When trading closed on the New York Stock Exchange with the bench price for spot crude eclipsing market expectations, surprisingly, the corresponding announcement of the Raja Seram Gas discovery in Indonesia’s eastern province in no way dampened specula-tors’ spirits. The futures’ buying frenzy had been driven by China’s voracious appetite for fossil fuels, alarming governments around the globe.
Then, with the news that a consortium had made a significant oil discovery off Ambon’s adjacent Seram Islands, it would seem that Indonesia’s rapidly dwindling oil and gas reserves would no longer be an issue. BP, Shell, Total and ExxonMobil’s executives poured into Jakarta to take up previously unwanted concession areas, only to find themselves queuing behind China’s Sinopec and its domestic rival, the China National Petroleum Corp – the rush to acquire resource property testing time-forged commercial and political relationships across the region. Ambon, the Moluccan capital soared into the limelight, but the unexpected international attention it received reignited the sectarian conflict that had smoldered under the cover of an uneasy peace.
The war against terrorism continued and, although the list of senior al-Qaeda, Abu Sayyaf and Jemaah Islamiyah captured or killed had thinned terrorist leadership ranks measurably, the United States remained embroiled in military action on seventeen fronts, maintaining troops in one hundred and thirty six countries. Militant separatist groups mushroomed across S.E. Asia; some, unable to establish international support for their individual causes amalgamated with others, their collective voice a force contributing to regional instability.
In Southern Thailand’s Muslim-dominated provinces the shadowy insurgency continued, the death toll resulting from clashes with government troops now well into the thousands.
In Malaysia, militant cells had increased and spread out along shared borders, whilst in the Philippines a number of new and well-armed separatist organizations had appeared in the Mindanao region, challenging the presence of U.S. Special Forces.
Across Indonesia, undeterred by the central government’s increased military presence, secessionist groups continued to gain momentum in the country’s northern and eastern provinces. In Aceh, the GAM, Free Aceh Movement had laid down its weapons and signed an accord, with the central government following the disastrous tsunami which struck as 2004 came to a close.
With the failure of the Malino III accord remnants of the South Maluku Republik and Maluku Sovereignty Front separatists united, their organization metamorphosing into a well organized, cohesive and hardened core of dedicated members known as the Maluku Brigade.
Spurred by what appeared to be unlimited opportunity with the huge oil and gas discoveries, Indonesia’s generals obtruded and within months, fueled by TNI vested interests, sectarian violence again exploded. With the loss of East Timor indelibly stamped in their minds and fearing outside intervention, Jakarta responded, positioning an additional fifty thousand troops across the eastern provinces, the ensuing confrontation attracting the wrath of the U.N. community.
As a result of this international condemnation, the Australian-Indonesian relationship, so carefully nutured during President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyoyono’s term in office, deteriorated jeopardizing Australian commercial interests across the volatile archipelago. With Indonesian-Australian ties at their lowest since East Timor gained independence, China moved swiftly to fill the political void to ensure its supply of oil. Concerned by Beijing’s aggressive bid to gain control over international shipping lanes lacing Indonesia, the United States increased its presence in Northern Australia by positioning elements of the Seventh Fleet in Darwin Harbour – the move interpreted as provocative by the majority of S.E. Asian states.
Amidst the political instability, Asian-based multinationals such as Bulan Sabit Holdings Sdn Bhd continued to compound wealth and power, the Malaysian conglomerate poised to dominate the oil and gas construction arena, with its subsidiary Bimaton winning the first contracts to develop the Raja Seram Gas field.
The press room was packed. Greg Young continued with his announcement, while digital cameras and recorders captured the moment.
‘The Raja Seram project will be the largest capital development in the eastern provinces ever undertaken, and represents Bimaton’s ability to bring world-class engineering, construction and project management skills on such a scale. The consortium has within its expertise, both executives and technicians who are recognized as amongst the finest in their field, all with excellent records of achievement in bringing on line other LNG projects. The scope of the project includes the construction of a three-train LNG processing plant and associated support facilities. Each of these trains will have a capacity of five million tonnes per annum. Raja Seram will include extensive infrastructure development both on the immediate site and in related areas. The project will bring direct benefits to the local communities by way of employment and the creation of a new community to service the operations. We expect to be in full production within three years, with initial product shipments going to North America, Japan, South Korea and China.’ He paused to recognize the other consortium representatives. ‘I am honored to announce that Mr. Agus Sumarsono will chair the group’s new entity, P.T. Raja Seram Resources and advise that I have accepted the position of CEO to bring the project to fruition.’
