Читать книгу Indonesian Gold - Kerry B Collison - Страница 17

Stewart Campbell shuffled through the committee welcoming line, past an array of flowers that were shaped more like the traditional, Western funeral wreaths than celebratory or welcoming arrangements, and entered the Grand Hyatt’s Sir Stamford Room function venue on the first floor. He accepted a cocktail from one of the many waiters weaving through the assembly, smiled, acknowledged a number of associates and friends, then eased his way through the sea of locally tailored, black-tie dinner jackets and cocktail dresses to join a group of Asian engineers he had met earlier that day.

A banner dominating one wall welcomed delegates to the 14th South East Asian Mining Conference, the elegant setting and surrounds standing in contradiction to the theme-decorated ballroom, the three meter, black and white photographs depicting mining scenes on the opposing wall in brutal contrast to the original designer’s perception, of a fine-dining venue.

Campbell leaned closer to the young woman offering an opinion as to why Singapore had achieved recognition as the only, real safe-banking haven in Asia, the crowded room’s chatter reaching deafening levels with inhibition-reduced, alcohol levels loosening tongues and raising self-import. Waiters glided past carrying silver hors d’oeuvres trays laden with smoked salmon coq au vin, pickled quail eggs dotted with neon-green Tobilko caviar, butterfly prawns, and miniature spring rolls, the guests washing these down with generous swills of Clos des Goisses champagne with little, if any understanding of the gift offered by the preciously-nurtured grape. Campbell continued to listen, politely, to the soft-spoken Singaporean delegate as she struggled to be heard above the competing rabble.

‘…and, added to which, the incredible inflow of funds from Indonesia contributed greatly to Singapore’s prosperity,’ she paused, losing the opportunity to another and more verbose government type, whose dominance over the conversation had already driven others away.

‘In my opinion, …’ the bureaucrat started. Campbell, feigning having caught the attention of a familiar face across the room, used this pretext as an excuse to move away. He edged his way through the gathering, now determined to touch base with a number of colleagues then escape to a lesser-congested environment. He squeezed through the throng towards a more subdued group, the noise level abating considerably as he distanced himself from the bar service area.

A hand touched the small of his back and he turned, the tall and long-waisted woman confronting him so breathtakingly beautiful that, for an uncomfortable moment, Stewart Campbell was struck speechless.

‘Mister Campbell?’ Stewart’s surprise turned to acute embarrassment when his tongue failed to respond, so stunned was he with the stunningly, graceful creature standing before him. ‘I’m Sharon Ducay. You are Stewart Campbell?’ the woman challenged, the suggestion of her beguiling perfume momentarily confusing Campbell even further.

‘Yes.’ He managed an awkward smile then, near apoplectic when a guest behind stepped back inadvertently nudging him forward, causing Campbell to spill his cocktail onto the Filipino beauty’s full-length, pink, beaded cocktail dress.

‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry!’ he exclaimed, weakly, the damp patch spreading down the woman’s front from breast to thigh. For a moment he imagined her eyes on fire, the ever-so-brief flash of anger evident, before misinterpreted dismay transposed to grievous surprise.

‘ Mister Campbell!’ Sharon Ducay raised her hands, palms opened as if in religious gesture, first looking down at her stained, Javier Larrainzar gown, then up into his eyes as if he had committed the most heinous of crimes.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Campbell offered, lamely, conscious of having attracted the attention of other guests in close proximity, ‘but I was bumped.’ And to substantiate his claim, Stewart turned and glared at the responsible but inebriated guest alongside, hoping to apportion blame. Then, ‘I’m deeply embarrassed,’ he offered, truly distressed at his clumsiness, even though responsibility for the accident lay elsewhere.

Sharon Ducay accepted a napkin from a concerned waiter. She dabbed directly below her breasts in what Campbell’s mind were translated as soft, sensuous movements.

‘I’ll have to go and change,’ she said. Campbell, detecting no trace of malice in her voice, moved to make amends.

‘Please accept my apology?’ he asked, determined not to let her go, or at least accompany her if she were to leave. ‘I’m normally not this clumsy.’ She was obviously Asian – possibly Indonesian; perhaps from northern Sulawesi, he guessed. ‘Maaf saya,’ he apologized in Bahasa Indonesia hoping this would resolve his predicament. Not many expatriates spoke the language with any fluency, and Campbell was prepared for the challenge.

