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Australia – Canberra

Office of National Assessments (ONA)

“The Intelligence and security agencies are subject to the operation of Australian law unless specifically exempted because of the nature of their work.” Australian Government Legislation.

Peter Rigby waved the shared-intelligence report. ‘How do they expect us to believe that so many nukes simply went missing?’ he challenged rhetorically. The United States National Security Agency’s document revealed that some thirty suitcase sized nuclear weapons remained unaccounted for within Russia and Chechnya. The analyst crossed his arms and frowned at the damning report listing the former Soviet Union’s nuclear armory that included 25,000 nuclear weapons, of which 12,000 were strategic warheads on ICBMs, submarine-launched ballistic missiles and bombers – and an inventory of a further 13,000 warheads for tactical nuclear weapons.

With deteriorating economic conditions and organized crime activities continuing to expand across the former Soviet states, Peter Rigby was convinced that it was inevitable for nuclear weapons to fall into the hands of terrorists. An ONA (Office of National Assessments) Sr. Analyst, Rigby was also convinced that separatist groups in S.E. Asia were in the market for highly mobile nuclear weapons, and had therefore placed the topic at the top of the weekly briefing agenda.

‘Just how mobile are these weapons?’ the Assistant Director for the S.E. Asian Branch of the ONA asked. The ONA was the government body charged with analyzing international political, strategic and economic developments for the Prime Minister, Cabinet and government departments. ONA was one of the key agencies that directed the activities of the spy agency, the Australian Security Intelligence Service (ASIS).

‘ADMs,’ Rigby commenced, then hesitated, his intelligence world pebbled with acronyms. Acknowledging the attendance of a Cabinet member, Rigby accepted he would have to be more expansive in his delivery. ‘That is, Atomic Demolition Munitions are significantly dangerous due to their mobility. An ADM can be transported and detonated by a single individual. The result of a one-kiloton detonation could claim anything from 50,000 to 100,000 lives. Physically, the weapon is about the same size as a suitcase, doesn’t require launch codes and can be prepared in less than half an hour.’ He looked directly at the ASIS Deputy Director, Andrew Grey. ‘The Chechen rebels could place one under Boris Yeltsin’s bed and none would be the wiser.’

He knew that, without exception, Western intelligence agencies attributed the disappearance of the nuclear stockpiles to the inept guardianship of the hard-drinking Russian president. He also knew that ASIS’ Moscow bureau had reported the local American agents’ deep concern about the thriving black market — especially in transportable ADMs — and that, with the Chechen war entering its second year, Russia’s mountainous borders offered a near-fail-safe exit for these ADMs to arms dealers and fanatical fringe groups. But he doubted that S.E. Asia should be a major concern.

‘The question is whether any of the separatists operating in the Philippines and Indonesia have access or the financial backing and infrastructure to successfully initiate such an attack?’ said Grey. He paused, cast his eyes around casually, then added, ‘and our own analysts concur that those specific groups just don’t have those resources.’

As the ASIS deputy director droned on, Peter Rigby remembered another report which had passed through his domain days before, the information contained in the US-shared information brief providing credence to intelligence claiming Osama bin Laden had recently visited Chechnya. An informant in Grozny had suggested that the purpose of bin Laden’s visit was to consolidate his relationship with a prominent fundamentalist Muslim leader known as ‘Hattab’, a one-eyed Jordanian who had fought alongside bin Laden in Afghanistan before moving on to Chechnya.

‘We might wish to consider Afghanistan as a potential depot?’ Rigby suggested when Grey fell quiet. ‘There’s tracking evidence of movement from Malaysia that confirms a growing number of Islamic dissidents from Indonesia and the Philippines are attending military training camps in Pakistan and Afghanistan.’

‘There is no intelligence to support that these are not more than simple dissidents escaping local regimes,’ Andrew Grey waved a hand in the air, unaware of the fallout from the Doña Josefa Apartments’ fire. The ASIS head of station in Manila had read the newspaper reports of the fire and, not privy to the report filed by the Philippine authorities with the Americans, summarily dismissed the incident. ‘There has been no significant growth in militant Islamic movements in S.E. Asia that should be of concern to Australia.’ The deputy director’s face stretched into a knowing smile. He supported the pro-Jakarta lobby within the Defence Intelligence Organization. The DIO and ONA both came under considerable pressure from the Defence Department to produce pro-Indonesian assessments and tone down criticism of the Republic. ‘Suharto and the other Asian heads of state have seen to that.’

With the exception of Peter Rigby, concurring heads nodded in assent as the first briefing for the New Year came to a close.

