Читать книгу The Fifth Season - Kerry B Collison - Страница 11

Jakarta – January, 1998

The President’s daughter

Tuti Suhapto reflected upon her marriage to Praboyo and decided that she had never really been in love with the man, and now accepted that had their union not been arranged by her dear, departed mother, then she would most probably have found another, and more caring suitor to marry.

Tuti recalled her first meeting with the young officer, and how she had admired his proud bearing and confidence, interpreting his arrogance as bravado. It seemed that he was not to be intimidated by her surroundings, and this particularly pleased Tuti, accustomed to earlier beaus who all seemed betrayed by their nervousness whenever her parents appeared.

Her father had served the nation as President for more than thirty years. Tuti recognized that when she first commenced dating, being a member of this select household virtually endowed her with the opportunity to select any man of her choosing. As this thought crossed her mind, she looked at the row of photographs which had been placed along the living-room shelves and frowned. In all but two of these, the handsome Javanese features evident in the elegantly framed pictures were those of her husband’s and, as Tuti’s forehead wrinkled even further, she was swept by waves of loneliness, then anger, because of Praboyo’s capricious ways and blatant indifference to her pain.

Knowledge of his promiscuous behavior had set the Jakarta circles chattering. Even amongst her closest friends there were few who enjoyed the courage to expose Praboyo’s extra marital relationships to Tuti. This task willingly fell to her brother Timmy whom, she recalled angrily, actually relished in relaying some anecdote that was circulating, concerning her husband’s most recent conquests. Tuti had endeavored to discover the whereabouts of her husband’s current attention, but had been unsuccessful. This had only added to her frustration and anger, and the temptation to reveal Praboyo’s transgressions to the President grew daily. But Tuti knew that she would never inform her father as to her husband’s indiscretions, for he would be saddened by her inability to keep her man in line.

Instead, Tuti decided to continue with her search for Praboyo’s latest beau, and deal with her in a manner which would at least discourage others from offering their favors too freely to Major General Praboyo.

Tuti wondered what would happen to their considerable joint wealth if they were to separate, even divorce. These thoughts brought another frown and immediately she attempted to recall which of the larger enterprises they controlled were majority owned by her husband. Annoyed that Praboyo enjoyed considerably more wealth than she thought should be his entitlement, Tuti decided to speak to her eldest brother concerning her demise. Perhaps he could help force her husband to toe the line.

Tuti preferred not to discuss her problems with Nuri, her older sister.

As first born, she had enjoyed a special relationship with their parents and, once their mother had passed away, this sister had assumed many of their mother’s duties, including that of confidante to their father. Tuti acknowledged privately that she was jealous of their relationship, but even more, she had become deeply envious of her sister’s new role as chairwoman over the many foundations and charity organizations which were responsible for generating, and hiding, so much of her family’s wealth.

Tuti understood the extent of the enormous fortunes the Suhapto’s had amassed, and never once considered the possibility that her brothers and sisters, the family gatherers, would ever cease searching for new opportunities to increase their wealth. The family firmly believed that the Bapak, their father, was deeply loved and respected by all the Indonesian people and accepted that his role was more that of king than President, and was therefore entitled to the riches and spoils which accompanied such power.

It seemed obvious to the Suhaptos and their close associates, that the First Family’s involvement in commerce should be applauded, as their efforts had greatly benefited the country.

They had all been pleased when their father had publicly acknowledged that without his children’s involvement in many of the major ventures undertaken throughout the nation then, in all probability, the foreign investors would not have committed their substantial capital to developing the country. Even the world press had commended the Suhapto Government’s efforts in raising living standards, literacy, and longevity throughout the archipelago. That many of the infrastructure projects now belonged to the family’s extensive financial empire was, in their opinion, a clear demonstration that without their continuing involvement in the country’s industrial growth, the nation would flounder.

Nepotism, cronyism, and other distasteful utterances were not part of their vocabularies; neither did these words ever appear in the Indonesian Press.

With this thought, Tuti reached down and retrieved a copy of Femina Magazine and flipped through the pages, deciding that she would occupy the rest of her day with a change of wardrobe. She knew that most of the famous European houses’ fashions were available in Jakarta within days of their first being displayed along Paris catwalks, and decided that she would have her staff phone ahead to alert the managers that she would visit their boutiques. Tuti thought she might also take time to inspect the latest jewelry shipments, before returning home for tea.

Hopeful that an afternoon of extravagance might assist to distract her mind from the problems at hand, Tuti called her secretary to make the necessary arrangements, then went out on her shopping spree, spending tens of thousands of dollars throughout the afternoon at Jakarta’s largest, and most modern mall, unaware that the warm reception she received from the management was not only in response to her substantial purchases. For the extent of the President’s family holdings were so great, even Tuti had no idea that the complex she had visited also belonged to one of the Suhapto family subsidiary enterprises, and that the money she had spent would simply be recycled, eventually reappearing in the collective Suhapto coffers.

* * * *

Bank Negara Indonesia

The Indonesian Central Bank’s Governor looked at the hourly report nervously, wondering how events in Malaysia would compound the regional monetary concerns since Thailand and Korea’s currencies had all but collapsed. The Malay Ringgit’s demise would most certainly affect the Rupiah, and Indonesia’s current negotiations with the International Monetary Fund and World Bank representatives.

The Governor’s concerns were real. The Republic’s staggering private sector debt which had accumulated just over the past decade was choking the banking system and threatened to cause a further downgrading by most international financial institutions. Who in the hell was this international speculator Soros anyway? he worried.