‘I am not Indonesian,’ she responded, obviously offended by the suggestion.

‘Ouch! Sorry.’ Campbell was now floundering, desperate to recover lost ground. ‘It’s just that I don’t often meet many beautiful women outside of my own domain.’ Then a thought struck home. ‘You know my name?’

Sharon Ducay flashed a well-practised smile. ‘Yes,’ she answered, ‘and before you ask, I am from Manila.’

Campbell remained confused. ‘I know we haven’t met before – I would definitely have remembered.’ His confidence returning, Campbell indicated her soiled dress. ‘It’s hardly obvious now,’ he suggested.

Without looking down Sharon placed one hand on her abdomen.

‘It’s still wet,’ she replied, matter-of-factly.

‘Do you still wish to change?’

‘Yes,’ she said, looking towards the exit, preparing to leave. ‘Will you accompany me?’ Before Campbell could respond, she raised her hand and took his forearm, then turned towards the exit and steered the way.

****

‘Help yourself to the bar,’ Sharon glided through the Regency Club suite, disrobing as she disappeared from view, her guest catching a brief glimpse of her curvaceous lines. Campbell’s room was in the other wing overlooking the swimming pool, the disparity between the accommodations significant. The Hyatt’s ‘hotel within a hotel’ concept for its more prominent guests providing lavish furnishings and butler service was a luxury he had yet to afford.

‘Can I pour you something?’ he called, his offer drawing a silent response. Campbell checked the chilled wines and selected a pinot noir Chardonnay, opening the bottle and pouring two glasses just as Sharon reappeared, dressed in slacks. She accepted the Hungarian cased, crystal flute, sipped lightly, nodded her approval, then moved towards the heavily draped windows and opened the curtains to peer outside.

It was early October, yet Christmas fervor had arrived in earnest, with Singaporean traders already dressing Orchard Road’s towering hotels with an elaborate display of Christmas lights, and New Year greetings. Campbell remained standing at a respectable distance admiring Sharon’s figure as she stood framed by the window, the suite’s soft lighting, enhancing her features. She turned, the hand holding her wine resting in the palm of the other, and smiled.

‘I observed you at the opening ceremony,’ she said, her voice carrying a huskiness not evident before. Campbell was surprised that he could have missed her, even amongst the other four hundred delegates.

‘Obviously, I was preoccupied with the program otherwise I would have noticed you, also.’ The flattery not lost on Sharon, she placed her empty flute down and lit a cigarette while Campbell refilled their glasses. ‘Have you had dinner?’ he asked, disappointed that she smoked, surprised that the habit was still tolerated in the Hyatt’s rooms.

‘No,’ Sharon replied, ‘I always avoid function food. And you?’

‘I could eat,’ he hoped she would want to dine in. And then, ‘But first, aren’t you going to reveal how you knew my name?’

This was met with a playful laugh, Sharon anticipating the question. ‘When I saw you at the opening ceremony, I asked,’ she parried. In fact, Sharon Ducay was well informed when it came to Stewart Campbell.

‘I wasn’t aware that I was that popular,’ he sensed there was more to it, but decided to let it go. His exploits within the mining sector during the past decade had raised his profile not just within Indonesian resource circles, but also regionally. Stewart had represented a number of major, American international conglomerates and, although he doubted that they had met before, nevertheless, he found something vaguely familiar about this beautiful woman. ‘Perhaps you have confused me with someone else?’

Sharon dropped the cigarette in the ashtray, then raised her glass to offer a toast. ‘One thing I have never been accused of, Stewart, is being confused. We’ll talk later. Right now, I’m famished. Let’s get out of here and find something decent to eat. Cheers!’

Campbell accepted the polite rebuff, the resonance of two crystal glasses ringing as they touched.

****

On their way down in the lift they had discussed their choices and preferences, Campbell suggesting a Chinese seafood restaurant he occasionally frequented when in Singapore – Sharon had agreed, the taxi dropping them at the Excelsior Hotel on Coleman Street. There, they caught a lift to the fourth level of the Shanghai Palace and were seated within minutes. Campbell ordered, checking with his companion on each selection.

