“As far as I have been able to tell,” Harconan continued, “they never learned the war ended. They just kept building and waiting.”
“You mean they refused to give up even after the Japanese surrender, like the holdouts on Guam and in the Philippines?” She let her eyes play across the stack of cases on the pier that had been unloaded from the other schooner. Rifle cases maybe. And the labeling on them was either French or Belgian. And that was a stack of mortar base plates.
“Apparently they never even heard of the surrender,” Harconan continued, “or they refused to believe it. There were a hundred and fifty men in the garrison, and they stayed on under Imperial military discipline, their ranks thinning out slowly under starvation and disease. A few desertions took place, but none apparently ever made it out.”
“How long?” she inquired, looking up at the shadowed cavern roof with new respect for its builders.
“I found the commanding officer’s log in a footlocker in what must have been his quarters in one of the lateral tunnels. The date of the last entry translated as March 17, 1979. He and four others were left and he was dying. His last words were an apology to the Emperor for his weakness.”
“That was a soldier.”
“He was,” Harconan agreed. “I’ve preserved that log. One day, when it is possible, I will see that it is returned to his family. Such devotion deserves honor.”
Amanda found that she could honestly give Harconan’s hand a squeeze after that. There was so very much they stood at odds over, but he was right: There were also things that they could agree on as well.
The pier ended at a broad shelf cut out of the living rock that extended across the full width of the cavern head. The bow boarding ramp of the Harconan Flores had been lowered and rested on this shelf. Beyond the LSM’s ramp, a large tentlike affair had been deployed. It glowed green, bright internal lighting burning through the thin fabric of its structure.
“Come,” Harconan said. “It’s time you had a look at what brought you here.”
Air conditioners, dehumidifiers, and air-filtration units rumbled softly as they approached the structure, and Amanda realized that she was looking at an ad hoc “clean room,” a contained and sterile artificial environment keeping at bay the hostile natural elements of the cavern.
Harconan opened the zippered door of a small side compartment.
Within was a bulging wall of transparent plastic and INDASAT 06.
Amanda could see now that it wasn’t a “tent” in a classic sense but rather a positive-pressure inflatable structure. The pirated spacecraft lay cradled on a white painted lowboy trailer within this protective cocoon. A score or more of the service and access panels gaped open in its reentry scoured outer shell, revealing gleaming systems and experiment bays. Half a dozen men clad in green surgical scrubs and white gauze masks worked around the massive lozenge-shaped hull, like coroners conducting an autopsy on a beached whale.
Even with their faces covered, Amanda had little difficulty matching the men to their names and photos she’d seen in the NAVSPECFORCE database. The two Asians would be Rei and Wa, the representatives from the Korean combine; the two Arabs must be Kalil and Hammik from the Gulf states. And the single East Indian and Slav would be Sonoo and Valdechesfsky for the Indian outfit.
It was Sonoo who noticed the presence of the two observers. He heaved his portly bulk up from behind the laptop he’d been addressing on a field desk and crossed to the plastic containment window. He gave a quick, nervous nod and spoke in a precise but accented English. “Mr. Harconan, it is good to see you again. Good. Have you received word yet from my superiors?”
“Yes, I have, Doctor,” Harconan replied. “I have good news for all of you. Your superiors are impressed with your initial findings and are agreeable to the next phase of the operation. Once certain financial exchanges are dealt with, we’ll be ready to proceed.”
“Very good, excellent.” The technologist gave another quick, birdlike bob of his head, the gesture out of place from a man of his dimension. “We have done very good work here. I have much to transmit. But we need improved facilities now, elsewhere from this place. This is understood?”
There was a questioning, almost a pleading, to the man’s voice, matched by the expression in the dark eyes peering over the mask. Amanda sensed the East Indian was not enthralled with his current working environment.
“Don’t worry, my friend,” Harconan said jovially. “Things are proceeding and we’ll have you and your associates under way for civilization shortly.”
Sonoo glanced questioningly in Amanda’s direction.
“Oh, excuse my manners,” Harconan continued. “I should make a formal introduction at this time; however, I feel that under the circumstances we can all understand the wisdom of a degree of anonymity”
Amanda decided she had been playing passive long enough; it was time to put a shot into somebody’s waterline. “Oh, I’m quite well acquainted with the work of both Dr. Sonoo and with Dr. Valdechesfsky, his associate at Marutt-Goa.” She locked eyes with the startled East Indian. “Taking part in an industrial hijacking is not going to look good on a resume, Doctor.”
Sonoo blanched. “Who is she, Harconan? Who is she?”
Harconan’s jaw tightened in anger and his hand closed painfully about Amanda’s upper arm. “No one you have to concern yourself with, Doctor. Continue with your work. I’ll discuss departure preparations with the teams later.”
Harconan dragged her out of the observation tent. Half a dozen rough shoves took her to the rock wall at the rear of the cavern. A steel hard hand locked around her throat, pinning her back against the slime damp stone. The pirate chief loomed over her, outlined in the glow of the work lights. Amanda glared back her own defiance.
“You gave me your word, Amanda,” Harconan said, his voice dangerously soft. “You promised no trouble.”
“That was before I realized that I was being lied to as well,” she shot back, “by you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember who you’re talking to, Makara. I’m not a fool! You told me you were holding me hostage, presumably to get Admiral MacIntyre and NAVSPECFORCE to back off and let you complete delivery of the INDASAT to your buyers. But then we came to this place, your prime base, you started giving me the grand tour. This cavern, your ship, the satellite, and the industrial technicians you have working on it. You’ve let me see way too much, Makara, from the moment I woke up. It was stupid of me not to see it before. You don’t any intention of releasing me, do you, Makara? I’m never getting out of here alive, am I?”
For the duration of ten rapid heartbeats, Amanda thought that maybe she had overplayed her hand. Either that, or inadvertently she had blurted out the truth.
Harconan’s hand slipped from her throat to her shoulder. “No, Amanda, you’re wrong.” The softness in his voice didn’t have the steel behind it this time. “I have sworn to you that you will not be harmed unless you force me into it. You’re correct, you aren’t going to be released, at least not immediately. There are things I am trying to bring about. Things I am trying to do for the sake of all the peoples of Indonesia. I’ve brought you here to learn about them.”
The taipan lifted his hand from her shoulder, holding it out to her beseechingly. “I want to explain my dreams, Amanda. So that someday, not too far in the future, you can go out and explain them to the world. You will be free again, Amanda, I promise. Free to go. Free to come back”—Harconan’s voice sank to a whisper—“free to stay. Just give me time to explain!”
“It’s going to take a lot of explaining, Makara, to the world and to me. Kidnapping, terrorism, piracy, the theft of other people’s dreams…” She nodded toward the inflated containment module holding the INDASAT.