‘Didn’t someone suggest you were going to retire?’ a familiar face quipped from the back of the room, ‘and what in God’s name are you going to do with all that extra money?’ The gathering relaxed with the injection of humor.
Greg Young’s euphoric mood was evident when he responded with light-hearted banter. ‘Well, as you can see, I’m not going anywhere Steve,’ he beamed, ‘and yes, my own fortunes will certainly improve.’ He winked at the journalist. ‘Who knows, this time around I might even manage to keep some of it.’
‘Mr. Young,’ an Indonesian reporter sitting in the second row waved his notepad in the air, ‘would you like to comment on rumors that the consortium has allocated shares in the venture to the President’s family and the TNI?’
In the momentary silence Young’s face turned to stone. ‘I don’t respond to rumors.’
‘But, wouldn’t it be reasonable to assume that with a contract valued at more than eleven billion dollars you would have had to accommodate some of the local interests along the way?’ The room fell hushed. ‘After all,’ the reporter continued, ‘the investment is in an area where separatists continue to challenge the central government’s authority. My question is, how does Bimaton intend to secure the area unless there are assurances from the TNI and, if that is so, has Bimaton allocated any shareholding to the military or its foundations in exchange for that commitment?’
Young attempted to deflect the question. ‘Bimaton is the only local interest. Our partnership is with Taiwan’s Petroleum Corporation and Japan’s…’
‘That’s not what I meant, Mr. Young,’ the reporter persisted, ‘having lived and worked in this environment for so many years you, of all people, would appreciate that some understanding must have been arrived at with local interests in securing such an important contract…and to provide for the necessary security to ensure the realization of the project?’
Young glanced over at the Agus Sumarsono whose expression signaled that he would have to go it alone. With arms crossed indicating his displeasure at the impertinence of the suggestion, Young addressed the room.
‘The consortium’s shareholders are a matter of public record and that’s all I intend saying on the matter.’ Young then fielded another question then raised both hands. ‘I’ll take two more questions and then we’ll adjourn for refreshments.’
‘Greg, would you mind elaborating on the relationship between the partners involved in the Raja Seram project?’
‘Sure, Des,’ Young had anticipated the request. ‘As outlined in our press release, the consortium consists of P.T. Bimaton which, as you know, is now a wholly owned subsidiary of Bulan Sabit Holdings from Malaysia. As for the other shareholders…’
* * * *
Agus Sumarsono nestled into the leather upholstery and rubbed tired eyes, loosening his tie as the Mercedes made its way through Jakarta’s congested afternoon traffic. He extracted a pulsing cell phone from a breast pocket, read the SMS then looked over at Greg Young. ‘Don’t lose any sleep over it. Eventually, they’ll find out one way or another.’
The consortium’s CEO nodded slowly in agreement as he stared through partially misted glass, the view ahead befogged images of metal and a fusion of light. ‘Yes, I guess they will.’ He rubbed the side window with the palm of his hand. ‘But it will complicate things.’
Agus sighed. ‘We would never have won the tender without their backing.’
Again Young nodded. ‘I know that.’ The Mercedes slowed to a crawl and he partially closed the air-conditioning vent on his side. ‘I just hope that we can keep a lid on it until all the funding is in place…that’s all.’
‘They’re not about to go public,’ Agus’s voice lacked conviction.‘Well, if they do before the bankers set everything in place then we’ll pay dearly in terms of refinancing delays, not to mention the political fallout.’
They continued in silence until Agus suddenly leaned forward and rapped a knuckle against the window that separated them from the driver’s compartment.
‘Drop Tuan Greg off first,’ he ordered, then punched the button to close the partition again. ‘On second thoughts it might be an idea if I go and speak to them again tonight.’
Young was relieved. ‘Someone’s talked. And the General needs to know how damaging it would be for the backers to discover that we’re holding a substantial stake in the project on the Palace’s behalf.’