Governor Sutedjo agonized over informing the Minister whom, he knew would simply tell him to continue with business as usual, ignoring the cold reality that the Indonesian economy had begun to show dangerous signs of stalling, due to the excessive private sector and government debt held in foreign currencies. He estimated this figure to now exceed one hundred billion dollars. The enormity of the problem threatened a wave of panic; several of the smaller banks had failed during preceding weeks directing unwanted attention towards questionable practices exercised by the banking fraternity.

The Governor was most concerned as to how the international community would react when they realized that the aggregate debts represented an impossible sum to repay. The Indonesian economy outwardly appeared healthy, with foreign investment once again exceeding expectations. The resources sector had continued to perform well, although he knew that the government would have been in a stronger position had oil prices been maintained at the higher levels. Why had the money speculators moved on the Asian currencies?

As if the flow-on effects from what had already commenced in Bangkok and Seoul were not enough, now the country had to contend with one of the poorest rice harvests on record. The Governor muttered to himself as he recalled the latest statistical reports forecasting extreme shortages across the country. The prognosis was that the island of Java would be worst affected by the drought. Sialan! Damn! he cursed silently . Until six months ago he had never heard of this calamitous climatic event the world knew as El Nino.

The New Year had presented Sutedjo with the most formidable task.

Within days the country’s Moslem community would commence their fast which, he feared, would accelerate the inevitable. Sutedjo wondered what would happen in weeks to come when the country’s one million public servants, and half a million members of the armed forces discovered that they would not receive the mandatory additional month’s salary, nor the traditional bonuses and gifts once their month-long fast had been broken. The Governor shuddered. He was tempted to agree with the Minister that they could temporarily resolve the problem by printing more money, but knew that this would, undoubtedly, further exacerbate their problem downstream. He also believed that such action would deter both the IMF and the World Bank from initiating steps to assist propping up the failing Rupiah, restarting Indonesia’s comatose economy.

Governor Sutedjo looked out through the pollution-stained windows and down at the seemingly endless lanes of cars, buses, trucks and motorbikes moving in miniature along the city’s main thoroughfares and admitted that fiscal and monetary policies had not been overly clever under the New Order’s leadership.

Not that the Central Bank could be considered blameless, he admitted. When the President’s son had demanded a bridging loan in excess of two hundred million dollars to assist in recovering his situation with his disastrous foray into the traditional clove market, the former Governor had refused. Sutedjo had been appointed successor and immediately went about arranging the loan. Now, he realized, such loans contributed towards most of the country’s banking dilemma.

Sutedjo knew that he could no longer procrastinate, and called his secretary to invite the IMF Jakarta-based representative for further discussions. The International Monetary Fund’s current offer would not be sufficient to prevent further deterioration in the local currency, but perhaps an immediate injection from the World Bank might just provide sufficient funds for the Government to overcome its immediate dilemma regarding the traditional payments due to members of the military and public service. Encouraged by this possibility, Governor Sutedjo leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and commenced formulating some ideas he would suggest to the World Bank officers later in the week, while considering how he could personally benefit from the current situation.

* * * *

United States of America – Washington,

January 1998

The President leaned forward and placed both hands dominantly on the historic table as he glared at his advisers. When would they ever get it right?

‘George Bush had the perfect opportunity Mr. President, and he blew it.’ The speaker turned to others in the room knowing that the general consensus supported his position. ‘We had Saddam by the balls, but let him get away. We should have gone all the way and destroyed anything that even resembled a factory or warehouse while we still had world opinion on our side.’ The Secretary of State then sighed heavily, more out of frustration than tiredness, and shook his head.

‘Sanctions?’ the President asked, looking at no one in particular.

‘The Press believes that we should reconsider some aspects of these, Mr.

President,’ It was Dean J. Scott, the President’s chief of staff who offered this opinion. Although the Middle East, with its complicated political, ethnic and religious rivalries had continued to dominate American foreign policy for more than half a century, it was the President’s popularity which had prompted Scott to suggest that, by removing sanctions which directly affected the flow of medical and other humanitarian supplies, the Press would look more favorably on the current Administration. The President’s sexual indiscretions continued to consume an excessive amount of Oval Office time and he was the one responsible for taking most of the heat out of the media.

‘If anything, we should squeeze him even more,’ Admiral Colin Brown, insisted. The Joint Chiefs were impatient for another action against Saddam to field test new technology under actual combat conditions.

‘These sanctions are hurting him seriously, but not enough to bring him down.’ The Defense Secretary took control of the conversation. He too believed that President Bush had erred by not finishing what he had started. ‘His organized mass rallies are starting to work for him, with human rights activists screaming bloody murder about the interrupted flow of medical supplies. If we don’t act soon, public opinion might prevent us taking any pre-emptive action against Baghdad this time.’

‘How much time do we have?’ The President asked. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered having been told but, with the incredible pressure he had been under lately he just could not recall the information.

He resisted thinking about the Press, and how they continued to paint him as a sexual predator.

‘Six, perhaps even eight months Mr. President,’ the Defense Intelligence Director stated. ‘We must assume that he has successfully hidden some of the completed stages within the palace grounds. Also, we still have not been able to verify delivery of the current Chinese shipments.’ Those present were all painfully aware of China’s role in the destabilization of the entire region running from its own borders, across Pakistan, Afghanistan and into the powerful oil economies of Iran and Iraq.

This was of major concern to all her neighbors. China’s incredible industrial growth over the preceding ten years had seen the country become a net importer of oil, most of which originated from Iran and Iraq. As an additional incentive to those two hostile nations, China provided highly sensitive weapons technology via the Great Wall industries group, and successfully encouraged North Korea to participate in these Middle East missile programs. This, to the dismay of many intelligence observers, included the Shahab-5 Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles which, with their five thousand kilometer range, would give Saddam strike capability throughout all of the Middle East and Europe, once the project was realized.

