Bogor’s pre-dawn skies were filled with a brilliance that only lightning can deliver, revealing the dominating contours of the three-thousand metre volcano Gunung Gede. A moment later the surrounding mountain air exploded with unremitting claps of thunder. It was as if the Gods were determined that “The City of Rain”, holding the Guinness record for three hundred and twenty two thunderstorms in one year, should live up to its intimidating reputation.
Lightning arced, a bolt finding earth at a nearby PLN state-owned electricity substation. Across the park, high in the mosque’s towering minaret, a muezzin, preparing to call the faithful to prayer, abandoned his dangerous positionand scrambled down the column’s precarious steps to the safety of the near empty main hall, where he decided to activate the prere-corded Fajar prayer summons.
Confronted by a blackout, he muttered complainingly to himself while hurriedly lighting candles, anxious to complete his duty before sunrise officially passed, as his faith strictly forbade prayer whilst the sun was in the ascent – even when inclement weather eclipsed the event.
Then, having located his tikar prayer mat, he bent on both knees in the direction of Mecca and commenced to worship with the pronouncement, “Allahu Akbar”.
* * * *
Ten minutes by jeep along the twisting Sukabumi road and not twenty kilometres from Bogor, a series of thunderous claps drove a rain-drenched Major General Sutrisno into near mus-cular spasms as he arrived at the gate. Unsmiling Special Forces guards peered into the vehicle, saluted and waved the National Intelligence Chief through – the torrential downpour blurring the landscape as he drove slowly along the unsealed path towards the clandestine army barracks.
An intense flash blinded him momentarily. He jumped on the brake, stalling the jeep, and tensed for the inescapable thunderclap. It came, and was immediately followed by another blinding flash that sent millions of volts into the ground, alarmingly close to the barracks of the covert base. Again, the Javanese officer braced, for the ear-shattering roar that would, and did, inevitably follow.
Sutrisno remained hunched over the wheel once the thunder had passed, regaining his composure, cursing his decision to journey out in such inclement weather without his usual driver. When Lt. General Sungkono had called and suggested he attend a closed meeting, the recently appointed Badan Intelijen Negara chief had not hesitated. The invitation confirmed his suspicions that Sungkono, the KOSTRAD Army’s Strategic Operations Commander, was laying the foundation for his challenge to assume the Presidency. Sungkono, supported by the “Green” fundamentalist military faction had emerged from obscurity, after the “Greens” had successfully dislodged the fiercely nationalist “Red & White” modernists, “the old guard”, associated with Suharto’s defunct “New Order”. The thought appealed to Sutrisno. With the old guard now replaced by a more sophisticated leadership team, the TNI had managed to rebuild its support base and return power to the generals; Sutrisno, a major player in the revitalized, fundamentalist “Green” team.
The General rolled a jacket sleeve back to check the time. He was late for his meeting. He re-started the engine and drove the remaining two hundred metres to what had been the Laskar Jihad’s field training headquarters, where he was met and immediately escorted inside.
‘Ah,’ General Sungkono looked up and frowned as Sutrisno entered, ‘now that we are all here, we can start.’
Sutrisno ignored the mild rebuke. He brushed at his dampened uniform, then dropped into the remaining chair opposite the Special Forces commander, General Supadi, accepted coffee, and settled back as Sungkono opened the meeting.
‘You all know why we’re here,’ the Strategic Forces general commenced ‘and what we must do to ensure the ongoing integrity of the unitary state of the Republic.’ He scanned the faces of the other three officers who each, in turn, nodded in agreement. ‘And restore the TNI’s authority to where we were before the so-called democratinization processes were introduced.’
Sutrisno caught General Supadi’s eye; both understood where the conversation was heading. The erosion of TNI’s power had commenced during the post-Suharto vacuum, when politicians had orchestrated the removal of the TNI block of allocated seats in Parliament. Within ten years the military had been stripped of all commercial enterprises, leaving cupboards bare at all levels. Sutrisno and Supadi were conscious of General Sungkono’s presidential aspirations. As Commander of the Strategic Forces, he wielded considerable power. It was not lost on the two subordinate officers that the former president, Suharto, had launched his own coup against Sukarno from that very position.
‘Our country’s resources are being delivered to the Chinese, concession by concession, and I believe it is not in the Republic’s interests to continue to do so.’
‘They’re ensconced through internationally binding agreements,’ Sutrisno reminded.
‘Agreements can be revoked,’ Supadi stepped in. ‘The government could simply demand to renegotiate the terms of all existing contracts.’