Agus did not respond, considering instead with some annoyance the value of the ten percent of the shares in the Raja Seram project they had been obliged to surrender, to ensure their winning bid and the project’s ongoing security.
Mohamed Aziz Derashid peered anxiously through the miasma of forest fire smoke that had drifted across the Malacca Straits from Sumatra, obscuring the city’s skyline. The helicopter landed heavily, leaving the Bulan Sabit Chairman with a grateful sigh. The Malaysian billionaire’s personal assistant hurried across the helipad and escorted his employer into the skyscraper’s well guarded, surround-view penthouse, which dominated the three upper levels of the building.
Derashid went directly to his suite, bathed, dressed in a floor-length robe, entered the dedicated room with its wrap-around armor-glass plate, and dropped to his knees for the Mahgrib prayers.
He prayed; the sun disappeared leaving the city lights wreathed in illuminated haze, Derashid then content to sit alone in the palatial setting, pondering his empire and Bulan Sabit’s most recent commercial gain.
More than a year of lobbying Indonesian government interests had borne fruit, delivering the Raja Seram concessions to his conglomerate via Bimaton Holdings. The undertaking was not without risk; the Malaysian was now heavily overcommitted financially. This did not concern him much, though. His links to Riyadh were intact, and he could count on the Saudis to lean on his nervous bankers, should they hesitate to provide funding for the multi-billion dollar project.
Although the al-Qaeda power base had diminished significantly across S.E. Asia, it had been slowly superseded by similarly inspired Muslim extremist groups, the Maluku Brigade currently of most concern to investors in the area associated with the Raja Seram oil and gas concessions. Derashid’s thoughts turned to the Jemaah Islamiyah with its leadership in total disarray following Hambali’s arrest in Thailand and more recently, the end to Azahari Husin and Noordin bin Top’s reign of terror. JI was now a spent force and merely a historical shadow to the powerful Pan-Asia Islamic (PAI) movement which had evolved to take the lead in radicalizing the region’s two hundred million Muslims.
Publicly supported by Islamic elite, Derashid had emerged from the shadows as chairman of the PAI to announce that the organization would establish a political arm to contest future elections in all S.E. Asian states.
In Indonesia, the PAI had achieved an understanding with both major Muslim parties, the Nahdlatul Ulama and Muhammadiyah, which secured their collective voice of seventy million members. In Malaysia, where the Barisan National had dominated the political scene for decades, Derashid’s PAI absorbed the Parti Islam Semalaysia and attracted many followers from the United Malays National Organization. Malaysia’s Indian and Chinese communities, which represented less than half of the nation’s overall population, were destined to be marginalized with Derashid determined to shift wealth back into indigenous hands.
Derashid believed that the Pan-Asia Islamic movement’s real challenge would come from China’s rapidly growing influence across the region, Beijing’s march only preventable by exploiting the nation’s Achilles heel. He understood that China was desperate to protect the shipping lines through which eighty percent of its imported oil and other raw materials had, until recently, passed unhindered. The dramatic increase in piracy had raised Beijing’s ire, and the country’s navy was ordered to patrol these sea lanes, as far south as Indonesian waters. Also, Beijing’s 2nd Artillery Corps had deployed close to one thousand short-range ballistic missiles in Fujian and Jiangxi provinces, the intimidating tactic pointedly designed to demonstrate the Mainland’s intentions with respect to Taiwan, whilst maintaining trouble-free passage for shipping through the straits.
He had studied China’s energy supply conundrum, and the delicate balancing act that was underway to ensure the uninterrupted supply of oil, while construction raced ahead to complete another forty, one-thousand-megawatt capacity nuclear power stations.
As China had become desperately deficient in energy production, global research endeavors for energy supply solutions were of paramount, strategic interest. Beijing was now leading the way in the development of an International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor (ITER), having started developing this tokamak (magnetic confinement fusion) experiment forty years earlier in the isolated mountains southwest of Sichuan Province. By successfully developing an ITER prototype, China had demonstrated that its aim, to move from plasma physics to electricity-producing power plants, was achievable. However, Derashid believed that as realization of such an ambitious project would not be feasible for at least another ten years. In the meantime, China’s thirst for fossil fuels would still need to be quenched, and this would drive the nation’s military growth even further to guarantee the necessary lines of supply.