‘Do we have the numbers now to proceed?’ The President looked directly at the American Ambassador to the United Nations who, having already commenced lobbying those representatives whose countries were ambivalent to the West’s concerns, seemed quite unhappy with the question.

‘If China abstains without veto in the Security Council, we should have no difficulty there. What concerns me most is the amount of growing resistance to another strike against Iraq within the General Assembly.

Support has dwindled considerably, and with the currency meltdowns occurring in Asia, the United States does not exactly head the popularity lists. There is considerable anti-American sentiment running through Asia, as we are perceived to be responsible for the currency meltdowns in Thailand and Korea.’ He then paused, spread his open hands and shrugged. ‘If we push for a vote before the Asian situation deteriorates further, my guess is that we will have the support needed.’

The President considered the ambassador’s response for some minutes, then looked over at the Admiral.

‘When we go in, I don’t want any American soldiers on the ground anywhere near this goddamn gas.’ He was troubled by the reports that Saddam had amassed stockpiles of the lethal VX nerve gas.

Once the Israelis had discovered the existence of the deadly gas, they had threatened their own pre-emptive strike against Iraq without waiting for any U.N. debate on the matter. Although ‘Operation Desert Storm’ had successfully destroyed most of Iraq’s armaments, the country had maintained its belligerent course, rebuilding its shattered defenses. Saddam Hussein’s refusal to permit U.N. inspectors access to what U.S. satellite intelligence identified as suspected armories for the storage of weapons of mass destruction, only supported the West’s gravest fears. The Chinese ICBM’s were to be used to deliver the VX as part of their payload.

Admiral Brown affirmed that there would be no ground troops deployed in the action, having already decided to maximize air-strikes to destroy the targeted depots and suspected missile storage sites, including the Presidential Palaces.

The conference concluded and those no longer required departed leaving the President to discuss other matters with National Security Adviser Alex Hastings, the Defense Secretary, Steven Cohen, and John W. Peterson, Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. The Chief of Staff hesitated at the door expecting to be included in these discussions.

‘Thanks, Dean.’ It was a clear signal that the President would not require his presence and, although miffed with the polite dismissal, he smiled and closed the door gently behind as he exited, curious as to what might transpire in his absence.

* * * *

The concerns which were to be discussed had arisen out of growing evidence that there had been a substantial shift in Indonesian politics, one which had been discussed over a number of months, and one which had the potential of destabilizing not only South East Asia, but America’s efforts to consolidate its position in China. Less than three weeks had passed since these men had last been required to brief their chief. Now, with confirmation that the American President would visit China within the following months, it was essential that events in the Indonesian archipelago in no way influenced negotiations which would take place in Beijing.

‘Well?’ The President asked, standing to restore circulation. He rubbed the back of his thighs, stretched, then returned to his seat. Director Peterson carried no files, for what he had to impart would not be recorded, not even for future Presidential libraries.

‘It’s not good news. It appears that our earlier speculations were on track. No matter which way we interpret the intelligence, it would appear that Suhapto is, indeed, considering the acquisition of nuclear-capable missile technology from Iran,’ he relayed, his voice devoid of any emotion.

‘The general consensus is that he also intends giving the Indonesian Moslem parties a major say in the country’s administration.’

‘I don’t know, John,’ the President argued, ‘seems like a radical flip to me. Suhapto is a cunning old codger, are you sure we’re not misreading what’s going on here?’

‘Everything we’ve gathered points to the same conclusion.’

‘Are we certain that our judgment is not being influenced because he’s been courting the Chinese?’

‘That’s certainly part of the bigger picture, but for now our prime concern relates to what is happening within Indonesia. A sudden swing towards Moslem militancy would destabilize the region. Considering current economic trends in South East Asia, we believe that the mood amongst lower income communities would support a resurgence of Moslem extremist policies.’

‘And these links with the PLO and..,’ the President hesitated, looking for assistance.’

‘Osama bin Ladam,’ Peterson offered.

‘Yes, bin Ladam. How does this tie in with Suhapto?’

‘At first, we missed what was happening because we had no reason to monitor the external flow of funds from Jakarta to Switzerland. As it turns out, even had we been aware of the transactions, it’s possible that these would have been ignored. The amounts were not excessive, and could have been easily overlooked. It’s not as if the Suhaptos have never had payments made into their Swiss accounts before. Had it not been for the Israelis, in all probability, we might never have picked up on what was going on.’

‘But hasn’t this bin Ladam sufficient resources of his own? Why is it necessary for the Indonesians to pump funds into his organization?’

‘We’re not entirely sure. What it does though, is signal that there are those in Jakarta who are prepared to finance radical elements known for their anti-American sentiments. Perhaps the funds were sent simply as a gesture. The jury’s still out on this.’

‘What are we up against with bin Ladam?’

‘It’s highly likely that he already possesses at least one nuclear warhead that could be used on a missile, most probably from the Iranians. Our sources have reported an increase in the frequency of his visits to Teheran.’

‘What’s in it for the Iranians, or even the Iraqis for that matter?’ the President asked.

‘That’s the China link.’

‘Let’s go over that again. I don’t see how the Indonesian situation is affected by Iran’s relationship with Beijing.’

The Director exhaled heavily. ‘We all know how events of the bloody Sixties were attributed to Beijing’s interference in Jakarta’s affairs. After the Indonesians broke off diplomatic relations with the Chinese, relationships continued to sour through the years. Even the Indonesian military promoted the belief that the Chinese were responsible for the so-called communist coup attempt. This unexpected rapprochement caught us all by surprise, particularly as it so obviously had military implications.’

Peterson looked over at the National Security Council Adviser Hastings for support, who accepted his cue.

