State of Siege (20 page)

The reduction of the outer defences had been all but completed by mid-day, though it had not been quite as easy as Ishak had expected. At several points, the defenders had been agile enough to slip through his cumbersome enveloping movements and re-establish themselves in new positions; but in the end, they were squeezed back, and all they succeeded in gaining for themselves by their efforts was a little time that they could not use. By three o’clock the turn to the east had been made, and the armoured columns were carving their way through towards the centre, the speed of their advance controlled only by that of the infantry mopping up behind them.

Not long after five, there was a tremendous burst of firing along the Telegraf Road; machine guns, mortars, a two-pounder; the noise was deafening. The sun was low now, and I could see smoke drifting up over the roofs less than a quarter of a mile away. Where the Telegraf Road entered the square there was a sudden flurry of activity. There were men running back out of the road and other men running forward into it. Then, one of the two-pounders out in the square began to fire. I heard Rosalie give a startled gasp and turned round. She was crouching behind the balustrade with
her fingers in her ears. When I looked back across the square, there were no running men. One of them was lying face downwards in the centre of the road. The rest had taken cover against the walls of the building that jutted out on the corner. The two-pounder was firing rapidly, bouncing about in its shallow pit, sending up a cloud of yellow dust and adding to the racket of the machine guns; then, for an instant, there was a gap in the sound, and through it I heard the shrill squeaking of a tank’s tracks.

It nosed out of the end of the road, and seemed to hesitate there for a moment like a dull-witted bull blinking in the sunlight of the arena. There was a black stain down the side of it that looked as if it had been made by an oil bomb. The two-pounder fired twice and I saw a streak of silver appear on the turret. Every automatic weapon in the square seemed to be firing at that moment, and the sound of the tank’s own machine gun was lost in the din. But it was the tank’s gun that was effective. Dust spurted up all around the two-pounder, and suddenly it was no longer firing. I saw one of the gunners start to crawl out of the pit, and then a second burst finished him. Two more bursts wiped out the crews of two of the machine guns.

The tank lurched forward and then made a left turn. It controlled the square now, and was ready to demonstrate the fact to anyone foolish enough to dispute it. Apparently, nobody was. The crew of the other two-pounder
out in the square were scrambling for cover among the trees, and the remaining machine-gunners who, a moment ago, had been blazing away so fiercely at the tank’s armour plating, were now crouching discreetly in their fox-holes. The tank began to move along the north side of the square searching for targets. From away across the square some optimist began dropping mortar bombs near it. And then, suddenly the situation changed. There was a noise like an enormous paper bag being exploded. Immediately on top of it there was a spine-jarring crack. At the same moment the tank swung round broadside on and stopped in a cloud of dust.

The commander of it knew his job. Within a few seconds, he was putting down smoke; though not before another bazooka bomb had sent fragments of the broken track screaming up through the trees overhead. As the smoke drifted back across the tank, I could see the turret traversing rapidly and knew that the commander had spotted the bazookas’ position. If the men handling them did not move quickly, they would become sitting targets as soon as the smoke thinned; but, like innocents, they were settling down expectantly to wait for another chance to knock the tank out.

Rosalie touched my arm. I looked round and saw that Roda had come into the living room. We went back quickly into the bedroom.

After a moment, Sanusi walked out on to the terrace
and looked down on to the square. Roda was talking to someone in the next room, but it was impossible to hear the conversation. When the other person went, Roda joined Sanusi at the balustrade.

There was some sort of disagreement between the two men. Roda was trying to persuade Sanusi of something and Sanusi would appear to be listening; then he would turn away abruptly and Roda would have to go after him and begin all over again. Once Sanusi turned sharply and asked a question. Roda had his document case with him, and in reply he held it up and patted it.

Down in the square, the tank’s turret gun began firing suddenly and the building shook as something crashed into it. Rosalie looked at me inquiringly. I said I thought that the tank was firing at the place where the bazooka crews were dug in, and that the shot had probably ricocheted into the building down below. She nodded understandingly, as if I had been apologising for the noise made by an inconsiderate neighbour.

