Chapter 52
Indonesia, Medan, TNI Headquarters
November 13, 2006, 07:00 local time
As soon as he had heard about the hijackings Captain Habib had gone to the TNI Headquarters. He entered his private office and sat at his desk. He opened the file he had brought with him and stared at the photograph of the young man stapled to the first page. The image starred back at him.
Habib came into his office almost every day, if only for an hour or so. Not least, because it was a way of making sure, they did not take it away from him.
It had been four years since the Government had disbanded TNI's Counter Terrorism Unit. Habib still remembered the day they informed him the Indonesian Police would take over the unit's work.
Members of the unit would be assigned to other duties. However, Habib would be retained in a liaison capacity for the Sumatran provinces. Initially, he would supervise the transfer of the unit's workload to the police and subsequently act as the interface between the new police unit and TNI, the Indonesian military.
Habib knew the truth. He was too good at what he did. Too good at finding informers. Too good at extracting confessions and information from suspects. No one wanted someone as effective as him around. Too much of a threat. Too dangerous.
In a single day, they had ruined his promising career. The first thing he did was return to his office, and remove the files of his best informers. The ones whose existence he had been careful to keep secret even from the rest of the unit.
He took the files home and hid them until the transfer of responsibilities was complete. After the workload was transferred, there was no liaison between the police and the army and no liaison job for Habib. The police distrusted the military too much to ever feed significant intelligence to them. Similarly, the military despised the police and their mundane responsibilities of directing traffic and investigating petty crimes.
Protocol prevented them from firing Habib, but people expected him to save face by resigning.
Much to everyone's surprise Habib didn't resign. People assumed a man of Habib's intelligence and resourcefulness would easily find another career. When he kept on coming to his office every day, they assumed he was filling in time to get his pension, hoping for an early retirement.
They were wrong. Habib kept working.
His new situation had certain advantages. He no longer needed to account for his time or justify his activities, and he no longer had to report to superiors. His superior officer made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with Habib. So, for the first time Habib was free to do what he thought was right for Indonesia.
Habib's father had been in the military. He had educated his young son on the special role of the military in Indonesia, and its responsibility for protecting and guiding the Indonesian state.
His father fought in the Konfrontasi, the military confrontation against the British and their creation of a rival Malay state of Malaysia. After three years of fighting, his father thought politicians had betrayed the military, even though President Suharto had been a TNI General.
His father had instilled into him, both a vision of a state encompassing all Malays, and a deep distrust of politicians and their actions.
Many in the military agreed with him, even though they had to be careful about what they said in the new 'democratic' Indonesia.
Some ex-military, now in positions of power in business, state-controlled monopolies and lucrative timber and palm oil franchises were more outspoken and more prepared to offer financial assistance. The money they provided allowed Habib to recruit his own staff. He had no problem finding willing recruits among those who had been forced out of the TNI's Counter Terrorism Unit.
Habib's attention returned to the file in front of him.
He had acquired this informer two years earlier. After a tip off from a sympathetic army officer in Aceh, who said the man was with GAM, but not Achenese. Maybe, Habib could find a use for him.
Habib had flown to Banda Aceh and picked the man up off the street and took him to the safe house provided by one of his benefactors in the city.
He left two of his men to work the prisoner over, while he went to confirm the man's identity with the army officer who had given him the intelligence. Being a TNI Captain still had its advantages.
Two hours later, he had confirmed the man's identity and started work on finding out all he could about him. It took him the rest of the day to find the information he needed. Now to turn the prisoner.
Beatings and torture could be effective in extracting information, but they were useless for turning a man into an informer. Different methods were required.
It took him several days to make the arrangements, but it was better this way. It gave the prisoner time to think about his situation.
Four days later, he picked up his two obviously terrified passengers from their home in a military-looking vehicle. The two were so afraid of what would happen to them that they didn't notice the vehicle wasn't an official TNI vehicle.
