group, Greg held up the cheese slicer, pretended to pull an invisible band back, and then released it like a slingshot. Kersen understood, slipped off his sandals, and removed the elastic bands. Liana produced several large pins holding her hair in place. Budi found a nail protruding from a cabinet door, and pried it loose with the meat tongs. They had the raw materials for their first weapon.

  Chapter 15

  Jaya received Aji’s e-mail at a quarter past noon as he ate lunch alone in his office. Moments later, he rushed by the department secretary, and hollered, “Going home. Personal emergency. Not back today!”

  When Jaya entered the home he shared with Greg, he headed straight to his roommate’s bedroom, booted up his computer, and followed the e-mail instructions from Aji. He was amused by Greg’s new password. For five years, Jaya had been a chameleon, blending into the background so well no one would ever suspect him of being a terrorist.

  It only took a couple minutes for Jaya to execute the transaction and receive confirmation, which he forwarded to Aji. He hoped his mentor would be pleased by this triumph. A crucial piece of the plan had been completed. Jaya wondered if he would be allowed to stay in the States to continue his work, or if he would be recalled to Indonesia.

  Jaya felt a twinge of sadness, knowing Greg would be dead soon. Even though Greg had been a generous friend, his death was necessary for the greater good. With both Greg and Ted Simmons missing, there would be many questions from friends, neighbors, and local authorities. Jaya realized he’d have to disappear, resurfacing with a new identity if he continued his work in the States. He’d avoid the West Coast. Dallas, Chicago, or Atlanta might be good places to live and continue his work.

  If all went well, Jaya hoped Aji might grant a request. He didn’t want a big house, fancy car, or any other physical possession. There was only one thing Greg possessed which Jaya really wanted. His appearance. Standing in front of the mirror on Greg’s dresser, Jaya fantasized about the way he would look after cosmetic surgery. Instead of the short, brown skinned, dark-haired man staring back at him, there would be a new Jaya. Taller, blond, with chemically whitened skin, he’d have his teeth capped with porcelain veneers to give him a perfect smile. With a nose job, thinner lips, and blue contact lenses, Jaya could almost pass for Caucasian. He knew the surgery adding four inches to his legs would be painful, but well worth it. He had rehearsed his appeal for funds in front of a mirror a hundred times already. A clinic in West Hollywood promised to do everything for a hundred thousand dollars. He would tell Aji it was necessary to establish a believable new identity. How could Aji say no after all the money he had helped raise?

  At 10:30 p.m. Kersen was sleeping, but the others sat around the table playing poker, using colored napkins as currency. Aji entered and the room went silent. He sauntered over to Greg and laid an e-mail on the table for him to read. “Jaya has completed the transaction. Tomorrow morning when Bank Indonesia opens, I will transfer funds to our supplier and the next phase of our plan will begin.” Aji gazed down at Greg with a mixture of pity and contempt. “You should know that Jaya, your most trusted friend, works for me. I paid for his UCLA education and have recovered my investment many times over through the targets he identified for us. But, how could you know? He’s very good at his job.”

  Greg sat back in his chair, staring at the floor. “What happens to us now?” he asked meekly.

  “As you say,” Aji replied, stroking his neatly trimmed beard, “you cease to have value now that I have your uncle’s money. I have not yet decided what to do with you. If you can prove you have additional value, perhaps I will let you live.”

  Greg brightened. “My uncle has several original works of art in his home. Paintings by Monet, Dali, Yeats, Van Gogh, and other masters. Jaya can verify that since he’s seen them. There’s easily another hundred million in art, but it’ll take time to dispose of the paintings. Liana and I can help. She has contacts in the art world. I’m sure we can work something out, right, Liana?”

  Liana nodded sullenly.

  Aji appeared pleased. “Perhaps we will have a long and rewarding relationship after all.” As he opened the door on his way out, he said, “You will find bedding in the cabinets. If you require anything else, ask the guard posted outside your room. Good-night.”

  Greg glanced around the table. As he nodded grimly, they all knew they must escape before Aji returned from Bank Indonesia.

  Jaya changed from his business suit into running shorts and sandals, then turned on the living room TV. Instead of jogging, he grabbed a pint of chocolate frozen yogurt from the freezer, allowing himself a well-deserved reward for the valuable service he performed that day.

  At 2:30 p.m., the front doorbell rang. When Jaya opened the door, two Homeland Security agents identified themselves, asking to inspect all the computers in the house. Jaya asked for a search warrant, but was quoted the section from the Patriot Act allowing a search without a warrant when terrorist activity is suspected. He led them to Greg’s bedroom, an agent sat at the keyboard, typed in several commands, then printed what was on the screen, nodding at the other agent.

  The senior agent introduced himself as Matthew McDonald. “Jaya Guntur, I am arresting you for violating the Patriot Act by attempting to electronically transfer funds to known terrorists. As a guest in this country, you are not entitled to constitutionally guaranteed rights, so don’t bother asking for an attorney. I have the authority to lock you up for the rest of your life, deport you, or do anything I damn well please. I already know are part of an organized terrorist cell, and your associates are operating somewhere on the north coast of Bali because of the e-mails you exchanged. It’s just a matter of hours before my agency finds their exact location. Cooperate now, and cut a deal for yourself. Wait, and your info will be useless.”