‘The President would never agree,’ Sutrisno insisted.
‘Then, other than assuming the Presidency what else can we do?’
‘Nationalize all oil and gas operations,’ Sungkono suggested with a wave of a hand, ‘and place these natural resources under TNI control.’
‘And this could be achieved, how?’ Sutrisno leaned forward.
‘By introducing martial law,’ Sungkono replied.
‘The rakyat would never agree,’ Sutrisno challenged, referring to the Indonesian people; his, the voice of reason. ‘Unless, of course, we effected a coup?’
‘No,’ the Strategic Forces commander held a palm in the air, ‘the West would reintroduce embargoes. We have to be more subtle than before.’ The General rose and moved to the wall map at the rear of the room where he stood with his back to the others. ‘Our answer lays here, gentlemen,’ he turned and pointed to the group of islands in the country’s east, ‘in Sulawesi and Maluku. With the recent Raja Seram Field discoveries any escalation in violence would be perceived as a threat to national security…’ the General turned to face his co-conspirators. ‘And should the unrest spread as far as the capital, this would deliver to us the opportunity to declare martial law and return the Republic to its rightful leadership.’ He engaged Sutrisno directly. ‘and with the restoration of the ‘Agency’, you, Mas ‘Trisno, will play a leading role.’
General Sutrisno had expected as much, as he also chaired the powerful Coordinating Agency for National Stability, or BAKORSTANAS, undoubtedly the most feared organization to evolve under Suharto’s military dictatorship. Abolished in the post-New Order years the agency had now been restored.
The Agency operated outside the legal code and had wide discretion to detain and interrogate persons considered a threat to national security. Following Suharto’s rise to power between 600,000 and 750,000 government opponents were detained in a vast number of prisons, hastily prepared detention centers and work camps. The Armed Forces, ABRI had established the intelligence body, KOPKAMTIB, to administer the arrest, interrogation and trials of these political prisoners. When ABRI was reorganized in 1985 KOPKAMTIB was abolished and its widespread powers passed to BAKORSTANAS. The two intelligence agencies, the National Intelligence Agency (BIN) and the Armed Forces Strategic Intelligence Agency (BAIS) were integral components of the new agency.
Sutrisno understood that what Sungkono was suggesting was, in fact, a return to the past. Camps would have to be prepared to contain the tens of thousands of dissidents and other prisoners, and special squads would be required to ensure that the more high profile agitators simply disappeared. He looked solemnly over at General Supadi. As Commander of the Special Forces the provision of such units would fall into his domain. Quietly he considered the repercussions should their intentions be discovered, but he remained confident that even should they be challenged by the incumbent President, the positions all three enjoyed simply carried far too much power for them not to succeed. However the question that disquieted remained: whether the TNI had sufficient resources to reign in the Maluku Brigade should they be permitted to grow much further in strength.
The meeting continued throughout the night, the generals returning to their respective commands the following morning to initiate General Sungkono’s praetorian plan, one which would evoke a paroxysm of international rage hitherto unseen since the New Order, ‘communist cleansing’ of 1965.
The chest pain caught the captain of the M.V. Rager by surprise. He staggered into the wheelhouse with the Nikon binoculars gripped firmly in one hand, the other searching his pockets for antacid tablets. Burning pain struck from behind his sternum, the severity of the attack freezing Bartlett in his tracks. Agonizing moments passed and, with an economy of movement, he slowly stripped the covering foil from two tablets and managed these into his mouth, remaining deathly still, waiting for the chalky compound to work. As the pain subsided the mercenary leaned back against a row of waist high timber lockers and belched, then returned to his watch.
Suddenly Bartlett tensed with the reflection of sun on glass in the distance. He squinted at the horizon and raised the powerful 8 x 30DIF glasses, grunting when he became satisfied that the vessel was another inter-island trader. He stepped back into the wheelhouse to monitor the Global Positioning Satellite receiver and waited for his client’s ship to call.
Bartlett had sailed from Basilan across the northern tip of Sulawesi, down the eastern coastline of the Halmahera Islands, aware that the Indonesian Navy only occasionally patrolled these waters. Within hours he would rendezvous with another vessel off Pulau Tobalai, and transfer his final shipment of NATO-issue weapons to members of the Maluku Brigade. Not one to surrender to superstition, Bartlett did, however, experience a sense of foreboding in relation to this mission, as not only was this to be his last shipment, he was venturing much deeper into Indonesian waters than initially contracted.
