Jakarta
Captain Imam Suprapto joined the other air force officers observing the Gulfstream V jet parked out on the Halim Perdanakusumah apron, under lights.
‘What’s up?’ he asked, unaware that the aircraft belonged to Premier Executive Transport Services Inc, a CIA-owned shelf company whose office bearers were as fictitious as their Social Security numbers listed on federal and commercial records.
‘Foreign registration,’ a fellow-flyer remarked, pointing to the aircraft’s tail number N379P. The Gulfstream had landed shortly after dusk and taxied away from the main military terminal building, the jet immediately placed under the U.S. Embassy Marine guard watch.
Suddenly, there was a flurry of activity, Imam Suprapto and his fellow officers then witnessing what the CIA referred to as “rendition” ops where U.S. government agents slipped into friendly countries and secretly whisked detainees away under a still-classified directive signed by President Bush within days of the Sept. 11, 2001. An unmarked van had been driven alongside the Gulfstream and a prisoner dragged from inside. CIA agents wearing hoods covering their faces stepped down from the aircraft and assumed custody of the man.‘They’re Americans!’ Iman exclaimed.
‘What in the hell…?’ another slammed his fist against the heavy-duty glass. ‘Who’s that they’re taking?’
Flabbergasted, Imam could only watch as American agents bundled their captive into the Gulfstream V.
‘They’d have to be operating with our government’s approval,’ he muttered, annoyed with what was taking place. ‘Wonder who their prisoner is?’
The group continued to monitor the activity below, ignorant of the identity of Muhammad Saad Iqbal Madni, an Egyptian traveling on a Pakistani passport who had been kidnapped by U.S. agents in Indonesia and was now on his way to Cairo. There, he would be subjected to coercive interrogation techniques during months of brutal treatment.
What Imam Suprapto and his fellow flyers had just witnessed was the Bush Administration’s secret program of transferring suspected terrorists to friendly countries for interrogation, in action. The Indonesian pilot was not aware, however, that the mission was in total contradiction to the “Convention Against Torture” – the international agreement that bars signatories from engaging in extreme interrogation techniques.
Imam’s attention remained locked on the operation as it came to a close with the Gulfstream tearing down the runway and lifting into the evening air. The excitement over, he then returned to his bachelor quarters to catch up on outstanding correspondence.
Imam Suprapto had not been successful with his many transfer requests over the years, relegated to more of an observer status with the Hercules squadron due to the diminished number of serviceable aircraft. The U.S. unofficial embargo on spare parts had all but crippled the squadron. Even with the growing exodus of pilots leaving the military for more lucrative positions in the private sector, the opportunity to fly was infrequent and the morale amongst the crews now at an all time low.
The Captain ceased writing and switched on his TV set connected around the barracks to a communal TVRO that permitted access to free-to-air broadcasts. For a while he watched CNN, the monotonous news repeats causing his mind to wander, Imam drifting into sleep with the imagery of the Egyptian captive being forced into the Gulfstream, buried deep within his mind.
Dressed inconspicuously in civilian attire Colonel Agus Supadi stood at the back of the Benoa Harbour meeting hall and listened intently, as the fishermen voiced their disapproval over the presence of U.S. Navy ships, in their domain.
‘It happens every year when they visit,’ their spokesman complained, ‘they come into Bali as if they own our waters, establishing security perimeters that make it impossible for our fishing fleet to set to sea.’ A chorus of support reverberated through the meeting.
‘Our fishing fleets are not safe when they venture out. Just last week an American aircraft carrier ploughed through our waters sinking a number of our boats.’ The mood was turning ugly. ‘We are putting you on notice,’ he directed his warning to the local member of Parliament, ‘that we intend claiming compensation for our losses.’ The statement was greeted by an affirmative roar and with fisherman waving fists in the air. ‘We are not intimidated by the American ships and demand that our government moves their moorings somewhere that does not interfere with our traditional livelihood.’
‘We will ask the harbor authorities to consider your request,’ Ida Bagus Budiharma promised.
‘We have been given the same undertaken for the past four years,’ the spokesman assumed the floor again, ‘going back to when the U.S.S. Bellawood spewed its three thousand sailors and marines onto our shores.’
With the mention of the aircraft carrier the fishermen’s mood deteriorated further. The ship had been circling Indonesia at the time ready to evacuate Americans as civil unrest escalated across the archipelago following the Asian currency collapse. The carrier had entered Benoa Harbour blocking all other shipping, its impressive array of Harrier jets and Cobra attack helicopters with their 50-caliber machine guns on display, intimidating in every way.
‘The Americans support our tourist industry when they’re here,’ the official attempted to pacify, ‘and now that Bali has been approved as an R&R destination for their forces, we have been advised that close to one thousand sailors and marines will be on permanent rotation here.’ He challenged the fishermen’s spokesman. ‘You have a valid complaint and we will have that addressed. However, anti-American demonstrations have the potential of damaging Bali’s image as a hospitable destination and the authorities ask that you cease such activities immediately.’
‘Good,’ the spokesman lifted his forehead measurably, comfortable with the compromise. ‘All we want is compensation;’ he glanced around confidently, ‘after that we don’t care how much the Americans spend on the Javanese whores in Kuta.’
Colonel Supadi came to the conclusion that there was no opportunity here. His attendance had been to determine whether the fishermen’s complaints could be exploited and directed towards his own interests and, disappointed with the outcome, slipped away unobserved to fill in a few hours in Kuta before his return to Jakarta. Not one to frequent tourist venues he was amazed at the number of Americans with their short-cropped military haircuts packing the bars – miffed when he was initially refused entry to the Sari Club which, he discovered, maintained a policy of no entry for the locals.
Upon his return to Jakarta, Supadi was summoned by General Sumantri. The Jemaah Islamiyah operational arm had called its principle players to a high-level meeting in Bangkok, and the General insisted that Supadi meet with Hambali to reassure the JI leadership of his ongoing support.
The Jemaah Islamiyah’s senior administrator, Noor Din bin Mohamed Top picked around the cavity in a tooth, wincing as he dislodged the offending gristle.
‘We have been sloppy. Before he left for the Middle East, Jabarah told me Khalid was most disappointed.’ Noor then tested the gap between his teeth with the tip of his tongue and, satisfied that the problem was resolved, spooned another mouthful of braised lamb into his mouth.
‘Jabarah is no longer here,’ Dr Azahari Husin sounded pleased. Husin referred to Mohammed Mansour Jabarah, a Kuwaiti-born Canadian who had been ordered by Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, chief of al-Qaeda’s military committee and mastermind of the September 11 attacks, to assist in the group’s S.E. Asian operations. Jabarah’s brief had been to assist and to escalate the Jemaah Islamiyah’s war against American interests in the region.
Upon his arrival in Singapore four months earlier he had plotted a series of truck bomb attacks against foreign legations in the island republic – the operation failing when Singapore’s Internal Security Department discovered their plan. Jabarah had fled to Bangkok and acting upon Hambali’s advice, returned to Oman where he acted as Riyadh’s financial conduit for sanctioned JI’s activities.
The others turned to their leader, Hambali, who raised his head. ‘I have been in communication with Jabarah and agree with Khalid’s suggestions that we change direction in terms of the type of target we select.’
‘Such as…?’ Husin asked. The Malaysian had earned his PhD in engineering from Reading University in the United Kingdom and in no way considered Jabarah his peer. Husin had also received extensive training in Afghanistan and was considered the JI’s senior bomb expert, teaching others his deadly art, when he was not lecturing at the Malaysian University of Technology in Johor.
‘Azis has an idea that might fit,’ Ali Ghufron was keen to have Imam Samudra’s suggestions tabled as his close associate had been unable to attend the Bangkok meeting. And, if Ghufron supported the idea and as he was the next in line to replace Hambali as regional commander, he expected that the others present would fall into line. ‘Azis raised the suggestion a few weeks back and I believe the plan has merit.’
‘What’s the proposed target?’ Noor asked. He, too, had fled Malaysia for Thailand when Singapore’s authorities commenced raiding homes and offices of anyone suspected of having ties with the Jemaah Islamiyah. Together with Wan Min bin Wan Mat, Noor was most active in raising funds for the terrorist cells.
‘Indonesia’s soft underbelly,’ Ghufron revealed, ‘Bali.’
‘Why Bali?’ Zulkepli bin Marzuki asked. The wealthy Malay businessman was a close aide of Hambali and had acted as point man for the JI whenever Saudis visited Kuala Lumpur. He was also loyal to Abu Bakar Bashir.
‘Because the island is full of American tourists,’ Ghufron argued, ‘and the place is decadent, full of foreign women running around bare-breasted on the beaches, guzzling alcohol and taking drugs.’
‘And, being a Hindu community, any collateral damage wouldn’t impact too severely on our Muslim brothers and sisters,’ Noor added, warming to the idea. ‘Besides, Bali and the Christian provinces are like warts on a believer’s nose. I, for one, support the idea.’
‘When you look at it, Bali makes the perfect target,’ Ghufron continued. ‘Firstly, the island is wide open; security is almost non existent and we could move materials across from Banju-wangi through Gilimanuk without raising suspicion. Secondly, the tourist destination is known internationally with more than four to five million visitors each year. A successful strike would be rewarded with the world focusing on the attack…and that, in turn, would make the Americans sit up and listen to what we have to say.’
Hambali raised a hand silencing the meeting. Before the Singapore authorities had wrecked their local operations he had planned to bomb visiting U.S. warships, his conversation with General Supadi’s envoy, Supadi, coming to mind.
Suddenly, his head was awash with images of drunken American sailors and marines from the U.S. Navy’s Seventh Fleet dying in such an attack. ‘More importantly, Bali has also become the home for American ships,’ he stressed, ‘and that makes it a prime target.’
‘Bapak Bashir would need to be convinced,’ Marzuki reminded those present.
Hambali locked eyes with the Malay. Their spiritual leader’s position had become decidedly factious following the September 11 attacks, Marzuki conveying Bashir’s concerns to the more radical JI elements that the West was likely to be more responsive to any new attacks. ‘This is an operational matter,’ Hambali asserted, ‘and as such, the decisions will be made here, today.’
‘Then we should vote,’ Noor proposed, the group unanimously then agreeing to the target.
‘How would such an operation be funded?’ Wan Min bin Wan Mat, the JI’s bagman asked. Wan Mat’s appearance belied the man’s toughness. He had also received training in Afghanistan and in the Philippines, MILF camp in Mindanao following the foiled Bojinka plot.
‘I will arrange the funds,’ Hambali assured again assuming the leadership role. ‘and I propose that Ghufron heads the operation,’ and again, they all agreed.
Ali Ghufron aka Mukhlas nodded his assent. His mind raced ahead as to what tasks he would delegate to his brothers, Imron and Amrozi, back in Java. He was ecstatic; his selection to implement and lead the attack on Bali targets would raise his profile as an international leader, and further consolidate his claim to Hambali’s position as the Jemaah Islamiyah operations commander.
