Читать книгу Indonesian Gold - Kerry B Collison - Страница 11

November 1989

Jakarta

The instant the traffic slowed to a grinding halt, deformed children, the maimed and crippled, lepers and blind beggars all appeared as if by command. Many were guided, pushed or dragged between rows of stagnated vehicles by their helpers, most seemingly oblivious to the choking exhaust fumes that consistently blanketed the capital’s congested arterial roads. Street urchins swarmed through the grid locked traffic, skirting amidst the carcinogenic-pumping machines, hands outstretched to the privileged within their chauffeured, air-conditioned cocoons.

Screaming horns added to the cacophonous moment as a child knocked hopefully against a Mercedes window offering an assortment of cigarettes, chewing gum, and Chiclets, intimidated in no way by the driver’s obvious anger as he waved her away with clenched fist. She raised her eyebrows, mockingly, as if surprised or even afraid, then tapped with greater determination as the foggy image behind the heavily tinted glass moved. The ragged child tossed a glance further down through the midday traffic and observed that there was movement ahead. Recognizing the intermittent brake-light flashes as the traffic commenced to flow, she knew she would have to be swift.

‘Tuan!’ the child called with muffled voice. Billowing, ugly black clouds of fumes spilling from an adjacent bus’ broken exhaust caused her to cough, and she tapped impatiently on the passenger door window with even more vigor, painfully conscious of the motorbikes that maneuvered their way between these near-stagnated rows of city traffic. Injury went with the territory; her scarred limbs carrying fresh scabs over old wounds, evidence of frequent encounters. A Suzuki squeezed past, the motorbike’s burning exhaust within touch of her legs, extended rear-vision mirrors grazing her skinny shoulders scoring the flesh painfully and she wheeled, her eyes filled with venom as she spat, hitting the unsuspecting rider square on the back. Then she turned her attention to the car’s obviously wealthy occupant.

****

Amused, Stewart Campbell observed the child’s antics with ambivalence, tempted to lower the window and drop a hundred Rupiah into her tiny hands. The driver, sensing the Tuan’s mood, eased the Mercedes forward to discourage the girl but, ignoring the danger, she remained clinging to the door handle, undeterred. Swayed by her persistence, Campbell activated the electric windows creating an opening through which he held a crisp, newly printed one thousand Rupiah note, the money snatched from his well-manicured fingers as several discolored packets of gum appeared in an outstretched hand.

‘Terima kasih,’ he heard the scrawny peddler thank him as the window closed, the expatriate simply nodding as the sedan moved forward, his thoughts returning to the day ahead. Campbell glanced at his white gold, Patek Philippe watch and exhaled heavily, in obvious annoyance with the traffic congestion. He leaned back against the leather-upholstered seats and, with closed eyes, gently rubbed his temples. An earlier headache, legacy from the previous evening’s overindulgences, threatened to revisit and he recalled the Saint Andrew’s black-tie ball, thankful now he had resisted following the diehards to the Chieftain’s home, for the traditional follow-on breakfast.

Campbell ’s mind roamed, occasionally glancing at familiar landmarks as the Mercedes crawled towards the congested, outer roundabout. The driver jockeyed for position amongst the other vehicles, skillfully avoiding a converted, smog-belching private minibus that had cut dangerously across their path, near spilling its load of standing passengers whilst they clung precariously to the overcrowded Toyota’s rusty frame.

As the city’s skyline became more visible through the smog, the impressive number of construction cranes evidencing Indonesia’s apparent never-ending growth momentarily distracted Campbell, and he recalled how significantly the capital had mushroomed since his arrival, ten years before. A tight smile creased his face as he was also reminded of how little he had known, back then, about this sprawling, Moslem-dominated, fractious archipelago of two hundred million, and how much more there was to learn.

Although his professional background had given him some prior knowledge with respect to the republic’s vast mineral, oil and gas wealth, Campbell quickly learned that the nation’s real wealth lay in its diversity, and the depth of culture so apparent within the republic’s multi-faceted society.