‘Mr. President,’ he commenced, ‘it makes sense. Indonesia is the world’s largest Moslem nation. All of China’s imported oil passes through the archipelago. This oil originates from Iran and Iraq, both basically fundamentalist Moslem nations. China provides missiles and associated technology to them, and has consolidated its position with yet another Moslem nation, Pakistan. The intelligence points to an ambitious move by the Chinese to identify regionally with those Moslem powers.

We believe that Beijing has been wooing the Pakistanis with the promise of additional nuclear weaponry, for the past two years. Tel Aviv’s intelligence claims that Pakistan may even be considering nuclear testing, although we have had no evidence of such developments. It could be that our feisty allies may have some explaining to do themselves with respect to India’s growing nuclear potential. In short, we believe that Indonesia is next on China’s list and, unless we move to destabilize this relationship, it is conceivable that Chinese manufactured weaponry, particularly ICBM missile technology, could end up in Indonesian hands.’

‘Why would China want to give them weapons which, in time, could be turned against them?’

‘Well, although Chinese in origin, we believe that the technology and equipment will come from Iran, perhaps even Iraq. By giving Indonesia the weapons directly, they’ll ensure an uninterrupted flow of oil to China. In turn, Iran and Iraq continue to receive missile technology from Beijing.’

‘And China won’t object?’

‘China would still maintain control over the technology. It’s unlikely they’d permit anything too serious to pass into Indonesian hands. It’s most likely we’d see short-range missiles popping up around the country, but nothing which could threaten China directly. Our guess is that Beijing would see this development as another positive step towards loosening American-Indonesian ties. Any diminishment of American influence in Asia would receive a positive response from them. They know we’ll do whatever necessary to prevent Jakarta from acquiring such technology and, in their minds, any rift between our countries could only benefit China’s influence over the region, in the long term.’

‘But why would Jakarta need missiles? They’re not under threat.’

‘Our concern lies with the possibility of a major shift towards Moslem fundamentalism in Indonesia. This would open the door for the extremists there, whom we all know, are less than pro-American. With President Suhapto’s support, we could see a polarized Moslem government in Jakarta espousing anti-American propaganda, providing a forum for Filipino and Malay Muslims to follow.

In Malaysia, this could be a particularly nasty scenario, considering the last ethnic and religious upheaval which pitched indigenous groups against Chinese-Malays. Possessing missile technology would undoubtedly be a major boost to national pride and, as Jakarta has obviously fallen under the influence of the mullahs, we can be reasonably certain that an Indonesian Muslim government wouldn’t hesitate to improve its status amongst the world’s Islamic community.’

The President recalled how his fellow Americans had once been totally consumed by their anti-Communist zealousness. Subsequent to the collapse of the Soviet Empire, attention had become focused on Islam as the Free World’s new threat, the memory of gasoline rationing when the Arabs had held the West to ransom, still fresh in American minds.

‘Wouldn’t the Indonesians be concerned with China’s motives?’ the President asked. They had discussed the emerging problem on several occasions over past weeks, and he just did not want to believe that their old ally, Suhapto, was even considering forming an axis with Beijing, particularly one which would undoubtedly result in the reduction of an American presence in Asia.

He was most disturbed with these developments, and experienced a feeling of deja vu, recalling that Indonesia’s first President, Soekarno, had formed such an unholy alliance with Ho Chi Minh and Mao Tse Tung.

This, he knew, was the basis for the American Government’s constant but futile attempts to have the man known lovingly by his people as Bung Karno overthrown, succeeding finally, when the then General Suhapto came to acceptable arrangements with the United States.

In the weeks that followed his taking office, the American President was moved when reading his predecessor’s most secret accounts of the bloodletting which had then ensued, resulting in the loss of more than half a million lives amongst which, were many innocent Chinese.

‘Let’s not forget that it’s been the Chinese who have supported Suhapto thoughout his career Mr. President. There is no doubt that he has delivered the Indonesian economy to them. Banks, flour mills, steel mills, textiles, shipping, timber, property. My god, the list goes on forever!’ the exasperated adviser complained. ‘These days, the Indonesian-Chinese investment houses can be found anywhere one cares to look; Singapore, London, Sydney, Germany, and in most cities here in the States. Inadvertently, even we’ve played a major role in their rapid growth, by permitting their powerful investment houses to penetrate the Chinese market via our own banking system.’

Alex Hastings then hesitated, not knowing just how far he should go considering the sensitive issues which had emerged over the President’s past relationships with the Jakarta-based Chinese who, it had been discovered, had donated huge amounts to his earlier election campaigns.

He looked directly at his Chief to determine if he had overstepped the mark. Detecting that he hadn’t, Hastings continued.

‘Suhapto’s overtures towards Beijing caught everyone by surprise, including his senior military officers who agree that this sudden shift in Indonesian politics can only benefit the Chinese. Although China has committed itself to expenditures exceeding fifty billion dollars over the next fifteen years to rebuild and expand its nuclear power facilities, their oil dependency is alarmingly high.

China’s economy is growing at an amazing rate, and we can be certain that they would have considered precisely how vulnerable they would be in the event of any interruption to their oil supplies. Indonesia has archipelago status over its shipping lanes. It makes sense that China would be delighted to mend fences with them and even offer to cooperate in other areas, even if this translates into providing their neighbors with limited missile technology to boost Moslem morale.

Should this eventuate, Mr. President, the Japanese people would most probably wake up one morning to discover that China had displaced them as the major trading partner with Indonesia and, subsequently, all ten of the ASEAN member nations. This would represent the world’s largest trading bloc, one which would continue to grow at the expense of both the European Union and our own NAFTA treaties.’ This was followed by silence as those present considered the ramifications of such an alliance, and the threat of having the doors closed to a potential consumer base which approached three billion people.