Malaysia – Kuala Lumpur

Hambali’s face remained crumpled with concern. The Indonesian cleric ceased pacing and turned to the al-Qaeda envoy. ‘In view of these developments we must consider closing the company down.’

Wali Khan Amin Shah cast fiery eyes over The Manila Times’ ominous headlines that signaled disaster for their cause. ‘Operation Bojinka’s’ potential to wreak havoc on the United States and its allies had been eclipsed by a Philippine crackdown bringing swift retribution to those involved.

Hambali could not contain his anger and disappointment, moving around the sparsely furnished surroundings, shaking his head in exasperation. ‘We were so close…’ He left the words hanging, flopped into a cushioned rattan chair and looked questioningly at his associate, seeking his concurrence to close down the umbrel a company, Konsojaya Sdn Bhd which they had established only the year before.

Collectively, Konsojaya and its counterpart conspirators had developed the plan codenamed ‘Operation Bojinka’. Now, with the operation revealed and the Manila cells disrupted, Hambali knew that it would be only a matter of time before the international intelligent agencies would come after him, threatening disclosure of the newly created Jemaah Islamiyah cells in the region.

* * * *

The events of the past twenty-four hours had all but destroyed what would have been Hambali, Ramli Yousef and Osama’s finest hour – the Bojinka plan.

Hambali considered the consequences of abandoning the corporate structure Konsojaya Sdn Bhd and whether existing linkages might lead the authorities to their door. He frowned. It was crucial that the trail end there, in Kuala Lumpur, and that no connection be established between the front organization and their covert activities elsewhere.

Although the Bojinka disaster in Manila represented a major setback in their timetable, Hambali remained determined that, one way or another, his network would be restored and expanded until it had delivered the nearly half a billion ASEAN population to the Jemaah Islamiyah, at whatever the cost. He turned to Wali Khan Amin Shah. ‘We must close the company down – then wait. It would not be wise for you to come here again. Until we know the extent of the investigation we should not communicate. I will wait for when you send word from the ‘Sheikh’. Do not lose heart – time will repair what has been done. The Americans and their allies will pay – that, I promise as surely as Allah is the one and only true God.’

Jakarta –The Thousand Islands

Andrew Graham followed Agus Sumarsono forward of the engine room on the lower deck into the owner’s stateroom, quietly envious of the entrepreneur’s twenty-five metre, Italian built Tecnomarine 80 series executive launch.

‘This is Anita,’ Agus smiled at a bikini-clad beauty adorning one of the two settees watching a video. The stunning Mena-donese girl smiled coyly and waved. ‘She brought a few friends,’ Agus added, ‘you’ll find them down the passageway.’

Andrew mentally inventoried the cabin’s layout and lavish furnishings. ‘You might have difficulty convincing me to leave when we return.’

‘The ship’s only recently been refurbished,’ Agus proudly explained, ‘there are five guest cabins, all with private en suite facilities and spa.’ He was enjoying the moment. ‘Even the four-man-crew’s quarters below deck are air-conditioned.’ Andrew had already met the expatriate captain when he boarded. ‘How often do you get to take it out?’ he asked.

Agus shrugged. ‘Whenever the opportunity arises,’ he answered, not evasively. ‘Come, let’s go up top and enjoy the view.’

Andrew filled his lungs with sea air, leaned forward and gripped the railing, scanning the line of scattered islands reaching out to the horizon. He had frequented the tropical setting on many an occasion over the years, mooring his ageing Grand Banks cruiser off one of the virgin, uninhabited islands and spending the weekend diving amongst the multicolored corals.

As powerful twin-engine 750 horsepower GM diesels drove them deeper into the one-hundred-and-twenty-island clus-ter away from the more popular day-tripper resorts of Pulau Ayer and Bidadari, Andrew relaxed, the pressures of Jakarta life dissipating as the capital’s skyscrapers slipped from view. He turned to his host. ‘Where are we headed?’

Agus grinned. ‘Did I tell you I bought a place out past Pulau Putri?’

Andrew raised a brow; surprised that Agus had managed to keep such an acquisition secret from the city’s plethora of rumor mongers. ‘When?’

‘Oh, about a year ago.’ Andrew could see that Agus was pleased with this revelation and raised his glass in salute.

‘Good for you, Agus,’ he leaned over and patted the other man’s shoulder, ‘and thank you for sharing this confidence.’

‘I had a team of Singaporeans come down with materials and build the bungalow so I could keep the venture under wraps,’ he confided.