During his first years in-country, he had been contracted by Baron Mining, a North-American-based mining conglomerate, to conduct onsite geological field surveys throughout the republic. Campbell had trudged across areas in Indonesia never before visited by Europeans, slept amongst isolated villagers of West Papua and squatted around evening fires in Borneo’s cloud-cloaked, highland communities – often listening to elders boast of not-so-distant times, when they were still feared for their headhunting, or cannibalistic practices.

Stewart Campbell’s love affair with the island nation and its people had not been immediate – his initial reaction, when witness to the poverty-stricken peoples of the more neglected provinces in Eastern Indonesia, had cast its own, negative spell. Before completing his first year in-country, he had already decided not to extend his time in Indonesia. The corruption and tyranny of the Suharto regime, the debasement of many of the minority groups within the Republic, and the incredible environmental impact the former general’s vested interest groups had throughout the islands convinced the American geologist that Indonesia could not survive under such corrupt and immoral practices. As the time for his departure approached, Campbell’s position had mellowed, his attitude with respect to the ‘Indonesian Way’ tempered by exposure and opportunity. Before he realized how it happened, Stewart Campbell had become inextricably enmeshed in the gold and diamond potential of Kalimantan, as Indonesia’s territories in southern Borneo were known.

In 1982, and in response to President Suharto’s directive to accelerate the transmigration process that annually deposited tens of thousands of Javanese and Madurese families in outlying and difficult-to-control provinces, the Indonesian Department of Mines announced revised, new-generation operating contracts for foreign mining investment in all Kalimantan provinces. Campbell, who was virtually in the process of packing to leave and return to his parents’ home in Washington State, was immediately galvanized into action. The enormity of such a push into Indonesian Borneo was a geologist’s dream come true. Without hesitation, he cancelled his flight and went about securing documentation that would enable him to remain in the country legally. Campbell then approached the Indonesian Institute of Mines in Bandung and offered his services on the basis that they provided him with the necessary permits, the quid pro quo being that he would make himself available as an unpaid, consulting geologist for a few hours each month. The Bandung director agreed, and the American established his offices in Jakarta the following week.

Stewart Campbell could not have made his move at a more appropriate time. Indonesia’s reputation as a viable, resource-rich destination for international, general exploration companies exploded onto the world mining stage with Freeport’s staggering copper and gold discoveries, in Irian Jaya. Jakarta’s hotels were overrun with waves of Canadian, American and Australian-based carpetbaggers touting offers to ignorant concession holders, often securing valuable mining rights from unwitting, indigenous owners in exchange for worthless paper scrip issued by nickel-and-dime, foreign, publicly listed companies. Although there were many genuine foreign operators prospecting areas throughout the archipelago, their numbers were heavily peppered with ‘Second Board’ entrepreneurs whose capital base could barely cover the costs of their overseas visits, let alone support any commitment to mine viable projects. Word spread across the nation to isolated communities in Sulawesi, Irian, Kalimantan, and Sumatra, from Sabang to Merauke and a flood of hopeful, provincial concession holders poured into the capital in eager search of foreign partners. Most held simple, thumbprint-signed documentation issued only at village level asserting their claim over small, traditional plots whilst others, working in conjunction with local officials, carried letters from higher up the food chain, often signed by provincial governors.

At the time, Campbell had been vociferous in his concerns with the gold-rush mentality and the central government’s ambitious agenda to attract foreign miners at almost any cost. His condemnation of the system that stripped traditional owners of their rights by transferring these through a maze of middlemen, corrupt government officials and influential military groups only to be surrendered to foreign brokers, made Stewart Campbell unpopular amongst his expatriate peers. Not-so-disguised threats filtered down through the Mines Department suggesting that his appointment to the Institute should be revoked. The Director immediately instructed Campbell to refrain from making further statements and the American agreed, acknowledging that his tenure and legal residency were dependent on the institute’s goodwill.

Thereafter, he observed in dismay as large tracts of land were resumed for direct investment leaving traditional owners sidelined with little, if any, compensation. Tens of thousands of square kilometers were contracted to foreign miners, whose financial standing was obviously questionable, the necessary due diligence checks easily avoided in an environment where corruption ruled. Flamboyant directors steered their stockholders into relationships and commitments that would have attracted considerable rebuke by their own country’s monitoring authorities, had such activities been undertaken at home. Around Jakarta’s mushrooming bars such as the George and Dragon and The Eastern Promise language changed, adapting new terminology to expatriates’ lexicons. ‘Farm In’ and ‘Farm Out’, ‘Contracts of Work’, ‘Diamond’ and ‘Core Drilling’ virtually became mandatory vocabulary for one to participate in any bar dialogue as the number of opportunists grew, and deals were struck in the smoke-filled drinking holes.