‘And Suhapto’s sudden infatuation with these militant Moslem groups, how does this fit in?’ the President left the question hanging for either of the two senior officers to respond.

‘We have a man inside the Mufti Muharam hierarchy who has confirmed that the Palace has agreed to the proposed shift in policy, one which will provide both the major Islamic groups with a substantial voice in future government. Our source is emphatic that the Palace has agreed to support radical changes in its position relating to minority religious groups, preventing the further spread of non-Moslem teachings. It seems that the aging President senses his end might be near, and is influenced by his approaching demise.

In short, we might be witnessing the beginnings of an Indonesian sectarian state. Ever since Madame Suhapto passed away, the old man has turned much of his attention to studying the Koran, and has spent considerable time with senior members of the Islamic community, both in Indonesia, and the Arab states during recent Haj journeys to Mecca.’

He paused for breath before adding, ‘and communication traffic between Iran, Iraq and even Libya has more than trebled with Indonesia over the past six months.’

‘And what if he suddenly drops dead, where would we be then? Would this resolve the problem?’ the President asked. Even he had been surprised at the Indonesian leader’s longevity.

‘This would depend on the military, and their choice or acceptance of whoever succeeds Suhapto.’

‘And this would be?’ The President asked, annoyed with his limited knowledge of those who might be considered candidates for the powerful position. It was difficult enough keeping up with the frequent leadership changes generated by political instability in Third World countries.

‘Suhapto has been extremely clever. Although his current Vice President, General Sulistio has considerable support from within the army, his popularity will most likely cost him the position. There is no nominated successor, nor is it likely that there would be any challenge to his leadership while he is still alive. It’s obvious that he intends remaining at the helm until he dies. Apart from the fact that he believes he is king and deserves to continue, he is discerning enough to realize that the incredible fortunes his family’s acquired would be at risk should he relinquish power.’

‘And our preferred successor, is he still a viable option?’

‘Since our last discussions Mr. President, we have received assurances from General Winarko. Fortunately, we now have two candidates. Both are very pro-American, well educated, and both appear opposed to any emergence of Moslem fundamentalism or moves towards providing the ulamas with any majority representation in government. Whatever happens, the military will continue to dominate the leadership, and government for some years to come.’

‘And our proposed strategy?’ he asked, knowing that whatever scheme his advisers had concocted, it would have its weaknesses, as he had discovered with past forays when his government had intervened in other countries’ power struggles.

The Defense Secretary stepped in, taking control once again.

‘The Indonesian economy is on the brink of collapse. We have the ideal opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.’ Cohen coughed, his throat the victim of in-depth discussions throughout the night in preparation for this morning’s presentation. ‘We could precipitate a change in government leadership, or at least provide the opportunity by refusing to support any further funding of loans to Indonesia through the IMF and World Bank. As he won’t step down, we could propose having the IMF insist that Suhapto unwind the cartels and monopolies he has given to family and friends, and present his government with a number of initiatives which would quickly erode his support both from the people, and the business community.’

The Defence Secretary stopped, coughed again several times, apologized, then cleared his throat before continuing.

‘It will be the International Monetary Fund and World Bank insisting that changes to the existing financial systems be implemented, and not the United States. We obviously have the ability to direct the IMF and the World Bank due to our substantial positions in both of those organizations.

It is most unlikely that the other member nations will balk, as they too recognize that there must be some fundamental changes in Indonesia’s economy if it is to have any realistic chance to repay their current debts. We’ve estimated that the interest alone accumulating on both the government and private sector debt is in excess of one hundred million dollars, a week.

Apart from satisfying our own political agenda in relation to Indonesia, it would be in American interests for the IMF to press for the country’s leadership to initiate responsible steps to resolve their problems before U.S.

investments are threatened. Should the IMF insist, that as part of any bail-out package subsidies on fuels, fertilizers and other basics be removed, these measures should generate sufficient ground swell along with their depleting dollar reserves, to create the desired environment for change.’

‘And if this fails?’ the President guessed he already knew the answer.

Why did it so often come down to this?

‘Then our only other option would be to support a coup.’

The American leader listened to the succinct statement, and slowly shook his head. He reached across and lifted the delicately shaped, silver-filigree keris, which had been decorated with precious stones and designed as a letter opener. It had been a gift from the Indonesian President, presented during his stay at Camp David the year before. Immediately, memories of Suhapto’s visit reminded him of the reciprocal invitation to join the aging Javanese on his ranch outside Jakarta. It would now be an opportunity lost, and he was saddened that the man who had been America’s friend for more than three decades, would now disappear from the world’s stage.

He recalled listening to a Voice of America broadcast back in time, when he, not unlike many other young Americans who had avoided the draft and left for overseas, suffered severe homesickness and occasionally sat around in London with others in similar situations, wishing they could return home.

It seemed, at the time, that his country might soon be fighting a war on two fronts as the violence in Indonesia escalated. When was that? he struggled to remember, deciding that it had to be somewhere in the mid-Sixties.

He had not suffered the scars of war, as had so many of his fellow countrymen. Instead, he had only the unpleasant reminder of a wound he had received from falling down the British college steps. This recollection unconsciously sent his hand to touch the soreness which, until this day, remained along the length of his leg.

‘Thanks gentlemen,’ he said, rising, then moving to look out through the window. ‘You know what my preferred option is, of course,’ he said, tiredness evident in his voice. The President then turned slowly to face the three men. ‘I don’t want Suhapto harmed if at all possible. He has been a good friend to this country, and we should let him go as quietly as can be arranged. Understood?’

‘Of course, Mr. President,’ Cohen answered, the CIA Director and National Security Adviser also nodding affirmatively. There was a brief silence, the Secretary managing to choke another cough. They waited; a few minutes ticked by, then the President nodded, almost absentmindedly, permitting the keris to slip slowly from his hand, onto the table.

