Rogue Element

Achmad Reza then sat quietly and waited for the storm raging about him to subside. It took some considerable time. He was jostled and pushed by people trying to get at him, and others trying to keep them away. Eventually, when a semblance of calm returned, he again stood. ‘How can the TNI not know of the existence of this crashed aircraft in our own country, when other sources have obviously known of it for at least a day? I do not think that possible. I suggest the TNI has been in possession of this photo all along, but has kept it a secret from this house. I would like to know why.’

Again the parliament was in uproar. Nearly all of the military officers were on their feet, outraged, pointing at Reza accusingly and shouting denials. He could not hear what they were saying above the din and so he bore on regardless. ‘A lot has been said this morning about the fighting in the streets of Jakarta, just a few hours ago, by rival regiments. We have been told it was nothing of consequence. I do not believe it. Does this photo have anything to do with the disgraceful squabbling? And what of the untimely disappearance of General Kukuh Masri? What is the real story? Tell us truthfully!’

He had received the envelope containing the photo in the internal mail. There was no postmark, the envelope itself was unremarkable, but there was an accompanying note with one simple instruction: that the photo be released in the parliament. It further stated that the photo would be released immediately thereafter to the Australian media.

The aircraft Australia insisted was on Indonesian soil was indeed where they said it would be. A single overflight by the TNI-AU would have confirmed it. That flight had been performed, he was sure of it. Yet the military, for its own obscure reasons, had insisted that the jumbo had not been found. But here it was, plain as anything, on top of a kind of plateau and not hidden in a jungle valley.

He squinted at the photo again, lifting his glasses above his eyes to improve the focus. The picture was sickening in its detail. No one could possibly have survived such a catastrophe. He realised he was probably looking at the bodies of at least four hundred people, and the thought deeply saddened him.

It had taken a supreme effort of will, but Suluang didn’t jump to his feet when the little-known minister who represented a rock in the ocean tabled the photo. Somehow, he’d also managed to keep the look of concerned serenity on his face — the one he always wore when in this place — despite the fact that his heart had immediately jammed itself into his throat. He knew this moment would come, but he was surprised at how quickly it had arrived. The 747 had been found, just as he thought it would. But by whom? The politician stated that the photo would now be released to the Australian media. Did that mean the source was Indonesian? If so, who could that be? Masri, perhaps? Before any questions could be put to him, Suluang rose and hurriedly made his way to an exit, leaving the chaos behind.

The mayhem in the large hall had a violent edge to it. Reza suddenly realised that his life was very much at risk. He got up from his seat and hurried out, leaving the photo. A man immediately picked it up and, waving it aloft, demanded that the military come clean.

The overwhelming majority of Indonesian parliamentarians had been dismayed at the implications of the photograph. That much was obvious. The fact that an Indonesian government spokesman had been suggesting that the plane might not even have come down on their soil, despite indications to the contrary, and refused permission for an international search effort, could be misconstrued as having something to hide. That ‘something’ being the truth. And that’s what Reza found so disturbing. Once the satellite photo of the downed aircraft went out over the world’s news services and the Internet, as it no doubt would, millions of other people would reach the same conclusion. What have I done? he wondered.

Reza felt regret. And fear. He did not want to personally bring dishonour on his country but, he realised, that’s what many Indonesians would think he had done. But what option did he have? He had no idea who he could and couldn’t trust. Airing the photo in the biggest possible public forum would get things moving quickest while bringing him some form of protection. Perhaps that’s why the note with the photo had instructed him to do exactly that. The news was out — there was no point silencing him. And, of course, the truth was by now also released to the Australian media. Only time would prove his actions right. Or disastrous. At least he’d saved some national face by revealing the scandal before outsiders did. What troubled him now was just how far the knowledge of that photo went within the TNI.