Although he had been introduced to the client through a reliable contact, Bartlett had initiated his own background check on the Belgian weapons’ supplier via a Manila-based, CIA source. Even when the report had come back clean, Bartlett had still hesitated in accepting the contract, his gut telling him to beware. Having arbitrarily tripled his usual rate, he was amazed when the client had unquestioningly accepted. Then, when the cargo was delivered to his ship at anchor in Mindanao, he reasoned that he was dealing with a government-backed supplier. The weapons were the most recent NATO issue, U.S.-manufactured XM8 lightweight assault rifles – all produced in parasniper configuration. They were new to Bartlett; he had never held one in his grip before. Aware that the XM8 could fire close to eight hundred rounds per minute, he appreciated the significance of such a weapon in the hands of separatist rebels.
The first eleven runs had been completed without incident, Bartlett delivering the shipments with relative ease, as the transfer points were offshore Menado in Sulawesi’s north.
With heightened surveillance off Indonesia’s common sea borders due to an ongoing dispute over demarcation lines defining ownership of oil and gas deposits, his client had requested a change in the delivery procedures. Having considered the added risk, Bartlett renegotiated his rate, agreeing to undertake a further three deliveries. Tempted by the bonus payments he had then completed a fourth, adamant that the current incursion would be his last.
The mercenary scratched at a scarred indentation that had faded with time under a thinning, grey head, the imposition of a ghost from his past troubling, as it reminded the former ASIS agent that in his line of work, treachery was a constant companion.
Bartlett recognized that it was time for him to move on, sell the M.V. Rager and find a more suitable place to live under the sun. The southern Philippines, his operational base and home for the past twenty years, was on the brink of becoming the next Afghanistan, with Mindanao stamped as the new Mecca for terrorism. The influx of Islamic militants had bolstered the twenty-thousand strong Moro Islamic Liberation Front to a point where U.S.-backed government forces continued to lose ground to the rebels – Bartlett deciding that after this final run he would call it a day.
The radio squawked. Bartlett listened attentively, mentally deciphering the coded Indonesian message, which signaled the imminent approach of his target vessel. Again he raised the Nikon binoculars and scanned the sea ahead, comforted when he identified the motorized perahu as it appeared around the lower tip of Tobalai Island and steamed in his direction.
Having exchanged its shipment of assault rifles for fuel the M.V. Rager’s hold was now filled with drums of diesel. Bartlett set a course which would take him to his new haven, the small island nation of Palau, five hundred kilometers east of the Philippines. He opened a foot locker and removed a bottle of Bacardi 8, stepped out onto the deck and, as he stood watching the Maluku Brigade vessel disappear from sight, he twisted the cap and lifted the neck to his mouth, savoring his first moments of retirement.
* * * *
The covert Dutch-sponsored weapons’ shipment was unloaded at a coastal village along the Seram Strait and then transported upriver into the hills and stashed in the Maluku Brigade arsenal. Upon receiving confirmation that the assault rifles and accompanying ammunition had arrived safely, Rima Passelima sent a simple message via her NGO through to the embassy in Jakarta, the content of which was then relayed to the AIVD in Holland.
Having read the submission earlier, Peter Rigby grew impatient, eager for the senior analyst to complete his report.
‘And, as political Islam and regional terrorist organizations continue to consolidate in tandem across S.E. Asia, we should expect to see a substantial increase in support for the more radical groups in Indonesia, Malaysia, Southern Thailand and the Philippines. Pan-Asia-Islamic-backed commercial interests’ influence over ASEAN has become more transparent and we should anticipate greater opposition to Australia’s inclusion in the newly created trading zones.’ The analyst paused, can-vassed the room over rimless bifocals and, satisfied he had not lost anyone along the way, continued with his presentation. ‘As to the impact of higher oil and gas prices on China and the ASEAN economies, we…’
Deputy Director Rigby accepted that experts had been predicting an oil supply crisis for thirty years. With demand out-stripping supply he understood that the looming energy crunch was as important an issue as regional defence – the price of petrol at the pump of more concern to the general public than any potential threat that might arise from growing separatist issues immediately to the nation’s north. Rigby believed that the unitary state of Indonesia would be unable to contain the separatist threat, and was of the opinion that Australia needed to consider new alliances in order to survive. He had argued volumes, citing the Indonesian military’s incapacity to settle sectarian conflicts in Sulawesi and the Moluccas, his prognos-tications supported by few.