‘Keep me posted,’ was all he said, before turning back to peer through the window again, the specter of a Moslem Indonesia loaded with nuclear-capable missiles weighing heavily on his mind.

Unaware that their Indonesian intelligence sources had blundered seriously, the President’s advisers quietly took their leave, each returning to his own powerful security realm to initiate steps to remove, and replace, the Javanese born President, believing that these actions would preclude any emergence of an Indonesian Islamic state, and the threat of a Chinese dominated Asian-Middle Eastern trade bloc.

* * * *

The Middle East

Abdul Muis

Haji Abdul Muis was most impressed with what he had observed, relishing the knowledge that very few Iranians, let alone foreigners such as he, had ever been given access to the country’s secret installation. The Haji acknowledged that it was his position as leader of the Indonesian Mufti Muharam Moslem party which had provided him with this opportunity to inspect these sensitive facilities. This was his third visit to Iran, his efforts to consolidate his relationship with the powerful ayatollahs, so far successful.

Situated not far from Semnan, Muis was not aware that this Chinese-built missile plant was, in fact, smaller than the two North Korean engineered installations at Isfahan and Sirjan. These liquid-fuel producing plants would not be on the visitor’s itinerary, nor would he visit the Iranian missile test facilities at Shahroud. For it was there that the Chinese M-9 single-stage, solid-fuel road-mobile missiles were stored under cover, away from prying American satellite cameras which crossed this nation on regular, hourly orbits. The Iranians had successfully evaded detection, the United States still believing that recent pressure applied on China had prevented delivery of these advanced missiles. Although they had come to trust their brother from the East, they would need more time before the Indonesians would be accepted into the fold.

The Haji ’s brief tour was to be treated solely as a public relations exercise to demonstrate to their fellow Moslems how Iran’s fundamentalist regime had prospered technologically. His hosts were aware that Muis had little understanding, or knowledge of weaponry and armaments, as Indonesia had yet to acquire such sophisticated systems. They were supportive of Abdul Muis’ aspirations, and keen to demonstrate this in a material manner.

Iran’s political shift had greatly benefited the post-Shah regime. Although the end of the Iran-Iraq war had seen the United States exert considerable pressure on Russia, China and India to withhold nuclear reactor technology from its former ally, the country continued to receive substantial support from communist nations desperate for foreign currency. And then there was the Iranian chemical warfare capability, developed as a response to Iraq’s attacks on Iranian troops during the Gulf War. Now, these neighboring countries both had stockpiles of nerve agents and other deadly chemicals which could be delivered by artillery shells, or as part of a payload on board any of the country’s four hundred SCUD missiles. Muis was determined to acquire such weapons, and raised the subject with his hosts during the visit.

Abdul Muis completed his tour through the missile plant and returned to Teheran in time to attend the private dinner organized in his honor, by his friend Osama bin Ladam.

They had first met during Muis’ second visit to Iran, the Indonesian immediately impressed, by the persuasive Arab. From the outset, Muis had been captivated by bin Ladam’s knowledge and the man’s commitment tohis long-running holy war, or Jihad, against the West. Although Muis suspected claims of his friend’s involvement in the recent bombings of American targets to be true, this in no way diminished his admiration for bin Ladam. If anything, from the time of their first meeting, Muis started to emulate his hero in many ways, even in the manner he dressed.

The dinner was attended by a handful of close bin Ladam associates, who had specifically asked to meet with Haji Abdul Muis. Later, the Indonesian was to conclude that the function was to provide bin Ladam’s associates with the opportunity to assess Muis for themselves. The two leaders arranged to meet again the following morning, at which time an accord was reached between the two powerful factions.

When bin Ladam had entered his quarters, Muis was again struck by the man’s presence. Gaunt features covered partially by a long, graying beard, jutting down from his ears covering most of his face and neck, belied bin Ladam’s inner strength. Muis might have been surprised when first meeting the Islamic leader. His movements were slow, stiffened by years of crippling back pain and he carried a cane to support his thin-framed body. But by the conclusion of their early morning tête-à-tête, Abdul Muis was left with no illusions as to Osama bin Ladam’s strengths, impressed with the forty-year old’s clarity of thought, and obvious dedication to his Moslem beliefs. Their discussion was candid, conducted in an atmosphere of Islamic brotherhood, and mutual respect.

‘As a token of my respect for you and your people,’ bin Ladam had said, with an unsmiling face. Surprised, Muis accepted the unsealed envelope.

Inside there was a cheque drawn against a Swiss bank for ten million dollars. He was stunned by bin Ladam’s generosity.

‘For what purpose?’ he asked, silently counting the zeros again, and the international terrorist explained. Muis listened, nodding from time to time, interrupting only towards the end.

‘I have just the place!’ he claimed, excitedly. ‘Ten hectares would be sufficient?’

‘Yes. But the facilities must be constructed without attracting too much attention. You understand what might happen if the Americans discover our secret?’ he asked, and Muis understood.

‘There will be no problem with security. The land I have chosen is in the country, far from prying eyes. We will build a wall around our project.

Those who come to know of its existence will believe it is my country estate. I will build a small mosque inside the property. None will dare enter the property of Haji Abdul Muis, I can assure you.’

In that one, brief, historic meeting, Haji Abdul Muis secured a powerful ally, their mutual hatred for the Americans, further strengthening the bond. Muis understood that the United States would do everything in its power to prevent Indonesia from acquiring weapons of mass destruction, the American influence, an obstacle to his success. He received bin Ladam’s undertaking to provide the technology, materials and expertise required for the advancement of his cause, the commitment conditional upon the Mufti Muharam reciprocating by jointly developing training facilities in Indonesia, similar to those under the Arab’s control, in Afghanistan. Sworn to secrecy, Muis was astonished to discover bin Ladam’s involvement with the development of Pakistan’s Islamic bomb.

