The Fifth Season (37 page)

As a further gesture of contempt, and paralyzed by his own dysfunctional leadership, Hababli had promised the Indonesian people that he would ask the Singapore Government to freeze all secret accounts associated with the former President's family. Although she knew that he had been unsuccessful, his actions had been sufficient for the banks to demand the presence of any of the signatories to these Asian Currency Unit accounts before any funds would be released. In effect, this permitted the bankers to hold what amounted to many billions of dollars in cash reserves belonging to her family, until such times as they were permitted to travel to Singapore in person.

Nuri's family had been informed that the Swiss bankers would require that at least one of her brothers or sisters appear before any of their deposits could be accessed. She expected that, in time, Hababli and his associates would come to some compromise regarding her family's hidden assets. The knowledge that their accumulated wealth, which she knew to exceed thirty billion dollars, would remain out of reach to those who headed the new Indonesian Government provided Nuri with some semblance of comfort, believing that she could always use these funds to negotiate their position.

Her thoughts turned to the others in her family, understanding their frustration with the drastic changes they had been subjected to since their Bapak surrendered power. Nuri accepted that not all in her family had fared well. Her younger sister, Tuti, had written asking that she seek General Winarko's intervention when her husband, Praboyo, had been placed on trial for the Uber Sakti University student slayings.

For Nuri, it mattered not, one way or the other should the arrogant and irresponsible General Praboyo land in military prison. The Suhapto family were of the same opinion; their demise was directly related to the student killings, the catalyst for the destruction of the Suhapto dynasty. General Winarko had interceded. The final compromise had been banishment to Bandung.

But the stigma remained, for Praboyo had never been cleared of his involvement in those shootings, his appointment as Commandant of the Staff College rescinded when the
ABRI
leadership dismissed him as a result of an officers' code-of-conduct hearing. Praboyo was discharged from the Army with his secrets intact. Diplomats and their military analysts conceded that the lieutenant-general's dismissal was a way of containing damaging evidence, which would most certainly have emerged in an open court, military tribunal.

Banished to Bandung, his name was rarely mentioned in any of the other Suhapto households, and Nuri felt saddened that Tuti had followed her unfaithful husband to the mountain city.

All telephone links into their homes were monitored, and Nuri now spent her days communicating with the outside world by letter. She expected that much of her correspondence would be subject to censorship.

She expected that Hababli's rapacious greed would continue to drive the President's incessant intrusions into her family's affairs until he accessed what they had hidden overseas. Nuri was careful in what she wrote, determined to make Hababli's path a difficult one. On occasion she had deliberately written misleading information, hoping that this would add to the confusion in the search for her family's well-buried fortunes.

Nuri stopped pacing when one of the female assistants entered the lavishly-appointed drawing room, and handed her a bundle of letters. The woman remained waiting for instructions as Nuri Suhapto sorted through the mail, and was then waved away, without so much as one word.

Alone with her thoughts again, Nuri retrieved one of the letters she had set aside briefly reading its contents. She wondered why her censors permitted such hate mail to be delivered. She knew that there would have been many hundreds of other communications destroyed in the censorship process, and was annoyed with herself for reacting to the letter's content. Nuri rolled the accusatory letter into a ball, and threw this across the room, then sat down to read the remainder of her mail. She opened the letter from her sister in Bandung and read this slowly, saddened by the news Tuti's letter conveyed.

When Nuri Suhapto finished reading Tuti's note she became concerned that the contents had been read by others. Exasperated by her sibling's naiveté, Nuri sat pondering the consequences of what her sister had written regarding Praboyo, now less than confident that her ambitious brother-in-law's covert activities would not again endanger them all.

* * * *

Tuti had tried pleading to her husband but this had only resulted in a sharp slap from the back of his hand. She sat facing the vanity mirror examining evidence of his response. Praboyo's ring had left a small red welt, just below her right ear, and Tuti placed her finger gingerly on the wound, wincing as she did so. There would surely be a bruise and this, coupled with her husband's irrepressible behavior, sent another flood of huge weeping tears cascading down her cheeks.

Tuti was deeply taunted by the gossip that Praboyo had ensconced his mistress in the air force guest house not far from where he lived with his family. Consumed with anger, she wished she could muster the courage to confront the woman whose presence caused so much pain. Praboyo had been severely critical of her lately, their relationship rocky since her father had fallen from grace. She knew that their joint assets would ensure that their marital bonds remained intact. Although she was certain that he no longer loved her, Tuti was gambling that her cavalier husband would never abandon the considerable fortunes they had secreted away, safely hidden in Swiss and Singapore vaults. Tuti was relieved that she had followed her father's advice; Praboyo would not benefit financially from her death, and would still be unable to access the joint assets without her sisters' and brothers' approval.

Flashes of her father holding her lovingly on his lap brought tears to her eyes.

The late President Suhapto had slipped away in his sleep, his passing cheered by many, his memory cherished now by few. The children had wished to take his remains to be buried alongside their mother, but any foray into
Mufti Muharam
held territory could not be considered. Instead, in this land of eternal compromise, General Winarko had suggested to President Hababli that Suhapto be buried at Kalibata in the Heroes' Cemetery. He had agreed, providing the service was kept to immediate family and selected government officials.

On that day more than five thousand troops had been mustered as an honor guard, detailed to accompany President Suhapto's mortal remains to the designated resting place. Tuti had attended. Political differences had been placed aside, and she was grateful for the opportunity to farewell her father. Then, heavy with grief, she had returned to Bandung with her children, bitter that her husband, always immune from criticism, had refused to respect the occasion and attend the funeral.

