Chapter 51
Indonesia, the Riau Archipelago, Opposite Singapore
November 13, 2006 07:00 local time
There should have been three of them in the boat, but immediately after the operation, Ajmal had declared he was getting married. He said his bride's family had agreed to hide him until things blew over. Malik and Saiful had taken Ajmal to Bengkalis Island, which had delayed them by several hours.
Only Saiful accompanied Malik to the island with the hidden cove, and would then travel south with him in a few weeks time. Saiful had decided to make his fortune in Jakarta. He was still young and Malik had refrained from disillusioning him.
As the sun rose, Malik kept an anxious watch for any indication the authorities were searching for them. He could see a patrol boat in the distance, but judging by its position, it was Malaysian. There was no sign of any Indonesian police or military vessels. As far as Malik could tell, no one suspected they were anything other than a small boat on a fishing trip or making a journey for some other legitimate reason.
Saiful said, “That's our island up ahead.”
Malik looked around as they passed the other small islands. All had the forbidding sheer rock sides and looked like no one had ever visited them. Their refuge for the next few weeks looked no different to the dozens of similar islands that surrounded it.
The boat went behind the rock and entered the narrow passage that led to the hidden cove. Up until that point, Malik had been expecting pursuers at any moment. Now they had reached the island he could relax. They would hide here, until things died down and the authorities called off the search for them.
As the boat left the narrow passage and entered the placid waters of the cove, Malik stared in shocked silence at the devastation on the beach. Everything had been flattened. Charred pieces of debris were scattered everywhere.
Saiful said, “What happened?”
Malik voiced his immediate reaction. “The bomb maker must have had an accident with the explosives we left behind.”
They beached the boat and the pair searched through the devastation. All their supplies were gone or damaged beyond salvaging. Without supplies, there was no possibility of hiding on the island.
Malik searched for the bomb maker's body. All he found were some pieces of charred and bloodstained clothing. The force of the blast must have disintegrated his body into unrecognizable pieces.
The two went back to the boat and Saiful asked, “What do we do now?”
Malik stopped to think. Looking down at the beach, he saw imprints in the sand from what looked like boots. The imprints were quite different to the impressions left by the rubber sandals his people and the Malaysian's men wore. In several places, he could see the boot imprints were on top of the imprints made by the rubber sandals. Others had been here since Saiful left with the Malaysian's men last night.
Perhaps, the boot prints were from people sent to investigate the blast, or the bomb maker had been captured and didn't die in an accidental explosion, or perhaps he had blown himself up to avoid capture.
Malik had no answers, except they needed to get away from the island as soon as possible.
Malik replied to Saiful’s question with, “We can't stay here. We will go to Jakarta now, rather than in a month's time.
Saiful nodded his head in agreement.
“How much fuel do we have?”
“Maybe enough to go fifty kilometers.”
That wouldn't even get them to Batam town. Not that Malik wanted to go there. It would be full of police and military. They needed to quickly get somewhere they knew people, who would hide them. That either meant going back to the island where they had lived for the last few months, or going to Jakarta now.
Malik said, “Where are the fuel drums we left here?”
It didn't take them long to find the badly damaged remains of the two drums. The fuel in both had clearly burned.
Saiful said, “I left a plastic container with some fuel in it, at the end of the beach. I'll see if I can find it.”
Shortly afterwards, Saiful called to him, “I see it floating in the water.”
Saiful waded into the water then swam toward the container, which was floating up against the rocks on one side of the cove. Malik could see by how high it floated in the water that it couldn't be more than half-full.
Saiful swam back to the beach pulling the container along.
Back on the beach, Saiful shook it and Malik heard the sound of liquid sloshing around inside.
Saiful said, “Let's hope it isn't contaminated with seawater.”
Saiful unscrewed the cap and looked inside.
“It looks OK. I'd say, there is about twelve or thirteen liters in there. That should take us another fifty kilometers, further if we go slowly. With the fuel we have left, we should be able to go a hundred kilometer. Will that be far enough?”
Malik would have to consult the map on his GPS to see how far the fuel would take them. It wouldn't be enough to get them to the Sumatran mainland, at least using the route he had planned. They could take another route and head for somewhere closer, but one thing he had learned over the last few months was the importance of having a plan and sticking to it. They would keep to their original route and buy more fuel along the way.
***
Dr. Kunderan felt exhausted by the stresses of the night. Now the hijacking crisis was over, all he wanted was to go home to his family and to bed. The home that a couple of hours ago he thought would be destroyed. He would avoid telling his wife the truth of what happened tonight at all costs.