Another tank had entered the square now. I could hear it squeaking along the road in the opposite direction to the first one and firing bursts from its machine gun.

Then, the sun went down, and for nearly a minute there was no sound from the square except the squeaking of the tank tracks. Along the Telegraf Road, however, the firing intensified and I could hear the thumping
of grenades. The infantry were moving up now, clearing the defended houses that the tanks had left behind them. Now and again, the drifting smoke would be illuminated momentarily by the flash of an explosion below.

A shoe grated outside on the terrace.

“Mr. Fraser.” It was Roda’s voice.

I went to the window. There were no lights on in the apartment, nor was there a moon yet. He was about ten feet away and for a moment I did not see him.

“Yes, Colonel?”

“Come here, please.”

I went over. Beyond him, along the terrace, Sanusi stirred and rested his elbows on the balustrade.

Roda lowered his voice. “I must speak in confidence to you, Mr. Fraser.”

“Yes?”

“It has become necessary for the General and myself to leave this headquarters.”

“Yes?”

“We have done all we can here. It is better to live for a cause than to die for it uselessly. That is our choice now. I have persuaded our
Boeng
that it is his duty to live.”

“I see.”

“It has been a difficult decision, you will understand.” He paused.

“I can see that.”

“More difficult than you might think.”

“No doubt.” I was trying unavailingly to understand the reason for these confidences.

“For two men, withdrawal from this headquarters is still possible. If more should attempt it, all will fail. There must be secrecy.”

“Of course.” That, at least, I could understand.

“As there was when Napoleon withdrew from Egypt.”

For a moment, I thought that he was making a tasteless joke. But no; his lips were pursed solemnly. He saw himself as the Marmont of this occasion.

I mumbled agreement.

“I tell you this, Mr. Fraser, because there is a matter in which you can help us.”

“Yes?”

“If we are to withdraw successfully we cannot go in our uniforms.”

“I see that.”

“It is the shirts. Our pants will attract no attention. We merely need civilian shirts. I think you have some.”

“Shirts?” I stared at him stupidly.

“Two will be enough. You have clean ones?”

“Yes, I have.” I also had a terrible desire to laugh.

“Then perhaps you will get them.”

“Now?”

“At once, please.”

I turned and went back into the bedroom. In there, I tried switching on the light, but the power was off. Rosalie watched me incredulously, while I struck a match and began fumbling in the drawers. I knew that I had only one clean shirt left. This round would have to be on Jebb. I found the right drawer eventually, picked out two of the oldest shirts there, and took them out on to the terrace. Roda nodded approval.

“I’m afraid they will be a bit large for you, Colonel.”

“That is unimportant.” He folded them carefully and put them in his document case. “They are light-coloured but not …”

“Colonel!” It was Sanusi’s voice.

Roda turned inquiringly.

Sanusi had moved away from the balustrade and was standing in the centre of the terrace. I thought I saw a pistol in his hand, but it was too dark to see properly. At the same moment, there were footsteps in the living room, and Aroff and Major Dahman came out on to the terrace.

“Boeng,”
Aroff began, “you sent for us?”

“Yes,” said Sanusi; and then he fired.

The first bullet hit Roda in the stomach. For a second, he stood quite still; then he dropped the document case and took a step forward. The second bullet hit him in the right shoulder and he twisted forward on to his
knees. He began to say something, but Sanusi paid no attention to him.

To Aroff and Dahman, he said: “I sent for you to witness an execution.” Then, he went up to Roda and shot him again in the back of the head.

Roda slid forward on to his face.

Aroff and Dahman did not move as Sanusi turned towards them. Across the square, one of the tanks began firing its turret gun.

“What was the offence,
Boeng?
” Aroff said.

“He was attempting to desert. You will find the evidence in there.” He shone a flashlight on to the document case. “Open it.”

Aroff walked over to the document case and opened it up. The shirts fell out. He looked up at me.