Although unpopular with the brokers, Stewart Campbell’s consultancy grew exponentially to the surge in mining activity, his clients, mainly American interests, keen to evaluate leases on offer by smaller, and under-capitalized corporations, clearly incapable of developing the concessions they had acquired.

****

Campbell ’s driver pulled to an abrupt halt with an apologetic look, his concerned eyes scanning the internal rear-vision mirror for his Tuan’s response. Unexpectedly, a military convoy had punched through the mid-morning traffic, lead motorcycles’ sirens signaling their intrusion, demanding passage and access to the Senayan Sports Complex where elements of TNI, the Indonesian Armed Forces, were assembling in preparation for the Heroes’ Day parade. On his left, he could see lines of light tanks, AMX-13s, PT-76s and Scorpions. Saladin and Ferret reconnaissance vehicles were scattered amongst a large number of the Army’s APCs – Saracens, Commando Rangers and Stormers were prominent. And, above the Asian Games Complex, a squadron of BO-105 helicopters practised maneuvers for the big day.

Campbell sat in quiet repose as his vehicle continued down the main protocol road, Jalan Jenderal Sudirman, reflecting on how Indonesia’s brutal, military-controlled government had so firmly ensconced itself under President Suharto’s guardianship. He had learned that, in order to succeed in this country, one required access to all echelons within the TNI military and political machine, as the armed forces had developed extensive business interests across the nation, penetrating all sectors of the economy – the mining sector amongst the more recent to attract the generals’ interest. Once General Suharto had assumed power in a coup d’etat in 1966, the Javanese and Sumatran generals had set about monopolizing the Indonesian economy, forging working relationships with Chinese cukongs who were only too eager to share in the spoils. Using foundations as their guise, senior officers accumulated great wealth, the stars on their shoulders guaranteeing their fortunes.

Stewart Campbell accepted that the country had benefited under Suharto. Literacy had climbed dramatically, longevity increased, family planning programs had been implemented and infrastructure projects all provided a standard of living unknown during the Soekarno years. Nevertheless, the increased levels of disposable income had come at a price. The dictatorial president’s family’s domination of all commercial activity resulted in project cost being inflated to compensate for massive commission payments to the First Family, their wealth estimated in the tens of billions of dollars as the national debt spiraled out of control. The First Lady was irreverently referred to as Madame Ten Percent, and not because her given name was Tien. Charities and foundations chaired by Madame Tien played an integral role in the gathering processes, collecting fees and siphoning off funds for vested-interest projects. Suharto’s sons and daughters led the charge in gutting the economy, their greed only exceeded by their arrogance as their power and wealth grew to incredible proportions. Nepotism was alive and well in Indonesia and Campbell accepted that, to survive, it was essential that he address the situation pragmatically, as had the Chinese.

He was reminded that the Chinese had been targeted during the 1965-66 anti-communist sweeps across the nation when more than half a million Indonesians died, surprised how the collective memory of those murderous times failed to identify current trends. Campbell, conscious of the growing groundswell of indigenous anti-Chinese sentiment, believed it inevitable that history would repeat itself. The disparity between rich and poor was growing at an alarming rate, the powerful, pribumi Islamic parties becoming more outspoken in the mosques.

Under the New Order’s patronage, new dynasties were created, cukong families such as the Lims and Riyadis enjoying a meteoric rise in their fortunes and global influence; Mochtar Riyadi’s son James, a frequent visitor to Governor Clinton’s offices where he assisted to fill the future president’s coffers with re-election campaign funds. Ranches, banks, condominiums, hotels and casinos in Australia, New Zealand, Singapore and the United States felt the hand of Jakarta’s nouvea riche Chinese as they galloped down the international acquisition trail. And, within Indonesia, steel and flourmills, cement plants, television broadcast licenses, timber concessions, textile factories, car assembly and even electric power plants were delivered to those favored by the family living in Jalan Cendana.