Now another crisis of a different type had erupted.
An aide to the Prime Minister had informed him that the hijackers had substantial help in boarding and taking control of the LNG carrier and a separate team of hijackers had boarded and sunk the VLCC. The American's wanted to go into Indonesian waters in pursuit of suspects. They had yet to hear Indonesia's response, but Dr. Kunderan doubted it would be accommodating.
The aide had summoned him to a crisis meeting at the Prime Minister's office and he would have to leave shortly. He hadn't been told what the meeting was about, but he expected it would cover how the country should deal with the aftermath of the hijackings, especially, the shock of losing eighteen of the country's elite troops. The news had yet to sink in, but he expected even the normally compliant Singaporean man in the street would demand justice if not revenge for the deaths, and Indonesia would be blamed.
First, he needed to speak to Charles.
Charles was still at the Institute. When Dr. Kunderan joined him, he was reading the early morning edition of the Straits Times. It had devoted its entire news section to the night's events. The banner headline read, Ships Hijacked in Strait; Eighteen Singaporean Soldiers Dead.
Charles asked, “Anand, do you think the Americans or the Singaporeans know where the hijackers are?”
“I can almost guarantee the hijackers never left Indonesian waters and are now hiding out at one or more locations on the many islands along the Indonesian side of the Strait. Now I known the Americans have the capacity to track to small boats, I am sure they will know at least the general area most if not all of the hijackers are hiding.”
“What will happen?”
Dr. Kunderan sighed and then responded, “You would think after a crisis like this, which could easily have resulted in a catastrophe, countries would come together and do whatever is necessary. Unfortunately, things don't work like that in this part of the world. The attitude of our neighbors is very much, everything is a zero sum game, and if another country loses, you win. I expect your people will be optimistic that Indonesia will cooperate in efforts to capture those responsible. I very much doubt that will be the case and foresee a new crisis resulting from Indonesia's response.”
“So you think the Indonesian's might allow the hijackers to get away?”
“That's my fear, what concerns me is how the USA and Singapore will react when they realize that is going to happen. Charles, I need you to do something for me.”
“What is it, Anand?”
“I'm just about to call Dr. Goh to tell him to go out to the lab and prepare one, and if possible two, of the Under Water Surveillance Devices for immediate deployment. What I'd like you to do is inform the US Embassy that they are available and we are willing to share the data they provide with the Americans. I don't have the authority to do this myself, but I am on my way to a meeting at the Prime Minister's office and will vigorously argue we should do whatever we can to help the Americans track down and capture everyone involved in the hijackings.”
***
The small boat hugged the coastline of Batam Island as it headed east through the Singapore Strait. They would soon turn south into the island-studded channel between Batam Island and Bintan, the largest of the Riau islands. It would take them most of the day to travel down the long channel between the two islands. They would then have to cross more than a hundred kilometers of open ocean to reach the coast of Sumatra, a journey of two hundred and fifty kilometers. There were several places along the Bintan coastline they could stop and buy more fuel. Malik had yet to decide which.
Malik could see that shipping had been stopped in both directions in the Singapore Strait. Even though he had only lived along the Strait for a few months, it seemed strange to see it without a constant procession of ships.
On the far side of the main shipping channel, he could see the Singapore shoreline crowded with high-rise buildings. He wondered how people could live in such a densely populated city.
Further along the Strait, Malik could see the stationary LNG carrier in the distance. There were two helicopters in the air above it. He could also see military jets patrolling high in the sky. None came in their direction.
Aircraft worried him much less than an Indonesian patrol boat, but the only one in sight was close to the middle of the Strait, at least ten kilometers away. Besides, there was enough small boat traffic along the Batam shore that a random check would be unlikely to pick their small nondescript wooden boat, indistinguishable from a thousand others that frequented these waters.
Malik looked down at the AK47 propped up against the side of the boat. He had debated dropping it in the ocean ever since they had completed their role in the operation. Something made him keep it, a feeling he might need it before their journey was over.
Malik turned toward Saiful, at the helm. He saw the happy, always relaxed man he knew so well. The earth-shaking events they had just engineered seemed not to impinge on his consciousness. Not for the first time, Malik wondered if Saiful was a little simple.
Toward the middle of the day, they ate day-old cooked rice with meat from a can Saiful had found undamaged on the beach. Saiful talked about what he would do in Jakarta with the money they had made. He asked Malik's advice on the advantages and disadvantages of different small businesses. Malik said little, knowing they would not be safe until they reached Jakarta and were with people who would hide them, then introduce them into the anonymous routines of the sprawling city.