Tuti suffered terribly from the loneliness imposed by her husband's banishment to Bandung, and the knowledge that she was effectively under house-arrest. She had no complaints with respect to their accommodations. Although the stately government mansion was well staffed, it remained a prison for Tuti and her children.

In a conciliatory move, General Winarko had agreed that her children could visit their family in Jakarta, although their movements were closely monitored during such outings. Nowadays even General Praboyo required written authority before being permitted to leave Bandung's greater met-ropolitan area.

Tuti had been surprised with Praboyo's docile acceptance of his banishment, as this was totally out of character. She had expected that he would rebel, jeopardizing the only chance he would be granted to redeem himself forever. Then, to her dismay, she learned that it had all been a cleverly disguised feint to conceal his true agenda, to overthrow the country's leadership.

Alarmed by the conversations she had overheard, Tuti confronted Praboyo and demanded a denial that he was, in fact, supporting another coup. His response had been to smile arrogantly, and turn away, the cold, cruel, and determined grin, the answer she had feared.

She lived with the constant threat of discovery, deeply concerned that the flow of seditious officers into her home where they often remained huddled in secret deep into the night, would be observed by others. The possibility that her husband could end up incarcerated in the Cipinang Prison filled her mind with each waking hour. Tuti appealed to her husband to consider their children but was ignored. In desperation she wrote to her sister, Nuri, in Jakarta, requesting that she take her children into safe custody until Praboyo came to his senses.

Tuti's letter passed through the censor's hands, its ambiguous contents phrased in such a manner as to deliberately confuse. A reply arrived within the week, and she became even more depressed.

Although Nuri had understood the nuances of her appeal it seemed that even she was now powerless to prevent Praboyo from embarking on his precarious journey.

The crowd roared their approval, filling the air with the cry,
‘Allahu
Akbar! Allahu Akbar!' ‘God is Great!'
, the stadium breaking into pandemo-nium as the white-clad
Mufti Muharam
followers continued their chants, the air reverberating with the sheer force of their collective voices.
‘Hidu-plah Abdul Muis! Hiduplah Abdul Muis!'
they called,
‘Long live Abdul Muis!'

As their voices reached those outside, the echoing effect continued until the thunderous sound of two million voices enveloped the city.

The Moslem leader had commenced his crusade to turn Indonesia into a sectarian, Islamic state. He had become a most potent force for Moslem unification over the past eighteen months, claiming power at the recent elections. Although this was thwarted by the military, Abdul Muis continued on his mission of reunification throughout the archipelago, speaking to rallies, whipping his audiences into frenzies of racial and sectarian hate wherever he visited.

In a multi-faceted society long scarred by racial discrimination, he believed that his attacks against the Christians would be ignored by a military dominated by Moslem generals. But he needed the support of the powerful union movement which now threatened to attract membership from within his own ranks.

Having considered his own motives in depth, he proceeded, accepting that his actions would initially create even greater suffering for his people. Abdul Muis joined with the Union movement, the massive, and crippling strikes which ensued had further deepened the economic and political crisis. It had not been too difficult to persuade the unionists to follow. Massive reforms demanded by the IMF had only exacerbated the problems of hunger and poverty now experienced by hungry millions. Haji Abdul Muis had become a beacon, not just a spiritual leader. To the mass of thirty million unemployed he represented a promise, a way out of their economic dilemma.

Following the collapse of the Suhapto regime Abdul Muis had remained silent, as President Hababli moved to ensconce himself as the nation's leader in much the same manner as his predecessor. During his first months in office the interim President had paid lip service to the IMF and World Bank, cleverly disguising his own motives and vested interests until substantial sums of capital were advanced by these organizations. Abdul Muis watched, with continued annoyance, as Hababli moved quickly to shore up his own power-base both internationally and domestically. But, somehow, Hababli just did not have the qualities or the charisma demanded of the Presidency.

Within months of his appointment he awarded honors to his own brother and wife during a lavish nation-wide television ceremony. Abdul Muis sniggered to friends when Hababli appealed publicly for the Chinese community to return, pleased when they refused. Then, when the President tempted the foreign investment community with empty promises of reform, Abdul Muis believed that the interim leader's time was coming to an end. The foreigners were reticent to return with their capital, citing the re-emergence of cronyism and nepotism amongst the Indonesian leadership. Token gestures such as General Praboyo's show trial had done little to convince the West that things had changed. When Praboyo had fallen from grace Abdul Muis wasted little time in disassociating himself from the once powerful general, unaware that Praboyo's ambitious nature would bring the former allies into deadly confrontation.

Haji Abdul Muis watched with growing impatience as Hababli fell victim to his own ego, convincing himself in the most self-delusory manner that he was loved and admired by all. But it was when Hababli took a most dangerous path, siding with the United States and Great Britain against the world Moslem community, did Muis decide on the mechanics of how he might achieve his dreams. At a time when unity was all important to movements such as the
Mufti Muharam
, the President had openly agreed with the American attacks on Sudan and Afghanistan, raising the ire of the world Moslem communities.

When he learned of the
USS
Valley Forge's
deadly Tomahawk missiles striking Bahri on the outskirts of Khartoum, reducing the al-Shifaa pharmaceutical plant to a smoldering heap, Abdul Muis was on the phone immediately, talking to Osama bin Ladam's deputy, seeking assurances that the wealthy philanthropist had not been killed or injured. Incensed by reports of the
USS
Abraham Lincoln's
unprecedented attack on targets in Pakistan's mountainous region, Abdul Muis had immediately demanded that the President condemn the attack, but Hababli refused. Instead, appointing himself as spokesman for the world's Moslem community, President Hababli had condemned bin Ladam, unwittingly undermining Moslem unity. Muis had been livid. His relationship with the terrorist organization jeopardized by Hababli's need to be praised by the West.