****

Campbell ’s cell-phone dragged him out of his reverie.

‘Thought you might have overslept,’ the caller admonished. Campbell checked his wristwatch again, shrugging at being only half an hour late.

‘Just about there, Phil,’ he responded, with warmth. The men had attended the same campus, their friendship often tested by professional considerations. It had been Samuels who had been instrumental in Campbell’s securing work with Baron Mining over the years, Stewart often acting as the other’s local consultant to the multinational.

‘Okay. I’m in Mina’s Restaurant,’ Samuels advised, just as Campbell’s driver pulled into the hotel’s driveway. Campbell hung up and then climbed out, nodding at the doorman who had opened the car’s door.

‘Selamat datang,Tuan,’ the attendant welcomed.

‘Selamat siang,’ Campbell responded, entering the Sahid Jaya Hotel with leisurely stride, waving at the barrage of beautiful Indonesian receptionists.

‘Hallo, Mister Stewart.’ One of the staff, a Menadonese girl who had dated the foreigner occasionally, smiled, emphasizing the ‘mister’ in playful manner. Campbell stopped for a few moments to exchange pleasantries, enjoying the customary banter.

‘Where’s your new girlfriend,Tuan?’ she challenged, hopefully, her body language obvious to all present.

‘Waiting at home with the others,’ he lied, enjoying the feigned looks of disgust and surprise as he wheeled and strode off towards the restaurant. The maitre d’ greeted Campbell warmly, escorting him to a corner table where his client waited.

‘Sorry I’m running a little late,’ he apologized, permitting the waiter to unfold his serviette and place this across his lap. ‘Usual traffic problems,’ he added, casting a glance around the magnificent décor. Mina’s specialized in Chinese seafood; the softly lit surrounds were decorated to resemble an outdoor, provincial fishing village. Fishing nets strung from a main mast pole centered amongst the buffet selections added to the ambience, whilst miniature, thatched roofs built above tables added the finishing touches.

Campbell surveyed the clientele, acknowledging an occasional wave from some, ignoring others. In the far corner he spotted a group deep in conversation, recognizing two of the men as Alex Kremenchug and Eric Baird. Kremenchug spotted Campbell, the forced smile and raised-glass requiring Stewart to respond.

‘You know those guys?’ Samuels asked, glancing over his shoulder.

‘Sure,’ Campbell replied. ‘Permanent expats. Been around for years.’

‘And the one in the suit?’ Campbell glanced over again.

‘The one sitting facing the others?’ He took a brief moment to examine the man in question then shook his head. ‘No,’ he answered slowly and with some uncertainty. ‘Can’t say that I do.’ Again he glanced over at the tall, middle-aged foreigner whose cheeks were partially covered with long, untidy, gray sideburns. Then Campbell frowned – something triggered his memory suggesting that he had seen the face before. ‘I’m not sure.’ He glanced over again, then shook his head, ‘Should I?’

Phil looked at Stewart with raised eyebrows. ‘I’m surprised,’ he said, fidgeting with the silver cutlery unconsciously. ‘Thought all you ‘geos’ knew each other.’ The statement required no answer but Campbell’s curiosity had been aroused.

‘Well?’ he pressed, annoyance creeping into his voice. ‘Who is it?’

The other man smiled smugly, leaned back as the waiter reappeared and reset the cutlery. ‘It’s Christopher Fielding, for Chris-sakes,’ he revealed, sotto voce, watching for his consultant’s reaction. Campbell frowned again, snapped a quick look at the man then nodded, as if deep in thought.

‘Well, I’ll be...’ The words fell from his lips, softly, quite taken by surprise. ‘Now what would he be doing in Jakarta?’ he asked, rhetorically, his mind switching into gear as he recalled reading of the internationally renowned geologist’s recent skirmishes with the Canadian courts. He could not resist glancing over again, his eyes locking with Alex Kremenchug’s as he did so. Campbell smiled weakly and turned to his client. ‘Oh to be a fly on that wall,’ he suggested, lightly.

‘Who are the others?’ Samuels asked. Campbell shrugged his shoulders and sampled the mineral water as their attentive waiter withdrew.