They had flown the prisoner in the day before, hooded and shackled, then given a good beating just to remind him of his status as a prisoner.
***
Malik's entire body was in severe pain from the continual beatings. Strangely, they hadn't asked him about his role in GAM, his unit, weapons, operations, or anything else he expected to be questioned about. They just beat him.
Then they had flown him somewhere. Malik had never been in a plane before and was oddly disappointedly he didn't get to see his native Sumatra from the air.
The door to his cell opened and a voice he had heard before said, “Remove his blindfold.”
Malik blinked in the unaccustomed light and saw a TNI officer in uniform and an older man, not in a regulation uniform.
“I understand you call yourself Malik these days. Is that correct?”
“That is my name.”
“Ah, but you used to have another name, the one your parents gave you, Abdul. Am I correct?”
Malik said nothing.
“And your father was called Harahap, unfortunately deceased. Am I right?”
Malik remained silent and lowered his gaze to the officer's chest.
“And your mother, what was her name? Do you recall?”
Malik stared resolutely at the TNI officer's chest.
“Let's see if someone can remind you.”
Habib said the man beside him, “Bring her in.”
The older man opened the door and another man pushed a late middle-age woman into the room. Malik tried to control his shock and disorientation at seeing his mother.
His mother started a low wailing keen. “My son, what have they done to you? What shall we do? We will all die. God protect us.”
Malik had never seen his mother so distressed, even after his father died. He felt a wave of guilt for having inflicted this experience on his mother.
The man continued, “So someone recognizes you. Would you like me to beat you in front of your mother? I can beat you until you scream in pain. Would you like your mother to see that?”
Malik said nothing, while his mother continued her wailing cries.
“Please sir, don't beat my son. He has done nothing wrong. He was always a good boy. Please sir, don't beat my son.”
“Perhaps beating you again is not the way. I am a reasonable man and I don't want much, just some cooperation. Malik, are you willing to give me some cooperation?”
Malik said nothing, despite the relief of not having to endure the beating he thought imminent a few seconds ago.
The officer waited for a response before continuing, “Maybe, I should beat your mother instead. Would that convince you to cooperate?”
Malik visibly jerked and his mother became silent.
Habib smiled to himself. All this was just the warm up to get the prisoner in the right frame of mind. Nothing so far would ensure ongoing cooperation, ensure Malik remained a loyal informer to him, and that was what he needed.
“No, I don't think beating your mother is the answer to my problem. Although, I might do it anyway if you don't start talking right now.”
The older man picked up a heavy truncheon and whacked it into his hand as if to test how well it worked.
Malik said, “What do you want to know?”
The TNI officer looked directly at him. “I don't want to know anything. I've told you already. I want your cooperation.”
Malik said nothing, unsure what they wanted from him.
“That means you work for me and only for me. When I say, go here and do this. You go there and do it, then tell me exactly what happened and who was involved. Are you willing to do that, Malik?”
Malik said, “Yes, I am.”
“No, you are not. I know what you are thinking. You think if you agree now to what I ask, then later when you are out of here, you can forget about whatever you agreed to in here. That's not good enough. I need to ensure you will keep your word.”
“I will.”
“You still don't understand. I need to be sure you will continue to cooperate when I’m not standing here with a truncheon ready to beat you or your mother. I need somebody else for that. Bring her in.”
Malik had an icy feeling as they dragged his fifteen year old sister into the room, clearly terrified. He desperately wanted to reach out to her, despite his shackles.
“Maybe I will beat your little sister.”
Habib paused, to let the idea sink in, then continued, “But that wouldn't work either. A beating is just a beating when it’s over. She might lose some of her pretty looks, but that still wouldn't ensure your cooperation. No, I need to do something else.”
Malik looked the TNI officer directly in the eye and said, “I will do anything you want of me.”
Habib responded, “Still not enough. I need to be sure you do.”
He turned to the two other men and said, “Go ahead.”