  Jaya sat, horrified by the turn of events. “How you know these things?”

  “Greg Simmons enrolled in a security program a few days ago. He established two duress codes. The password he told you to use indicated he is being forced to transfer money by terrorists. That duress code alerted the bank, and they contacted Homeland Security. We have broad powers to obtain information from Internet Service Providers, so we knew your location immediately, and just confirmed the IP address of the computer you used. By examining all your recent texts, calls, and e-mails, we know your contact is on Bali, somewhere in a fifteen kilometer radius of Singaraja. It’s just a matter of time before we pinpoint his location. We want to know where Greg Simmons is being held, who’s with him, and how many armed terrorists are at that location. What kind of weapons do they have? What do they plan to use the money for? Is anyone else involved in the U.S.?”

  Jaya sank deeper into the stuffed chair, his entire future flashing before him. He would no longer be the hero of his village. His parents would no longer brag about their successful son in the States. They would be ashamed to mention his name ever again. He would never be the tall, light-skinned, thin-lipped man he dreamed of becoming. He had faile
d his family, his friends, himself, and Aji. If the American government already knew about operations outside Singaraja, Aji’s plan was doomed to failure. It didn’t take long for Jaya’s keenly analytical mind to determine his best shot lay in cooperating with Agent McDonald. “What deal we can make?” Jaya asked anxiously.

  Agent McDonald studied Jaya with disgust. What he really wanted to do was beat the cowering young man bloody, but realized his job for the moment required civility. Informants were more cooperative with agents they liked, so McDonald consciously softened his voice and facial expression, switching back to the first person singular. “If the information you give me is useful, I can arrange relocation and a new identity, but the clock’s ticking. If I find your pals without your help, the deal’s off the table. So, what’s it gonna be? Talk and walk? Or share a prison cell with some ape named Bubba who eats terrorists for breakfast?”

  Certain Aji would kill them in a matter of hours, Greg was determined to escape. Through whispers, gestures, and notes, he developed a simple plan. He would summon the guard outside. Using their crude slingshots, Donny and Rial would aim for the guard’s face when he entered the room. Greg and Budi would disarm the guard, strip him, and then tie him up with their bedding. Then they would lure any remaining guards into the basement, and do the same to them. Dressed as guards, Budi and Rial would march the others upstairs and outside. Kersen would lead them through the jungle to Singaraja. Essential components of the plan were timing, luck, and prayer to all their gods.

  Donny and Rial aimed their slingshots at the door. Greg shouted, “Guard! Guard!” as he pounded the door, then stepped back. Annoyed at having his nap interrupted, the sleepy guard opened the door and spotted Donny and Rial poised to shoot. Before the guard could react, a nail punctured his Adam’s apple, then a hairpin penetrated his left eye. He dropped his M-16 rifle as he lifted both hands to his face. Before he could scream, Budi snatched the M-16, while Greg slipped a pillowcase around his neck, choking the guard until his body went limp.

  Liana and Greg removed clothing from the lifeless body, tossing each piece to Budi. Dressed as a guard, Budi stood at the bottom of the stairway and yelled, “Come quickly!” in Bahasa. The only guard upstairs raced down the steps, turned the corner, and entered the room. Too late, he realized he was the prisoner. As he dropped his M-16 and raised his arms, Budi ordered him to remove his shirt, pants, and boots.

  “At this point in the date, I usually offer refreshments,” Budi joked, with the muzzle of the M-16 pressed firmly against the guard’s temple, “but I’m afraid all I have to offer are bullet appetizers.”

  “Crisis humor,” Greg muttered as he helped Rial dress in the second guard’s uniform. “Admirable quality, Budi.”

  “Add it to the list of reasons you should marry me!” Budi whispered.

  Greg used the second guard’s belt to tie his hands and legs together, stuffed a cloth in his mouth, then shoved him onto a sofa. Dressed as Aji’s soldiers, Budi and Rial marched the other four upstairs at gunpoint. There was no one around since it was nearly three a.m. Budi peered out the front door. “I only see two soldiers at the main entrance with their backs to us. We should be okay if we sneak out the back door.”

  Liana spotted her purse on a table. Rifling through the contents, she found a small disk, flipped a switch, then jammed it into a pocket. She tried her cell phone, but the battery had been removed. Seeing his backpack, Budi found his taser and extra cartridges, then stuffed them into his pockets. His cell phone was also dead. Donny and Rial grabbed M-16s and extra ammo.

  Greg eased the back door open. No alarm sounded. There were no soldiers nearby. He stepped outside and peered around, then poked his head back inside. “All clear! Let’s go.”

  The group was halfway across the open ground between the villa and the jungle when a soldier on top of the main building scanned the area with a searchlight. A siren blared, lights flooded the area, and there were frantic shouts over a loudspeaker.

  “Busted!” Greg shouted. “Everyone run like hell!”

