“What about the mother ships?”
“Chief Adwar waited for the return of his attack boats until dawn, then he withdrew from the area. He reported no sign of unusual military or police activity except for some unusual flashes of light on the horizon. However, after sunrise, he observed a ship believed to be the target vessel. It was undamaged and under way, proceeding outbound for the Indian Ocean.”
“What about our contacts in Jakarta? What do they have on the incident?”
“As arranged, there were no Indonesian naval forces within the immediate interception zone. A fragmentary distress call was received from the Piskov indicating the vessel was under attack, then communication ceased. When the Regional Piracy Center later regained contact with the Piscov concerning her distress call, the vessel’s master denied having made any such call and insisted all was well with his ship and that they had experienced no untoward events.”
Harconan slowly crossed to his desk and leaned back against its scarred wood. “What could have happened out there, Bapak?”
“Two possibly associated events have been reported. With one, an Indonesian naval shore installation on the coast of western Java reported what was apparently intense radio jamming at the time of our boarding action. This may be the cause of our lost communications with our boarders and a clue to their fate.”
“And the other?”
“The American Sea Fighter Task Force arrived in Singapore this morning — or, rather, part of it did. Our agents in Singapore initially reported that two American vessels were scheduled for replenishment at the American naval facility there. Only one, the auxiliary, made its appearance. The other vessel, the naval cruiser, did not. Its location is currently unknown.”
“Damn it.” Harconan let the curse escape, followed by a soft protracted hiss. Crossing his arms, he stared down at the floor, his thoughts racing. “I am a fool, Lo. I had the warning but I didn’t see. Damn it!”
His fist smashed against the desk edge, the frustrated blow making the massive and venerable piece of furniture shudder. “The first touch of the blades and she draws our blood.”
“Captain Garrett,” Lo said quietly.
“Yes, Captain Garrett. She goes out of her way to politely give us her itinerary, her arrival times, exact information as to where she will be at a given date. And I’m fool enough to believe her. She’s already in our waters, Lo. And she has already taken some of our people.”
“There is no verification of that, sir. I have contacted our sources within both the International Piracy Center and the Indonesian government. There have been no reports filed concerning anti-piracy operations, the presence of U.S. naval vessels in Indonesian waters, or the arrest of Indonesian nationals by the United States. None of the conventions to be expected should such an event have occurred.”
“Nor do I think there will be.” Harconan straightened and began to pace slowly across the rich carpeting. “She has put us on notice, Lo. She does not intend to fight by convention. She will not play by the rules. This is not some politically expedient gesture being made, some flag waving expedition. The Americans are here to destroy us.”
“And how shall we respond, sir?” Lo inquired, studying his employer through impassive black eyes.
Harconan stopped pacing and gazed out toward the shimmering reach of the Badung Straits.
“We fight, Lo. Instead of letting ourselves be eaten up, we fight. For a thousand years, these waters have, by rights, belonged to my people. Their tides flow in our heart, our spirit, our soul. It is time we remind the world of that fact — Washington, Jakarta, Singapore, even Amanda Garrett.”
“Sir…” Lo hesitated for a long moment. “Initiating an overt confrontation at this time, when your greater plans are only approaching a state of readiness — do you perceive this as a… prudent course of action?”
Makara Harconan felt his lips curl into a slight, reckless smile. The multiplicity of gods who ruled these lands and waters must have sensed his hunger for new challenges. In their hunger for ironic divertissement, the deities had provided them, daring the mere mortal to react. In any such contest with the gods, a man had but two choices: to creep away in chastised humility or to draw steel and scream his defiance back to the heavens.
“No, Bapak, this is not a prudent course of action at this time. But it is the one I intend to follow.”
Lo tilted his head in acknowledgment. “As long as you have recognized this, sir. What are your instructions?”
“Pass the word to all clan chiefs and support-group leaders. Until further notice, all raiding operations are to be shut down. However, all clans are to keep their fighting crews assembled and their ships ready to sail on my command. Clan resupply will continue, as will the combat training. Shift the arms and ammunition disbursements totally to our people. I want all clans up to peak fighting strength. We may need them.”
“It will be done.”
“Next, I want full intelligence collection on the task group: their intentions, their mode of operation, sabotage potentials. Focus on all of the vulnerabilities of the ships and their crews. Also, contact our clan leaders on Lombok and eastern Java. I want to start assembling a ground assault force here on Bali. Have them start infiltrating their best teams. Arrange for housing, funding, and equipment.”
Lo nodded. “Very good, sir. A question, however, in relation to our discontinuing operations: Does that include the satellite project? The first of the foreign technical teams have arrived and are ready to proceed to the holding site. Should we abort?”
Harconan hesitated, balancing potentials. “No. Proceed with all possible speed. The sooner we can get the assessments done and the INDASAT parted out, the better. Also, contact our liaison with Morning Star separatists. I want our land security around the holding site reinforced heavily. Negotiate a suitable remuneration.”
Lo frowned. “The more personnel we move into the area, the higher the probability of detection.”
“It can’t be helped. Garrett has stolen one march on me already. She won’t steal two. I’m not running the risk of her simply popping in and walking away with this prize. If she wants it back, she must fight for it.”
The Chinese inclined his head. “As you wish, sir. But might I suggest that we pre-position the Harconan Flores at the holding site in the event that a rapid evacuation becomes advisable.”
“A good notion, Lo. Have her guns remounted as well.”
“And finally, sir, might I also suggest that above and beyond our covert intelligence gathering operations against the Americans, we might bring a more overt methodology into play.”
Harconan cocked his head. “How so?”
“It strikes me there might be a way to force your Captain Garrett to ‘play by the rules,’ sir. Covert operations within the Indonesian archipelago may prove more difficult if the American task group is kept under close surveillance by the Indonesian authorities.”
Harconan snapped his fingers. “Excellent, Lo. It’s time to get our money’s worth on that retainer we’ve been paying to our dear friend Admiral Lukisan. Set up a meeting with him.”
“As you wish, sir. Is there anything further at this time?”
For a few moments Harconan considered. “Yes,” he said finally. “There is an old western military truism, Lo: ‘Know your enemy.’ To this, I would add a saying from my own people. ‘To truly know your enemy, you must first look into his… or her, eyes.’ We shall arrange for this.”
Java Sea