Muis left Iran for Switzerland, where he opened a numbered account, deposited the ten million dollars, and made arrangements to draw against these funds via his Singapore bankers. Satisfied that all was in order, Abdul Muis returned to Indonesia, confident that the commitment he had in hand from Iran’s rulers and Osama bin Ladam, would guarantee his succession to power.

Once this had been achieved, Muis intended revising the Constitution, declaring Indonesia a sectarian state under his rule. He would raise his fist to the United States and her allies, removing his Islamic state from their sphere of influence. Indonesia would then acquire the sophisticated technology hitherto withheld by the Americans, a technology which would soon be demonstrated in Pakistan’s deserts, by those in his new alliance.

* * * *

Java, 1998

Mary Jo Hunter

Word that there had been another outbreak of violence sent Mary Jo scurrying to the highland provincial capital, where students from the prestigious Bandung Institute of Technology had ignored a government decree banning off-campus demonstrations, swarming onto the streets to voice their opposition against escalating food prices. Looters had joined the relatively disciplined youngsters parading through the central shopping district, changing the crowd’s mood dramatically. Within minutes, the provincial city of Bandung was besieged by rioters determined to use the opportunity to destroy everything in their path as they hunted for opportunities to loot.

Unable to cope with the massive turnout, the police had summoned the military for assistance, but before their presence could influence the outcome, the rioting crowd had left a trail of destruction throughout the garden city. The students withdrew, realizing that they had lost control of the demonstration, anticipating swift retribution from the soldiers as these poured from their trucks onto the streets, brandishing batons, kicking, punching, and firing their weapons into the air. As some looters scrambled to safety, in their panic discarding television sets and VCRs to avoid capture, others continued on their rampage smashing vehicles and shop windows in the ensuing melee.

Mary Jo arrived four hours after the army had taken control of the city and, although most of the rioting mobs had been brutally dispersed, parts of the city remained under siege. Accompanied by her assistant, the American journalist hurried through the devastated city, stopping to take photos of the carnage whilst avoiding antagonizing the over-zealous soldiers.

‘Annie, down there!’ she called to her assistant, not waiting to see if the younger woman had heard. Mary Jo broke into a run as she attempted to catch up with a number of soldiers dragging a badly beaten looter towards a waiting truck.

‘Jo, come back!’ Annie cried, expecting that as a foreigner, Mary Jo would not appreciate the dangers of the moment. Ignored, she had no choice but to follow, fearful that her boss’s actions might just get both of them killed.

‘Get away from here!’ a soldier screamed threateningly, immediately bringing the Indonesian assistant to an abrupt halt.

‘Jo! Jo! Please come back,’ she called, terrified as Mary Jo continued to advance, her cumbersome Nikon F90 recording the moment the soldiers dropped their captive, and commenced kicking him brutally around the head.

‘Jo!’ she screamed again, warning the woman of an approaching soldier whose raised weapon was aimed directly at the American photographer.

‘Stop!’ the soldier ordered, reaching for the expensive equipment just as Mary Jo captured the final shot she wanted, and turned, lowering the camera immediately. Suddenly, she froze in her tracks, recognizing her stupidity as the soldier pointed his machine-pistol directly at her face. For a few, brief, agonizing seconds, Mary Jo believed she would die. Then, cursing under his breath, the soldier turned away, yelling at Anne to get the foreigner away before she was harmed. Their hearts pounding, they moved away from the scene quickly, unable to find shelter anywhere amongst the smoldering buildings.

They hurried back along the main thoroughfares, avoiding the determined army teams sweeping the city centre for remnants of the rioting mobs which had all but destroyed the central shopping district. Finally, scrambling over the well-protected blockade surrounding the landmark Savoy Homann hotel, they found refuge inside. They stood, facing each other in the lobby, trembling from the excitement.

‘I’m sorry, that was very stupid,’ Mary Jo apologized to her assistant, realizing how she had jeopardized their lives.

‘I thought he was going to shoot you, Jo,’ Anne said, taking the other woman by the wrist and shaking it, admonishingly. ‘The soldiers despise us, Jo. You must remember that in future, please?’ she pleaded, her small frame starting to shake, suddenly overcome by the gravity of what had occurred. Mary Jo moved quickly to comfort her assistant, placing her arm firmly around the smaller woman’s shoulders.

‘It’s okay, Anne. It’s okay,’ she offered, encouraging her to follow. Anne permitted the American to steer her across the marble floor through to the Garden Atrium, where they dropped into the comfortable batik cushioned rattan chairs, relieved to be out of harm’s way.

While waiting for her assistant to regain her composure, Mary Jo looked around, admiring the art deco design, absorbing the surrounding atmosphere of timeless elegance and grace which so totally contradicted the situation outside. A waiter approached, and she ordered coffees.

She placed her hand on Anne’s, and asked, ‘Are you okay now?’

The Indonesian journalist smiled weakly, then nodded.

‘Will we return to Jakarta now?’ Anne was anxious to get back before dark. She had never enjoyed driving along country roads at night, particularly during times of civil unrest. Also, there had been stories of villagers whose land had been appropriated by the government for roads, who sought revenge by rolling coconuts out onto the expressways, turning speeding vehicles into mutilated, twisted wrecks as they speared off the highways into the night.

‘Yes. I have a date,’ she teased. ‘Finish up, then we’ll get underway.’

Mary Jo knew it would be unwise to delay their departure. Besides, she had a deadline to meet. She looked at her assistant and smiled. ‘You okay now?’