Derashid understood that China’s transformed military now tilted the regional balance of power in its favor. With soldiers skilled in the use of high-technology weapons, the country’s intensive modernization program was rapidly drawing the nation to the brink of reaching one of its principal goals, to field enough sophisticated weaponry to prevent the United States from interfering in the annexation of Taiwan. Armed with cruise and other anti-ship missiles capable of piercing U.S. vessels’ electronic defenses, China had now completed its acquisition of Russian-built Sovremenny-class guided missile destroyers and Kilo-class submarines. The Mainland’s arsenal now included two thousand multi-role fighter aircraft, Julang-2 missiles capable of carrying independently targeted warheads ten thousand kilometers, and an impressive inventory of Dongfeng-41 ICBMs capable of striking North America and Australia.
China’s signing of a new Strategic Alliance agreement with Indonesia in support of Beijing’s “String of Pearls” strategy, was of immediate interest to Derashid.
He believed that the door was now wide open for S.E. Asia’s giant neighbor to dominate the archipelago’s natural resources and channel these to meet China’s edacious energy needs. With the expansion of Beijing’s interests across the region, Derashid anticipated a parallel increase in the country’s military excursions, having already secured the disputed islands in the South and East China Seas. Burma had surrendered control over the Coco Islands in the Bay of Bengal permitting China to establish signals-monitoring facilities there to complement installations recently constructed in Pakistan. These were close to the Iranian border at Gwandar, overlooking tankers sailing through the Persian Gulf, adding to the ambitious “String of Pearls” methodology which required a line of military-related agreements linking China through Cambodia, Bangladesh, Thailand, Burma and Pakistan.
Derashid remained thoughtful as he stared blankly into the evening sky, considering his strategy to block China’s aggressive pursuit of oil and gas resources across S.E. Asia. The Pan-Asia Movement would be his instrument in achieving this aim, with profits from the Raja Seram project to fund the realization of his dream for an Asian Islamic State.
Anwar Suprapto stood admiring the new Cessna ‘Citation Sovereign’ jet’s interior.
‘You certainly lucked out, Imam,’ he said, turning to his twin. ‘What’s Pak Agus paying you to fly his pretty lady?’
The former military pilot grinned from ear to ear. ‘Two thousand dollars a month, a pickup and a generous housing allowance.’
Anwar whistled. ‘Sure beats the hell out of flying for a government carrier.’
‘Come on,’ Imam joshed, ‘you’ve nothing to complain about. Garuda 777-300 captains seem to be doing nicely, thank you!’
Anwar snorted. ‘We would…if our salaries were on a par with our international counterparts.’ He coughed heavily, recovered, dismissing Imam’s concerned look as he entered the cockpit. ‘What’s its range?’
‘Just over two and a half thousand miles, carrying eight passengers and fully fueled.’
Anwar was impressed. ‘Speed?’
‘Around five hundred.’
Anwar remained thoughtful for a moment before returning to the lavishly appointed executive cabin. ‘Let me know if Agus ever needs another pilot.’
Imam laughed and slapped his brother on the back. ‘If you’re serious I’ll see what I can do.’
Anwar left Imam with the fifteen-million-dollar Cessna and strolled across to the main building to prepare for his flight to Bali which would take him onto Sydney and Melbourne. As he approached the security entrance, Anwar buckled under another coughing attack, and was tempted to call in that he was too sick to fly.
The lift’s lights blinked ominously, then failed. Andrew Graham felt the elevator shudder then lock into position with the power outage, the claustrophobic setting stenched with fear when the lift lurched then dropped another few inches. Someone behind him whimpered, then cried out, Andrew wincing with pain when struck in the shin by a flailing boot. He leaned his heavy frame into the corner and elbowed the panicked passenger in the stomach, the man then collapsing breathless to the floor as the lights blinked back to life, the whir of motors washing the occupants with relief as normal airflow was restored.
‘Good grief!’ a London-based visitor exclaimed stepping away from the prostrate form, ‘did he faint?’
Shuffling behind the others, Andrew shrugged. ‘Looks like it.’ He hit the lobby button and stepped outside onto the fourth floor.