  Two soldiers at the main entrance caught sight of the group as they sprinted into the jungle. They both fired, but were too far away. Six more soldiers joined them, heading into the jungle in hot pursuit.

  It was dark, the jungle was dense, and the escapees had a slight head start. Kersen led them to a trail which meandered through the jungle. They could hear the soldiers close behind. Greg told Budi to ask Kersen to find a place where they could hide while the soldiers passed them. Kersen found a clump of rocks where they covered themselves with grass and leaves until the soldiers passed.

  When the jungle was quiet again, Kersen whispered to Greg, “What now, boss?”

  “You speak English?” Greg whispered.

  “Not so good English, but little some,” Kersen grinned.

  Greg glanced around. “Can’t go south cuz that leads back to the villa. Can’t go north to Singaraja or we run into the soldiers who just passed us. What’s to our east and west?”

  “Ocean west. Sukadada east,” Kersen replied.

  “East it is,” Greg nodded. “Hey, Liana, what was that disk you retrieved from your purse?”

  “GPS locator. Help should be on the way. I just hope they don’t take too long!”

  “The perfect tool for every business executive?” Greg winked.

  As the escapees headed east, the rest of Aji’s men joined the hunt on foot and in SUVs, hoping to encircle them. In radio contact with the first group, Aji decided the escapees had outsmarted his soldiers. Faced with the same choices, Aji headed for Sukadada.

  Chapter 16

  Picking their way through the dense underbrush, the escapees moved as quietly as possible. Kersen told them Sukadada was about five kilometers from the villa through heavy jungle, so it might take an hour to get there. He found a pipe to hack his way through the underbrush. The group followed Kersen single file for thirty minutes, listening intently for sounds they were being pursued.

  When Liana stumbled over a log, Greg glanced back at her. “Have a nice trip?” he chuckled, then noticed her terrified expression.

  Pointing up, Liana was too scared to move. Dangling from a tree, a twenty-foot python blocked Liana’s path. Although not poisonous, pythons ambush and crush their prey before eating, occasionally feeding on humans. Budi moved closer to his sister, aiming his M-16 at the snake, but Greg laid his hand on the rifle’s barrel, coaxing Budi to lower it.

  “Use your taser,” Greg urged Budi. “A gunshot will give our location away.”

  Budi removed the taser from his pocket, aimed at the center of the coiled mass, then squeezed the trigger. The stunned snake writhed in confusion a few seconds, then fell from the tree. Budi squeezed a second time, sending another shock to stun the snake, but there was no reaction. For good measure, Budi pressed the trigger a few more seconds.

  Greg lifted the snake back into the jungle with his M-16. “Nice work!” he complimented Budi. “No need to kill it. It’s not poisonous.”

  “How do you know about snakes?” Budi quizzed his friend.

  “Summers at the San Diego Zoo,” Greg explained. “Used to wander around the reptile exhibits for hours, especially at feeding time.”

  Pretending disgust, Budi asked if Greg ever saw a snake eat a small child.

  “Just rodents,” Greg assured him.

  “We’re the perfect team, Professor. Beauty and brains! Wanna guess which one you are?”

  “Hey! Beauty and brains!” Liana groaned. “I hurt my ankle. Better go on without me.”

  “No!” Budi and Greg hissed simultaneously.

  “If they find you before we get back with help, you’re either dead or a hostage,” Greg warned. “Budi and I will carry you between us. It’s not far.”

  Budi and Greg bent low so Liana could place her weight on them as they lifted her. Donny and Rial carried the M-16s, and Kersen hacked a path for them to follow. An hour later, they spotted Sukadada through a clearing. The first rays
of sun were poking over the horizon.

  Squatting behind some rocks, Greg and Kersen studied the sleeping village. “Seems peaceful,” Greg whispered.

  Kersen nodded. “How I can help?”

  Wiping sweat from his forehead, Greg thought of two things they needed desperately. “We need water and a phone.”

  Kersen pointed west. “Stream one hundred meter. Cool. Clean.”

  Greg brightened. “Great! Know anyone with a phone?”

  “Cousin Rezal live Sukadada. I bring handphone here.”

  A broad smile covered Greg’s face. He handed Kersen a large denomination rupiah note to pay for the phone, but Kersen shoved it away. “Tell your cousin we are most grateful, okay?”

  Kersen nodded. “Back soonly. Wait me here.” He waded out of the jungle and trotted down a path to Sukadada.

  Greg examined Liana’s ankle. “I had some first aid training. Difficult to tell whether this is a strain, sprain, or broken bone without an x-ray, but I’m guessing sprain. That means you can walk on it if you have to. It’s swollen, but I think it’d be a lot worse if you’d broken a bone. It’d also be more discolored. If we were at home, I’d wrap it in ice, elevate above your heart, and tell you to stay off it for a few days.”

  Liana frowned. “What can you do for a busy career girl on the run?”

  “Best I can do right now is wrap it in a wet cloth,” Greg admitted. As several drops of his perspiration plopped onto Liana’s leg, he apologized. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind. Wow, look at me! Sweating like a fat man at a cannibal convention.”