‘You certainly know your way around Chinese food,’ she complimented, impressed with Campbell’s choices.

They had started the meal with shark’s fin soup mixed with fish maw and crab meat, then attacked the fried, shredded-duck laced lightly with dried chili. Sharon raised her bowl and skillfully scooped steamed rice into her mouth. ‘Ah,’ she sighed, ‘this is delicious!’

‘Leave room for the braised garoupa,’ he warned, as the waiter placed a dish of mushrooms and broccoli on their table.

‘You can eat raw chili?’ she asked, surprised as Campbell raised part of a green pepper with his chopsticks and placed the sliced chili in his mouth.

‘Sure,’ he laughed, following quickly with rice and fish, the garoupa’s strong taste coming through the black bean sauce. Then, from behind a napkin, ‘You can’t live in Indonesia for ten years without acquiring the taste.’

‘Have you ever visited the Philippines?’ Sharon asked, accepting the remaining piece of shredded duck into her bowl.

‘Just once,’ he replied, ‘but only for a few days. I didn’t have the time to go sightseeing.’

‘Were you there for the mining conference?’

‘Yes,’ Campbell recalled the brief visit. ‘Stayed in Makati the whole time,’ he added, referring to Manila’s congested central business district. He had not enjoyed the conference although the city’s wealth of bars and nightclubs had offered some compensation, remembering playing truant on the second day and missing most of the workshops held by the Filipino Mines and Energy Ministry.

‘You should have taken some time off and visited the resorts,’ she admonished, ‘they are very beautiful.’ Then, with a mirthless smile, ‘And so are the women.’

Campbell avoided the obvious response. He knew little about her country and wished to turn the conversation. ‘Have you been to Indonesia?’

‘Yes, I’ve been to Jakarta several times, on business.’

Campbell was genuinely interested. ‘On business?’ he asked.

‘Yes, on business,’ she smiled mischievously.

Campbell pressed on. ‘Are you going to elaborate?’

Sharon laughed, softly, and placed a placatory hand on his knee. ‘We have something in common, Mister Campbell,’ she teased, then sipped the lukewarm Chinese herbal tea, her eyes never leaving Stewart’s.

‘And that would be…?’ he left the question dangling.

‘We are both geologists,’ she revealed, enjoying the look of disbelief spreading across his handsome face. She dabbed her lips with a napkin before continuing. ‘I went to Jakarta on a number of occasions to see if we could entice some of the foreign mining companies to visit the Philippines. It would seem that Indonesia has more than its fair share of foreign investment in the resources sector, and you know how damn difficult it is to drag American companies away from their own shores.’

Campbell , momentarily overwhelmed, merely nodded.

‘A number of Filipino concession holders teamed up to go to Jakarta but, unfortunately, we were unsuccessful in convincing any of the larger miners to slip across and examine our country’s potential, while they were exploring in the general area.’

‘It’s a wonder we did not cross paths,’ he told her.

‘You were out of town at the time,’ she suggested. Campbell leaned back from the table and raised an eyebrow.

‘You checked?’ he was puzzled.

‘We had our embassy try to set up a meeting with you, Stewart, but you were out in the field for the duration of our stay.’

‘I was out of town during both visits?’ he asked, disbelievingly.

‘Yes,’ she nodded.

Campbell shook his head slowly. ‘When was this?’

Sharon answered, without hesitation. ‘May and October, 1991.’

Campbell recalled both months; he had, indeed, been out on survey during Sharon’s visits. ‘Well, that explains your knowing my name,’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘Do you plan to return in the near future?’

‘It’s unlikely, Stewart. My country is not one of the most desired destinations amongst the mining fraternity. As long as Indonesian discoveries monopolize resource investment dollars I’m afraid the Philippines will continue to be neglected.’

Stewart knew what Sharon had suggested was entirely true. The Philippines was a low priority in terms of Asian mineral, oil and gas exploration. On the other hand, Indonesia’s mining boom continued to attract substantial investment, leaving other South East Asian nations in the shadows. There had been some initial interest in Vietnam but communist dogma continued to prevail throughout most of Indochina, making the area less than attractive as petty bureaucrats continued to dictate policy at provincial levels.

‘Where did you study?’ he wanted to know.