In South Sulawesi on the 12th February 2002 after two days of intense negotiations, Jack McBride witnessed Christians, Muslims and the Moluccan government sign an accord, the Malino II Agreement, designed to end three years of sectarian violence. The agreement was signed by thirty-five Muslim and thirty-five Christian representatives, along with thirty mediators and observers. The list of mediators included Coordinating Ministers Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono and Yusuf Kalla, Supreme Police Commander Da’i Bahtiar and the Governor of the Moluccas M. Latuconsina.
The agreement was widely hailed as the instrument that would finally bring peace to the people of Sulawesi and the Moluccas.
Among the eleven-point declaration were clauses stipulating that the people of Maluku would reject and oppose all kinds of separatist movements including the Republic of South Moluccas (RMS) and that all illegal armed organizations or militias were to be banned and disarmed and expel ed from the Moluccan provinces. The Laskar groups were specifically named and the agreement also stipulated that all members of these organizations were to surrender their weapons failing which, these would be confiscated and the offenders prosecuted.
Throughout that month and into March both the Muslim and Christian communities endeavored to maintain the peace, striving together to achieve a full reconciliation. When provocateurs attempted to reignite the violence Muslims and Christians marched together in solidarity. By the middle of March, roads had been reopened and harmony appeared to have been restored throughout Indonesia’s eastern provinces.
In Jakarta, General Sumantri called an emergency meeting of like-minded, senior officers which resulted in some suggesting that the Laskar Jihad, as a force, might have seen its day.
Saudi-born Samir bin Saleh al-Suwailem thanked his trusted fellow-field commander as he accepted the letter. He opened the document and read its contents, glancing up quizzically at his friend as the poison passed through the pours of his skin.
In the following days having endured many months of humiliating losses in Chechnya, the Kremlin claimed a major coup announcing that the Federal Security Service (FSB) had succeeded in killing one of the separatists’ top commanders, known by his nom de guerre, “Khattab.”
With Khattab’s passing the number of parties with knowledge of the Malaysian weapons’ repository was reduced to three.
Dulmatin requested a recess to accommodate his weak bladder. Before rejoining the others he checked outside to ensure security remained alert then re-entered his home where the meeting was about to come to a close.
Ali Ghufron, who now insisted on being called Mukhlas by both associates and siblings Amrozi bin Nurhasyim and Ali Imron, had summoned his team to discuss proposed targets for their next operation. The general consensus amongst those present was that the Church bombings carried out over the previous year had been only marginally effective, Imam Samudra pointing to the relatively low body count.
‘I have good contacts in Lombok,’ Samudra suggested, ‘and we could easily hit the Newmont gold mine there.’
‘What about the American Consulates in Bali or Surabaya?’ Dulmatin asked.
‘The number of foreign casualties would be limited.’ Annoyed, Mukhlas dismissed the idea. ‘We would do better to attack the foreign schools in Jakarta. No, the executive has agreed that Bali will be our target. What we need to do is select a location which will provide the largest collateral effect.’
‘Why select just the one target?’ Imron asked, keen to be heard.
Mukhlas pondered the question. ‘There’s no reason why we shouldn’t consider multiple locations.’
Imam Samudra butted in. ‘This will require a great deal of money.’
‘I’ll discuss the matter of funding with you later.’
Although Mukhlas’ war chest of forty-thousand dollars was significant he was committed to raising even more. Thirty-thousand had been provided by Wan Min on Hambali’s instructions and Abu Bakar Bashir had given him envelopes during their most recent meeting; one containing a further six thousand and the other, seventeen thousand Singapore dollars.
‘We can source most of the materials locally,’ their host assured. Dulmatin, whose real name was Joko Pitono, was considered to be something of a genius in the preparation of explosives. The Javanese car-dealer had been instrumental in designing the bomb used in the attack against the Philippines Ambassador. Trained by the Malaysian bomb-master Dr Azahari Husin, Dulmatin’s deadly expertise had also gained him entree into the Philippines MILF. ‘And our brothers in the Philippines will provide detonators if our contacts in PINDAD fall short,’ he assured, referring to the government-owned army ordnance division in Turen, near Malang in East Java. ‘We’ll need to identify the targets first in order to determine what our requirements will be.’
‘Who’ll make the final decision as to the targets?’ Samudra asked, rewarded with a sharp look from Mukhlas for exaggerating his authority. The meeting became hushed; there was never any doubt as to who was really in charge here.
Mukhlas moved on, ignoring Imam Samudra’s impertinence. ‘The executive agrees that October would be an appropriate timing for us to consider.’
The suggestion was greeted with enthusiastic grunts as those present deeply empathized with Afghanistan, and despised the Americans for their missile attack in October, 2001.
‘We shall send the United States and its allies a gift to help whilst they celebrate the first anniversary of Operation Enduring Freedom.’
Renewed violence on the island of Ambon shattered the uncertain peace when Maluku separatists from the FKM, Maluku Sovereignty Front raised the RMS flag, in defiance of new curbs on civil liberties and in a demonstration of their contempt for the Malino accord. The FKM had emerged eighteen months earlier as a revitalized RMS to defend Christians against Muslim attacks.
Alarmed that they might be considered no longer relevant, the Laskar Jihad enkindled the conflict by sending a team armed with TNI-issue automatic weapons and grenades, to attack Soya village on Ambon’s outskirts.
Shouting ‘Allah Akbar’, the men swept into the neighborhood massacring Christians, proceeding from house to house, shooting into those who had been unable to flee. Outraged by bombs being detonated in Ambon’s neutral areas mobs burned Governor Saleh Latuconsina’s office. As the violence continued to grow, international NGOs and United Nation agencies commenced evacuating most of their foreign staff.
* * * *
‘Where are you going?’ Rima challenged, aghast at what she saw.
Armed with a deadly golok in one hand Johanis Matuanakotta was heading for the door.
‘The Muslims are attacking Soya Village.’
Rima had heard when news had swept Ambon. She had wanted desperately to view the action but out of concern for the governor’s proclivity to expel foreigners, she had elected to remain at home. The governor had issued an order weeks before banning foreigners from entering the province. Although her documents clearly indicated that she was permitted to reside in Ambon, Rima knew that any activity that might be construed as provocative could result in closure of her NGO. She stood hands on hips, blocking Matuanakotta’s exit. ‘Johanis, I forbid you to go!’
‘I must,’ he insisted, the deep resentment he harbored for the militant Muslim Laskar Jihad compelling him to join the fray.
‘You could be arrested,’ she warned, ‘or worse!’
He tried to brush her gently aside. ‘This is not your war, Rima.’
She gripped his arm with both hands, Johanis surprised by her strength. ‘I won’t let you do this!’
He tried to shake her free. ‘Let me go!’ he shouted angrily, the raised voices bringing Nuci, the housekeeper running into the room.
‘Aduh!’ she cried out in dismay, confronted by what she saw.‘Listen!’ Rima ignored Johanis’ mother-in-law, pulling firmly, dragging him away from the door, ‘I’ll strike a bargain with you if you stay.’
‘Listen to her!’ Nuci appealed, ‘do what she asks, Johanis. Please!’ ‘Get out of my way, Rima,’ he demanded, but not threateningly.
‘No!’ her grip tightened, ‘I’m not letting you go.’
Infuriated with Rima’s resolve and accepting that nothing short of a blow would release him from her grip Johanis glared across at Ruci, and shook his head in defeat. Slowly, he extricated himself from Rima’s vice-like hands. ‘You don’t understand,’ he protested and, in a demonstration of his exasperation, flung the menacing machete he carried against a near wall.
Rima took Johanis by the wrist and led him to the wicker-cane settee normally reserved for guests. ‘Nuci,’ bring some of those sago cakes you’ve been keeping in reserve.’ She sat alongside Johanis and held his hand. ‘I meant what I said about offering a reward, if you’d stay.’
Still piqued with troubled pride Johanis responded churlishly. ‘A cake for an errant student?’
‘Be patient and listen to what I have to say,’ she chided, releasing her hold. ‘I have decided to write to Amsterdam recommending you for a training scholarship.’
At first it appeared that Johanis had not heard as he sat quietly examining her face to see if it were true. Then, ‘You’re not just saying that to keep me from joining the other Cokers in the fight?’
‘No, Johanis,’ she affirmed, ‘I intend visiting Jakarta next month and while I’m there, I’ll inform our embassy of our intention to seek sponsorship for you.’
Johanis’ eyes widened with disbelief. ‘Is this true?’
Rima nodded, relieved that her news had the desired effect. ‘You have my promise.’
‘And this is for the… engineering apprenticeship?’ he asked, hopefully.
‘That’s what the recommendation will be,’ she answered. ‘However, the sponsoring body will want to know more about you,’ Rima wanted these words to sink in. ‘And that will require a security background check.’
Johanis felt the weight of the words as these spilled from her lips. ‘There may be some problems with that,’ he inferred, recalling his arrest, interrogation and brush with death.
After his near-encounter with death he had kept low for months, fearful of discovery. When he realized that the Laskar Jihad had not kept records of their prisoners he applied for replacement identification papers which were issued without question, upon payment of an appropriate fee.
Rima understood. ‘We’ll address that problem if it arises.’
In the weeks that followed, Laksar Jihad units destroyed village upon village, slaughtering innocents with unabated cruelty. Moluccan Protestant and Catholic Church leaders appealed to the U.N Secretary General, Kofi Annan, requesting that the issue be raised at the United Nations, Rima Passelima amongst the more vociferous critics when a response failed to arrive to address the forgotten war.
Determined to see Johanis out from under the influence of the Christian Coker gang and their vengeful reprisals she called Jakarta and made arrangements to visit.
Rima Passelima read the response confirming that Johanis Matuanakotta would soon be on his way to Hol and where he would undertake mechanic training, seemingly sponsored by KLM.
Whilst in The Netherlands Johanis would come under the influence of her masters at the Algemene Inlichtingen en Veiligheidsdienst (AIVD) which, twenty-four hours before had officially been known as the BVD ( Binnenlandse Veiligheidsdienst) the Dutch General Intelligence and Security Office. Somewhat out of the intelligence loop due to her deep cover assignment Rima relied on information from AIVD Assistant Director, Volkert van Leeuwen’s circuitous communication flow, to maintain contact and keep her up to speed regarding changes within the Dutch intelligence services.
She hailed a Bluebird taxi outside the Royal Netherlands Embassy in Kuningan and returned to her hotel, eagerly anticipating her dinner date with Greg Young.
Ian Jefferson mulled over the reports spread across his desk in the ONA’s fourth floor office located in the Australian embassy. It would seem that the American intelligence services were about to close ranks, with both the CIA and FBI under media attack for their perceived intelligence failures in relation to September 11. And, for Jefferson, this translated into a further slowing in the exchange of information between the United States and its ally, Australia. He checked the wall clock; his American counterpart was running late; the ONA specialist speculating that the CIA conduit was still rehearsing his explanation for that day. Jefferson expected that whatever information might be made available, the quality of the intelligence would not be of the level enjoyed in the period leading up to the brutal destruction of East Timor by Jakarta-backed militias.