One of the men ripped his sister's shirt off, exposing her bra and bare torso, while the other man started to undo his pants.
His mother screamed, and then began a semi-coherent wailing, “My daughter, my child, my baby, please no, sir, I beg you.”
The officer looked directly at Malik. “Let me explain to you what happens next. My two men rape your sister. They like this part of their job and they will oblige me by doing it a second time. Your sister will probably survive the experience, although you will have a hard time finding her a husband.”
The TNI officer paused, then said, “Or you cooperate with me.”
“I'll cooperate. I beg you. Please sir.”
“If at any time, I even suspect you are not cooperating with me or not telling me everything, I won't send two men to rape your sister. I will send ten men to rape her, as many times as they like. Do you know what happens to a young girl who is raped repeatedly by ten men?”
Malik didn't hear the rest, because he started vomiting. He could see his sister shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, and his mother prostrate on the floor praying.
Malik knew he was broken and so did Habib.
Habib's attention returned to the present and the man whose face stared back at him from the file.
He said to himself, “You were a good informer. You betrayed everyone to me. I helped you in your smuggling business. I even protected you from competitors who resented you moving into their territory. I chose you when I discovered the identity of the Malaysian's agent. I steered the agent toward you, so you would lead me to the Malaysian. Now I find you are doing business with him behind my back and have helped him in a terrorist attack with telling me. You will regret double crossing me, Mas Malik.”
Habib put the file inside a brown envelope and left his office. As usual, no one spoke to him, or even acknowledged his presence, on his way out of the building.
He drove to the villa on the outskirts of Medan that served as the headquarters for his unofficial anti-terrorist organization. Even at this early hour, a small group of ex-TNI men sat in the shaded courtyard, smoking and playing cards. These men were used to dealing out summary justice against the enemies of the Indonesian state.
Habib walked up to the table, threw Malik's file on the table and said, “Go pick up his mother and sister.”
“What should we do with them, boss?”
“Anything you like.”
Chapter 53
November 13, 2006, 07:00 local time
As soon as he had heard about the hijackings Captain Habib had gone to the TNI Headquarters. He entered his private office and sat at his desk. He opened the file he had brought with him and stared at the photograph of the young man stapled to the first page. The image starred back at him.
Habib came into his office almost every day, if only for an hour or so. Not least, because it was a way of making sure, they did not take it away from him.
It had been four years since the Government had disbanded TNI's Counter Terrorism Unit. Habib still remembered the day they informed him the Indonesian Police would take over the unit's work.
Members of the unit would be assigned to other duties. However, Habib would be retained in a liaison capacity for the Sumatran provinces. Initially, he would supervise the transfer of the unit's workload to the police and subsequently act as the interface between the new police unit and TNI, the Indonesian military.
Habib knew the truth. He was too good at what he did. Too good at finding informers. Too good at extracting confessions and information from suspects. No one wanted someone as effective as him around. Too much of a threat. Too dangerous.
In a single day, they had ruined his promising career. The first thing he did was return to his office, and remove the files of his best informers. The ones whose existence he had been careful to keep secret even from the rest of the unit.
He took the files home and hid them until the transfer of responsibilities was complete. After the workload was transferred, there was no liaison between the police and the army and no liaison job for Habib. The police distrusted the military too much to ever feed significant intelligence to them. Similarly, the military despised the police and their mundane responsibilities of directing traffic and investigating petty crimes.
Protocol prevented them from firing Habib, but people expected him to save face by resigning.
Much to everyone's surprise Habib didn't resign. People assumed a man of Habib's intelligence and resourcefulness would easily find another career. When he kept on coming to his office every day, they assumed he was filling in time to get his pension, hoping for an early retirement.
They were wrong. Habib kept working.
His new situation had certain advantages. He no longer needed to account for his time or justify his activities, and he no longer had to report to superiors. His superior officer made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with Habib. So, for the first time Habib was free to do what he thought was right for Indonesia.
