by Sara Foster
Jackson is beginning to worry they have gone the wrong way when they round a corner and the harbour opens out in front of them. Boats are crowded along the marina, a tangle of rods and lines interrupting the view. As they cross the road, they see rows of horizontal wooden poles fixed a metre above the ground, each one heaped with netting. Groups of men and women are working assiduously to untangle them. The air is clogged with the odour of fish and diesel fumes.
Desi comes to a halt. ‘That must be the place,’ she says, and points across the water.
An enormous hotel is perched on an outcrop in the distance, the greater section of it at ground level and a smaller portion peeping out at the summit, over the trees that cover the steep cliff.
Jackson sighs. ‘Okay, then, let’s go.’
They walk further along the road towards it, but eventually the tarmac peters out and they are left staring down into the water, a slick of oil painting wavy rainbows across its surface as far as they can see.
‘We must have to get a boat,’ Jackson murmurs, wondering where to go next. As they turn around, a man in a fisherman’s plastic overalls points across the harbour. A small white ferry is making its way to the jetty. As it gets closer, Jackson sees it is shaped like a turtle with a jaunty red and blue cap perched atop its head.
The skipper is friendly, beckoning them aboard. After a few minutes, they set off, travelling towards the hotel dock.
‘What’ll we do when we get there?’ Jackson whispers.
‘I’m not sure.’
They are both slow to disembark. But as Jackson scans the area, to his surprise, Kate suddenly runs out of the hotel’s front doors. ‘Great to see you both!’ she shouts, throwing her arms around him. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she hisses in his ear.
She pulls him by the hand into an enormous lobby. It is like entering a small village. To one side a panel of receptionists are busy with guests, while dozens of chairs and tables fill the central area. On the opposite side, an extensive network of shops trails off along long, wide passageways, each a gleaming riot of colour, with lavish displays of exquisitely wrapped packages.
Jackson takes everything in as Kate drags him down one of the long corridors. He looks back to see Desi following. The retailers eventually peter out, exchanged for restaurants and meeting rooms. Groups of middle-aged Japanese men wander past them in long, loosely belted white gowns and sandals, clean towels around their necks.
Finally, Kate pulls them into the far corner of a near-empty bistro. A waitress comes over immediately, nodding and smiling and handing them menus.
‘How the hell did you find us?’ Kate whispers once they have sat down.
Desi leans in close. ‘You told me enough for me to figure it out.’
‘How come you were outside when we got here?’ Jackson asks.
‘I was waiting for Carl. He’s been gone a while. Listen, you can’t be here. You’re drawing attention to us, which is the last thing we need. Why on earth have you come?’
‘Kate, Desi’s told me everything.’ Jackson reaches for her hand, uncomfortable when she snatches it away. ‘This is madness. Do you know what I’ve been reading on the internet about protestors in Taiji? They are subjected to hotel raids. They are regularly harassed. Their cars are chased. One guy was put in prison for over forty days because someone fabricated a story that he’d given them a shove. The charge was thrown out of court, but if that’s what they do over nothing imagine what they’ll do to you if you commit God knows how many criminal offences?’
‘Jackson, do you know what they do to dolphins in Taiji?’ Kate counters. ‘The few they don’t kill are grouped in tiny pens and given no food until they learn to perform tricks. In desperation, the dolphins chew whatever they can find – ropes, rubbish, the lot. Then the trainers put their hands into their stomachs to pull it out. Can you imagine how painful that is? Sometimes the dolphins waste away and hang motionless in the corners of the pools. Others go psychotic and spy-hop endlessly. Those are the ones who tend to vanish overnight. And the few who manage to survive all this – do you know what they get? They are either moved into the cramped, rusting rooftop pools at Dolphin Resort to be petted until they die. Or they are put into slings, loaded into lorries and driven out of Taiji. Some go hundreds of kilometres to oceanariums in Japan. Others clock up some air miles and reach aquariums all over the world. Tell me, which group do you think suffers more?’
Jackson shakes his head. ‘You’re not listening to me. And even if you’ve thought it through, you’ve had how long to wrap your head around it – a year? Maya has only had a few days.’
‘We haven’t abducted her, Jackson. She can speak for herself.’