‘California State,’ she revealed, somewhat indifferently. ‘I traveled for a while, worked in South Africa for three years before accepting a position with a Filipino group. I completed post-grad work for my Masters after that. And you?’

Campbell was not surprised to learn that she was so well educated. The woman was obviously intelligent and determined. He found himself staring at her again, thinking that she had it all; beauty, intelligence and was well connected. ‘Washington State.’

‘And then?’

Campbell considered the question. After graduating, he had gone on to work with the Canadian-based INCO (International Nickel Company) because of its dominance as a nickel producer in the international market. He had spent his post-graduate years in Canada and, for some time, remained content with his lot. He was then sent to South America for six months where he was assigned to assist Professor Herman von Hugel. The revered scientist’s recommendations led to Campbell being offered an opportunity to work in Indonesia where INCO had secured a major deposit in Sulawesi during the early 1970s, and was considering copper and gold deposits elsewhere throughout the archipelago. Stewart had hoped that INCO’s fascination with Indonesia would provide him with a springboard for other opportunities, however, local rationalization caused him to re-evaluate his career prospects, precipitating his leap into private consulting. The rest was history. He had become a respected Indonesian mining consultant, his services now in regular demand. ‘I’ve kept myself busy,’ he said, modestly. It was now obvious that Sharon Ducay had prior knowledge of his credentials. ‘Would you like to expand upon why your group wanted to make contact with me?’

Sharon ’s response was not what he had expected. ‘We were exploring the possibility of engaging your services as a consultant, in the Philippines,’ she explained.

‘Why?’ he said, taken aback. ‘I know virtually nothing about your country’s geology, let alone its mining policies.’

‘The approach was not biased in that direction,’ Sharon suggested. ‘We needed to attract consultants with the capacity to interest the major players in our country’s potential. Your name came up, that’s all.’

Campbell thought this through. ‘Did you find anyone?’ he asked.

‘Well, we met a number of expatriates who appeared keen, but none that were convincing.’

‘I would have thought that there would be strong, American interest in the Philippines, considering the historical ties?’

‘Not so,’ she explained, ‘at least not in the mining sector. Yes, American companies have established substantial trading ties with our country, but most of this is product based, not resource investment.’ She paused to eat, sipping tea before continuing. ‘Frankly, I found it so frustrating, I finally withdrew from the promotional tours.’

‘And now?’ he asked.

Sharon pulled a face. ‘Needed to do some shopping. Manila’s department stores aren’t exactly up there with Saks. The mining conference provided the opportunity, that’s all.’ Campbell was reminded of the magnificent cocktail dress he had soiled.

‘I meant, what keeps you occupied when you’re at home?’ he pried.

Sharon smiled demurely. ‘Do you mean am I married?’

Campbell laughed. ‘Yes, something like that. As it would seem that you know considerably more about me, I think it only fair you reveal all your dark secrets.’

‘Why would these necessarily be dark?’ she countered.

‘Perhaps I should have said, ‘mysterious’?’ He was enjoying the banter.

It was Sharon’s turn to laugh. ‘Don’t you think that a little mystique keeps the men guessing?’ At that moment their waiter appeared, saving her from having to elaborate. He divided the remaining fish carefully, and then withdrew.

‘When do you return to Manila?’ Campbell wanted to know.

‘Tomorrow,’ was her brief reply.

‘Back to work?’

‘No,’ Sharon responded, affecting a touch of weariness in her voice. ‘Let’s not talk shop anymore. Agreed?’

‘Fine by me,’ he promised. ‘Would you like anything else?’

Sharon shook her head. ‘No. I’d like to return to the hotel now if you don’t mind.’ She paused, observing Campbell’s disappointment then added, ‘We could have a nightcap back in the room, if you wish.’ The invitation clearly raised his spirits.

‘Then what are we still doing here?’ Campbell settled the bill as quickly as protocol would permit, and escorted his beautiful companion back down to the lobby where they caught a taxi to the Grand Hyatt.

* * * *

Stewart Campbell placed his arm around Sharon’s shoulders and pulled her gently towards him. She did not resist, turning to face him with willing lips and they kissed, the warmth of the exchange and her intoxicating perfume sending exotic signals through to his loins. His hand moved to her firm breasts, their fullness exciting him even more.