At that time, Australia’s intelligence interests were represented by Merv Jenkins, the former head of the elite Australian, highly secret groups of commandos known as 660 Signal Troop which provided communications for ASIS agents overseas and Australian Special Forces operating clandestinely in East Timor. Jenkins, a specialist in covert ops resigned his commission to take up an appointment in Washington as the Australian Defence Intelligence Organisation (DIO) attaché for North America. He was charged with placating the Americans by improving the information flow from the Australian side, at a time when Washington suspected Canberra was withholding sensitive material from its U.S. partners. Jenkins’ assignment was complicated by the fact that Australian intelligence agencies resisted releasing any information relating to the country’s military operations in East Timor.
Jenkins had come under considerable CIA pressure when they concluded that he was withholding important intelligence relating to the post-Suharto regime. Convinced that he had the authority to pass AUSTEO (Australian Eyes Only) material to the Americans Jenkins did so, and at the time the two countries were negotiating a new agreement over the CIA’s joint spy base at Pine Gap near Alice Springs.
In a totally unrelated incident, Jean-Philippe Wispelaere, a former Australian DIO officer was enticed to Washington by undercover agents. He arrived from London carrying more than one thousand high-resolution U.S. satellite photographs he had stolen from the defence offices in Canberra. His arrest deepened the growing rift between the two countries. Jenkins moved to remedy the situation by providing highly sensitive intelligence to the Americans that Canberra would have preferred withheld. As Australia had staked its reputation on the position that the imminent East Timor independence vote would proceed calmly, denying reports that the Indonesian army was supporting the militia violence, the information passed by Jenkins embarrassed Canberra immensely.
When Langley desk officers examined the documents they knew that Australia had been withholding key information relating to Indonesian troop movements in East Timor and, consequently, demanded more from Jenkins. He complied, unaware that he was under surveillance, the investigation resulting in his being interrogated by Australian agents.
Jefferson recalled reading the report when, shortly thereafter, on his forty-eighth birthday Merv Jenkins was found dead, hanging outside his residence on Spy Hill in Arlington, the repercussions of his apparent suicide a lingering legacy that would haunt intelligence organizations for decades.
The phone rang startling the ONA liaison officer.
‘Gidday, mate,’ the American’s attempted Aussie accent caused Jefferson to wince, ‘I’m down in the lobby when you’re ready.’
* * * *
John Phillips, liaison officer for the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) sat down opposite the ONA attaché and flashed a factitious smile as he pushed a folder across the table. ‘A gift from the boys in Langley.’
He watched Jefferson unlock a drawer in his desk and remove a similar file. ‘Courtesy of the Office of National Assessments,’ the Australian countered, Phillips accepting the documents then casually flipping the cover open to read down the list of contents. ‘You guys still don’t have anyone on the ground in Ambon?’
‘Difficult with the travel restrictions in place,’ Jefferson replied, ‘most of our information is coming via local assets in Jakarta.’
Phillips roamed the list. ‘More on Eluay’s murder?’
‘Canberra feels that it’s significant.’
‘Guess so.’ Phillips fished for further response relating to the Papuan separatist leader’s assassination by Indonesian Special Forces. ‘I’ll bet there weren’t many tears shed by your people Down Under when he went?’
‘Quite the contrary, Theys Hiyo Eluay was highly regarded back home.’
‘Well, Jakarta couldn’t survive with another East Timor on its plate.’
‘Aceh is of far more consequence right now.’
‘And Ambon,’ Phillips added. ‘The troubles there just don’t seem to want to go away.’
‘The conflict doesn’t attract much media in Australia.’
‘That can only be a positive for Indonesian-Australian relationships.’
‘We could do with some level of improvement,’ Jefferson suggested, ‘we damn near came to blows when our troops arrived in Timor.’
Phillips steered the conversation back to Theys Eluay’s death. ‘Will the Kopassus arrests over Theys’ removal impact on your Special Forces in any way?’
‘Not really,’ Jefferson answered, ‘there’s not been any real contact between our SAS and Kopassus to speak of since ’98.’
‘Any substance to the claim that the TNI is backing Laskar Jihad-style militias in Papua?’
‘Unfortunately yes,’ Jefferson confirmed, ‘the Indonesian army’s “Red & White” task force operating around Wamena has been recruiting locals for such a force.’
‘You’d better keep your fingers crossed that Jakarta can keep a lid on the secessionists there,’ Phillips warned, ‘West Papua is a goddamn site richer in natural resources than that back-water, East Timor. If there’s any real threat of an uprising you can bet Jakarta will hang onto the province with everything she’s got.’ He picked the file up as if preparing to leave. ‘Can’t stay long, I’m afraid,’ he said, preparing the ground for the real purpose of his visit. ‘Oh, and before I go, Langley asked me to mention that they would appreciate anything you might come across that corroborates linkage between the cleric, Abu Bakar Bashir’s Jemaah Islamiyah network and Riyadh.’
Jefferson appeared to search his memory. ‘Can’t say I’ve come across anything even closely related to…what’s his name?’
‘Bashir,’ Phillips repeated, ‘Abu Bakar Bashir. He’s reportedly the spiritual leader of this new militant group.’ The DIA officer then frowned. ‘Your department doesn’t have anything at all on the JI?’
‘Can you be more specific?’ Jefferson was now taking notes.
Phillips had the response he wanted ‘No, not really,’ he lied, ‘you know Langley; they see a puff of smoke and start preparing for forest fires.’
‘I’ll check with Canberra and let you know if they have anything,’ the Australian promised.
‘Okay, that’s fine,’ Phillips responded casually, ‘there’s no real priority. Langley just wants to fill in some missing pieces.’ He deliberately glanced at his watch.
‘Time for lunch?’ Jefferson asked.
Phillips closed the file and locked it inside his briefcase. ‘I’ll take a rain check on that,’ he said without warmth, ‘give me a call towards the weekend and we’ll see if we can squeeze in a game of golf?’
* * * *
During the drive back to Langley, John Phillips ruminated on the U.S.’s evolving relationship with its ally, Australia, and the impact George W. Bush’s determination to engage in a large-scale military operation against Iraq would have on shared-intelligence procedures. Support for any U.S.-led invasion was dwindling with the international community challenging the legality and justification for the President’s new doctrine of “pre-emption” leaving the Administration as determined as ever, to do whatever was necessary to build international support for the war against Saddam Hussein.
As a senior analyst, Phillips could articulate a myriad of reasons for such an attack; acts of genocide against the Kurds, the invasion of Kuwait, Saddam’s capacity to reacquire weapons of mass destruction and, of course, the question of how to monopolize development of the region’s massive oil reserves. However, he admitted silently, although the White House was desperate to prove otherwise, there was no evidence that Iraq had been linked in any way whatsoever to the al-Qaeda attacks of September 11. And, with the U.S.’s staunchest allies, Britain and Australia continuing their equivocal stance, the Administration ordered its intel igence agencies to do whatever was necessary to assist President Bush build his case for war.
John Phillips’ brief had been to ascertain whether the Australians might have been aware of Mohammed Mansour Jabarah’s existence. He was advised not to mention Jabarah’s name specifically, the DIA liaison officer now confident that the Australians remained ignorant of Jabarah’s arrest in Oman, and his current whereabouts in FBI custody.
Phillips was a member of the limited circle aware of Jabarah’s revelations. The al-Qaeda-linked, Jemaah Islamiyah financial conduit to Riyadh had been arrested in the Middle East following his meeting with Hambali in Thailand. He had revealed that Hambali had suggested Jabarah abandon his activities in the Asian theatre out of concern that he would be identified and arrested. Then came the bombshell – Hambali had shared a critical piece of information during their farewell meeting hoping that this revelation would result in a substantial cash injection from his Saudi benefactors.
According to Jabarah, Hambali had told him that al-Qaeda, through the Jemaah Islamiyah network, had changed its strategy and was now focusing on identifying “nightclubs frequented by Americans” for an unprecedented attack, in Bali.
Under interrogation in Oman, Jabarah also revealed that Hambali had codenamed the operation, “White Meat”, John Phillips now deeply conscious of the risks his government had assumed in not immediately disseminating information relating to the threat to those most at risk – nonplussed as to why the White House had ordered that this important intelligence would not be shared.
When Greg Young’s driver opened the BMW’s rear door, Rima Passelima covered her nose, assailed by the stench from a nearby bus’ exhaust fumes.
‘My God, Greg,’ she climbed from the sedan and peered up at the two-hundred-year old building. ‘I hope they keep the windows closed inside.’
Young followed, steering her to the Café’ Batavia’s doors, misunderstanding the reason for her comment, ‘where would the locals be without Kota’s grand canal? His eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘But coming from Holland, surely you’d be used to that?’
Rima bristled. ‘Our canals don’t smell,’ she said, defensively, ‘but if you’d been there, you’d be aware of that.’
They entered a sprawling lounge-cum-bar, Rima immediately taken by the ambience, the art deco interior transporting the couple back through time into a Dutch East Indies colonial setting. They strolled across the ground floor lounge.
‘An oasis,’ Rima Passelima exclaimed, then looking up, ‘complete with gallery and all!’ She examined the wall smothered with memorabilia of the rich and famous. ‘You’re not here?’ she teased, Greg taking her elbow and leading his date up an alluring wooden staircase into the Churchill Bar. Rima soaked in the nostalgic atmosphere with its quaint vintage posters and ornate ceiling fans turning sedulously, stirring the humid, tropical air.
‘Let’s have a drink before we eat?’
‘Sure,’ Rima moved away from Churchill’s censorious glare and across to the crowded cowhide-covered bar where a crisp-uniformed bartender placed a bowl of reheated cashew nuts and took their order.
‘Do you enjoy jazz?’ Young asked as the band commenced another set.
Rima wrinkled her nose. ‘Let’s just say that I don’t have any in my CD collection back home.’
‘Well then, perhaps once you’ve heard this group play for awhile you might change your mind?’
‘I didn’t say I disliked jazz,’ Rima touched him consolingly on the arm, ‘it’s just that my preference runs to Duran Duran and Ronan Keating.’
They sat and talked, sipping their cocktails, re-establishing the rapport they had achieved when first introduced at Andrew Graham’s residence.
‘Are you in Jakarta on NGO business?’ Greg inquired.
‘Some,’ Rima could never reveal the true purpose of her visit. ‘Had to renew my visa and permits,’ she explained, ‘you know, the usual bureaucratic processes one must contend with in this country. When I cal ed your office last week and your secretary placed me on hold, I wasn’t sure you’d remember me,’ Rima confided.
‘Hard to accept that it’s been two years,’ Greg remarked, reminiscently.
‘Long time between drinks?’ she responded with an innocent air.
‘Especially for a thirsty man,’ he countered.
Rima pulled a face and challenged, good-naturedly, ‘Forgive the analogy but I just can’t visualize you not drinking from the trough for more than a few days… let alone two years.’
Greg was enjoying the badinage. ‘Metaphorically speaking…’ he started to respond but Rima slipped from the barstool and took him by the hand.
‘Enough…I’m hungry. Let’s eat?’
They dined in style, seated by a window overlooking Fatahillah Square, Greg observing Rima as she gazed out, her mind meandering in other pastures. ‘If only it could be like this in Ambon,’ she murmured.
‘How’s the NGO proceeding?’ he had expected the subject to arise earlier.