Jackson sits back in despair as they stare at one another. He turns to his sister. ‘Desi, talk to her, will you? Say something.’
‘Kate,’ Desi begins, and Jackson is re-energised by the commanding tone of her voice. ‘I respect what you’re saying—’
‘Did you watch that film?’ Kate interrupts.
‘Yes…’
‘Then you cannot possibly object.’
‘Kate,’ Desi barks, ‘hear me out. I understand what you’re trying to do. It’s crazy, and bold, and stupid, and brilliant. But Jackson’s right – Maya doesn’t understand what she’s getting into. As her mother, I’m telling you, she’s not strong enough for this. If you’re caught, she’ll have to endure police interrogations, or a Japanese prison. It may well break her.’
‘She’s right,’ Jackson can’t help but interject.
Desi holds up a hand to silence him. ‘Which is why,’ she continues, her eyes fixed firmly on Kate, ‘I’ve come to take her place.’
49
Pete
It takes Pete three days to get from Western Australia to the orang-utan release centre in Sumatra. First he has a brief stop in Denpasar, before he flies on to Jakarta. As the plane circles to land, he surveys the city’s hazy panorama of concrete towers with ambivalence, grateful for the bed he’s booked in a nearby guesthouse. The last time he’d been through Jakarta, he and his boss had spent the night sleeping outside Berani’s container in the airport’s cargo hold.
The five-minute trip to the guesthouse takes forty minutes, since the cars are at a crawl. When he reaches his room, he finds the walls are painted luminous green, which makes it easy to shut his eyes. The next day he grabs the breakfast box of water and bread rolls that has been left at his door, and is at Terminal 2 early, eager to get on his short Garuda flight to Jambi. To his dismay, as he searches for his departure gate, he sees a stacked display of shark fins among the items for sale at a convenience store in the lobby. And once he gets in the air, his excitement about returning to the rainforest is marred by the view of an endless plain of acacia and palm oil plantations – there is no hiding the scale of destruction from up here.
At Jambi, he finds out the supply truck will not leave for the release station until the next day. That evening, in another small guesthouse, he eats nasi padang and tries to call Desi. It’s probably the last chance he’ll have to speak to her for a while, since there’s no mobile signal available in the jungle without a long hike, and he’s disappointed when there’s no answer. He sleeps fitfully, waking soon after dawn to get ready for the journey. Only once they set off into the rainforest does he realise that he’s always had an English-speaking companion before. His Indonesian is patchy; he will have a lot to learn if he moves here.
As always, the journey over the deep, muddy tracks is painstakingly slow and bumpy. It is worse than being at sea, and Pete struggles to contain his nausea, despite having taken tablets in preparation. He’s on the lookout for wildlife, but the dense vegetation is hiding its treasures today. Nevertheless, it is a good run – no breakdowns or blowouts, and they get across the river without water seeping into the car.
He arrives at the station in late afternoon. After saying hello and a grateful thank you to the manager, he gets to watch the last hour of jungle school –
the orphaned and abandoned young orang-utans who are busy training for their release into the forest. The confident ones show off their brachial skills along ropes and branches, while others hover by their carers, observing. But they all scurry across once cups of milk are produced, drinking greedily after their exertions.
The orang-utan babies are adorable without exception, with their huge, innocent brown eyes and their playful nature, but Pete is all too aware that this has been their curse as much as a blessing. When their mothers are shot down from trees and killed, these youngsters are carried away to be living dolls, the status symbols of the wealthy. Half the babies here have background stories like this, while the rest are victims of habitat destruction.
In the evening, Pete chats to a group of devoted German scientists who have spent years putting their money and expertise into the project. Then one of the trackers comes across to tell him he can accompany their group tomorrow. Soon after, he decides he’ll head for bed.
He endures another night of broken sleep, this time because of a cacophony of forest musicians, an array of feathered choristers following an entire orchestra of insects. When the first pure rays of morning light shine through the small windows, and the gibbons begin to sing, he is already getting dressed. His clothes are damp from the humidity, and will doubtless remain that way until he leaves.
