The Fifth Season (39 page)

‘These are unfounded lies. The
Mufti Muharam
has never encouraged its followers to engage in such activities. Who told you this?' he demanded, his voice still under control. He had expected a more enlightened approach from the foreign journalist. Muis wanted his face on Time and News Week covers, but not as a leader accused of harboring religious fanatics, even if this were true.

‘I have seen the reports, Pak Haji,' she challenged, ‘and photographs evidencing the racial violence.'

‘Do you have them with you?' he asked, knowing that she would not.

‘No,' she said, wishing she had thought to bring them.

‘Then how can I comment on something I have never seen?'

‘Are you saying that the
Mufti Muharam
is a non-violent organization?'

‘Yes, of course. Islam does not encourage those things you have suggested.'

‘But they still happen, Pak Haji, just the same.'

‘Not here,' he argued, ‘not in East Java.' Mary Jo could not believe her ears, recognizing that this line of questioning was going nowhere, fast.

‘Sources in Jakarta state that it is your intention to declare a Jihad against all things not Moslem in Indonesia.' Now Mary Jo had crossed into the territory he had hoped she would visit. Foreign journalists were considered more credible than their local counterparts. His sources confirmed that this woman's credentials were such, any interview conducted by her would be given fair treatment. He had hoped she would want to know more about him, his life, his character, and his beliefs. Now, he feared, the interview might turn out to be detrimental to his cause.

‘Sources in Jakarta?' he laughed, but she could tell it was forced. ‘What would sources in Jakarta know about what we, in the
Mufti Muharam
plan for our people?'

‘But you have already stated publicly that Indonesia must become a Moslem state. If this is so, what will happen to the thirty million who are not amongst your followers?'

‘They can convert,' he said, simply.

‘And if they don't?' she pushed, and a cynical smile formed on Muis' lips.

‘Then they can leave,' he said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

‘Thirty million people?' Mary Jo could see that he was serious. ‘What will you do if they refuse?' Abdul Muis' face hardened, his eyes blinked, and he clasped his hands together.

‘They will leave,' he said, his voice now barely audible, sending another cold chill along her spine. Suddenly, an aide appeared out of nowhere and went to his side, whispering in the mullah's ear.

‘I am sorry, but I have been called away,' he announced, rising to his feet. Disappointed, Mary Jo also rose, wondering if her line of questioning had resulted in the interview's termination.
How had he signaled his aide?

Mary Jo departed, cursing herself for being overly aggressive. She climbed into the waiting vehicle and snapped at the driver to take her back to the hotel, reflecting on her meeting with the
Ulama.
As the driver wove his way through Surabaya's congested streets, Mary Jo could not rid herself of the uneasy feeling that Haji Abdul Muis was indeed seriously considering how to remove thirty million people from Indonesia's shores.

* * * *

Mary Jo's suspicion that the interview had been terminated deliberately, was indeed correct. But not for the reason she had assumed. Within minutes of her departure Abdul Muis was on his way to Surabaya's harbor, where he waited patiently for the Panamanian registered freighter's crew to finish tying up alongside.

‘Asalamalaikum,'
each of the men replied as Muis welcomed each of the men, once they had been assembled away from the gangway.

‘We are very proud to have you here,'
he praised the men. ‘the
Mufti
Muharam
will sing your praises in time to come.'

Muis then watched as the men climbed into the back of a waiting truck, and then driven away to the specially prepared camp built on his land, deep in the East Java countryside.

Satisfied that the presence of the foreign contingent went unobserved, Abdul Muis then returned to his Surabaya home, and composed a brief coded message for Osama bin Ladam, informing him that his recruits had arrived.

The Armed Forces Chief of Staff glared across the room at his lackluster President Hababli, annoyed with the man's propensity for attracting criticism. Hababli had been described by both the international and domestic press in the most unflattering way, his credentials to lead questioned repeatedly. His attempts to seal his legitimacy by soliciting a formal invitation to visit the United States had borne no fruit. Politically, the capricious President was naïve, his support base erased by his ineffective style.

Winarko was also furious with Hababli for his off-the-cuff remarks and whimsical style of leadership.

In a country which prided itself on discussion and consensus, disunity now prevailed. The President's reaction to Haji Abdul Muis' startling declaration had been to lift the nation-wide evening curfew, a move which severely provoked his generals. Winarko had moved quickly to heal the rift but the damage had already been done. The chief of staff realized that he had lost some credibility amongst his staunchest supporters for permitting both Abdul Muis and Hababli to achieve the prominence they had.

‘He certainly enjoys the role,'
Admiral Sujono commented, following Winarko's gaze. The General turned his head slightly, dropping his voice to a whisper.

‘Hope he doesn't become too accustomed to it.'
The Navy chief grinned in a conspiratorial manner, hiding this behind a heavily-starched white napkin.

‘Sometimes I wonder if the Rupiah would recover if we were just to remove
him completely,'
Winarko commented rhetorically. He was reminded of the time when Hababli's name was mooted as a potential Vice Presidential candidate under Suhapto. The currency had plummeted with the news.

Then, in his first weeks as the interim President, Winarko was speechless when Hababli announced his cure for the nation's food shortage problems.

At a gathering of more than one million faithful, gathered for prayers, Hababli called upon the nation's Moslems to fast on Mondays and Thurs-days, in an attempt to cut rice imports.

‘It couldn't get much worse,'
the other man suggested,
‘perhaps it's worth
giving it a try?'
Winarko realized that the Admiral was only echoing the thoughts of many within the
ABRI
leadership. They had urged him to take the Presidency for himself. Even the Americans had recommended that he do so but the General resisted making such a move. He needed to unlock the vast treasures the Hababli and Suhapto families had concealed offshore. Then he could also rid himself of the upstart he'd banished to Bandung.