A waiter coasted to their table and topped Rima’s glass. She waited for the man to withdraw before responding. ‘Well, some of us were foolish enough to believe that the Malino Accord might just bring some semblance of peace to the area. For what it’s worth, I don’t believe anyone in Jakarta really gives a fuck what happens in the province. What sort of message do you think it sends the radicals when even the Vice President offi-ciates at a Laskar Jihad meeting and visits their leader, Thalib, while under detention?’
With the unexpected response Greg swallowed, then coughed when his drink went down the wrong way. ‘You’re… probably right,’ he managed, recovering his composure. ‘So why did you come here…and then stay?’
Rima became alert, lowering her voice to avoid a couple at the adjacent table overhearing. ‘My father is of Ambonese extraction,’ she revealed. Then, improvising, she concocted a story to validate her involvement with the NGO. ‘I had always wanted to spend time in Indonesia and when the opportunity arose, I jumped.’
‘Right into the proverbial,’ he joked.
‘Well, enough of me for now.’ She touched her lips gently with a napkin. ‘How’s Bimaton faring?’
Greg raised both hands defensively. ‘Let’s not ruin the evening.’
Curious, Rima persisted. ‘Is it something to do with the merger?’
‘It wasn’t a merger,’ he corrected, ‘more like a raid by the Malaysians.’
‘I sense that you didn’t come out of it too well?’
‘Bloodied but not devoured,’ he raised a smile. ‘In the long term it should work out but right now I am not al that enthused with seeing the company I started, in danger of being stripped.’
‘And that is likely to happen?’ she asked, surprised.
‘There is always the possibility when you have predators like Mohamed Aziz Derashid in charge of the roost.’
Rima searched her memory, unable to recall the Malaysian’s name. ‘And he is…?’
‘You’ve not heard of Derashid before?’ he asked, incredulous, ‘he’s one of Malaysia’s wealthiest tycoons. Derashid is young, single…’ he paused to signal the waiter for the check, ‘and something of an enigma.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, he keeps much to himself. You won’t find him in Kuala Lumpur social columns and, reportedly, is quite devout.’
‘He’s Muslim?’
‘Yes,’ Greg continued, ‘although I doubt you would catch him at the mosque.’
‘What happened to your partner in Bimaton?’
‘Agus Sumarsono would pale if he heard you call him that!’ Greg signed the bill then re-gathered his thoughts. ‘Origi-nally, I co-founded a construction group, Young & Budiono. We went public, did well. Then, like everyone else took a major hit with the Asian currency crisis. Agus Sumarsono was one of the largest shareholders. The company remained listed on the Jakarta exchange for a awhile but if the truth be known, Agus controlled most of the shares one way or another, through nominee holdings. Eventually it was de-listed and became part of the Bimaton Corporation.’
‘Isn’t that unlawful?’
‘What?’
‘Holding control through nominees without informing the Exchange.’
‘Certainly is,’ he snorted cynically, ‘and everyone does it. Anyway, it doesn’t make any difference now.’
‘So, Sumarsono has lost control of Bimaton but how does that affect you?’
‘Derashid owns Bulan Sabit Holdings in Malaysia which…’
‘Bulan Sabit?’ she interrupted, bemused, ‘what does that mean?’
‘Literally, Crescent Moon,’ he answered. ‘As I was explaining…’
Rima leaned across and touched his hand apologetically. ‘Sorry.’
Greg smiled, ‘as I was explaining,’ he started again, ‘Bulan Sabit Holdings now owns control of Bimaton Corporation.’
‘And how has this affected you personally?’ Rima asked, suddenly flushing when realizing she had overstepped the mark. ‘I’m…sorry, Greg, I didn’t mean monetarily.’
‘That’s all right,’ he smiled weakly; ‘there aren’t many secrets in this city.’ He selected a breadstick from the basket and broke it in two before the waiter could sweep everything away. ‘I’m just one of many waiting for the turnaround to occur.’
‘And then…?’ she left the question hanging.
‘And then,’ he stood, ‘how about we go back to my place and discuss it there?’
* * * *
Greg Young’s driver hit the brakes hard bringing the BMW to a halt. ‘Problem, tuan,’ he pointed up ahead in the direction of Jalan Cendana where the former president remained in residence. Demonstrators had taken advantage of the relaxed, late-evening security and crept into the exclusive Menteng zone to voice their ongoing disapproval at the government’s failure to prosecute Suharto.
Rima peered around the headrest blocking her view. ‘What’s wrong?’
Recognizing the danger he snapped at his driver. ‘Turn around and find another way home!’ The man obeyed, but before he could turn the wheel a rock shattered the windscreen and he panicked, steering the sedan towards the oncoming protestors.
‘For chrissakes, turn the car around!’ Greg bellowed, the BMW slowing as the driver struggled to see.
Within seconds the mob was upon them, the students attacking the sedan with rocks and homemade clubs as they screamed their anti-Suharto slogans in the air. A side window imploded under impact leaving the driver exposed, the punishing force of a follow-through-strike rendering the man unconscious. Rima screamed when her side window then came under attack, Greg Young yelling furiously for the students to let them go when the mob commenced rocking the BMW from side to side, leaving the occupants with nowhere to go. Rima cried out when her head cracked savagely against the door, consciousness leaving her as Greg dragged her to the floor. Suddenly, the violence ceased as quickly as it had started leaving the sedan rocking to a standstill, when startled students fled with armed police arriving on the scene.
‘It’s not all that serious,’ Rima insisted, touching the dressing gently with her fingertips, ‘so I don’t need to stay.’
‘The doctor thinks otherwise,’ Greg stood over the hospital bed. He had accompanied Rima in a police car to the St. Caro-lus Hospital.
‘I’d prefer to go back to my room in the hotel,’ she insisted, ‘it’s only a bruise.’
‘It’s concussion,’ he argued, ‘and you should remain under observation.’
‘All right; then how about taking me back to your place?’
Greg shook his head. ‘Would be smart to remain here for at least the night.’
‘Please?’
He threw his hands up in surrender. ‘Okay, I’ll check with the doctor.’
Imam Samudra cast Mukhlas and al-Faruq a furtive glance as they slunk alongside the perimeter fence to the east of Kali Mas Harbor reconnoitering the Tanjung Perak Harbor area where the Indonesian Navy moored its ships.
‘There!’ Samudra whispered, pointing through the early morning light.
Mukhlas stared at the grey silhouettes of four U.S. warships nestled in dock; the USS Vincennes, USS George H. Philip, USS Anchorage and the USS Morgenthau, temporary home for the 1,400 marines on board.
‘They’re just sitting there, the perfect target!’ Mukhlas said, momentarily entranced by the opportunity.
‘We’ll never get close enough with all that security,’ al-Faruq cautioned, ‘I still think we’d have more likelihood of success by hitting them someplace ashore.’
Unbeknown to the others, although severely tempted to see a repeat of the USS Cole’s demise, al-Faruq’s mission was, in fact, to discourage any such attack.
Mukhlas fell silent considering their options. Details of the U.S. fleet’s arrival had been passed to him by Colonel Supadi, the Kopassus officer’s tardiness in forwarding the information resulting in a hastily conceived plan being prepared to dupli-cate the October 2000 attack on the USS Cole in Yemen.
‘Well?’ Samudra pressed impatiently, ‘do you agree?’
Samudra was a very intelligent man with an extraordinary memory for detail and, apart from his insolent manner, a product of his time spent with the Mujahideen in Afghanistan, Mukhlas approved of his protégé and respected his second-in-command’s judgment.
‘If only Supadi had given us more time,’ he remonstrated, disappointment evident in his voice, ‘we could have made our mark in history.’
‘Supadi claims that these joint exercises are conducted on a regular basis. If that’s so, we’ll have other opportunities.’
The Jemaah Islamiyah, Indonesian Operations Commander turned to Imam Samudra. ‘If we abandon this opportunity then I don’t believe we should jeopardize Operation White Meat by hitting a lesser target.’
Immediately, al-Faruq’s ears came alive.
‘But the U.S. Consulate would be perfect,’ Samudra reasoned, ‘we could hit when they have their reception for the fleet’s senior officers.’
‘No,’ Ghufron was adamant. ‘Had we been able to mount a successful attack on their ships the outcome would have diminished Bali’s importance as a target as we would already have delivered a significant blow. If we attack their Consulate here in Surabaya the casualties wouldn’t be all that significant and the Americans might pull their servicemen out of Kuta.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Come. The Americans are lucky this time. Let’s channel all our energy into making Bali the success we might have achieved here today.’
Greg Young strolled across the marble floor of the master-bedroom to the French sliding doors overlooking the pool and stood admiringly, observing Rima Passelima as she stepped away from the water, her firm breasts, taut at their tips challenging the top of her two-piece costume. He changed, stepped outside then plunged into the lukewarm water and swam effortlessly to the other side.
‘Been shopping, I see?’ Greg rested his chin on crossed palms, admiring her captivating shape. Droplets caught by the midday sun shimmered against softly-tanned skin as she moved, Greg suppressing a momentary urge to cut to the chase and immediately invite her back inside.
Rima looked down at her bikini. ‘Found this in the Taman Anggrek Mall in Slipi.’ She executed a slow pirouette. ‘What do you think?’
Greg beckoned. ‘Coming back in?’
Without hesitation Rima stepped forward and dived back into the pool, coming to rest at his side where she reached up and ran her tongue across his cheek. ‘And what brings the tuan home this early?’ she teased, backstroking away.
Greg lunged, grabbing her by the feet; Rima kicking playfully before surrendering to his powerful arms. They embraced; the touch of her skin and the tantalizing warmth of her mouth driving his arousal, Rima resisting when his hand groped for her thighs. ‘Not here, the servants will see us!’
‘I’ll have their eyes put out,’ he offered playfully, relaxing his hold permitting Rima to slip away.
‘And just in time,’ she cautioned, with the houseboy and another servant appearing on the scene with a number of trays.
Rima turned her head as she climbed out of the pool. ‘God, I could get used to this!’
* * * *
Rima woke to the split-unit air conditioner’s almost imperceptible click when the compressor kicked in, spilling cool air across their semi-naked bodies. She rose on one arm to discover that Greg, too, had fallen asleep following their last coupling, Rima unexpectedly engulfed with guilt as she watched her lover’s chest gently rise and fall with each breath.
A week had passed since her brush with the demonstrators, the days spent recuperating at Greg Young’s villa now rhap-sodic memories which she would carry throughout her life. With the realization that she had fallen hopelessly in love came the quandary of her commitment to the AIVD and the people of Ambon, and whether she should reveal all to Greg. He had said that he loved her – and Rima was eager to believe, trusting that their interlude would have as much depth in meaning for him, as it did to her.
As the morning advanced Rima came to the conclusion that the perplexity of her situation demanded further consideration. And, deciding it would be in both their interests should she retreat to Ambon and permit nature take its course, Rima contrived a credible story and departed later in that day.
When Nick Dennison re-examined the digitally recorded intercept transcripts the senior communications analyst became confident that they had identified a new player connected to General Sumantri’s intelligence network. Culled from the high band radio frequency traffic al-Faruq’s name would appear in Australian intelligence records for the first time. As the interpretation of his conversation indicated a possible attack on U.S. interests in Indonesia, protocol required that a copy of the report would be flashed to the CIA’s Chief of Station at the United States embassy in Canberra.
