Blood Is a Stranger (32 page)

Rhonda sat at one end of the table.

‘We feel that the story must be done through Ken Cardinal's eyes.'

Network managing director, Bill Hartford, sixty, balding and rubber-lipped, sat at the other end in a three-piece suit, which looked ready to burst at the vest buttons. Either side of him were corporation lawyers and two senior
executives. One of them was Rhonda's ex-husband.

‘Cardinal creates the human-interest thread,' she said, ‘and I think that's the best way to present it.'

‘The story revolves around him trying to find out what happened to his son,' she went on, ‘and we should orient it to beg the question of whether his son is dead or alive, with the inference being that he may well be alive.'

‘You mean slant it to hint the son is alive?' her ex-husband asked.

‘Let me run through the story,' Rhonda replied, ‘then make your own judgement.' She looked up at the faces at the other end.

‘Two experts in lasers disappear from Lucas Heights. One is an Indonesian with both Australian and Indonesian citizenship. She may travel on a dual passport. This woman is abducted from Australia to Bandung where she works for the Indonesian government. Assumption: she is involved in two projects. One is to make nuclear bombs for Indonesia. The other is to create laser weapons for use by Kampuchean forces in the war against the Vietnamese.'

‘When you say assumption,' a lawyer interjected, ‘have you got facts to back this up?'

‘Enough circumstantial evidence to make the documentary credible,' Dunstan answered for Rhonda.

‘That's dangerous ground,' the lawyer said. ‘You're accusing our most important near neighbour of making nuclear weapons!'

‘Let me finish,' Rhonda said. ‘Indonesia gets the capacity to make the bomb as a trade-off with the CIA to allow it to use the Bandung reactor facilities to develop laser weapons for use by the Kampucheans. Originally the laser developments for nuclear bombs and Star Wars had been secretly carried out at Lucas Heights. With the change in government here, the nuclear bomb project continued but the Star Wars commission was thrown out. The CIA was forced to find another Pacific-Asian nation to carry on that project. The Indonesians were chosen. They had the
facility and were willing to make it available if the Indonesian woman scientist was transferred to Bandung to head the work. That was done. Certain things suggest that the man who was supposed to have been murdered at Lucas Heights, Harold Ian Cardinal, may also have been moved to Bandung. He was the Star Wars specialist. He could help the woman on the bomb project for Indonesia and she could help him on the Star Wars work.'

‘But why would the CIA go to so much trouble?' the executive asked.

‘It fits their aims,' Rhonda replied. ‘They don't want it known that there is American involvement in the Kampuchean'Vietnam war, while there is abundant evidence to suggest it has been supplying special arms to the Khmer Rouge for some time. A suitable war is needed to experiment with Star Wars weaponry. The Americans do not want to be seen breaching their agreements with the Soviets on Star Wars so they need a clandestine outlet. The battle with the Vietnamese is perfect. The Americans have wanted to curtail Vietnam's expansion in South-East Asia. Letting the Khmer Rouge loose with Star Wars weapons is consistent with US foreign policy.' All eyes were on Hartford.

‘So the CIA fakes the death of this key scientist so that he may secretly work on Star Wars in Indonesia?' he asked.

Rhonda nodded.

‘Can you get the CIA to respond to all this?' Hartford asked.

‘We could try,' Dunstan said. ‘Of course, they would deny it.'

‘That's okay,' Hartford said, ‘just give them the chance to deny it.' He turned to Rhonda again and asked, ‘Where is Cardinal now?'

‘I last spoke to him in Jakarta about three days ago.'

‘Well, I suggest you get him back here fast and interview him.'

‘Then you're giving it the go ahead?' Dunstan asked.

‘You've got your budget for it,' Hartford said, ‘but 1 want to see a rough-cut before we make a decision on airing it. If you can satisfy our lawyers and me, we'll run it.'

The prison guards left Cardinal alone through the first night and into the next day with only two indirect communications in the morning. Unpalatable grain in hot water was pushed through a latch in the door in return for the bucket. Both times the guard grunted something but was gone before Cardinal could conjure a suitable response from his limited Indonesian. There was a compelling desire to make verbal contact and vivid reminders of solitary confinement in Manchuria. Then, he had often reflected, his unformed intellect and strong body had given him a certain rigidity which stood him in good stead under pressure. Now softer in body and alone he was not confident of withstanding the desolation of prison.

His suitcase was hurled into the cell mid-morning, and Cardinal was surprised to see that nothing had been confiscated. He wondered if the commandant was letting him know he wasn't going anywhere.

Cardinal filled in the rest of the morning by going through a two-hour exercise routine. Normally he would do about twenty minutes a day, but in the last week or so he had been intent on just making it through each day with little or no sleep, and his disciplines of yoga and swimming had not been possible.

He followed the long session by scribbling out things to think about through the rest of the day. He remembered the sketches of Chan in an inside pocket of the suitcase.

He unzipped it. They had been removed. Cardinal brought his fist down hard on the suitcase. ‘Damnit!' he growled. He felt stupid for not having destroyed them.

The sun baked his cell, and sweat dripped from him.
Cardinal fought a continuous listlessness as time acted like a loose anchor on his mind. He clutched at every mental game he had used when a Korean war POW. Cardinal had been a tops maths student at West Point, but when he tried to jot down some calculus, he found his sophisticated numeracy had been ravaged by the years. He made a chess board from loose pebbles in the cell, but after one game with himself became bored.

Cardinal wrote out all the poetry he could recall and included a verse by Robert Graves, ‘Love at first sight'.

Love at first sight, some say misnaming,

That feeling of twinned helplessness,

Against that first huge tug of procreation.

 

It made him think of Rhonda. He wrote a letter to her and put it in a grubby envelope which he addressed to her TV network and put in his trouser pocket.