Exiting the lift, Andrew joined the stream of guests gathered in the pre-function lobby area where pre-dinner cocktails were being served to the symposium delegates. Armed with a flute of Moét & Chandon, the American mingled until the guests were invited to move into the adjacent Marble Hall Ballroom for the opening dinner event. Andrew gravitated to his designated table – disappointed that he had not been placed closer to the Indonesian delegates.
‘Ah, Mister Graham,’ the Chairman of the Shanghai Regional Development Committee acknowledged Andrew when he joined the influential group, ‘do you know everyone here?’
Amidst the rising clamor as five hundred guests took their positions, Graham followed the sweeping gesture and nodded at the others seated around the table and smiled. ‘I don’t believe so.’
‘We are honored to have representation from the prestigious Washington Strategic Policy group at our table,’ the chairman gestured for Graham to sit. ‘As you all know, our American guest is considered an expert on Asian affairs.’
Seated, Graham raised open palms in response. ‘Not quite, Mister Chairman,’ he offered good-humouredly, ‘just an observer, keen to learn more about China and its people.’
‘Have you visited China before?’ the woman on his right asked politely.
Graham replied with measured courtesy. ‘Only briefly, I’m sad to say.’
‘Then you should make this visit longer,’ she countered leaning closer.
Her bad breath made him want to turn away, but courtesy demanded otherwise.
‘That is my plan,’ he managed, as subdued applause at the front of the hall closest to the dais drew a thousand eyes to a tall, elegant beauty crossing the platform; the sleeveless golden rose cheongsam clinging to her resplendent form, hushing the assembly as she stepped up to the podium and addressed the gathering.
‘Deputy Premier,’ the woman paused respectfully and bowed slightly before welcoming the other VIPs, ‘Chairman of Shanghai Economy Commission, Vice Chairman Shanghai Foreign Investment Commission, representatives of the…’
Thunderous applause greeted the symposium’s chairman when he moved to the lectern and delivered his opening speech, Andrew Graham’s mind wandering as chatter around his table at the back of the ballroom rose to a level that made it impossible to hear.
The symposium had taken place amidst growing concerns that China’s current great leap forward would drive oil prices to levels that could only jeopardize world economies. Low on fuel, the great engine driving China was desperate for new supply lines to satisfy the hungry giant. SINOPEC service stations across the Mainland now operated on a roster basis, as pumps all too frequently ran dry and electricity blackouts across the nation’s southeast grid continued to cripple commercial endeavours throughout the industrial corridors.
Strategic alliances forged in recent years with Indonesia, India and Malaysia had not alleviated the problem, China now aggressively pursuing acquisitions in the oil and gas sector across the globe. Western analysts blamed Beijing for setting the prices for fuel and oil to low, lower than anywhere else in the world, thereby encouraging China’s demand.
What commenced as a ripple was now a wave washing Western market shores, as disruptions in Asia’s markets for fuel oil products polarized resource-dependent nations in their concerns over China – now the world’s second largest oil importer.
‘And China is now directing its energies in resolving many of these issues associated with lines of supply. We are confident that…’
Andrew cranked his head and caught the eye of the retired Indonesian general who now headed the restructured Pertamina group, which had fallen precariously close to bankruptcy through mismanagement and corrupt practices, a leftover from the Suharto years. Andrew had prearranged to meet with the general – an old acquaintance – and would do so later in the session.
‘You don’t seem particularly interested in what the speaker has to say?’ the woman on Andrew’s left interrupted his thoughts as the chairman’s opening speech dragged on, the delivery painfully slowed by the continuous interpretation breaks. ‘Not at all,’ he responded, ‘I have difficulty understanding what is being said with the PA system the way it is.’
‘Never mind,’ she leaned closer, ‘you’ll be able to read the speech in its entirety when the handouts come around.’
Andrew turned. ‘And you would know this how?’
She looked back in surprise. ‘It’s mentioned on the back of the program.’
* * * *
As midnight approached, the more resilient guests had broken into groups and moved to other rooms. Following dinner, Andrew had met briefly with the Indonesian general in the mezzanine bar, the American treating his old friend to a Cuban Montecristo from the walk-in humidor before settling down over coffee together.