Alarmed, the CIA immediately activated their exigency plan to remove al-Faruq from the play. The U.S. embassy in Jakarta went into overdrive. Badan Intelijen Negara (BIN) officers kidnapped Omar al-Faruq and transported the Kuwaiti to the military airfield, Halim Perdanakusumah. There U.S. agents placed their ‘captive’ on board the CIA’s Gulfstream V jet, registration number N379P, and flew him to Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan and out of harms way.
Colonel William D. Prescott uncrossed his arms and turned away from the prisoner. The U.S. tracking device hidden inside a backpack and monitored by an American spy-plane overhead had resulted in the Abu Sayyaf ’s leader’s demise.
‘The reward will still be paid,’ he addressed the Filipino general who had been waiting anxiously for confirmation that the one-million dollar bounty placed on Abu Sabaya’s head, would be forthcoming.
‘Thank you Colonel,’ the senior officer then moved to complete his side of the arrangement. ‘The prisoner is then yours.’
Colonel Prescott wasted no time. Abu Sabaya was bundled into a helicopter and flown to General Santos. Once again, the CIA’s Gulfstream appeared as if from nowhere and flew him to Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan. While Sabaya was being held incommunicado, the following Philippines government media release appeared as frontline headlines across the country:
Zamboanga: June 22; Abu Sayyaf Group (ASG) spokesman Abu Sabaya (aka Aldam Tilao) was reportedly killed in a firefight with the Navy’s Special Warfare Group (SWAG) around 3:30 a.m. on Friday morning according to government sources. The action took place half a mile off the coast of Sibuco in Zamboanga del Norte, site of ‘Operation Daybreak’ which was launched on June 7 in cooperation with elements of the U.S. 1st Special Forces Group (Airborne). According to Armed Forces Chief Gen. Roy Cimatu, government forces acting on an informant’s tip intercepted a pump-boat sailing out of Barangay Parang-Parang, a coastal village of Sibuco. With the aid of night vision equipment the SWAG team detected seven armed persons and when challenged, were fired upon.
Navy officials reported that the government troops rammed the vessel throwing the armed men into the sea. Three were reportedly drowned and four were taken in for tactical interrogation.
According to a Navy spokesman Abu Sabaya was amongst those who were killed. Although earlier radio reports had suggested that Sabaya’s body had been recovered government sources have since confirmed that this is not so. However, as the ASG second-in-command’s backpack containing his signature black sunglasses, drivers licence, satellite phone and weapons were recovered and other team members claim to have seen their leader die, the Navy has stated it remains confident of recovering his remains.
Today’s success comes two weeks after the military rescued American hostage Gracia Burnham who had been held by the Abu Sayyaf for more than one year. Her husband and fellow Christian missionary, Martin Burhham and a Filipina nurse, Ediborah Yap were slain in the attempt. The Burnhams were among a group of tourists captured from a local resort last year. A third American, Peru-born Guillermo Sobero and a dozen other captives were beheaded during that period of captivity.
Abu Sabaya’s death will undoubtedly prove to be a major blow to the militant Islamic separatist group who have terrorized the region over the past two years.
American Major Richard Sater, spokesperson for the U.S.
military contingent to….
Under interrogation Abu Sabaya revealed all; how funds were channeled from Malaysia; who the important players were and their relationship within the growing al-Qaeda-linked terrorist network; and details of an arrangement that was in place for the Abu Sayyaf to transport explosive materials to the Jemaah Islamiyah cell in Java, in preparation for the attack codenamed “Operation White Meat”. Sabaya would remain the innominate prisoner other inmates could only see from a distance.
Back in the Philippines, in support of their claim that the Abu Sayyaf leader was indeed dead the military presented video footage of two of the captured separatists confirming the death of Abu Sabaya. The morale-boosting propaganda was widely broadcast throughout the country and, although some claims of sightings of Sabaya raised speculation that he was still alive, the ruse would remain successful providing growing support for the six-hundred and fifty U.S. Green Berets sweeping through the Philippines’ southern jungles.
Information gleaned from Sabaya’s interrogation sessions were passed to the CIA’s counter-terrorism centre in Langley where the information was dissected and specific names added to the Echelon trigger lists. Amongst these, Abu Umar, who would later achieve worldwide notoriety under his real identity, Imam Samudra for his infamous acts as the “Bali Bomber”.
In the following days the Pentagon issued a directive removing Bali from the list of recommended R & R destinations for U.S. troops without informing America’s allies.
General Sumantri finished reading the damming international report and pushed it to one side, pleased with the result from the deliberate information leaks. Classified information had appeared in the international media identifying the “Barisan Merah Putih” (BMP) and the “Yayasan Lembah Baliem”(YLB) foundation’s clandestine relationships between the “Red & White” military faction and their front organizations.
Sumantri cerebrated; the ongoing competition within the TNI’s upper ranks had culminated in the creation of a plethora of shadowy agencies under the covert administration of either the “Red & White” modernists or “Green” fundamentalist factions – the General’s current concern, how the BMP and YLB had recently overlapped with his own activities blurring the lines of command. Over the past two years control over the country’s intelligence apparatus had shifted with the abolishment of the Coordinating Agency for National Stability ( Bakorstanas) which once held extraordinary powers to maintain security and stability, and the termination of the feared Special Research Agency (Litsus). As BAKIN had been overhauled to become the Badan Intelijen Negara, BIN, and other agencies continued their propen-sity for acting unilaterally, Sumantri was no longer confident that the nation’s darkest secrets would remain intact.
He was aware that the BMP was currently active in West Papua and had collaborated with the Mobile Police Brigade in mounting attacks against pro-independence groups in Wayati and Jayawijaya. Sumantri also knew that the Regional Military Commander had established a chapter of the BMP consisting predominantly of Papuan recruits, the overlap occurring with the Laskar Jihad forces occasionally working in parallel with the BMP. Then, of even greater concern to the General was the YLB as this ‘foundation’ had been established under the auspices of the Indonesian National Intelligence Bureau, BIN, the YLB openly supporting the formation of BMP militias in Papua. Sumantri believed that the “Greens” would inevitably be successfully sidelined in the eastern provinces should these two organizations be permitted to grow unchecked, the proposed division of Papua into three new provinces an obvious ploy to facilitate the establishment of more of their command posts throughout the area.
General Sumantri’s conundrum was how to restrict the “Red & Whites” growing influence in the archipelago’s east, whilst facilitating the increased presence of the Laskar Jihad at the same time. With three thousand LJ foot soldiers now present in West Papua supporting the Kopassus Special Forces Sumantri hoped that these numbers would prevent the “Red & Whites” from further eroding the “Greens” predominance within the TNI’s leadership.
The national intelligence officer’s mind then turned to the report suggesting that the Jemaah Islamiyah was currently mobilizing resources again, the General then summoning Colonel Supadi to discuss raising the level of surveillance over all the main players.
Amrozi and Ali Imron followed their brother Mukhlas into the meeting where Imam Samudra, Dulmatin, Idris and others were already deep in discussion.
‘We were just discussing resurrecting the Newmont mining attack,’ Samudra revealed, before surrendering the meeting to Mukhlas.
‘No doubt you have all heard that ‘kakek’ has given our mission his blessing?’ Mukhlas’ reference to the JI spiritual leader as their grandfather brought smiles to their faces. ‘He has agreed that I should lead this operation with Imam here,’ he pointed with an open palm at Samudra, ‘the operations commander.’ He then passed the chair back to his second in command.
Imam Samudra again raised the Newmont matter. ‘As I was explaining before your arrival,’ he said, speaking directly to Mukhlas, ‘a few months back we abandoned the Newmont attack out of concerns that too many of our fellow Muslims would be amongst the casualties. We have some new ideas we wish to discuss with you about specifically targeting their bule management which fits in with our Bali operation.’
Mukhlas immediately dismissed the idea of hitting the foreign workers. ‘Forget Newmont, we will concentrate on executing the Bali attack only, at this time.’
Samudra deftly disguised his disappointment. ‘Agreed,’ he complied, removing notes he carried from a plastic folder. ‘I have given a great deal of thought regarding the targets,’ he commenced, ‘and have identified a number of locations in the Legian, Kuta Beach area. I plan on returning sometime next month with Imron, before deciding on the specific targets. ’
‘What about the American Consulate?’ Dulmatin inquired.
‘That will remain on our list,’ Samudra reassured, ‘but not as a primary target.’
Their sense of import lifted in the presence of their brother, Mukhlas, both Amrozi and Imron offered their opinion as to the timing of the proposed attack suggesting that the execution take place on the first anniversary of the September 11, World Trade Centre disaster.
‘If we rush this operation then it could fail,’ Samudra pointed out.
Mukhlas came to his aid. ‘The precise timing will be determined only when we have everything in place,’ he ruled. ‘We will follow the original plan set for October.’
Samudra reassumed control over the discussion. ‘In that case we should first organize the acquisition of chemicals for the bombs.’ He indicated Amrozi. ‘Will you be able to source these from your Surabaya contact?’
‘Providing we pay him well, as before.’ Amrozi had purchased chemicals from the Tidar Kima store at the bequest of Hambali two years before. He had shipped the chemicals to Ambon where Hambali had then manufactured bombs used in the conflict with Christians.
Samudra turned to Idris. ‘I’m putting you in charge of reconnaissance and logistics. Okay?’
‘Boleh,’ Idris agreed.
‘Good. Then you will need to make arrangements for accommodation and transport for the bomb team.’ Samudra then asked Dulmatin, ‘You can have Ghani to help you in the construction of the bombs.’
‘We have sufficient funds?’ the explosives expert asked.
‘Just about,’ Samudra smirked, ‘courtesy of a Chinese gold store in Serang.’ The others laughed; two of their members had robbed the shop of two and a half kilos of gold and jewelry, along with five million rupiah in cash.
The meeting continued until the late afternoon summons to prayer. The group then parted company, their spirits high as the mechanisms clicked into motion for the execution of the Bali attack.
Johanis had reported the outcome even before the local radio station had announced the delay. From Rima’s perspective, the Ambon District Court’s postponement of the trial of the six members of the pro-independence Maluku Sovereignty Forum (FKM) could not have come at a worse time. The men were all facing subversion charges for raising the South Maluku Republic’s flag, Rima deeply troubled that the charge of subversion in this country carried the death penalty.
Johanis Matuanakotta’s paperwork was all but completed, the remaining clearance stating that he had not been involved in activities associated with either the FKM or the RMS, imminent. Rima checked the desk calendar and penciled in a number of alternative dates in October to reschedule her trip to Jakarta. She would need to accompany Johanis to the embassy for his visa and ensure that his departure for Holland transpired without incident.
Rima flipped the calendar over to September, reminded of Greg’s invitation to accompany him to Canada. He had called and suggested the journey together, promising to make time and show her Banff Springs, once his Calgary discussions with a number of oil-field related interests had been finalized. She had listened to her head and declined, Rima no longer at odds with her decision not to go as, in the three months since her return from Jakarta, the local government had continuously raised the possibility that some NGOs may have to close.