‘Not here,’ she pulled away, taking his hands in hers, the blood beating loudly in Campbell’s ears. Neither spoke during the remaining ride, their silence maintained even after they had entered Sharon’s suite where they immediately embraced, undressing each other with impatient passion before collapsing to the thickly carpeted floor.

Stewart was in no way disappointed when his eyes fell upon Sharon’s naked figure, the soft curves and light brown skin accentuating her beauty. His hands groped her breasts, squeezing her erect nipples roughly and Sharon cried out, biting his lip with the pain. With the taste of blood in their mouths they remained locked, their sexual frenzy driving them together and they coupled, naturally, Campbell’s length penetrating her so deeply she cried out, again, lifting her knees high and wide as he moved within her. She felt one hand slide down through the soft mound between her legs, the touch of his fingers causing Sharon to writhe uncontrollably as he continued to thrust with growing urgency. The tempo grew, their bodies rocking together wildly until Campbell’s hot, rhythmic moans triggered warm ripples which rose from deep inside her womb and she gasped, her own spasms in concert with his, their climax sending sensuous waves flooding through their bodies. In those few, brief, but delirious moments, they floated together, the warmth of his ejaculation causing Sharon to shudder. Then he sighed, heavily, totally spent.

They remained embraced, each slowly slipping back from the sexual summit they had just climbed, their heartbeats gradually slowing as they lay there, lost in the afterglow. Sharon shivered involuntarily as the air conditioner spilled tons of cold air into the room and Stewart rolled to one side, this time gently caressing her still erect nipples with his tongue, bringing a murmur of delight to her lips.

‘Enough,’ she pleaded, kissing him tenderly on the shoulder. ‘I’m freezing!’ With that, Sharon rose slowly and made her way to the bathroom, reappearing shortly after wearing a pink, toweling dressing gown. ‘Are you staying?’ she asked, lighting her second cigarette for the evening, drawing heavily as she did so. In the dim light Stewart could see the end glow, wondering how offended she might be if he elected to sleep in his own bed.

‘I’ll stay if you want me to,’ he said, gathering his clothing. He felt foolish standing there naked, but did not wish to dress until the matter of where he would spend the night had been resolved.

‘I’m okay,’ Sharon told him. ‘We could have breakfast together by the pool?’

Relieved, Stewart dressed and went to her side. ‘We could have breakfast here instead,’ he suggested, bending down to kiss her softly on the forehead.

‘I’d prefer it at the pool. Besides, I always take an early swim.’

‘Then the pool it is,’ he agreed, ‘give me a ring when you are ready. Okay?’

‘I’ll meet you there after eight,’ she promised, reaching up and dragging his mouth to hers. Reluctantly, he responded, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke on her breath spoiling the moment.

****

Sharon lay back on the sofa thinking about her brief interlude with the American. She had not misled her temporary lover with respect to her having initiated inquiries regarding his availability to work in the Philippines. In fact, Sharon Ducay had spent considerable time and effort investigating Stewart, before arriving at the conclusion that he would not be acceptable for the project that she and her uncle had in mind. General consensus supported her assessment of the well-known expatriate geologist. Stewart Campbell was far too much of an idealist to willingly become involved in anything like what she and the General had planned. Their meeting had been coincidental. Sharon’s purpose in attending the conference was to hold discussions with Alexander Kremenchug but, as a last minute change in his plans prevented their introduction, she had decided to stay the day and shop. Meeting the handsome Campbell had merely been a bonus. As she lay stretched out on the well-cushioned sofa, Sharon’s hand dropped to the soft, dark mound between her thighs and she closed her eyes, conjuring up Stewart’s firm body in her mind, as she stroked herself gently.

****

Stewart Campbell came alive to the eight o’clock wake-up call, showered, dressed for the swimming pool and then rode the lift down twelve floors to the scenic setting. Coconut trees hung over the pool area providing questionable shade, and Stewart settled down with a fruit juice waiting for Sharon to appear.

At eight forty-five he knew she had overslept; by nine o’clock he had returned to his room, disappointed, when the hotel reception’s informed him that Miss Sharon Ducay had checked out at seven and returned to the Philippines without so much as leaving him a note.

****