Chapter 52
November 13, 2006 07:00 local time
There should have been three of them in the boat, but immediately after the operation, Ajmal had declared he was getting married. He said his bride's family had agreed to hide him until things blew over. Malik and Saiful had taken Ajmal to Bengkalis Island, which had delayed them by several hours.
Only Saiful accompanied Malik to the island with the hidden cove, and would then travel south with him in a few weeks time. Saiful had decided to make his fortune in Jakarta. He was still young and Malik had refrained from disillusioning him.
As the sun rose, Malik kept an anxious watch for any indication the authorities were searching for them. He could see a patrol boat in the distance, but judging by its position, it was Malaysian. There was no sign of any Indonesian police or military vessels. As far as Malik could tell, no one suspected they were anything other than a small boat on a fishing trip or making a journey for some other legitimate reason.
Saiful said, “That's our island up ahead.”
Malik looked around as they passed the other small islands. All had the forbidding sheer rock sides and looked like no one had ever visited them. Their refuge for the next few weeks looked no different to the dozens of similar islands that surrounded it.
The boat went behind the rock and entered the narrow passage that led to the hidden cove. Up until that point, Malik had been expecting pursuers at any moment. Now they had reached the island he could relax. They would hide here, until things died down and the authorities called off the search for them.
As the boat left the narrow passage and entered the placid waters of the cove, Malik stared in shocked silence at the devastation on the beach. Everything had been flattened. Charred pieces of debris were scattered everywhere.
Saiful said, “What happened?”
Malik voiced his immediate reaction. “The bomb maker must have had an accident with the explosives we left behind.”
They beached the boat and the pair searched through the devastation. All their supplies were gone or damaged beyond salvaging. Without supplies, there was no possibility of hiding on the island.
Malik searched for the bomb maker's body. All he found were some pieces of charred and bloodstained clothing. The force of the blast must have disintegrated his body into unrecognizable pieces.
The two went back to the boat and Saiful asked, “What do we do now?”
Malik stopped to think. Looking down at the beach, he saw imprints in the sand from what looked like boots. The imprints were quite different to the impressions left by the rubber sandals his people and the Malaysian's men wore. In several places, he could see the boot imprints were on top of the imprints made by the rubber sandals. Others had been here since Saiful left with the Malaysian's men last night.
Perhaps, the boot prints were from people sent to investigate the blast, or the bomb maker had been captured and didn't die in an accidental explosion, or perhaps he had blown himself up to avoid capture.
Malik had no answers, except they needed to get away from the island as soon as possible.
Malik replied to Saiful’s question with, “We can't stay here. We will go to Jakarta now, rather than in a month's time.
Saiful nodded his head in agreement.
“How much fuel do we have?”
“Maybe enough to go fifty kilometers.”
That wouldn't even get them to Batam town. Not that Malik wanted to go there. It would be full of police and military. They needed to quickly get somewhere they knew people, who would hide them. That either meant going back to the island where they had lived for the last few months, or going to Jakarta now.
Malik said, “Where are the fuel drums we left here?”
It didn't take them long to find the badly damaged remains of the two drums. The fuel in both had clearly burned.
Saiful said, “I left a plastic container with some fuel in it, at the end of the beach. I'll see if I can find it.”
Shortly afterwards, Saiful called to him, “I see it floating in the water.”
Saiful waded into the water then swam toward the container, which was floating up against the rocks on one side of the cove. Malik could see by how high it floated in the water that it couldn't be more than half-full.
Saiful swam back to the beach pulling the container along.
Back on the beach, Saiful shook it and Malik heard the sound of liquid sloshing around inside.
Saiful said, “Let's hope it isn't contaminated with seawater.”
Saiful unscrewed the cap and looked inside.
“It looks OK. I'd say, there is about twelve or thirteen liters in there. That should take us another fifty kilometers, further if we go slowly. With the fuel we have left, we should be able to go a hundred kilometer. Will that be far enough?”
Malik would have to consult the map on his GPS to see how far the fuel would take them. It wouldn't be enough to get them to the Sumatran mainland, at least using the route he had planned. They could take another route and head for somewhere closer, but one thing he had learned over the last few months was the importance of having a plan and sticking to it. They would keep to their original route and buy more fuel along the way.
***
Dr. Kunderan felt exhausted by the stresses of the night. Now the hijacking crisis was over, all he wanted was to go home to his family and to bed. The home that a couple of hours ago he thought would be destroyed. He would avoid telling his wife the truth of what happened tonight at all costs.
Now another crisis of a different type had erupted.