Alarmed with the attention the conflict was now receiving internationally and concerned with growing support for the Maluku Sovereignty Front in the wake of losing East Timor, Jakarta initiated a crackdown on all NGOs in Aceh, Sulawesi, the Moluccas and West Papua. Rima’s NGO, the Nusantara Integrated Community Development Organization remained operational due to intervention of Bimaton executives, the AIVD operative agreeing to spend a weekend with Greg Young upon his return from Canada, to demonstrate her appreciation.
Having ground the recently acquired Mitsubishi van’s chassis and engine numbers down to render them untraceable Amrozi stood back admiring his handiwork, before commencing work on the installation of the false flooring Mukhlas has designed.
‘There’s someone who wants to inspect the vehicle,’ his brother, Imron called, Amrozi surprised when climbing from under the van to discover the bespectacled master bomb builder, Dr Azahari Husin and his fellow Malaysian, Noor Din Top standing, smiling encouragingly.
‘Mukhlas tells me that you have done most of the modifications by yourself?’ Azahari leaned into the vehicle and gave the Mitsubishi a perfunctory inspection.
Amrozi broke into a nervous giggle and shuffled his feet, intimidated by the British-trained engineer’s presence. ‘Imron helped,’ he managed to say, relieved when the group left him to his own devices and re-entered the dwelling.
* * * *
‘We’ll have everything in place within the month,’ Mukhlas was nearing the end of his briefing.
‘After this operation, you may wish to return to Kuala Lumpur for awhile,’ Azahari suggested.
Dulmatin looked questioningly at the others. ‘Shouldn’t we discuss what we’re going to do after the attack?’
Mukhlas considered the question. Although none present expected that their involvement would become known he accepted that it would be prudent to have a contingency plan in place. ‘We’ll put something together, later.’
‘Have you arranged an alternative source for the detonators?’ Noor asked.
Mukhlas nodded. ‘I didn’t want to go to the local supplier but in view of what happened in the Philippines there wasn’t much choice.’
‘Have you decided upon the targets yet?’
‘Yes,’ Mukhlas confirmed, ‘we’ve identified three or four. Now it’s only a matter of determining which will be our primary target.’
‘What are these locations?’ Azahari’s expertise was beyond question as he had considerable experience and success in the past. Hambali had requested that he evaluate the targets before these were set in stone.
‘The U.S. Consulate will be one, that’s certain,’ Mukhlas explained, ‘and we have a short list of a number of bars that are popular with American sailors and marines. I asked Imam to…’
‘Surely you’re not re-considering the consulate as the primary?’ Azahari interrupted.
Mukhlas looked puzzled. ‘Why?’
‘I hope not,’ the Malaysian warned, ‘as I don’t believe the effort even warrant’s our consideration.’
Mukhlas’ face clouded. ‘There was never any suggestion that the consulate would be a major target,’ he backtracked, control ing the anger in his voice, ‘the intent would be to send them a message that we could have done something more significant.’
The following morning Mukhlas accompanied Azahari, Noor, and Dulmatin to Solo where they examined the drawings for the bombs’ construction. It was immediately apparent to Azahari that alone, the Indonesians would not be capable of building the weapon required. When further discussion revealed that the team had very little understanding of how to place the bombs to achieve the maximum effect Azahari reported his findings to Hambali, by phone. He also raised the issue over the selection of the U.S. Consulate even as a secondary target, citing security and the lack of any real collateral damage as the basis for his concerns. The former Malaysian University of Technology lecturer then broke established al-Qaeda communication protocols and phoned a number in Yemen, and sought the advice of Syafullah al-Yemeni, believing that the magnitude of the operation required more than his own expertise could offer.
In the massive memory banks supporting the intercept spy station’s constant, roaming surveillance across most of the U.K. and Europe’s communication systems, a solitary trigger activated when the Yemeni’s codename, “Syafullah” was mentioned.
The Yemeni’s involvement in the 1996 attack on the U.S. Dhahran barracks in Saudi Arabia which had killed nineteen servicemen highlighted the terrorist’s trail of terror. He was listed for his involvement in operations against other Western targets including the 1998 kidnapping of sixteen British, American and Australian tourists in Yemen and the 2000 bombing of the British Embassy in the Yemeni capital of Sana’a.
Syafullah al-Yemeni was also known to be one of the principals of the Islamic Army of Aden (IAA), a parallel group to the Abu Sayyaf which also engaged in bombings and kidnappings to achieve its goals.
Syafullah was a senior al-Qaeda operative whose file required the director’s approval before access could be granted as it was believed that he could lead the duplicitous CIA to bin Laden and, in consequence, the groundwork was being prepared to offer the Yemeni amnesty.
Azahari’s conversation with Syaful ah al-Yemeni was recorded in detail and, within the hour, a copy of the report had been passed to director of the Counter Terrorist Centre in Langley.
Ian Jefferson brooded over the Time magazine story, under-scoring passages with his pen as he read the article for the umpteenth time, deeply annoyed that John Phillips, his liaison contact at the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency had not forewarned that the story would break. The story quoted White House sources claiming that the U.S. had indisputable evidence of an imminent attack on American interests, naming Kuwaiti-born Omar al-Faruq as the informant.
Jefferson scratched his head, recalling an ONA reference from the Shoal Bay station in the Northern Territory, mentioning al-Faruq’s name in relation to a Jakarta communications’ intercept. That there had been no interim intelligence cross his desk connected to al-Faruq since that time was now clear, with the Time article revealing that the Kuwaiti had been in custody for some months and had broken down only the day before, and revealed everything to his interrogators.
For Jefferson, the article just did not wash. He read between the lines, concluding that the story had to be a CIA worded-release as the detail was fortuitously specific, the article appearing almost one year to the day since the September 11 attack. He knew that Canberra would want to know why Langley had not prepared them in advance, Jefferson’s ire with John Phillips rising with the realization that the CIA had been sitting on the information for months. Claims that Omar al-Faruq had been responsible for organizing funding and planning Jemaah Islamiyah activities confounded as the ONA had nothing on file with respect to his existence.
He drummed the table deep in thought, the myriad of questions raised by the leaked information certain to cause hemorrhage back in Canberra’s intelligence circles.
ATTORNEY GENERAL ASHCROFT: (In progress) I want to express my appreciation to Governor Tom Ridge, who is the Advisor to the President for Homeland Security, for being here; and to the Director of the FBI, Bob Mueller, for being here.
The United States government has concluded, based on analysis and specific intelligence of possible attacks on U.S. interests overseas, to call government, law enforcement, and citizens, both at home and overseas, to a heightened state of alert.
After conferring with the Homeland Security Council, the recommendation has been made to increase the national threat level, currently classified at Elevated Risk, to High Risk. The President has accepted this recommendation.
The U.S. intelligence community has received information, based on debriefings of a senior al-Qaeda operative, of possible terrorists attacks timed to coincide with the anniversary of the September 11th attacks on the United States. Information indicates that al-Qaeda cells have been established in several South Asian countries in order to conduct car-bomb and other attacks on U.S. facilities. These cells have been accumulating explosives since approximately January of 2002, this year, in preparation for these attacks.
Q. General, is there any intelligence to suggest that these — any attacks are planned domestically, or is the concern primarily overseas?
ATTORNEY GENERAL ASHCROFT: I would say that the most recent intelligence which has prompted us to issue this change in our status has focused primarily overseas. And, frankly, part of our interpretation, or part of the analysis of that is that that’s very similar to the circumstances that existed a year ago.
Q. It seems like, with the timing of this announcement, was there new information that you came into knowledge of, or is this based on just an analysis — continuing analysis of information that’s been out there for some time?
ATTORNEY GENERAL ASHCROFT: In a way, the answer is yes. New information has fed into an analytic structure which has made us take very seriously both the new information and the analysis, which leads us to this conclusion. So information has become available very recently, which, together with the analysis of the general circumstances and the situation, leads us to make this change.
Q. Some of the information from senior al-Qaeda operatives which you’ve operated on in the past and put out alerts have proven to be — nothing’s happened. And so the question has arisen whether or not these al-Qaeda operatives have the opportunity to sort of scare us or jerk our chain. And obviously, you have to consider that in any case. Is there something different this time?
ATTORNEY GENERAL ASHCROFT: Well, webelieve this to be credible information. And the analysis that has been undertaken by the intelligence agencies, leads us to conclude that the steps we are taking are appropriate steps in the national interest.
Q. General Ashcroft, you said this was from a senior al-Qaeda operative. Can you discuss who that person is, and give us any indication of where they’re being held and what kind of information they’ve provided?
ATTORNEY GENERAL ASHCROFT: No. Thank you.
GOVERNOR RIDGE: Human instincts as they are, I think most Americans concluded even in their own mind that if you were thinking like a terrorist, then perhaps coming back again over the same date might be something you’d want to do.
Now, we don’t believe that they do anything other than operate when they’re ready. No particular symbolism — no particular urgency attached to a symbolic date. But when you attach the symbolic date with the specific information that has been corroborated, coupled with a similar pattern of activity almost a year ago, you put those three things together, and you say, for the time being we’ve asked to raise the level of emergency in this country.
Q If your concern is mainly U.S. targets overseas, by waiting until the day before the anniversary are you not cutting it kind of close in terms of the preparation that Americans overseas or U.S. corporations or others overseas could be doing for the planning?
ATTORNEY GENERAL ASHCROFT: Well, I think I want you all to be cognizant of what prompted this change, and I hope that we’ve made it clear that this change is based on an analysis of intelligence that —some of which very recently became available — which prompted us to work rapidly to make this change. And we have seen a rather prompt response to this by our own State Department in its activities regarding its embassies in various settings around the world. And we’ll do everything we can to give the American people, both at home and abroad, a level of notice which will allow them to maximize their capacity to make the adjustments that are appropriate and necessary.
Q When you say “recent,” do you mean hours, do you mean days?
ATTORNEY GENERAL ASHCROFT: Yes. Thank you very much.
Q What? Which one?
ATTORNEY GENERAL ASHCROFT: In the last 24 hours we have had additional information that’s been very, very valuable to us, and significant.
Thank you.
END :00 P.M. EDT”
* * * *
Throughout the eve of the first anniversary of the September 11 attacks, having raised the level of terror threats to maintain momentum in the “Global War on Terrorism” the United States wheeled out its propaganda smoke machines to further influence vacillating allies. The information released detailed the account of Omar al-Faruq’s interrogation and conveniently provided ‘evidence’ of connections between al-Qaeda and the Jemaah Islamiyah. The anti-Iraq invasion lobby met the announcement with skepticism, considering that the Kuwaiti had, according to the report, finally ‘broken down’ and revealed everything to his CIA interrogators only two days prior to threat levels being raised.
The CIA then pulled out all the stops and divulged that al-Faruq had confessed to being involved in preparations to attack American and other Western assets around Asia, on September 11, 2002. According to Langley, the targets included embassies, U.S. ships and churches.
There was no mention at all, of “Operation White Meat” to the media.
Energy sapped, Fiona Barnes leaned back against the pillows struggling to maintain consciousness, willing her eyes open to catch the CNN report another patient had tuned in to view.