‘The short one with the anemic complexion is Eric Baird. Been around since the mining boom started. He’s Australian. The tall guy with the permanent suntan and safari jacket is Alex Kremenchug. Not sure of his origins but is quite thick with Baird. They’ve had their fingers in a number of small mining ventures but nothing of any significance.’ Campbell hesitated before continuing, reluctant to give all. ‘Word is, Baird is not overly fond of the ladies, if you get my drift. He drinks far too much but knows his stuff. As for Kremenchug, he’s suave, intelligent, but bullshits about his credentials too much for me. Rumor has it that he was asked to resign a directorship in some Aussie mining firm for dumping his shares without advising the exchange. He left the country not long after that and appeared here, sniffing around for leases. His knowledge of geology is purely empiric. A couple of years back he encouraged a group to invest in an alluvial deposit in Sulawesi based on surveys carried out by that little guy sitting alongside him.’ Campbell nodded with a tilt of his head in Eric Baird’s direction. ‘I saw the initial sampling reports and later ran across one of the drillers who had worked on the survey. Kremenchug had given one of his drinking buddies the nod to build percussion rigs for the job.

Of course, every time the hammer drove the pipe stem down, whatever gold may have been in the sample kept on falling to the bottom. There was very little recovered, Baird furious with Kremenchug at the time. The driller also revealed that they were pulled out of the field, and sent back to Jakarta. Seems that Kremenchug and Baird then used local tribesmen to complete the sampling procedures. The next thing we know is that the value of the foreign partner’s shares had multiplied fourfold, based on those results.’

Samuels considered this and again lowered his voice. ‘Well, they’re in good company,’ a thin crease suggesting a smile crossed his lips, before breaking to a smirk. ‘Fielding’s broke,’ he claimed, breaking a hot bread roll in half. ‘After that ball-breaking wife of his had finished working him over there wasn’t much left to cover his debts.’ Campbell watched as his client smothered the bread rolls with peppered pate and stuffed these in mouth, sucking the ends of his fingers as he related events leading up to Fielding’s demise. ‘A receiver was appointed and, the way I heard it, he entered into some sort of arrangement with his creditors. Considering his finances, I’m surprised he’s over here. Who would ever have thought it possible? A guy discovers one of the greatest minerals finds in history and ends up with nothing! Just goes to show you…’

****

Across the restaurant, Fielding leaned closer to his colleagues so as not to be overheard. ‘How much work-up will be required?’ he asked, pointedly, directing the question to Eric Baird. The Australian geologist had anticipated the question and was well prepared to defend the report.

‘Not a great deal,’ Baird replied. ‘I’ve walked the property extensively and the initial sampling results are very encouraging.’ Baird then went on discussing the geological aspects of the concession that both he and Kremenchug had offered the Canadian.

****

Kremenchug sat back permitting the two geologists to communicate without any further input from him, pleased with Christopher Fielding’s response so far. Kremenchug was banking on Fielding’s international reputation as a geologist to raise capital for the venture. Kremenchug had paid the Canadian’s fares and related costs, bringing him over to Indonesia to meet with Baird and discuss how they might use the recently acquired gold acreage to float a new mining entity on the Vancouver Exchange. Kremenchug had been motivated by the growing Canadian interest in Indonesian prospects, wishing to cash in when this escalated, as he believed it would, once production commenced at the larger Kalimantan sites being operated by multi-nationals.

Kremenchug looked over in Stewart Campbell’s direction. Although the envy he felt was not evident in his Slavic, expressionless face, nevertheless, it was there. Unconsciously, his hand ran over the gray, thinning scalp that once boasted a thick crop of black hair, his thoughts roaming as he heard Baird’s voice drone on. There had been no real confrontation with the American, Campbell – Kremenchug’s annoyance occasioned by the younger man’s ‘watchdog’ mentality, with respect to foreign prospecting activities in Indonesia. That, and the fact Campbell had been negative when assessing a number of gold concessions Kremenchug had offered to one of the American’s clients. The deal had fallen through, with Alexander Kremenchug taking Campbell’s recommendations as a personal attack on his integrity. Subsequently, whenever the two crossed paths their exchanges were generally brief, but polite; Kremenchug’s comments behind the other man’s back, caustic, and often vitriolic. He signaled a waitress by raising his now empty glass.