An aide to the Prime Minister had informed him that the hijackers had substantial help in boarding and taking control of the LNG carrier and a separate team of hijackers had boarded and sunk the VLCC. The American's wanted to go into Indonesian waters in pursuit of suspects. They had yet to hear Indonesia's response, but Dr. Kunderan doubted it would be accommodating.
The aide had summoned him to a crisis meeting at the Prime Minister's office and he would have to leave shortly. He hadn't been told what the meeting was about, but he expected it would cover how the country should deal with the aftermath of the hijackings, especially, the shock of losing eighteen of the country's elite troops. The news had yet to sink in, but he expected even the normally compliant Singaporean man in the street would demand justice if not revenge for the deaths, and Indonesia would be blamed.
First, he needed to speak to Charles.
Charles was still at the Institute. When Dr. Kunderan joined him, he was reading the early morning edition of the Straits Times. It had devoted its entire news section to the night's events. The banner headline read, Ships Hijacked in Strait; Eighteen Singaporean Soldiers Dead.
Charles asked, “Anand, do you think the Americans or the Singaporeans know where the hijackers are?”
“I can almost guarantee the hijackers never left Indonesian waters and are now hiding out at one or more locations on the many islands along the Indonesian side of the Strait. Now I known the Americans have the capacity to track to small boats, I am sure they will know at least the general area most if not all of the hijackers are hiding.”
“What will happen?”
Dr. Kunderan sighed and then responded, “You would think after a crisis like this, which could easily have resulted in a catastrophe, countries would come together and do whatever is necessary. Unfortunately, things don't work like that in this part of the world. The attitude of our neighbors is very much, everything is a zero sum game, and if another country loses, you win. I expect your people will be optimistic that Indonesia will cooperate in efforts to capture those responsible. I very much doubt that will be the case and foresee a new crisis resulting from Indonesia's response.”
“So you think the Indonesian's might allow the hijackers to get away?”
“That's my fear, what concerns me is how the USA and Singapore will react when they realize that is going to happen. Charles, I need you to do something for me.”
“What is it, Anand?”
“I'm just about to call Dr. Goh to tell him to go out to the lab and prepare one, and if possible two, of the Under Water Surveillance Devices for immediate deployment. What I'd like you to do is inform the US Embassy that they are available and we are willing to share the data they provide with the Americans. I don't have the authority to do this myself, but I am on my way to a meeting at the Prime Minister's office and will vigorously argue we should do whatever we can to help the Americans track down and capture everyone involved in the hijackings.”
***
The small boat hugged the coastline of Batam Island as it headed east through the Singapore Strait. They would soon turn south into the island-studded channel between Batam Island and Bintan, the largest of the Riau islands. It would take them most of the day to travel down the long channel between the two islands. They would then have to cross more than a hundred kilometers of open ocean to reach the coast of Sumatra, a journey of two hundred and fifty kilometers. There were several places along the Bintan coastline they could stop and buy more fuel. Malik had yet to decide which.
Malik could see that shipping had been stopped in both directions in the Singapore Strait. Even though he had only lived along the Strait for a few months, it seemed strange to see it without a constant procession of ships.
On the far side of the main shipping channel, he could see the Singapore shoreline crowded with high-rise buildings. He wondered how people could live in such a densely populated city.
Further along the Strait, Malik could see the stationary LNG carrier in the distance. There were two helicopters in the air above it. He could also see military jets patrolling high in the sky. None came in their direction.
Aircraft worried him much less than an Indonesian patrol boat, but the only one in sight was close to the middle of the Strait, at least ten kilometers away. Besides, there was enough small boat traffic along the Batam shore that a random check would be unlikely to pick their small nondescript wooden boat, indistinguishable from a thousand others that frequented these waters.
Malik looked down at the AK47 propped up against the side of the boat. He had debated dropping it in the ocean ever since they had completed their role in the operation. Something made him keep it, a feeling he might need it before their journey was over.
Malik turned toward Saiful, at the helm. He saw the happy, always relaxed man he knew so well. The earth-shaking events they had just engineered seemed not to impinge on his consciousness. Not for the first time, Malik wondered if Saiful was a little simple.
Toward the middle of the day, they ate day-old cooked rice with meat from a can Saiful had found undamaged on the beach. Saiful talked about what he would do in Jakarta with the money they had made. He asked Malik's advice on the advantages and disadvantages of different small businesses. Malik said little, knowing they would not be safe until they reached Jakarta and were with people who would hide them, then introduce them into the anonymous routines of the sprawling city.
Chapter 52
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