‘Is it loud enough?’ someone asked, the former stringer journalist uncertain whether the question was aimed at her. ‘I’ll turn it down if you like?’ she heard the voice again, Fiona gesturing with a faint wave of the hand to the patient fiddling with the remote from the end of her bed. She lay quietly listening to the U.S. State Department’s worldwide travel caution announcement, her level of attention heightened with the mention of Indonesia, her thoughts immediately distracted as stil -framed pictures of places and events suddenly invaded her mind.
In the months following her deportation from Indonesia Fiona had developed a chest infection, the incident, almost terminal; subsequent tests revealing that she was HIV positive and may have been so for some time, the journalist unable to identify who had passed the disease to her as many of her past sexual partners had been casual, at best.
Outraged by her treatment at the hands of the Indonesian authorities and what she perceived to be a cover-up of events across the country’s eastern, Christian provinces Fiona had made the issue her own cause celebre, determined to use her writing skills to expose those responsible for the unrest. Within eighteen months she had developed fully-blown Aids, Fiona’s current diagnosis incontrovertible that she would imminently die. Bedridden, she still occupied her mind reading as much material as she could find relating to what was happening in the Moluccas, occasionally submitting her own editorial comments to the press, delighted whenever a piece was published.
‘Do you mind if I change the channel?’ a distant voice inquired, Fiona unresponsive as soft orange hues of a fading Balinese sunset over Kuta touched her mind.
Her breathing became shallow. She closed her eyes, the soft gentle breeze from an oscillating bedside fan caressed her face as she surrendered, and the world finally passed her by.
Amir Subroto listened intently as the visiting Indonesian cleric alluded to another historic moment in the making, praising the ten-member cell for its efforts in expanding the Pan Asia Islamic presence across Australia and encouraging all to study the manual he provided, Studies In Jihad Against the Tyrants.
Amir looked across enviously at the two new faces who had been introduced following prayers at the mosque, the pair dispatched to Sydney to lead the organization.
‘Today we celebrate the anniversary of our fellow-believ-ers’ attack on America’s citadel, New York. Soon you shall have news of another auspicious event.’ The cleric smiled knowingly. ‘And when that time arrives you must prepare yourselves for the new face of Islam for we shall take our Jihad to the Australian people for their support of the United States against our comrades in Afghanistan.’
‘When will this great event take place?’ Amir was eager to know.
‘Soon, Amir… soon.’
‘Will kakek show us how this is done?’ the young Javanese asked.
‘No,’ he said knowingly, ‘but I will send the one who will instruct you.’
‘What is his name, kakek? ’ asked another.
‘You will know that when the time has come.’
‘We welcome his visit and assure you we shall work tirelessly to further the Jemaah Islamiyah’s aims.’
‘Insha Allah,’ the cleric replied.
Fred Burks, the U.S. State Department interpreter selected for the task translated Washington’s request for Jakarta to arrest Abu Bakar Bashir and surrender him to the Americans. For a moment there was an uneasy silence in President Megawati’s living room as the secret U.S. delegation waited for her response. The President’s family had a deep distrust of the Americans, reaching back to the 1950s and 1960s when the CIA’s covert activities in Indonesia orchestrated all five assassination attempts on the founding President, Sukarno.
As leader of the world’s most populous Muslim nation Megawati knew she had to accommodate the rising anti-American mood resulting from the U.S. attacks on Afghanistan. Then there was the issue of al-Faruq’s convenient confession. She had been convinced by presidential advisers that the CIA had leaked the concocted evidence to Time magazine specifically to blacken Indonesia’s reputation. Nevertheless, as a gesture of goodwill she had agreed to receive the Americans in her home, the group including a woman introduced as a ‘special assistant to the American President’, Megawati taken aback by the underlying threat in the envoy’s tone. Unbeknown to Megawati, the woman was, in fact, a senior CIA officer who, immediately following the meeting, would fly to the U.S. detention centre for al-Qaeda terrorists, in Bagram, Afghanistan where al-Faruq was reportedly held.
‘If I were to hand an Indonesian citizen over to you this would create an impossible situation for me,’ Megawati explained.
‘Madam President,’ the CIA envoy persisted, ‘I cannot see how you would not want to have Bashir out of your hair. There is clear evidence that he was the mastermind behind the 2000 Christmas Eve bombings. Also, we are able to provide evidence that Bashir was involved in at least two assassination attempts on your life. Surely having him in our custody would be in Indonesia’s interests?’
‘The only way I could do as you request would be if public opinion somehow turned against Bashir.’
‘We understand that you have legitimate concerns,’ the special envoy persisted, ‘but this comes as a direct request from the White House.’
Megawati looked at her visitors, took a breath, smiled weakly and said, ‘Even so. I’m sorry. I cannot fulfill the request of the U.S. President.’
‘President Bush has instructed me to relay that if Bashir is not turned over to the U.S. government before the APEC meeting next month, then the situation will become very difficult for us all.’
U.S. Ambassador Ralph Boyce and the U.S. National Security Council official, Karen Brooks waited for Megawati to bend. Brooks, a former Fulbright scholar had been selected to accompany the others as she was considered to have the Indonesian President’s ear.
President Megawati Sukarnoputri did not waver. She needed to retain the support of the Muslim political parties to remain in power. ‘I regret that I cannot agree to your request,’ her words were translated, ‘however, on behalf of the Indonesian people I hope that my decision in no way will affect ties between our countries.’
Disappointed, the U.S. delegation departed, returning to the embassy empty-handed, the Pentagon then lifting the stakes with a carrot and stick approach, offering to reinstate the supply of material equipment and spare parts should Jakarta fulfill Washington’s request to surrender Abu Bakar Bashir to American authorities.
Again, Megawati declined.
‘You don’t think the shipments are too heavy?’ Imam Samudra asked, inspecting the fifty-kilogram bundles Amrozi and Idris had prepared.
‘That will work in our favor,’ Idris assured. ‘Larger shipments are less likely to be misplaced.’
‘Why not transport the chemicals ourselves?’ Amrozi asked, ‘we could put it all in the van.’
Samudra shook his head. ‘No, we’ll keep to Mukhlas’ original plan.’
‘By bus?’
‘Yes,’ Samudra confirmed. ‘Mukhlas wants us to break the shipments into separate consignments to avoid suspicion. We can start by sending the first bundles in a couple of days.’ He turned to Idris. ‘You will have to leave tomorrow so you can collect each of the shipments as they arrive at the bus terminal in Den Pasar.’
The foot-soldiers obeyed; the first fifty-kilogram package being placed on board a Bali-bound bus on the evening of the 27th September, the remaining stockpile broken down into individual consignments and dispatched throughout the following week.
Thirty kilometres from the Western Australian town of Geraldton, American analysts discussed a satellite telephone intercept triggered by the codename “Syafullah”. The Kojarena Station was nearing its tenth year of operation and, although on Australian soil and outwardly under the supervision of the Australian Defence Signals Directorate (DSD), in reality, the facility belonged to and was managed by the United States as an integral part of the worldwide, Echelon System. With more than one hundred employees at the station, which was situated on a thirty-five hectare base and surrounded by a four-hundred hectare buffer zone, the facility could not be entered without U.S. approval.
Less than twenty percent of all facsimile, email, data and telephone traffic captured via the four satellite antennae off Intelsat satellites over the Indian and Pacific Oceans was made available to Australian intelligence agencies; the rest, siphoned off and communicated directly to the CIA and National Security Agency.
‘Best guess is that the call originated from the Roghani Camp area in Chaman,’ the U.S. analyst decided, having cor-related all the relevant information.
‘Sounds about right,’ his associate agreed, ‘he would pick something on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border.’
The senior analyst read the text of the brief and enigmatic conversation intercepted shortly before the call had been terminated.
‘Langley will want to see this a.s.a.p,’ he said, looking in the direction of an adjoining facility. ‘This will be a ‘no-share’, Dave,’ he added, winking conspiratorially as he left to forward the intercept to the CIA.
Syafullah al-Yemeni was on the move – and it was an Osama bin Laden lieutenant that had given the game away.
Ian Jefferson read the CIA’s updated security warning received only moments before the embassy closed for the weekend. The advice differed from earlier alerts insomuch as there was now a strong suggestion that the United States and its allies could expect an al-Qaeda related attack on the anniversary of the first day of the war in Afghanistan, October 7, and explicitly identified Indonesia as the target area with the Jemaah Islamiyah as the perpetrators. Jefferson glanced at the desk calendar, noting that this would fall on Monday. He added his comments by way of a hand-written, covering memorandum and delivered the documents to the embassy’s Counselor.
Details of the raised level of threat were communicated immediately to Canberra from where the information was disseminated to all Australian diplomatic and consular posts. However, the Australian Embassy in Jakarta and the Consulate in Bali’s most recent travel advices revised at 1200 hours on 11th September 2002 which quoted as follows remained unchanged:
This advice has been reviewed. It contains new information or advice but the overall level of advice has not been changed.
In view of the ongoing risk of terrorist activity in the region, Australians in Indonesia should maintain a high level of personal security awareness. Australians should avoid travel to west Timor (outside of Kupang), Maluku and North Maluku, and Aceh. Australians in Papua (Irian Jaya) and North Sulawesi should exercise caution and seek current information from the Australian Embassy prior to travel. The recent attack on foreigners in the Freeport Mine area underlines the need for Australians in Papua to monitor developments that might affect their safety. Australians in Poso, the middle of Central Sulawesi, should avoid inter-provincial and inter-city bus travel and exercise caution following recent attacks on passenger buses. Tourist services elsewhere in Indonesia are operating normally, including Bali.”
Mukhlas mentally checked the names of those present, the list a veritable ‘who’s who’ of the Jemaah Islamiyah command, the meeting arranged in premises at Jalan Manjangan 18, rented by Imam Samudra and Imron, the month before. Dulmatin, Amrozi and Ali Imron looked the worse for wear as they had arrived late the previous evening; Samudra having met them at the Hotel Harum and whisked them away for the remainder of the night.
Sitting in the corner of the room with eyes cast to the floor were the only two non- JI members present, Arnasan and Feri, members of the underground, Darul Islam movement. Mukhlas paused momentarily when his eyes fell upon Arnasan recalling when the young man had come to him with a dream in which he had been asked by Osama bin Laden to offer his life for the cause.
Mukhlas opened the meeting, nominating Samudra to take the floor. ‘Let’s bring everyone up to date on how the preparations are proceeding,’
‘Mixing the chemicals took much longer than we expected as Imron, Sawad and Ghani had to do this by hand.’
‘But you’ve finished?’ Azahari asked.
‘All done,’ Samudra reassured.
‘And the van?’
Amrozi came alert with a nudge from his brother.
‘Is the Mitsubishi ready?’ Mukhlas repeated the question.
Amrozi suppressed a yawn. ‘It’s ready.’
‘Where are we at with the filing cabinets?’
‘We’ll bolt them into place tomorrow,’ Amrozi was now awake. He and Dulmatin had purchased the twelve plastic filing cabinets on their way through Java. Their plan was to bolt the cabinets to the L300’s false floor, arranged three wide and four deep, as casing for the chemicals.’
‘ Pak Azahari?’ Mukhlas then addressed the Malaysian bomb expert.
‘I will have the booster charge ready once the other cabinets are in place. I’m going to fill one of the drawers with TNT to ignite the bomb.’
