The Fifth Season (16 page)

It had been she who had orchestrated for Praboyo to meet the homely President's daughter, Tuti, urging Praboyo to make the necessary sacrifice in the interests of family and career. He had followed his mother's advice and proposed to Tuti Suhapto, the affair resulting in a fruitful, although sexually dissatisfying union. Anxious to steer the conversation towards the
Ulamas
recent visit, Praboyo asked if his tour had been successful.

‘You should visit the Middle East some time,'
Abdul Muis responded, not evasively. His eyes sparkled, his memory fresh with the success he had achieved.
‘It is expected that you would visit Mecca for the holy pilgrimage, 
‘Boyo,'
he advised, dropping the first syllable to Praboyo's name as intimate friends might.

The general recognized the gesture, pleased that this conversation would remain informal. He sat quietly, permitting the Haji to describe his most recent goodwill tour through the Arab states, orchestrated to promote the
Mufti Muharam
Party
.
Praboyo was impressed with the list of well known names which rolled off Muis' tongue, fascinated also that his ally had cemented such relationships with these powerful Moslem figures. Praboyo had never questioned the purpose of Abdul Muis' journey. In his capacity as leader of the
Mufti Muharam
Party, it seemed only natural to the general that Muis visit other leading Moslems, in no way suspecting this man's hidden agenda. Finally, having exhausted the subject of his visit, Muis permitted his guest to lead their conversation towards the real purpose of their meeting.

‘Muis,'
Praboyo started, also informally,
‘you have witnessed how quickly
the situation in our country has changed.'
He looked directly at his host, Muis's face reflecting his own thoughts.
‘We might be obliged to move earlier
than expected. There are rumblings amongst the officer corps. I am very concerned that if we don't move quickly, we could lose the opportunity to others.'

Praboyo waited for a reaction and, detecting none, continued.

‘The Bapak is very tired,'
he said, truthfully. The President had appeared on television with members of the IMF, having signed an amended agreement for the billions the country so urgently needed. The people had been shocked to see the change in his demeanor; it was almost as if he had lost the will to continue as their leader. His speech seemed slow, even slurred, his face puffed from loss of sleep. They had never seen their President in such a vulnerable state before.

‘I need your agreement, Muis, if we are to move now. The President may
not survive much longer, particularly with the pressure he's under to resign. If I
were to speak to him, and tell him that the Mufti Muharam will stand behind
me, he could be swayed into agreeing that I become his interim President for the
remainder of his term. You know how the Bapak feels about you and your Party.

He is very supportive. But the military is most unlikely to agree to my assuming
leadership, unless we continue with our original strategy.'

Muis firmly believed that had the President seen it in his heart to appoint his son-in-law, Praboyo, as army chief-of-staff, then this conversation may not have taken place. Muis had no doubt that Praboyo would have then used his new powers to remove any who threatened his ascent to the Presidency, including outspoken Muslim leaders. Still, he listened.

Praboyo offered a unique opportunity and Muis knew he would be foolish not to accommodate the young general, at least, for now.

‘
Towards the end of the President's original term we will call an election,
only this will be won not by the ruling Perkarya Party. Instead, as we have
agreed, Perkarya will be abolished. As President, I will issue this decree. In its
place, Mufti Muharam will become the vehicle to maintain our control. Those
amongst the military who have openly voiced their opposition against me will
be replaced, commencing with the Christian generals. As Vice President and
leader of more than thirty million faithful followers, the results of any future
election would be a forgone conclusion. How could we not win?'

Praboyo was convinced that this result could be achieved. His concerns with openly identifying with the Moslem parties would, he knew, cause the Americans to distance themselves, perhaps even withdraw their support.

Once he had assumed the Presidential mantle, the general was confident that the United States would reconsider their position. After all, he would be the leader of the world's largest, if not most powerful, Moslem nation.

They would have to deal with him.

Muis listened attentively, his real feelings towards the President's sonin-law masked by his expressionless features. The Moslem leader needed this man. He would use him, building his own power base until the arrogant General Praboyo's services were no longer required. Muis accepted that it would be almost impossible, at this time in the country's development, for any Moslem party to consider contesting an election without the full support of the military. And that was most unlikely, considering the stranglehold senior officers held over both Houses. The one thousand seat Parliament was controlled by the President, his family, cronies and all of the military factions. The ruling party, the
Perkumpulan Karya
or, as it had more commonly referred to,
Perkarya,
was in fact a functional group consisting of factions from all levels of society, and controlled both the Lower and Upper Houses of Parliament. Even the President's children occupied seats in government. Muis pragmatically accepted that without Praboyo's assistance, it would be nigh impossible for him to achieve his own dreams; an Islamic state, with Haji Abdul Muis as its leader.

Then there was the question of Haji Muhammed Malik and his
Ulama
Akbar Party.
Muis had been only too willing to identify with the other Moslem group which could boast more than twice his own following.

That they had covertly agreed to throw their support behind the President's son-in-law had really been the catalyst for Muis' own commitment.

Although Malik's strength lay in the number of followers he could call upon, it was Abdul Muis' party which had taken the more aggressive and openly critical position in relation to the current economic crisis, providing leadership to the entire Moslem community.

Muis considered the man before him to be the ultimate opportunist, but he would use the powerful general as Praboyo was guaranteed the Presidency by virtue of his marriage into the Suhapto family. Muis acknowledged that there were others far more suitable to lead the country.