‘Okay, terima kasih,’ she replied, thanking the other woman. Mary Jo searched Anne’s eyes, deciding that she was fortunate to have her as an assistant. Anne had become invaluable from the outset, and Mary Jo had found comfort knowing that she was also dependable. The job paid well, and the two of them had hit it off immediately three weeks before, when Anne had started as Jo’s assistant, cum interpreter and gopher.

Often, when they appeared together in the most unlikely places, local children would follow closely, giggling and whispering, the pale-skinned American’s corn-colored hair, her height, and soft blue eyes the object of their interest. Mary Jo had laughed when Anne commented on her nose, explaining as she touched the flattened bridge of her own, that most Indonesian girls would die to have such bone structure.

As they sat together, her assistant’s eyes remained locked on her own.

Mary Jo returned the smile, Anne immediately becoming embarrassed.

Staring at another was considered extremely rude, even confrontational in most parts of Asia. Observing the sudden change in her expression, Jo placed ten thousand Rupiah on top of the check, and rose to leave before realizing that this most probably would not cover the coffees. Annoyed with the escalating exchange rate as the currency continued its incredible dive, she dropped another five thousand Rupiah alongside the first, and then placed her arm on Anne’s shoulder, leading her back to where they had left their driver. Half an hour passed before they located their vehicle and managed to make their way through the city’s barricaded streets, leaving Bandung behind with its smoke-filled sky, evidence of the day’s violence.

Neither spoke as they commenced the two hundred kilometer drive, Anne falling asleep as the car’s tires hummed monotonously, providing Mary Jo with the opportunity to finish writing the story she would file with her office in New York before attending her dinner engagement. She removed her laptop from its protective case, and went to work. As the car sped along the Cikampek-Jakarta highway, she observed a number of army convoys also heading for the capital. The driver slowed, waiting directly behind the last vehicle for the signal to overtake and Mary Jo looked directly up at the young, expressionless faces belonging to the well-armed soldiers standing in the rear truck, the scene reminiscent of others she had witnessed in former Soviet satellite republics and other distant places.

Momentarily, Mary Jo ignored her notes, her thoughts captured by recollections of other events she had covered during her career, as the names of cities and places flooded her mind. Bosnia, Chechnya, Baghdad, Beirut, the list seemed endless and, she confessed silently, had left her with a seemingly inescapable, haunting emptiness. Mary Jo’s brilliant coverage of these wars had established her credentials amongst her peers which, in turn, had resulted in her being permanently assigned to the South East Asian Bureau, a posting she had sought since first joining the news agency.

Memories of her first months as a novice in Asia, came flooding back.

* * * *

Stinking garbage floating down rat-infested canals, snotty-nosed children squatting in the gutters peeing, and rotting, mutilated corpses lying with grotesque, bloated stomachs had soon become all too common sights for Mary Jo, rendering it difficult for her to remain dispassionate, and impartial, when reporting these scenes.

Two years before, when she first arrived in Hong Kong, the colony was gearing up for the hand-over to China. There was an air of despondency everywhere, even amongst the expatriate corps. At cocktail parties and the races, the conversations were mainly the same. Concerns about how China’s military would treat democratic gains achieved prior to the takeover, overshadowed all discussion, in every corner of the British colony. Professional Chinese packed their bags and followed their money to Canada, Australia, and America, where they could acquire residency through investments made in those countries.

Mary Jo found the lifestyle exciting, and the travel even more rewarding than she had expected. Her assignments took her to the most exotic, and sometimes dangerous, destinations throughout Asia. She visited Beijing more than a dozen times before finally prevailing on an associate to accompany her to the Great Wall, fulfilling one of her childhood dreams which, at the time, had sadly revived distant and blurred memories of her father.

Mary Jo visited the warrior tombs in China, stood looking across the heavily fortified embattlements separating the two Koreas, and on one occasion, scrambled across slippery, moss-lined rocks to avoid Khymer Rouge soldiers who had appeared, while she was photographing children playing around land mines at Angkor Wat. In her first year she traveled extensively, her reporting and photographic coverage of Asia widely acclaimed by both readers and her peers.

It was towards the end of her two year assignment that she had requested the Jakarta posting, and was delighted when this was granted.

Mary Jo had packed up her collections and clothes, posted a sign in the Foreign Correspondents Club just up from Central wishing those she was leaving behind, well, then left Hong Kong to its new Chinese masters.

She had arrived in the Indonesian capital as the economy had commenced its meltdown, engaging her assistant, Anne, on recommendations from a friend in Reuters. Mary Jo then went about learning as much as she could about the shaky Republic, and its multi-faceted society.

* * * *

Mary Jo was jolted from her reflections as the driver dropped down a gear and accelerated. She looked up again, sighting a soldier for them to pass, and she acknowledged this with a smile, pleased that they would not be stuck behind the convoy any longer. Returning to her laptop, she concentrated on her account relating to the Bandung riots, relieved that her assistant continued to sleep.

The convoy had not delayed their return to any great extent, and by the time their vehicle had arrived at Mary Jo’s small villa in the southern suburb of Cilandak, she had completed her story and was ready to have it filed with New York. Annie accompanied her employer into the villa, where the American had turned one of the bedrooms into an office and communications centre. There, Mary Jo downloaded the information from her laptop and camera, and examined the results of their day’s handiwork. Although the shots she had taken had been hurried, she was pleased with the results.

They waited for several minutes before their Internet connection had accessed her agency address, then sent the story, complete with colored photographs, electronically to New York. Finished for the day, Mary Jo sent her assistant home, then climbed into a warm spa-bath and rested, thankful for the bubbling water’s therapeutic effects which managed to expel the remorse which had troubled her earlier.