‘Gin and tonic, Tuan?’ she asked, smiling warmly. Kremenchug nodded, twirling his index finger in the air to indicate a round.

‘No, leave me out, Alex,’ Fielding interrupted Baird’s monologue. ‘Still have a lot to do here.’

‘Just these two, then,’ Kremenchug pointed at his associate’s empty tumbler, then settled back to listen to Baird’s glowing report supporting the concession’s viability to produce tonnes of gold.

****

Kremenchug was confident that Baird’s presentation would be convincing. The men were jointly responsible for delivering the government-approved concession. Under a prior arrangement, reached before inviting Fielding to Jakarta, they had agreed to equally split whatever vendors’ shareholding might be negotiated in the proposed Kalimantan gold exploration company. Fielding had jumped at the offer to visit, Kremenchug’s confidence that the company would be floated on the Canadian Exchange growing as Fielding warmed to the concession’s potential.

All three men would receive a substantial allocation of fully paid vendors’ shares in the Canadian company. Obviously, these shares would be placed in escrow, as required by law. Kremenchug had already established dialogue with Scott Walters, a Vancouver-based promoter cum financier. Walters had been receptive to providing whatever mezzanine capital might be required to take the deal public, as Indonesia had recently become ‘flavor of the month’ with Calgary and Vancouver stockbrokers. The list of Canadian mining companies vying for Indonesian properties was extensive, the huge volume of shares traded encouraging non-Canadian interests to establish new or subsidiary interests there.

Walters’ offer to provide initial funding had been conditional, requiring Fielding to place his name on the concession as senior geologist, his stamp of approval sufficient to guarantee a successful capital raising. Although Christopher Fielding’s private life had all but left the man broken, his reputation as a geologist remained intact. As a sweetener, both Kremenchug and Baird had suggested that Fielding take a position on the new company’s board. They, in turn, would not seek any directorships, content to wait until their shares could be traded once the escrow period had expired – at which time they would sell and move on.

Baird and Fielding continued to discuss the merits of the concession throughout their lunch of chili crab, steamed prawns, rice and deep-fried grouper, Kremenchug content to listen, sipping his way through a constant flow of gin tonics before the geologists concluded their meeting. Fielding dipped the fingers of both hands in a lemonscented bowl of water, dried his hands, picked up the documents then nodded in affirmation.

‘Well, I’m in,’ he smiled weakly. The Cathay Pacific flight from Vancouver to Jakarta via Hong Kong had taken more than twenty hours, the jetlag beginning to show.

Kremenchug was ecstatic, his alcohol-charged response overenthusiastic, attracting the attention of other Mina guests.

‘That’s great news!’ he gushed. ‘You won’t regret coming in with us, Chris.’ He snapped his fingers summoning a waiter and, when the young man approached, ordered in a voice for all to hear. ‘Get us a bottle of Moet Chandon!’

The champagne arrived, the inexperienced waiter’s attempts to uncork the bottle ending with Kremenchug grabbing the wine impatiently, dismissing the embarrassed waiter and completing the task himself. With the champagne poured, he raised his glass. ‘To the Kalimantan venture,’ he offered the toast. Fielding and Baird raised their glasses together, their celebratory gesture not lost on those around.

‘And to precious, precious gold,’ Baird added, somewhat relieved and surprised that Fielding had accepted his evaluations so readily.

Their spirits lifted, all three men relaxed, the tone of their conversation tempered with newfound camaraderie as they exchanged stories, Kremenchug throwing in an occasional joke as the accumulative effects of alcohol took hold. Kremenchug peered over at Stewart Campbell’s table, flashed an insincere smile, waved, then after some hesitation rose and sauntered over to where the Americans were sitting.

‘Stewart!’ he started, a glass in one hand, the other extended. ‘Come and join us?’

Caught off guard, Campbell looked to Samuels for assistance while Kremenchug pumped his hand. ‘We were about to leave,’ Campbell offered, somewhat lamely.

‘No, don’t go yet.’ Kremenchug had taken Campbell’s guest’s hand, expecting to be introduced. ‘Come over and meet Chris Fielding. I’m Alex Kremenchug,’ and after a pause, ‘and you would be?’