‘We miss you back in Jakarta,’ the general leaned back and affectionately rolled the cigar between his fingers.
‘More like you miss taking me to the cleaners at golf,’ Andrew scoffed. ‘Will you have time for a game while we’re here?’
The general looked directly at the American. ‘Not this time. I’m only here to show my face, then I’m off to Kuala Lumpur.’
Andrew found the opening he needed. ‘Will you be catching up with Malaysia’s new star?’
‘Derashid?’ the Indonesian broke into a grin. ‘Now how on earth would you know that?’
The American laughed softly. ‘Word is, everyone who’s anyone is beating a path to his door.’
‘And, not just those involved in the oil and gas sector.’ The general sat upright and stretched. ‘He has become quite an influential force since you moved back to the States.’
‘Have you met him before?”
‘Yes, but only briefly.’
‘I hear that he is sailing dangerously close to the wind, financially?’
‘No, not any more,’ the general confided, ‘he has raised more than what’s required through that Islamic bond issue last month.’
Andrew probed. ‘Who’s holding the paper?’
The general pulled a face. ‘The Arabs’ coffers are overflowing.’ He placed the cigar back in its tube and tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘Seems that Islamic banks have provided the back-to-back guarantees he needed.’ The Indonesian rose slowly to his feet and extended a hand. ‘Why don’t you swing back via Jakarta and catch up on the local gossip before returning home?’
‘I plan on doing just that.’
‘Okay, if you decide to drop in, give me a call. I’ll be back in Jakarta by the weekend.’
Alone in the mezzanine bar, Andrew ordered a nightcap and sat listening to the jazz group as he weighed the import of the Malaysian entrepreneur, Mohamed Aziz Derashid’s recent emergence as a powerful player on the Asian stage. Andrew was not surprised to learn that it had been Middle East interests that had come to his aid when financing of the Raja Seram project faltered. Andrew had studied the increase in Islamic bond sales after the Malaysian government had eased restrictions. Sales of Islamic bonds or debt that complied with the Koran’s ban on paying and receiving interests had hit record levels after Kuala Lumpur lifted restrictions on foreign purchases. Bulan Sabit Holdings had used their Saudi connections to tap into the oil-rich nation’s petrodollars to finance their Indonesian venture. He understood that the mechanism often required that bonds be backed by assets sold to a company established specifically by the borrower, who then rents back these assets, “the rent”, or lease payments, then circumventing the need to pay interest, in compliance with the Islamic code.
The band ceased playing and Andrew took advantage of the lull, speed-dialing a number in Kuala Lumpur. It rang twice before his party responded, Andrew Graham then informing the U.S. Embassy contact in Malaysia of the general’s imminent visit to meet with Derashid.
Jack McBride had been deep in thought, seriously considering the recent communication offering him a transfer to another post, when he heard the first explosion.
‘It came from the direction of the town market,’ Netty followed the American outside to survey the scene.
‘Probably another gas cylinder,’ he moved off the road to avoid being hit by a passing motorbike. ‘There’s no smoke so I don’t think it’s anything serious.’
Drawn deeper into the Tentena market area, curious town residents stepped through pulped watermelon and scattered buffalo flesh, as baffled vendors moved to salvage produce from the disarray – the market gardeners taking the brunt of the second and much greater detonation when this ripped through the early morning scene, scattering shards of metal in every direction and shattering windows across the street.
Police arrived at the scene to discover two of their own lying dead amongst the carnage. When Mobile Police discovered a satchel containing a timer discarded by the market bombers nearby to where the mission clinic fronted the main road, Netty and two assistants were arrested. McBride’s clinic came under attack, Jack consumed with anger with the return of radical Islamic warriors into the area. Screaming anti-American and Chinese slogans the well-armed Laskar PAI streamed through coastal Christian villages destroying seven hundred homes and killing two hundred within the week.
* * * *
Jack McBride fought to remain patient as he sat cooling his heels at the police chief ’s office, waiting to negotiate the release of his staff. Tentena was again surrounded by AK-47-wielding militants, McBride learning in the early hours that another church had been razed to the ground.
‘The Colonel will see you now,’ an unsmiling Mobile Brigade lieutenant led the American down the corridor, McBride’s fears for Netty growing when he heard screams through the walls as he passed an interrogation room.