Andrew could not resist laughing. ‘My God, Agus, I am impressed!’

They arrived at their destination mid morning, Andrew whistling his approval at the idyllic setting, the bungalow’s architecture blending with the island’s natural ambience. Surrounded by the whitest sand, the atoll remained covered with lush vegetation, coconut palms swaying lazily under an azure sky, the pristine waters so clear he could see fish swimming idly, metres below the surface. Agus issued instructions for the mini-harem to remain on board. Andrew was then given a tour of the five-hectare island, the pair strolling along a narrow path that meandered through the flora to a clearing on the far side of the atoll.

Andrew lifted his face to the sun. ‘Must remember to make more time for moments like this.’

Agus removed his sandals and waded into the shallow water then turned, shielding his eyes from the brilliant sun. The men could no longer hear the monotonous thumping emanating from the resort’s generator, both now conscious of the island’s rhythm as wind ruffled palms, and an occasional surge from the wake of some passing freighter spilled imperceptibly onto the sand.

‘One thing that has always frustrated me in being Javanese,’ Agus opened, Andrew recognizing that he was about to learn the purpose of their outing. ‘…and that is having to be so damn circuitous when attempting to establish a point.’

Andrew smiled inwardly. Agus was already heading down that tortuous, cultural path.

‘Before I continue, I need your assurance that if we don’t arrive at an agreement today, whatever transpires remains here.’

Andrew considered the request before responding. He felt reasonably confident that whatever Agus had in mind there would be sufficient enticement to ensure the response he expected. ‘You have that undertaking.’

‘Good,’ Agus waded from the lukewarm sea and strolled the few metres to a copse of coconut palms seeking refuge from the sun. He looked up into the trees and, satisfied that none of the fruit would strike in the event one fell, sat on his haunches in relaxed Indonesian pose. Andrew remained standing soaking up the rays; his curiosity building as to the direction their conversation might lead.

Agus picked up a shell and threw it aimlessly. ‘Would you mind telling me what stock you hold in Greg Young’s new float?’

Andrew was caught by surprise. ‘My group was not registered as a buyer,’ he parried.

Agus crowed. ‘My sources inform me that you are holding around ten percent.’

‘And you want to know because…?’

The Javanese entrepreneur looked the American directly in the eye. ‘I am holding you to your promise. What is said here stays here…okay?’

Andrew nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘I want to buy your stock,’ he hesitated, before adding, ‘off market.’

‘Why don’t you just go out into the market and buy another ten percent?’

‘Come on, Andy,’ Agus opened his hands as if helpless, ‘once the word spread that I was interested the stock would rocket.’

Andrew accepted this comment. ‘Then why didn’t you take a position when the prospectus first went out?’

‘I did,’ Agus resisted a sneer, ‘but the nominees’ allocations were cut back due to the flood of applications. Greg Young had instructed the brokers to widen the spread of shareholders.’

‘Why the interest in Young & Budiono, won’t it directly compete with Bimaton?’

Agus dropped his chin and looked over his sunglasses at Andrew. ‘There is a closed tender coming up. There will be only two contenders.’

Andrew understood immediately. ‘Must be some tender…’ he left his thoughts hanging.

‘I’d be receptive to paying you a premium of, say, twenty percent on today’s closing price.’

Andrew calculated quickly. The company’s market cap had reached around $100,000,000. He held ten percent and should he accept Agus’ offer, he would increase his profit by a further $2,000,000. ‘I’m interested. If I were to proceed I’d need to have the deal done offshore as I wouldn’t be interested in paying tax penalties.’

‘The deal would be done off market. We can arrange the transfer to avoid the taxes.’

‘When do you want my decision?’ He had already decided to accept the offer.

Agus forced a smile. ‘Today.’

Andrew was amused. ‘How about we have lunch, gather up the ladies and you give me a couple of hours on the way back to sleep on it?’

It was Agus’ turn to laugh. ‘And by sleeping on it you mean…?’

The men shook hands.

The following week control of Greg Young’s publicly listed company passed covertly to Agus Sumarsono. Before the end of that year Young & Budiono would become the darling of the Jakarta Stock Exchange, having secured two major infrastructure projects by what virtually amounted to government proclamation.

Tenggulun Village – East Java

Sweat trickled into Amrozi’s eyes as he worked away in the galvanized-iron-roofed shed repairing his Yamaha motorcycle. A loudspeaker crackled and then shattered the air with the mid-morning call, summoning the faithful to prayer. Immediately, he downed tools, wiped grease from his hands and ventured outside the makeshift workshop where he observed other villagers gravitating towards the muezzin’s call. A dilapidated bus sounded its horn as it competed with an ox-drawn cart for dominance over the broken macadam. He wrinkled, then picked his nose, inspected the three-centimeter fingernail on his left hand then flicked the hardened mucus into the dust.