A scowl appeared on the Chief of Staff 's face as an image of the cocky, young Praboyo flashed through his mind. For a brief moment, the risk of losing any future access to the Suhapto fortune appeared tempting. Winarko believed he could happily dispose of this thorn in his side without loss of conscience, or sleep, and was confident that the day would arrive when General Praboyo would wish he had never crossed the line.

Winarko was painfully aware that the former
Kostrad
commander still enjoyed considerable support within the officer ranks and that any further move against Praboyo would most likely encounter formidable resistance.

This had been evident when attempts to bring him to trial over the student shootings had clearly identified growing and substantial support for the sidelined, and now disgraced officer. He glanced back at the man sitting alongside.

‘All in good time, Admiral. All in good time.'
General Winarko cast his eyes around the formal reception, wondering if the IMF would be pleased with the extravagant scene. Ice sculptures set along the center of the dining area dominated the room, the delicately carved forms depicting a number of dolphins frolicking together. Red linen tablecloths covered long, narrow tables around which a skirt of white cloth had been hung, the colors representing the nation's flag. Silver filigree figures adorned each table, while the most brilliant orchids stood majestically in crystal vases completing the elegant setting. Winarko could see that no expense had been spared by the President's household, and considered the extravagant display a clear indictment of Hababli's inability to understand the national mood.

As his eyes roamed, he identified several of the more senior ambassadors amongst the guests, and the General became increasingly uncomfortable, conscious of what they might be thinking. His nation had become bogged in a quagmire of desperation, the result of Haji Abdul Muis' declaration. Winarko realized that the international community was anxious to see how he would react to Abdul Muis' most recent challenge but it would have to wait. There were more important issues he would have to address before taking up the sword against his fellow Javanese. Somewhere across the vast room someone rang a bell, bringing the guests to silence.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,'
the voice announced,
‘I give you the President
of the Republic of Indonesia.'
There was a distinct scraping of chairs as Hababli rose to his feet and smiled benevolently at the assembly. He stood, hands clasped close to his chest, his eyes locked on the slowly-melting ice sculptures which blocked most of his view.

‘Firstly, I wish to thank my honored guests for attending this function at
such short notice.'
Winarko heard the Admiral alongside mutter audibly and ignored the uncomplimentary remark. Hababli opened with the customary pleasantries, talking of friendships and alliances, before arriving at the crux of his speech.

‘As you can see, with the lifting of the curfew previously imposed as a result
of student unrest, conditions are returning to normal.'
Many of those present looked at each other, skepticism written clearly across their faces. The city's streets were still ringed with barbed-wire, and the military's strong presence still evident with tanks, armored vehicles and barriers positioned strategically round the capital.

‘At a time when our great nation continues to count the cost of the disastrous
climatic effects brought by El Nino and La Nina, we found it necessary to ask the
world donor countries to assist us, once again. As you know, the IMF and World
Bank packages which provided funding to Indonesia over the past year were not
sufficient for our country to rebuild its economy and meet the targets outlined in
those agreements. We have applied for further assistance but have been advised
that due to the needs of others such as Russia, Japan and Korea, further funds
will not be forthcoming.'
The guests remained silent as they were painfully aware of the problems. Indonesia had received close to seventy billion dollars over the past eighteen months, most of which disappeared down some man-made black hole. International agencies such as the IMF would not advance any further funds, even if these had been available. The constant drain on resources over the past year had left the Fund coffers nigh on empty, with the American Government refusing to inject further capital until real reform took place, as had been promised previously.

‘Tonight, I wish to take the opportunity to make two announcements.'

This was greeted with an audible sigh somewhere close to where General Winarko was sitting. The Chief of Staff covered his face with one hand, his head moving ever so slightly from side to side as he waited for what might follow.

‘The first of these relates to our country's ongoing financial crisis. And, as
a result of in-depth discussions with my Ministers for Finance and Trade, I
have decided to implement radical reforms in relation to Indonesia's natural
resources.'
He cleared his throat, nervously, his eyes searching the room for support.

‘Commencing immediately, all profit sharing and production sharing
contracts which relate to the exploration, extraction or processing of natural
resources are temporarily suspended. I expect that this announcement will not be
received kindly but Indonesia is a nation in crisis, and these decisions are essential to the country's survival. In the future, when our economy has recovered, I
would welcome the foreign companies involved to return and re-negotiate their
contracts.'
President Hababli paused, perspiration evident across his forehead. Ignoring the shocked expressions before him, he continued.

‘The second announcement concerns the position of Vice President which,
as you are all aware, has become vacant due to Haji Abdul Muis' resignation.

According to our revised Constitution, this position should now be occupied by
the senior House Speaker but, as there is none, I have asked Madame Megatante
to fill this position.'

General Winarko looked up sharply, his face covered with dismay. He glanced at the other senior officers present, and it was obvious from their expressions that none had any advance warning of Hababli's intentions.

His mind raced quickly. Hababli had either been very clever or extremely stupid again. The woman whose name had been mentioned headed one of the democratic movements which had been annihilated at the recent elections. Her late father was still considered by some to have been the greatest hero of the Indonesian Revolution. Winarko knew that by announcing her appointment in this manner, Hababli had cleverly circumvented the need to seek
ABRI's
consent which, undoubtedly, would not have been forthcoming. The shock of the first announcement had been lessened by the second amongst the foreign representatives present. Madame Megatante was held in high esteem amongst Western nations, which were hopeful that she would challenge the nation's leadership and bring the country back on track.