Chapter One - Richard Lewis

"Good morning, Reed," Auntie said, looking up from a homemade birthday card
drawn by a childish hand. She smiled. "My granddaughter." She punched a button on her
phone console and an Embassy secretary came in with a suitcase and a stack of clippings.
She put the suitcase by the desk and plopped a stack of clippings on the coffee table.
"Sit down and read those," Auntie ordered. "You have catching up to do."
Reed flipped through them. The clippings were from local papers, all of them
nationalist or religionist, no leftist or PKI. "Harian Rakyat and the other pink rags?" he
asked.
"Banned," Auntie said.
Reed began reading. Inflamed reports of the generals murdered and tortured by
the Gerwani. Fist-pounding editorials against the treachery of the PKI. Articles on PKIsponsored
universities being closed by government order and then torched. Members of
leftist organizations being hounded out of government offices. Banks and businesses
firing staff. Muslim youth routing a force of Communist Youth in Central Java. On and
on—the general impression was a crescendo of nationalism rampant and triumphant.
Auntie handed him a folder. Station cables to Washington.
"I'm back in your good graces?" Reed said.
Auntie smiled benevolently. "We're giving you a chance to redeem yourself."
He scanned the cables. Confidential reports that Aidit had been captured and
killed in Central Java, but the news was being kept secret so that the PKI could not recoup
around a new leader. No evidence of smuggled Fifth Force arms. Communist
leaders in Djakarta captured by army and summarily executed. In Sumatra and Java,
army sponsored militias were beheading communists by the hundreds; in one village,
heads, including those of women, were paraded down streets.
Reed refused to let Naniek into his thoughts.
"They're on the run," Auntie said. "We have to make sure they stay on the run.
But nothing is happening yet in Bali. Still a tense standoff. We don't want the PKI to
regroup there." Auntie nodded at the suitcase. "Clothes for you." She handed him an
envelope. "Passport and ticket to Denpasar. You're going with Wendell."
Wendell had booked two rooms at the Hotel Bali.
"Let's freshen up and then we'll keep going," Wendell said when they checked in.
"Batu Gede is as good a place to start as any."
Reed dumped his suitcase in his room and didn't freshen up. He found Arini
having a late lunch in the hotel kitchen as she perused the nationalist local paper. She
looked thinner and wearier, dark circles etched under her eyes. She noticed the cast on his
wrist but didn't say anything.
"I've been in Djakarta," Reed said. "Looking for Naniek."
Arini pushed aside her plate. "And?"
"I was detained on other business. Have you heard from her?"
Arini shook her head. Reed caught the title of the paper's editorial. Flush out
Luhde Srikandi. "Can I see that?" he asked.
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