“Yes, they were from the Englishman,” said Sanusi. “I leave that matter to you. All officers of the defence force must be informed of the execution and the reason. The body should be put where they can see it. For the public I shall issue a simple statement informing them that, in view of the pressure of Colonel Roda’s military duties, I have taken over the Secretaryship of the Party for the time being. There must be no suggestion at this moment of a division in our ranks. I also have to consider world opinion. Firmness in such matters is not always understood.”

He made these announcements with the cool authority
of a leader secure in the possession of great power and the habit of using it with wisdom and restraint. He seemed totally unaware of their absurd incongruity. I saw Aroff look at him sharply.

“We have yet to hear from Djakarta,” Sanusi added; “I think the time has come for me to speak to President Soekarno personally.” With a nod to Aroff, he turned and walked away through the living room.

Aroff looked at Dahman, who shrugged slightly, and then at me. “What happened, Mr. Fraser?”

I told him. He made no comment. When I had finished he looked at Dahman.

“Well, Major, what do you think?” He nodded towards Roda’s body. “Perhaps he was right. Of two men, one might be lucky.”

Dahman smiled grimly. “And the other? I have seen Ishak’s way of putting a renegade to death. I would prefer to shoot myself now rather than risk that.”

“Are you a coward, Dahman?”

“About some things, Colonel.”

“So am I.” Aroff handed the shirts to me. “You see, Mr. Fraser? We have no use for them either.” A gun flash lit up his face for an instant as he looked out across the square. “They will have their artillery up soon,” he remarked; “then, there will be no more doubts to trouble us.”

He turned to leave but at the living-room window he
paused and looked back. “Mr. Fraser, if Roda had anything else belonging to you, something that you may need, you should take it at once.”

I stood there staring after him uncertainly as he went through into the corridor. Then, Rosalie was at my elbow.

“Steven! He means the pistol.”

“Are you sure?” I was still trying not to be sick.

“Yes. He means you to take the pistol.”

“All right.”

The holster was near enough to the side for me to get the pistol out of it without getting blood on my hands, but the spare magazines were on the other side of the belt, and I knew that I would have to turn the body over to get at them. There was a sound of footsteps in the corridor. We hurried back to the bedroom and I slipped the pistol into a drawer with the shirts on top of it.

The guards had a simple way of moving the body. They rolled it on to a mat that they had taken out of the living room and dragged it away. As they went, they made jokes about Roda’s plumpness. They seemed in excellent spirits. In one respect, at least, Sanusi’s officers had been successful; they had managed to conceal the truth about their predicament from the unfortunate rank and file.

When they had gone, I got a flashlight out of my suitcase and examined the pistol. It had a full magazine
in it and there was a round in the breech. Rosalie watched intently, and when I had unloaded it to make sure that I knew how it worked, she asked if she might handle it.

The possession of the pistol obviously pleased her a great deal more than it pleased me. I remembered how, when I had wakened her the first night, thinking that there were thieves getting into the apartment, her first thought had been to ask if I had a revolver.

When I had shown her how to load and fire it and had explained the safety catch, I thought that I had better try to modify her enthusiasm for the thing.

“Pistols are not really very much use except for frightening people,” I said.

“Colonel Roda would not agree with you.”

“The General was six feet away and Roda wasn’t expecting it. I’ve seen people miss a target in broad daylight with a pistol at that range.”

“But if anyone attacks us, we can kill him.”

“The fact that you have a pistol can be more dangerous than being unarmed. A soldier might not kill an unarmed civilian, but if he sees someone facing him with a gun in his hand, he may shoot rather than take a chance.”

“I think it is better to have it.”

“As long as we don’t have to use it, it’s fine.”

“You had a revolver.”

“There was a time up in Tangga when there were a
lot of snakes about, and sometimes they got into our rooms. So I had a revolver. But the only time I tried to use it I missed, and after that I kept a shot-gun. I left that behind.”

“Then the pistol is no good?” She sounded bitterly disappointed.