Habib's father had been in the military. He had educated his young son on the special role of the military in Indonesia, and its responsibility for protecting and guiding the Indonesian state.
His father fought in the Konfrontasi, the military confrontation against the British and their creation of a rival Malay state of Malaysia. After three years of fighting, his father thought politicians had betrayed the military, even though President Suharto had been a TNI General.
His father had instilled into him, both a vision of a state encompassing all Malays, and a deep distrust of politicians and their actions.
Many in the military agreed with him, even though they had to be careful about what they said in the new 'democratic' Indonesia.
Some ex-military, now in positions of power in business, state-controlled monopolies and lucrative timber and palm oil franchises were more outspoken and more prepared to offer financial assistance. The money they provided allowed Habib to recruit his own staff. He had no problem finding willing recruits among those who had been forced out of the TNI's Counter Terrorism Unit.
Habib's attention returned to the file in front of him.
He had acquired this informer two years earlier. After a tip off from a sympathetic army officer in Aceh, who said the man was with GAM, but not Achenese. Maybe, Habib could find a use for him.
Habib had flown to Banda Aceh and picked the man up off the street and took him to the safe house provided by one of his benefactors in the city.
He left two of his men to work the prisoner over, while he went to confirm the man's identity with the army officer who had given him the intelligence. Being a TNI Captain still had its advantages.
Two hours later, he had confirmed the man's identity and started work on finding out all he could about him. It took him the rest of the day to find the information he needed. Now to turn the prisoner.
Beatings and torture could be effective in extracting information, but they were useless for turning a man into an informer. Different methods were required.
It took him several days to make the arrangements, but it was better this way. It gave the prisoner time to think about his situation.
Four days later, he picked up his two obviously terrified passengers from their home in a military-looking vehicle. The two were so afraid of what would happen to them that they didn't notice the vehicle wasn't an official TNI vehicle.
They had flown the prisoner in the day before, hooded and shackled, then given a good beating just to remind him of his status as a prisoner.
***
Malik's entire body was in severe pain from the continual beatings. Strangely, they hadn't asked him about his role in GAM, his unit, weapons, operations, or anything else he expected to be questioned about. They just beat him.
Then they had flown him somewhere. Malik had never been in a plane before and was oddly disappointedly he didn't get to see his native Sumatra from the air.
The door to his cell opened and a voice he had heard before said, “Remove his blindfold.”
Malik blinked in the unaccustomed light and saw a TNI officer in uniform and an older man, not in a regulation uniform.
“I understand you call yourself Malik these days. Is that correct?”
“That is my name.”
“Ah, but you used to have another name, the one your parents gave you, Abdul. Am I correct?”
Malik said nothing.
“And your father was called Harahap, unfortunately deceased. Am I right?”
Malik remained silent and lowered his gaze to the officer's chest.
“And your mother, what was her name? Do you recall?”
Malik stared resolutely at the TNI officer's chest.
“Let's see if someone can remind you.”
Habib said the man beside him, “Bring her in.”
The older man opened the door and another man pushed a late middle-age woman into the room. Malik tried to control his shock and disorientation at seeing his mother.
His mother started a low wailing keen. “My son, what have they done to you? What shall we do? We will all die. God protect us.”
Malik had never seen his mother so distressed, even after his father died. He felt a wave of guilt for having inflicted this experience on his mother.
The man continued, “So someone recognizes you. Would you like me to beat you in front of your mother? I can beat you until you scream in pain. Would you like your mother to see that?”
Malik said nothing, while his mother continued her wailing cries.
“Please sir, don't beat my son. He has done nothing wrong. He was always a good boy. Please sir, don't beat my son.”
“Perhaps beating you again is not the way. I am a reasonable man and I don't want much, just some cooperation. Malik, are you willing to give me some cooperation?”
Malik said nothing, despite the relief of not having to endure the beating he thought imminent a few seconds ago.