‘Ah, Mister McBride,’ the police chief remained seated when the American was ushered into the room, ‘no doubt you wish to discuss the detention of your staff?’
‘Why have they been arrested?’
‘Sit down Mister McBride,’ the chief suggested, ‘you might be here for some time.’
‘Are you detaining me also?’ McBride remained on his feet.
‘Just sit down and listen to what I have to say.’
McBride bristled, swallowed his tongue, then flopped angrily into a chair. He had no authority here and knew that challenging the chief would only exacerbate the situation.
‘We had a report that your staff were seen carrying weapons.’
Incredulous, McBride jumped to his feet at the accusation. ‘That’s a damn lie and you know it!’
‘Sit down!’ the chief shouted, also rising from his seat, ‘or I will have you placed under arrest.’
‘Do that and you’ll have the U.S. Embassy all over your back within hours,’ McBride threatened.
‘Sit down!’ the officer yelled, McBride trembling with rage as an armed aide flung the door open and pointed his weapon at the American’s chest.
‘Duduk!’ the aide demanded, and McBride obeyed, lowering himself slowly into the chair.
Tense moments passed before the chief appeared satisfied that he maintained control. He dismissed the aide and returned to his desk. ‘ You of all people should not have to be reminded that you are a guest in my country. I could have your bags packed and you on a flight with one call to Jakarta.’
‘Then do it!’ McBride challenged.
The chief ’s face paled. ‘You’d leave your girlfriend…what’s her name, Netty, behind?’
McBride felt the knot growing in his stomach. His jaw tightened, mocked by the officer’s sneer when he fell silent.
‘That’s more like it, Mister McBride…or shall I call you Jack?’
‘Call me whatever you want. Just release my staff.’
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ he was told.
‘Have they been charged?’
‘This is not the United States, Jack.’
‘And…?’
‘They’re being interrogated.’
‘On the grounds that someone claimed they were carrying weapons?’
‘Because two of my men were kil ed in the market attack and evidence connected to the bombing was found at your clinic.’
‘That’s preposterous and you know it,’ McBride’s voice fell to a steeled whisper. ‘Our mission has never taken sides in the conflict. We provide care for Christians and Muslims, alike.’
‘Lip service only,’ the chief replied. ‘You collect funds from Christians overseas solely to propagate your own faith.’
‘That’s not entirely true…’
‘Have you ever given funds to our mosques for their social support groups?’
McBride frowned. ‘Of course not, but we…’
‘Why,’ the chief stood and leaned across his desk, ‘when the greater majority of people in need are Muslim?’
‘We provide assistance to any who come to our clinic regardless of their faith.’
‘Do you deny that you or your staff or others associated with your Church have tried to convert Muslims when they have come to you in need?’
‘That never happens!’
The police chief leaned back and slipped both hands into his trouser pockets then smiled, his ensuing comment dripping with honeyed sarcasm. ‘That’s not what one of your staff has admitted.’
McBride wanted to leap across the room and slap the arrogant smirk from the other man’s face. With fingers locked to the underside of his chair he breathed slowly, deeply, avoiding direct eye contact as adrenalin flowed, the missionary drawing upon inner reserves, struggling for self control. To strike the chief might bring gratification, but he knew to do so would also seal Netty and his other staff ’s fate.
Moments dragged by and McBride knew he had no choice but to try another path. He looked up at the chief and nodded. ‘What do I have to do to secure their release?’
The Mobile Police officer crossed his arms and leaned against the teak desk. ‘Why don’t you go back to your clinic and consider what you might have to offer?’
McBride was caught by surprise. ‘You will release them all?’ he asked hopefully.
‘No,’ we’ll detain the men for a few more days but Netty might be able to go…’ he left the offer hanging.
The officer accompanied Jack McBride back to the clinic where the American went directly to his quarters. There he emptied a locked drawer of its contents, wrapping the bundle of Rupiahs in a brown manila envelope and surrendering the equivalent of five hundred dollars to the chief. An hour later Netty was released into McBride’s custody.
The incident forced the missionary to again seriously consider the recently made offer to relocate to an Australian Outback centre administered by his Church.