‘Then it would appear that we are almost there,’ Mukhlas smiled confidently.
The meeting continued with the men breaking into smaller discussion groups leaving Arnasan and Feri to themselves, the two suicide bombers’ impending death paramount in their minds as they considered their fate. Arnasan waited until Mukhlas moved away from the others before approaching with his request.
‘Pak Mukhlas , I would like to ask your help to write some letters for my family and friends.’
‘That would be the correct thing to do.’
‘What should I say?’ Arnasan had asked.
Mukhlas placed his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. ‘Whatever is in your heart.’
‘Would it be okay if I ask for my family to forgive me for what I will do?’
Mukhlas did not hesitate, ‘Of course.’ He then sat beside the near-illiterate peasant’s son and helped him compose his final testament.
In the document, “Jimi”, as he was known by his associates in the underground Darus Islam movement, wrote encouraging his friends in the village of Malingping to follow in his footsteps as martyrs, and sacrifice their lives for Islam. Then, in a second letter addressed to his family, Jimi asked that his clothes be given to the poor and pleaded for his parents and siblings to understand why he had given his life in the defence of Islam.
‘Careful!’ Imron shouted angrily, milliseconds too late.
Amrozi haphazardly dragged one of the filing cabinets across the tiles covered with residual chemical ingredients, the resultant explosion rocked the building sending neighbors running into the street.
‘What was that?’ the family living immediately adjacent knocked on the door and confronted those inside.
‘Sounded like a car tire bursting,’ Mukhlas lied.
‘Are you sure it didn’t come from inside?’ the Balinese woman tried to peek into the building.
‘No, it’s nothing,’ Mukhlas moved quickly to pacify, ‘it was probably one of the big balloons they use for advertising.’
Suspicious, the woman remained outside on the street gossiping with others. Sentiment ran high in this neighborhood against the Javanese.
‘That was close!’ Amrozi giggled nervously when Imron bunched his fist threateningly.
‘Don’t drag the cabinets,’ Imron wiped the sweat from his brow, ‘wait and we’ll lift them together.’
Filled with apprehension as a result of the near call Mukhlas left Bali with Dr Azahari and Dulmatin, leaving Samudra in charge of Amrozi, Idris, Imron and the two suicide bombers. Mukhlas returned to Java to prepare for Syafullah al-Yemeni’s arrival.
Jakarta-based U.S. agents closely monitored the passengers as they disembarked from the Malaysian Airlines flight, the team leader deciding that two Middle Eastern men lining up at the immigration counter deserved a closer look. Surveillance had been dramatically heightened at all ports of entry across Indonesia ready to ensnare Syafullah al-Yemeni as he arrived.
Syafullah closed his wheeled, carry-on case, smiling politely when the customs officer returned the forged U.S. passport permitting the now cleanly-shaven Yemeni dressed in Levi’s and T-shirt to pass into the exit hall. The agent’s ten years of field experience told him that there was something unusual about the new arrival and, as Syafullah al-Yemeni completed the customs formalities the American signaled his partner of his intentions to take a closer look at the man.
He followed the passenger through the exit area, stopping then turning on his heel when an attractive woman broke through the waiting crowd and publicly embraced his quarry. The agent wheeled quickly and retraced his steps, rejoining his partner who, by the shake of his head indicated that the second possibility was also a washout. Syafullah al-Yemeni’s general description had been widely circulated across the region. However, as there were no recent photographs of the Yemeni on file he had easily slipped through immigration on the doctored U.S. passport, provided by Hambali as he passed through Malaysia.
Colonel Supadi spotted Angelina Panjaitan clinging to Syafullah’s arm and eased the Mercedes forward, remaining at the wheel until the luggage was loaded and his party inside. He drove into the city, dropping Angelina along the way before proceeding to Semarang. Having fulfilled his obligation to Hambali the Colonel then reported to General Sumantri by phone who, in turn, warned those who may be affected by the fallout of the Jemaah Islamiyah operation, to lay low.
Syafullah al-Yemeni examined the plans and concurred with Dr Azahari. ‘I need to visit the targets and most probably modify the bomb.’
Fatigue had crept into Mukhlas’ voice. ‘I’ll check for seats on Garuda.’ He phoned Yogyakarta and was advised that only two seats were available.
‘There is no point in my being there when you have Syafullah,’ Dr Azahari pointed out.
Mukhlas agreed, and they were driven from Semarang to Yogyakarta where they boarded a Garuda flight for Den Pasar, arriving at the Ngurah Rai domestic terminal in Bali four hours later. They drove past the proposed targets in Legian on their way from the airport then went directly to inspect the bombs.
Amrozi, Imron and Imam Samudra were summoned and sworn to secrecy, al undertaking never to reveal any knowledge of Syafullah al-Yemeni’s visit. In awe, Amrozi listened as the Yemeni explained why the targets had to be reversed and how this would achieve the maximum effect from the explosions. An argument developed when the visitor condemned the selection of the U.S. Consulate as a target, Mukhlas then instructing a disappointed Imam Samudra to reduce the size of the designated bomb.
* * * *
Miffed that he had not been consulted in changes to the overall plan Imam Samudra paced the third-level dwelling, having dispatched Imron on the Yamaha motorcycle purchased just hours before.
The bombs, originally prepared by Dr Azahari and then altered to accommodate Syafullah al-Yemeni’s experienced hand, were all but ready. The plastic filing cabinets had been filled with a mixture of potassium chlorate, aluminum pow-der and sulphur with TNT kicker-charges, and bolted together inside the Mitsubishi van, the RDX electric detonators then fitted to the TNT. The van was rigged with a number of backup detonation systems including an automatic detonator, installed as an anti-handling device that would trigger the bomb, should one of the filing cabinet lids be tampered with.
In all, the huge bomb weighed more than a tonne.
* * * *
Imron rode over to meet with the suicide bombers to discuss the change in plan. After explaining to Jimi that he was to explode the car bomb outside the Sari Club once Iqbal had entered Paddy’s Pub, and detonated the bomb inside his vest, Imron escorted the two young men on a familiarization tour of the target area.
Pestered by throngs of persistent street hawkers hustling their wares, tourists strolled along crammed, narrow and congested lanes where magic mushrooms and marijuana could be bought on the cheap, the holidaymakers oblivious to Imron, Jimi and Iqbal as they passed amongst them, reconnoitering the scene. When the team passed a bar where a number of unruly, half-naked men were arguing with the staff over the bill, Iqbal paused to gape, unaccustomed to seeing drunk or heavily stoned foreigners before – Imron tugging at his shirt to draw him away before security arrived.
They crossed the street to avoid a group of rubber-thonged New Zealanders negotiating with a young peddler holding a T-shirt up for all to see, the inscription “No, I Don’t want A fucking Bemo, Massage, Postcard or Jiggy Jig” entirely lost on the three; Imron bringing the group to a halt outside the Sari Club with its sign prohibiting locals from entering.
‘Well, we finally made it!’ Greg Young wrapped an arm around Rima Passelima’s waist and led her out to the terrace overlooking Jimbaran Bay.
Distant lanterns blinked on the ocean swell, the brightly painted fishing boats now faint silhouettes under the enchanting sky, Rima nestling her head on her lover’s shoulders as she watched the moon, the tranquil scene causing her to sigh.
‘Hard to believe that so peaceful a place could exist so close to all the violence.’ A tokek sounded above, Rima glancing up in time to catch the gecko disappearing, upside down into the villa’s overhanging alang-alang thatched roof.
‘Are you hungry?’ Greg asked, having forgone the snack offered on the early evening flight from Jakarta.
‘A little,’ she raised her head and nibbled him gently on the ear. ‘I might just have this for starters.’
Greg laughed, ‘Suggest you save that for later. Come on, let’s head down to Kuta and I’ll show you the sights.’
The villa came with a company car and driver; the couple drove through Kuta Square, along the beachfront then around and back into Jalan Legian, their passage temporarily blocked by a stalled Mitsubishi van.
* * * *
‘I thought you could drive?’ Imron was appalled by the discovery. He had taken Jimi into Legian with the van to carry out a number of test runs in preparation for the following night.
‘No one told me I was expected to drive!’ Jimi panicked, again stalling the van in gear. Immediately, the air filled with cacophonous horns and curses with motorcycles dangerously weaving their way around the Mitsubishi.
Fearing discovery, Imron shouted at Jimi to change places then yelled, ‘Let’s get the hell out of here!’
John Phillips, liaison officer for the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) read the announcement deeply concerned that his government had not alerted America’s allies that one of the most senior, known terrorists associated with al-Qaeda was known to be in Indonesia somewhere, his presence obviously connected to the intelligence forewarning that Bali would come under attack.
“Worldwide Caution Public Announcement
U.S. Department Of State – Office of the Spokesman
This Worldwide Caution Public Announcement supersedes the Worldwide Caution Public Announcement dated September 9, 2002. In light of the recent audio tape attributed to Usama bin Laden and other reports of threats to American interests, this Worldwide Caution is being issued to alert Americans to the need to remain vigilant and to remind them of the continuing threat of terrorist actions that may target civilians. This Worldwide Caution expires on April 8, 2003.
The U.S. Government continues to receive credible indications that extremist groups and individuals are planning additional terrorist actions against U.S. interests. Such actions may include, but are not limited to, suicide operations. Because security and security awareness have been elevated within the U.S, the terrorists may target U.S. interests overseas. We remind American citizens to remain vigilant with regard to their personal security and to exercise caution.
Terrorist groups do not distinguish between official and civilian targets. Attacks on places of worship and schools, and the murders of private American citizens, demonstrate that as security is increased at official U.S. facilities, terrorists and their sympathizers will seek softer targets. These may include facilities where Americans are generally known to congregate or visit, such as clubs, restaurants, places of worship, schools or outdoor recreation events. Americans should increase their security awareness when they are at such locations, avoid them, or switch to other locations where Americans in large numbers generally do not congregate. American citizens may be targeted for kidnapping or assassination.
U.S. Government facilities worldwide remain at a heightened state of alert. These facilities may temporarily close or suspend public services from time to time to review their security posture and ensure its adequacy.
In those instances, U.S. Embassies and Consulates will make every effort to provide emergency services to American citizens. Americans are urged to monitor the local news and maintain contact with the nearest American Embassy or Consulate.
As the Department continues to develop information on any potential security threats to Americans overseas, it shares credible threat information through its Consular Information Program documents, available on the Internet at http://travel.state.gov. In addition to information on the Internet, U.S. travelers can hear recorded information by calling the Department of State in Washington, D.C. at 202-647-5225 from their touch-tone telephone, or receive information by automated telefax by dialing 202-647-3000 from their fax machine.
See http://travel.state.gov/travel_warnings.html for State Department Travel Warnings.”
Phillips placed the circular inside the loose-leaf file, deeply troubled that information relating to “Operation White Meat” had been deliberately withheld for a more sinister purpose, to further his country’s war against terror. He checked the time, noting that it was already early morning on the following day in Canberra, the liaison officer unaware that although copies of the announcement were disseminated to all U.S. allies, Australia’s Travel Warning issued by the Department of Foreign Affairs had remain unchanged.