There is a deep level of peacefulness to plodding behind the trackers, day after day, despite the insects that pester and bite, the sweat that drips into his eyes and the sore neck he gets from craning up towards the trees, searching for glimpses of orange fur. Pete cannot entirely pin it down, but perhaps it comes from a sense of purpose. He is in awe of the skill with which the two trackers can negotiate pathways within the deep forest without ever getting lost. They are from the local Talang Mamak tribe, another victim of logging and forest degradation, whose traditional pastimes have been replaced by new occupations such as this. While these trackers are keen to locate certain orang-utans to check on their welfare, they are keeping a lookout for all one hundred and thirty in the release zone. Pete’s eyes are searching for just one.
And yet, day after day, there is no sign of Berani. Pete is despondent by the end of day five, as the trackers radio in before indicating that they should turn around and head back. It is late afternoon, and broken patches of yellow sunshine stream through the forest canopy. A rabble of pretty butterflies dance around the low-lying grass and stop to gorge on the mud, while the men have to take winding, circuitous trails to avoid stepping on them. The trackers stop to study what could be cat prints, talking rapidly between themselves, while Pete gets the feeling that there are eyes on him. He peers into the canopy again, hoping to find Berani, and instead spies a brightly coloured wrinkled hornbill watching silently from a nearby branch.
What would Desi make of this? he wonders, as he gives the hornbill a playful salute. How he longs to show her this beautiful hidden world, before it is too late.
As he follows, the men begin talking into the two-way more often, and he notices them eyeing him with more interest. They are almost back at the camp when they both fall behind, and he comes out into the clearing first. Across the way, he sees the jungle school assembled again, a troupe of little apes hanging suspended from a horizontal rope, swaying like washing out to dry.
One of the German scientists comes across to him and points up into the trees. ‘There,’ he says.
Pete gazes up to see a big, sleek orang-utan sitting on a branch some way above. They must have released another adult from quarantine.
The German scientist is laughing at him. ‘Berani!’ he says, pointing again.
And Pete, shocked, takes another look.
He hadn’t recognised him because Berani is so much bigger, and a perfect picture of health. His coat had been a dull orange in the dry heat of the zoo, but here, in the intense humidity, it has become a lustrous deep red. As Pete watches, his long-lost orang-utan stoically surveys them all, chewing on a small green jambu fruit.
‘He must have heard you were here and come to visit,’ the German scientist laughs, as Pete steps forward. Berani has noticed him and is coming slowly down from the tree, but Pete hastens across to climb a nearby observation post, not wanting Berani to come to the ground for him. As he climbs up, someone in the background cries ‘Hati-hati!’– ‘Be careful!’ – but Pete ignores them. Rather than approaching Berani, he sits waiting at the top, as the orang-utan ambles closer, until finally he is greeted by what can only be described as a hairy, smelly ape embrace.
50
Maya
‘How dare you! This is my decision. You have no right to come here and tell me what to do.’
Maya is trembling, incandescent with fury. Fifteen minutes ago she had been dozing in the hotel room, conserving her strength for the long night ahead. Then Kate had walked in, with her mother and Jackson. While she regarded them, incredulous, they explained why they had come.
Kate puts a finger to her lips. ‘Keep your voice down.’
Maya sits down hard on the bed, tucking her hands underneath her. Desi goes to sit next to her. ‘Let me do this for you. This is serious, Maya. You could get hurt.’
‘Don’t you think I know that?’
Jackson paces opposite. ‘I think you’re all crazy. I vote we go home right now.’
Maya jumps up, attempting to escape her growing claustrophobia. She goes across to Kate’s laptop. ‘Can I borrow this?’
Kate shrugs. ‘Go ahead.’
Maya leans over, finding the image she wants, unplugs the laptop and brings it across. ‘See this,’ she says, gesturing to the picture on display. It is a tightly packed group of dolphins, huddled together. ‘This is a few weeks ago, when a captured group got close to the mouth of the Cove. See the tiny baby in the centre of them? And this.’ She flicks to another photo, of two fishermen in a small boat. Blue tarp has been laid haphazardly across the centre, but has drifted back to reveal a pile of dolphin bodies. One fisherman is dragging an adult by the tail, a knife in his other hand. ‘This is half an hour after the first photo. If you watch the video, half of them are still moving here. What they endured is unimaginable – not one was spared. You know, they kill the mothers first, so it’s easier to get to the babies. I’ve seen footage of their tiny tails dancing up and down in a sea of blood. Now I know about it, there’s no going back. I will not stand by and do nothing. If I do, I’m no better than them.’ She points to the fishermen in the picture.