A group of girls caught his attention as they walked purposely in the direction of the mosque, seemingly oblivious to the lung-parching heat. He frowned disapprovingly, observing that although their heads were covered with the traditional, white hijab scarf, the girls all wore jeans. There had been a time, he admitted silently, when he would have coaxed them inside and tempted them to play. But now, having learned to act in a manner more appropriate to his family’s standing in the local community, Amrozi’s delinquent ways had changed, the pious metamorphosis directly attributed to the reverence he held for his older brother, Ali Ghufron.

Amrozi’s sleepy and dirt-poor village of two thousand inhabitants lay in a dry and unkind environment, a few miles inland from the East Java coast, and two hundred kilometres from Surabaya. As a child it had been Ghufron who had watched over Amrozi, singling him out from amidst the other twelve siblings and providing him with special attention, taking Amrozi’s side whenever the younger brother’s frequent escapades earned their father Nur Hasyim’s ire. When the three brothers, Ghufron, Imron and Jabir left Tenggulun and traveled to Ngruki in Central Java to study at the Al Mukmin Islamic boarding school, established by the radical Abu Bakar Bashir, Amrozi’s delinquency had flared.

The greater majority of Tenggulun followed the more moderate thirty-five-million-strong Nahdlatul Ulama, an Indonesian Muslim society founded with the purpose of maintaining and developing, Ahlussunnah-wal-Jamaah Islamic teachings. Their members represented the majority of Indonesian Muslim traditionalists who, for generations, blended the rich cultural mix of local beliefs with Islamic doctrine, and tended to be bearably tolerant of other religions. There were very few Christians in this poverty-stricken community – the remaining inhabitants, followers of a strict form of Muslim fundamentalism known as Wahhabi which emphasized ties to the Arab world and ‘legitimate’ Islam, dismissing traditional practices as superstitious and archaic. Craving attention, Amrozi torched the sacred tomb of the town’s patron saint, Sinori, the action creating a village feud between the Nahdlatul Ulama and local adherents of Wahhabism. Tombs were regarded as having special mystical powers by the Nahdlatul Ulama. However, to the opposing Wahhabis and their unforgiving interpretation of Islam, these beliefs were primitive and blasphemous and, in consequence, Amrozi had done no wrong.

Overnight, he became a village celebrity to supporters aligned with Abu Bakar Bashir.

When Ghufron graduated from the pesantren in Ngruki and followed Bashir into self-imposed exile to join the radical Mujahideen in Afghanistan, all communications ceased; the void created by Amrozi’s brother’s absence, unbearable. Four years passed before Amrozi heard that Ghufron had returned to Malaysia and was teaching at a Wahhabi-based religious school founded by Abdullah Sungkar and Bashir. Amrozi successfully traced his brother to a small Madrasah off Sungei Tiram where Ghufron taught. Initially, he was embarrassed to attempt a reunion, concerned that his lack of piety would dis-please Ghufron.

It was at this time he learned that two of his other brothers had also opened their own school in Tenggulun to teach Wahhabism. He then decided to mend his ways and become a better Muslim and, in so doing, eventually became ensnared by the militant extremist organization Ghufron helped build. He supported himself working as a mechanic, attended prayer five times daily and, at night, studiously read the Koran.

He stole from his father and made his way to Ulu Tiram in Malaysia’s southern state of Johor, unaware that his destination was, in fact, a Jemaah Islamiyah recruiting station and a transit point for S.E. Asian Muslims on their way to fight in Afghanistan. There he sought his brother’s blessing, Ghufron welcoming Amrozi with open arms. Amrozi then became even more fanatical in his emulation of his older brother, undertaking training at a newly-established JI camp where he learned a number of skills and developed a competency for building explosive devices.

As his respect grew for Ghufrom who was then known by his adopted name, Mukhlas, so did his admiration for Riduan Isamuddin, the JI operations commander whom he was instructed to refer to as ‘Hambali’. Mukhlas worked closely with Hambali and there were times that Amrozi envied their relationship. When his brother founded a second Islamic boarding school in Johor, Amrozi was included in the new network, developing strong ties with one of the religious teachers, Abdul Aziz, aka Imam Samudra.