His annoyance well disguised, Campbell smiled and introduced Phil Samuels. Kremenchug was visibly impressed. ‘Ah!’ he exclaimed. ‘Baron Mining, no doubt? The heavies have finally arrived!’ with which he turned, took hold of the man’s arm and led him across to where Baird and Fielding were again engrossed in conversation. Campbell followed, gesturing for the maitre d’ to bring their check. Chairs were hastily added to the table, the geologists rising to their feet as Kremenchug introduced the Americans. ‘You already know Eric?’ Stewart nodded. ‘And this is Chris Fielding,’ Kremenchug turned to Campbell’s client and completed the formalities. ‘Now, gentlemen, please join us for a glass of champagne?’ He then realized that the bottle had been drained and called for another, whilst indicating that his guests should be seated.

‘Alex, another time if you don’t mind,’ Campbell stepped in. ‘We have appointments to keep.’

‘Nonsense,’ Kremenchug was insistent, ‘sit down for a few minutes and help us celebrate.’

‘Celebrate?’ Campbell responded. Although not keen to be dragged into a session with these men, his curiosity got the better of him. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘Sit down, and join us first,’ Kremenchug persisted. Campbell looked at the time and reluctantly accepted.

‘Just one,’ he warned, nodding to Samuels. They waited uncomfortably until the champagne was delivered to the table and uncorked.

‘To our senior geologist,’ Kremenchug announced, indicating Christopher Fielding, enjoying the look spreading across Campbell’s face. ‘And to gold mining in Kalimantan,’ with which Kremenchug drained and refilled his glass in one motion.

Although pressed for time, Campbell appeared gracious. ‘Congratulations seem in order,’ he offered. Then, directing his question to Baird, asked, ‘What areas are you holding?’

Eric Baird did not hesitate, now in effervescent mood. ‘There are a number of sites,’ he revealed, with great animation, ‘one up in Palangkaraya and a couple more further north in Kalimantan Timur.’

‘Alluvial?’ Campbell asked. ‘Not all of it.’ Baird was enjoying this, his smug demeanor more than partially fuelled by the alcohol. ‘Done any drilling yet?’ Campbell pressed, observing the other man’s eyes closely.

‘Enough to convince us that we have a winner,’ Baird bragged.

‘Are you able to disclose your findings?’

‘Guess that’s up to our senior geologist here,’ Baird replied, passing the buck.

Fielding shot a warning look at his associates, uncomfortable with revealing too much before corporate structure and funding procedures had been finalized in Canada. Deciding enough had been said, he straightened his shoulders and started to rise. ‘It’s been a long trip. If you gentlemen don’t mind, I’m going to catch up on some sleep. When it’s opportune, I’d be delighted to send you something more regarding the Palangkaraya site.’ With that, he left the group hastily, having undertaken to call his associates, once he had rested.

Following Fielding’s abrupt departure, Campbell and Samuels seized the opportunity to withdraw, leaving their unfinished drinks and a miffed Kremenchug for Baird to console.

‘Campbell’s right up himself,’ Baird sneered at the American’s departing back.

‘Yeah, he can be a real prick at times,’ Kremenchug said.

‘Did you see his face when I mentioned Fielding’s appointment?’ Baird’s cackle was more of a titter.

‘Wouldn’t be wise to wind him up too much. We don’t want too much attention from the likes of him.’

‘He’s full of it!’ Baird said, a little too loudly, attracting further looks of disapproval from a number of other guests in their proximity.

‘You should be careful of what you say in front of Campbell,’ Kremenchug was critical.

‘Why, what can he do?’ Baird lit a cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke over the table.

‘He’s well connected.’

‘If you feel that way, why’d you bring him over?’

‘I wanted to establish contact with the guy who was with him.’

‘Don’t know why you’re jittery about Campbell. He doesn’t have that many friends in the industry.’

‘He has enough,’ Kremenchug warned.

‘Sure, okay.’ Baird seemed miffed. ‘I’ll play it cool.’

‘I’m glad to hear you say that, Eric. We’ve got a great opportunity here and I wouldn’t want you to screw it up – for either of us.’

‘I won’t,’ Baird promised, leaning back and permitting the waiter to give Kremenchug the bill.

****