Jackson jumps up and moves over to the window. ‘I get that it’s horrific, Maya, but there are other ways.’
‘People are trying all sorts of things,’ Kate agrees. ‘But this is our contribution.’
Jackson gives an angry growl of frustration and turns his back on them.
‘Tell me the whole plan,’ Desi says, still staring at the screen.
Jackson immediately comes to kneel down in front of Desi. ‘Please don’t do this,’ he begs. ‘Haven’t you been through enough?’
‘Jackson, we each have to live by our own decisions. If you don’t want to get involved, fine. But I can’t turn away either. I want to help.’
‘Right.’ He throws his hands up in despair and walks towards the door. ‘I’ll wait in the lobby for an hour, in case you change your mind, and then I’m gone.’
The door slams behind him.
‘Desi, we’ve got enough people,’ Kate says softly. ‘The more we have, the more risk there is of being caught.’
‘Fair enough,’ Desi says, ‘but show me anyway. A fresh pair of eyes might help you make sure you’ve thought of everything.’
‘Can you show her?’ Kate asks Maya. ‘I want to have a word with Jackson.’
As soon as Maya nods, Kate is gone.
‘So have you finished trying to talk me out of it?’ Maya asks as she pulls the laptop across.
Desi sighs. ‘I’m scared for you – but also extremely proud of you.’ She pulls her daughter close. ‘If you change your mind, I’ll tak
e your place right up until the last minute.’
‘I won’t change my mind,’ Maya says, a clear edge of steel in her voice. ‘But I’m really sorry I’ve given you such a hard time lately.’
‘What I did was wrong, and it affected your life too. You had every right to be angry.’
‘Well, I’m not angry any more.’
‘Good.’
Maya is about to say something else when the door opens, and a tall man with long, shaggy blonde hair walks in. He stops uncertainly when he sees Desi sitting there.
‘Don’t worry,’ Maya says quickly. ‘This is my mother, Desi. She’s here to help.’ When he doesn’t speak, Maya looks towards Desi. ‘This is Carl. He’s planned the entire raid.’ She turns back. ‘How did you get on?’
Carl goes across to the other bed and lies down. ‘He’s nervous, but ready.’
‘You don’t think he’ll back out?’
‘No. He hates what those fishermen are doing. But he’s incredibly brave. We’ll at least get some sympathetic media attention. He’ll probably get shunned.’
‘We’re talking about the skipper of the boat,’ Maya explains to Desi. ‘He’s a local sympathiser. We call him Isamu. It’s not his real name – only Carl knows his true identity. Carl’s worked really hard to find him. There are sympathisers here, but they’re mostly intimidated into silence, so Isamu is extremely brave. We were intending to go out last night but the weather was too rough. Tonight’s expected to be calmer.’
‘So tell me the plan.’
Carl sits cross-legged on the bed. He is watching Desi as Maya begins to talk, and she can tell he is still wary.
‘This entire hotel complex is built into the cliff – there’s only one way of getting down to the sea. First you have to go up to the roof here, and through the gardens. Right at the end, hidden in the trees, a small path leads down to the water on the ocean side. Isamu’s boat will be waiting there with the scuba tanks and cutting equipment ready. Once we’ve got across the mouth of Kii-Katsuura’s harbour, we can travel around the peninsula and into the next inlet, which is where the Dolphin Resort pens are located. It will still be dark, and the boat will travel parallel to the rocks, so we’ll be pretty well hidden. We’ll pause in one of the small bays, and that’s where we’ll enter the water. Then we’ll descend immediately and fin across to the pens. We each have two pens to cut – Carl’s taking the two on the furthest side, while Kate and I will work together on the other group of four. Originally, we were going to return to the boat, but there’s been a change of plan. When we’ve finished, we’ll swim over to the far side, and run for Carl’s car. We’ll try to get away before they’ve realised what’s happened.’