‘It is widely recognized that Australia is capable of producing some eighty-five percent of its domestic fuel needs. However, from a strategic viewpoint, there could be some risk to our production capacity, as two-thirds of Australian oil is produced in the north and north-west, which would make these facilities more vulnerable to attack by radical elements operating across the Indonesian archipelago.’
Rigby resisted glancing at his wristwatch as the analyst droned on presenting data pertaining to China’s burgeoning relationship with Indonesia, the product of strategic bilateral agreements reached under the Yudhoyono Presidency when Beijing’s state-owned petroleum companies were scouring the globe for new supplies to keep the economy growing. As a consequence, China’s investment in Indonesia’s energy sector provided a closer source of supply than the distant and politically volatile Middle Eastern states. At the time, Rigby identified Beijing’s move imperative to its long term interests, as Indonesia straddled the Southeast Asian waterways through which seventy-five percent of China’s oil imports passed. It was clear to the Deputy Director that Beijing wished to ensure unhindered passage of its commercial and naval shipping between the Pacific and Indian oceans, the separatist issues along those lanes obviously of growing concern.
However, China’s attempt to monopolize energy resources also greatly troubled Rigby.
Australian-American oil-and-mining lobby interests were growing increasingly rattled by China’s entreaties with Jakarta to reconsider existing lease arrangements with Western resource giants – particular at this time when Houston’s Japanese partners had abandoned the U.S. for joint production in the disputed East China Sea, the rich gas deposits now being developed under a new arrangement between Japan and China leaving the Americans out in the cold.
The East China Sea was believed to contain more than one hundred billion barrels of oil, making it one of the last unexplored high-potential resource areas with close proximity to established markets. Decades of boundary disputes had hindered development until recent joint development agreement were reached between the S.E. Asian countries, China, Australia and all the countries in between.
Rigby was aware that Australia’s current discord with China had its origins back in time when Australia and East Timor agreed on the development of gas fields along redefined borders. China had entered into agreements with the Indonesian state-owned oil giant, Pertamina, for lease areas that were in dispute. Australian interests had forged ahead, subsequently constructing facilities in Darwin to implement the agreements. Indonesia cried foul and China threatened to revoke its Free Trade Agreement with Canberra which amounted to more than thirty billion dollars in benefits to the Australian economy.
East Timor had defined its territory in keeping with international laws relating to territorial sea rights, and the area ripped from the Indonesian claim was substantially rich in oil and gas deposits. Frequent incursions by Chinese naval ships had raised political tensions between Canberra and Beijing, the United States then increasing its already significant presence in northern Australia at Darwin defence installations.
‘Our trade agreement with China, which has delivered a twenty-five billion dollar bonanza to our economy over the past five years, would therefore come into question should Beijing’s pursuit of strategic alliances with Indonesia and other S.E. Asian nations result in Australia being sidelined in future, regional trade pacts.’
When the analyst’s delivery concluded the attendees returned to their respective domains to consider the import of the intelligence brief ’s recommendations; Rigby was amongst those convinced that Australia had reached a watershed in its relationships with its near neighbors – one which would challenge the nation’s long term survival.
Whilst most of the Indonesian archipelago had undergone significant change, Seram, the second largest island in the Moluccas had remained virtually untouched—until the Raja Seram Field oil and gas discoveries—because of its wild, rugged interior – the primary consideration for the Maluku Brigade leadership basing their operations there.
Led by a secretive cabal of Protestant Christian conspirators, the Maluku Brigade, supported by pro-independence groups within Holland’s Ambonese commnity, had grown into a formidable force.
On the 9th November the Brigade concluded a series of secret meetings with the Organisesi Papua Merdeka, (Free West Papua Movement) leadership, resulting in both separatist groups declaring their intent to sever ties with Indonesia.
That night a heavily-armed Maluku Brigade paramilitary force moved unhindered under cover of darkness through the coastal port town of Amahai towards the Bimaton construction site. Local security forces abandoned any pretence of resistance, permitting the four-hundred-strong separatist group to assume control over the refinery and communications centers, sending shockwaves reverberating throughout the region.
In the weeks that followed, the Indonesian military managed to balance its campaign against the separatists, the media playing into General Sungkono’s hands, suggesting that martial law should be seriously considered across the archipelago’s restive eastern provinces. Then, without warning, thousands of Laskar PAI militants from the Southern Philippines and Malaysia flooded into the Halmaheras. The fighting escalated further, the bloody toll resulting in a groundswell of support for U.N. intervention. The TNI leadership suddenly became gravely concerned.