The officer waited for a response before continuing, “Maybe, I should beat your mother instead. Would that convince you to cooperate?”
Malik visibly jerked and his mother became silent.
Habib smiled to himself. All this was just the warm up to get the prisoner in the right frame of mind. Nothing so far would ensure ongoing cooperation, ensure Malik remained a loyal informer to him, and that was what he needed.
“No, I don't think beating your mother is the answer to my problem. Although, I might do it anyway if you don't start talking right now.”
The older man picked up a heavy truncheon and whacked it into his hand as if to test how well it worked.
Malik said, “What do you want to know?”
The TNI officer looked directly at him. “I don't want to know anything. I've told you already. I want your cooperation.”
Malik said nothing, unsure what they wanted from him.
“That means you work for me and only for me. When I say, go here and do this. You go there and do it, then tell me exactly what happened and who was involved. Are you willing to do that, Malik?”
Malik said, “Yes, I am.”
“No, you are not. I know what you are thinking. You think if you agree now to what I ask, then later when you are out of here, you can forget about whatever you agreed to in here. That's not good enough. I need to ensure you will keep your word.”
“I will.”
“You still don't understand. I need to be sure you will continue to cooperate when I’m not standing here with a truncheon ready to beat you or your mother. I need somebody else for that. Bring her in.”
Malik had an icy feeling as they dragged his fifteen year old sister into the room, clearly terrified. He desperately wanted to reach out to her, despite his shackles.
“Maybe I will beat your little sister.”
Habib paused, to let the idea sink in, then continued, “But that wouldn't work either. A beating is just a beating when it’s over. She might lose some of her pretty looks, but that still wouldn't ensure your cooperation. No, I need to do something else.”
Malik looked the TNI officer directly in the eye and said, “I will do anything you want of me.”
Habib responded, “Still not enough. I need to be sure you do.”
He turned to the two other men and said, “Go ahead.”
One of the men ripped his sister's shirt off, exposing her bra and bare torso, while the other man started to undo his pants.
His mother screamed, and then began a semi-coherent wailing, “My daughter, my child, my baby, please no, sir, I beg you.”
The officer looked directly at Malik. “Let me explain to you what happens next. My two men rape your sister. They like this part of their job and they will oblige me by doing it a second time. Your sister will probably survive the experience, although you will have a hard time finding her a husband.”
The TNI officer paused, then said, “Or you cooperate with me.”
“I'll cooperate. I beg you. Please sir.”
“If at any time, I even suspect you are not cooperating with me or not telling me everything, I won't send two men to rape your sister. I will send ten men to rape her, as many times as they like. Do you know what happens to a young girl who is raped repeatedly by ten men?”
Malik didn't hear the rest, because he started vomiting. He could see his sister shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, and his mother prostrate on the floor praying.
Malik knew he was broken and so did Habib.
Habib's attention returned to the present and the man whose face stared back at him from the file.
He said to himself, “You were a good informer. You betrayed everyone to me. I helped you in your smuggling business. I even protected you from competitors who resented you moving into their territory. I chose you when I discovered the identity of the Malaysian's agent. I steered the agent toward you, so you would lead me to the Malaysian. Now I find you are doing business with him behind my back and have helped him in a terrorist attack with telling me. You will regret double crossing me, Mas Malik.”
Habib put the file inside a brown envelope and left his office. As usual, no one spoke to him, or even acknowledged his presence, on his way out of the building.
He drove to the villa on the outskirts of Medan that served as the headquarters for his unofficial anti-terrorist organization. Even at this early hour, a small group of ex-TNI men sat in the shaded courtyard, smoking and playing cards. These men were used to dealing out summary justice against the enemies of the Indonesian state.
Habib walked up to the table, threw Malik's file on the table and said, “Go pick up his mother and sister.”
“What should we do with them, boss?”
“Anything you like.”
Chapter 53
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