With the Malaysian government making it increasingly difficult for foreign laborers to obtain work, the brothers returned to Tenggulun to find their seventy-five-year old father bedrid-den and their tiny, ageing mother Haji Tariyem unable to cope. By now, his sisters had all married and the remaining brothers were preoccupied with their own lives.

Although a changed man in many ways, Amrozi was still not considered sufficiently dedicated to join his brother Imron in teaching at the village Pesantren. Instead, he eked a minimal existence from repairing motorbikes and the occasional car or bus, devoting his free time to caring for his father who now spent his final days wrapped in a sarong, lying listlessly on a concrete floor.

Seeking action, Amrozi led a demonstration to topple the village head. When this failed, he became disillusioned, slipping back into the mundane life he had previously escaped from, his waking hours filled with a desperation longing for recognition which, he brooded, might never be achieved.

Again, the muezzin’s call fell upon his ears. Reminded that he was running late for the noontime prayers, Amrozi moped his way to the mosque, arriving minutes before the sun reached its zenith.

Ipil – Mindanao Island

The Philippines

3rd April

Panicked, women and children ran screaming through the small southern town as Abu Sayyaf “Bearer of the Sword” guerrillas literally shredded the town center’s buildings with automatic fire. The founder and the leader, Abduragak Abubakar Janjalani, a veteran of the Afghanistan war, strutted into the local police headquarters knowing he would find not find any resistance there. The Abu Sayyaf enjoyed a most unusual de facto relationship with those who held power in Manila, which not only assured Janjalani of advance intelligence that assisted his force to elude capture, but also provided for financial and material support.

Since he had orchestrated a split from the Moro Liberation Front in 1991, Janjalani had almost exclusively operated in the southern parts of the archipelago, developing close ties with other Islamic radical groups. Afghanistan had provided him with the opportunity to establish a direct link with al-Qaeda and when Ramzi Yousef and Khalid Shaikh Mohammed had ventured into the Philippines, it was the Abu Sayyaf that had been the beneficiaries of their material and financial support.

Janjalani trained his recruits well, specializing in assassinations, kidnappings and extortion, the first of which bringing his splinter organization to the attention of the CIA in 1991 when a grenade attack killed two foreign women. Bathing in the success of this action he consistently targeted foreigners, enjoying the notoriety the media provided, taking his activities to new levels in 1993 with the kidnapping of three Spanish nuns and their priest.

With Ramzi Yousef ’s much publicized capture in Pakistan the month before and his appearance before a New York judge to respond to an outstanding indictment over the World Trade Centre bombing, al-Qaeda funding had all but ceased. Janjalani realized that he needed to raise his organization’s profile if he were to expect further funding from the Sheikh.

Satisfied that the Ipil township attack would make headlines in the Manila Times and assist in someway restoring the severed lines of monetary flow from Hambali’s nerve centre in Malaysia, Janjalani had the town set ablaze, then called for his troops to withdraw.

In the aftermath of the botched Bojinka Operation the CIA increased its presence in the Philippines sweeping the city and countryside, recruiting informants and identifying anti-U.S. militants. And, with Ramzi Yousef’s voluminous revelations regarding his connection to the Abu Sayyaf, its leader, Abduragak Abubakar Janjalani’s life was suddenly destined for an abrupt end.

Manila – The Philippines

4th May

Caught with a fake passport Omar al-Faruq had been arrested whilst unsuccessfully attempting to enter flight school, later admitting that he had intended using commercial aircraft in a proposed terrorist attack. After being subjected to three months of brutal interrogation at the hands of his Filipino captors, twenty-four-year old Kuwaiti-born Omar al-Faruq broke down and confessed to his association with al-Qaeda, revealing all to the American observers.

The Kuwaiti admitted to having spent three years at an al-Qaeda training camp in Khaldan, Afghanistan where he became close to the camp’s leader, al-Mughira al Gaza’iri and an upper echelon bin Laden associate, Abu Zubaydah. It had been on Zubaydah’s instruction that he traveled to the Philippines and ensconced himself at Camp Abubakar, the Moro Islamic Liberation Front’s terrorist-training facility. At that time Afghani veterans had become the trainers of a new generation of Mujahideen based in Mindanao. Working with the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) in a reciprocal arrangement, recruits were trained in everything from scuba diving for seaborne terror attacks and the use of explosives to blow up ships, bridges, power plants and even the occasional assassination attempt.

The Americans were jubilant with their catch. Following months of coercive re-indoctrination al-Faruq was turned. He became a willing CIA ‘sleeper’ within Philippines separatist and Islamic movements, al-Faruq’s deep-cover role then known only to the most senior officers within the CIA.