At eight pm a bowl of foul-smelling, lukewarm meat and potato slid through the hatch. Cardinal considered it as it stopped at his feet. He had eaten little, but the heat had killed his appetite. Still he began to munch away for something to fill in the time.

He was distracted by the sound of a helicopter. Cardinal stepped on to the bunk to watch the big-bellied chopper settle on the other side of the administration building. Cardinal wondered who would be paying Bum a night visit. Initially it intrigued him, for Webb had been adamant about the dangers of flying any aircraft around the remote islands at night. Could it be something urgent, he mused. Could it have anything to do with him? When nothing happened, Cardinal tried to sleep but was only half successful. He lay for four hours in the thick stifling heat. Mosquitoes attacked him relentlessly. He sat up when he heard the sound of marching feet echoing down the corridor. Keys jangled in the lock as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes. Two guards growled orders at him and kicked his
suitcase, indicating that they wanted him to dress. Cardinal obeyed, apprehensive because of their attitude, which was not that of people about to show benevolence. He hauled on jeans, a shirt and sneakers and was marched out of the cell block and across the compound to the com' mandant's office.

He was pushed into the sparse room. The compound lights were on, and he could see figures sitting in the chopper. To his horror they were both in the unusual black uniforms Perdonny and Rhonda had said were worn by the forces Utun had been training at Ujung Pandang. He walked to the window but stopped as the commandant sidled in followed by two guards. He eyed Cardinal and seemed on edge.

‘Sit on the chair,' he said.

Cardinal obeyed and could hear the unsteady tread of someone else shuffling towards the room. In the split second the man entered Cardinal did not recognise him under the head bandage wrapped low enough to obscure the eyebrows. The man's right arm was in a sling. But slowly he realised it was Chan! Cardinal rose from the chair automatically. The Khmer Rouge leader did not acknowledge Cardinal and moved to the only other chair in the room. Chan gritted his jagged and protruding teeth. He was sweating and used a red scarf to dab his brow. He waved a hand at the commandant and, in English, ordered him to open the window. His voice was shaky. His eyes lifted to meet Cardinal's.

‘You thought I would be dead,' he mumbled, ‘didn't you?'

Cardinal glanced at the commandant who did not seem to have been expecting the night visitor. His hair was awry, and his tunic seemed to have been thrown on hurriedly.

‘Sit,' the commandant said.

‘I want you to know,' Chan said in a squeaky, faltering voice, ‘that we did not murder your son. You tried to kill
me for no reason.' His eyes fluttered as he spoke. ‘I wish to know who supported you in the preparation?' Chan said. ‘Was it Blundell?'

Cardinal turned to the commandant. ‘Have you been in touch with the American Ambassador, David Temple?'

‘Tell me!' Chan shrieked, ‘you must tell me if the CIA was behind the attempt . . . tell me, and nothing will happen to you! Nothing!' Chan gripped the arm of the chair and breathed heavily.

He must have taken both bullets, Cardinal thought. Yet he travelled from Jakarta only seventy-two hours afterwards. He had to be keen on revenge, or concerned about his relationship with Blundell. Cardinal stalled; Chan called for the two men in the chopper. The two black-uniformed commandos came close to him.

‘Did Blundell get you to do this?' Chan hissed.

Cardinal turned his body to face the two men but did not answer.

They were given an order, and one drew a baton that had been slung out of Cardinal's vision.

Cardinal stood up to defend himself and was caught a hard fist blow to the stomach from the other man. The baton was slammed across his shoulders. He slumped to his knees, winded and in pain. Cardinal struggled to his feet and was pushed back in the chair. He was breathing fast.

‘Answer me now!' Chan said, struggling to his feet with the commandant's help.

Cardinal caught his breath. ‘I . . . don't . . . know . . . what you are talking . . . about,' Cardinal said with a trace of defiance.

Again, the baton was used, this time across the side of the head.

Cardinal fell to the ground. He was dazed like a boxer, down for the count, but he battled against unconsciousness and managed to get to his knees.

Four heavy boots went into his body, and he fell flat. He was hoisted into the chair.

Cardinal stared at Chan who stood behind the chair. Another brisk argument began between Chan and the commandant. The two commandos stood behind their quarry, waiting for the next opportunity.

Cardinal ran a shaking hand over his face, and blood smeared his palm and wrist. There was an eerie silence. Chan looked at him again. He seemed disappointed.

‘We will continue to smash you!' Chan said through his teeth. ‘You tried to assassinate me! You made an error! Did the CIA help you?!'

Cardinal felt the two commandos preparing to strike out again. He lifted his elbows as if to defend himself and then swung them back into the stomachs of the two men, catching them unawares. He stood up and threw a punch at the man with the baton. He fell over the desk holding his jaw. Cardinal turned to defend himself from the other man, and the commandant bellowed at the two guards. Cardinal struck some heavy blows at the second commando before he was overpowered and held at rifle point.

Extra guards arrived as the commandant examined the injured commando.

‘His jaw's broken,' the commandant said. ‘He must go to the hospital.'

Cardinal began to cough up blood.

‘Better get him to hospital too,' the commandant said.

‘No!' Chan screamed. He barked an order at the remaining commando, who stumbled out of the room.

‘I don't want a murder on my hands!' the commandant objected. Chan fumbled an envelope from a coat pocket and shoved it at the commandant.

‘Utun has ordered that I may use whatever means possible to find out who tried to assassinate me.'

The commando returned with a cord attached to clamps.

‘Bastards!' Cardinal yelled. I'm finished. I'm going to fight, he thought. He lashed out again. Two more commandos rushed in. It took five men to restrain him and tie him to the chair. The cord was attached to a power point. The clamps were placed on Cardinal's wrists.