However, these were all senior officers in the military, and unlikely to be willing to share power with another. Muis realized, as did Praboyo, that his ascent to the Presidency would be met with considerable resistance, not only from within the military, but also from Indonesia's near-destitute people. The
rakyat
had watched as the First Family had used their positions to accumulate wealth at the expense of the people, and would not be amenable to any of the Suhapto clan assuming the nation's helm. Their legacy of graft, corruption, and intimidation had deeply scarred the country, leaving the people bitter towards those in power. But if Praboyo were to be openly supported by the
Mufti Muharam,
this would provide him with a Moslem mandate and a sense of legitimacy to his position. It would be a comfortable relationship; at least for the first few years. For now, they both needed each other. The Haji smiled.

‘Of course you have my trust and support,'
Muis answered, outwardly pleased.
‘The Mufti Muharam will stand with you ‘Boyo. I have spoken to the
other ulamas. They will continue to support us on the basis that we do change the
Constitution; Indonesia will become an Islamic state. Secondly, I have assured
them that in my role as Vice President, I will continue to maintain my leadership position with the Mufti Muharam.'

General Praboyo was ecstatic. This was the answer he had hoped to hear. Armed with this information he was confident of securing support from the remaining senior officers who, until then, had been reluctant to commit. His face broke into a wide, relieved grin.

‘Then it seems that we both have a great deal of work ahead.'

Their alliance sealed, the two powerful men rose to their feet and smiled warmly, their faces in no way reflecting the real content of their hearts with respect to their ultimate designs for the other. The conspirators parted, the historical moment passing unrecorded as General Praboyo hurried back to Jakarta, while Haji Abdul Muis remained behind, preparing for his own great leap into the Indonesian political arena.

* * * *

‘…and in line with the company's articles of association, the directors, with the deepest regret, now advise its shareholders, staff and government bodies that Perentie Limited is insolvent, and has been placed in immediate liquidation.'

Reporters pushed and shouted as the announcement was made, each screaming for more information as the amazing revelations were disclosed by the company's Chairman. Within minutes the shock waves were felt thoughout Asia sending stock markets to new lows on all exchanges.

With amazing speed, staff and records were removed from the investment house's offices, leaving stunned thousands wondering how this could have happened to what had been previously considered the darling of the fund management industry.

Fighting erupted as staff, both local and foreign, exited the company premises, disbelieving that their blue-chip organization had, indeed, collapsed taking hundreds of millions of dollars with it. Across the South China Sea, the following morning witnessed sixteen Indonesian banks close their doors in Jakarta, leaving desperate depositors lining the footpaths outside, shocked and bewildered by the closures. Two of these were directly controlled by Nuri Suhapto who, upon hearing that her banks had been forced to close by the Central Bank, immediately demanded that the Governor rescind his instructions, and permit her to trade. But Governor Sutedjo remained adamant, citing IMF demands to justify his actions.

An atmosphere of gloom enveloped the region as the Rupiah continued its plunge, and the public transport system collapsed leaving tens of thousands of Moslems stranded throughout the country, unable to visit their families for the traditional religious holidays. Within days, the mood turned violent and, for the first time in more than three decades, the voice of the people shook the very foundations of the Suhapto dynasty, with major riots erupting throughout most major cities, resulting in looting and damage on a scale not seen since the anti-Japanese demonstrations of 1974.

* * * *

Tuti Suhapto threw the porcelain lamp across the room in anger before realizing that this had been a gift from Nuri, her older sister. Quickly, she examined the damage and decided to blame her servants for her tantrum, once Nuri discovered the missing piece. Tuti knew that this would surely happen, as nothing ever escaped her sister's persistent, prying manner.

The cause of this behavior, a note from an unknown party claiming to be her friend, remained crumpled on the floor. She stamped her foot, then angrily retrieved the
surat-kaleng
poison-pen letter, deciding that this time she would confront him with the evidence.

The President's daughter then stormed from the room, leaving broken, colorful porcelain pieces scattered across her private lounge. Her temper unabated, she then proceeded to her husband's study and, without knocking, opened the door and flung this open as if expecting to catch Praboyo
corpus
indelecti
with one of the staff.

‘Boyo….,'
she screamed, her voice carrying through the magnificent mansion, sending fear through the servants' quarters. Without exception, they had all fallen victim at one time or another to their lady's scathing verbal attacks, and violent tantrums. Her voice cut off in midair when Tuti realized that Praboyo was indeed not alone, and she moved quickly to recover her situation.

‘Oh, Boyo,'
she cried, the trembling in her voice not altogether fabricated,
‘one of the servants has broken my favorite lamp!'
She then bit her lip, placed her hands together in front, and addressed her father.
‘I'm sorry,
Bapak, I didn't know you were here,'
she apologized, knowing that her submissive behavior would do the trick. The President smiled knowingly, and permitted his daughter to move closer, kissing him affectionately on the cheek.

‘Don't be so upset,'
he admonished in a fatherly tone. Tuti seized the opportunity.

‘But Bapak, it was a gift from Nuri!'
she protested, feigning disappointment at the tragic loss of the unwanted item. Her father merely smiled, then patted her hand lovingly.

‘I'm sure your sister will be able to find a replacement,'
he said, and for a moment her temper threatened to flare, recognizing in her husband's eyes how close she had come to revealing the true state of their domestic situation.

‘I'm sorry to interrupt you, Bapak,'
she offered, retreating from the room.

‘I'll come over to the house later if that's all right.'

‘Bring the children,'
the President suggested, pleased with his large family. With this, Tuti excused herself and then went in search of something else to occupy her time until her father departed, and she could confront Praboyo alone.

She need not have waited, for immediately after the President stepped outside to walk with his personal security the short distance to his own home, Praboyo had climbed into his Mercedes and was half-way out the gate before Tuti realized what was happening. She wanted to run outside after her husband but decided against this, returning instead to her bedroom where she changed, then called her own driver, instructing him to take her to an address in suburban Tebet.