our only other option would be to support a coup.’
The American leader listened to the succinct statement, and slowly shook his head. He reached across and lifted the delicately shaped, silver-filigree keris, which had been decorated with precious stones and designed as a letter opener. It had been a gift from the Indonesian President, presented during his stay at Camp David the year before. Immediately, memories of Suhapto’s visit reminded him of the reciprocal invitation to join the aging Javanese on his ranch outside Jakarta. It would now be an opportunity lost, and he was saddened that the man who had been America’s friend for more than three decades, would now disappear from the world’s stage.
He recalled listening to a Voice of America broadcast back in time, when he, not unlike many other young Americans who had avoided the draft and left for overseas, suffered severe homesickness and occasionally sat around in London with others in similar situations, wishing they could return home.
It seemed, at the time, that his country might soon be fighting a war on two fronts as the violence in Indonesia escalated. When was that? he struggled to remember, deciding that it had to be somewhere in the mid-Sixties.
He had not suffered the scars of war, as had so many of his fellow countrymen. Instead, he had only the unpleasant reminder of a wound he had received from falling down the British college steps. This recollection unconsciously sent his hand to touch the soreness which, until this day, remained along the length of his leg.
‘Thanks gentlemen,’ he said, rising, then moving to look out through the window. ‘You know what my preferred option is, of course,’ he said, tiredness evident in his voice. The President then turned slowly to face the three men. ‘I don’t want Suhapto harmed if at all possible. He has been a good friend to this country, and we should let him go as quietly as can be arranged. Understood?’
‘Of course, Mr. President,’ Cohen answered, the CIA Director and National Security Adviser also nodding affirmatively. There was a brief silence, the Secretary managing to choke another cough. They waited; a few minutes ticked by, then the President nodded, almost absentmindedly, permitting the keris to slip slowly from his hand, onto the table.
‘Keep me posted,’ was all he said, before turning back to peer through the window again, the specter of a Moslem Indonesia loaded with nuclear-capable missiles weighing heavily on his mind.
Unaware that their Indonesian intelligence sources had blundered seriously, the President’s advisers quietly took their leave, each returning to his own powerful security realm to initiate steps to remove, and replace, the Javanese born President, believing that these actions would preclude any emergence of an Indonesian Islamic state, and the threat of a Chinese dominated Asian-Middle Eastern trade bloc.
* * * *
The Middle East
Abdul Muis
Haji Abdul Muis was most impressed with what he had observed, relishing the knowledge that very few Iranians, let alone foreigners such as he, had ever been given access to the country’s secret installation. The Haji acknowledged that it was his position as leader of the Indonesian Mufti Muharam Moslem party which had provided him with this opportunity to inspect these sensitive facilities. This was his third visit to Iran, his efforts to consolidate his relationship with the powerful ayatollahs, so far successful.
Situated not far from Semnan, Muis was not aware that this Chinese-built missile plant was, in fact, smaller than the two North Korean engineered installations at Isfahan and Sirjan. These liquid-fuel producing plants would not be on the visitor’s itinerary, nor would he visit the Iranian missile test facilities at Shahroud. For it was there that the Chinese M-9 single-stage, solid-fuel road-mobile missiles were stored under cover, away from prying American satellite cameras which crossed this nation on regular, hourly orbits. The Iranians had successfully evaded detection, the United States still believing that recent pressure applied on China had prevented delivery of these advanced missiles. Although they had come to trust their brother from the East, they would need more time before the Indonesians would be accepted into the fold.
The Haji ’s brief tour was to be treated solely as a public relations exercise to demonstrate to their fellow Moslems how Iran’s fundamentalist regime had prospered technologically. His hosts were aware that Muis had little understanding, or knowledge of weaponry and armaments, as Indonesia had yet to acquire such sophisticated systems. They were supportive of Abdul Muis’ aspirations, and keen to demonstrate this in a material manner.
Iran’s political shift had greatly benefited the post-Shah regime. Although the end of the Iran-Iraq war had seen the United States exert considerable pressure on Russia, China and India to withhold nuclear reactor technology from its former ally, the country continued to receive substantial support from communist nations desperate for foreign currency. And then there was the Iranian chemical warfare capability, developed as a response to Iraq’s attacks on Iranian troops during the Gulf War. Now, these neighboring countries both had stockpiles of nerve agents and other deadly chemicals which could be delivered by artillery shells, or as part of a payload on board any of the country’s four hundred SCUD missiles. Muis was determined to acquire such weapons, and raised the subject with his hosts during the visit.
Abdul Muis completed his tour through the missile plant and returned to Teheran in time to attend the private dinner organized in his honor, by his friend Osama bin Ladam.
They had first met during Muis’ second visit to Iran, the Indonesian immediately impressed, by the persuasive Arab. From the outset, Muis had been captivated by bin Ladam’s knowledge and the man’s commitment tohis long-running holy war, or Jihad, against the West. Although Muis suspected claims of his friend’s involvement in the recent bombings of American targets to be true, this in no way diminished his admiration for bin Ladam. If anything, from the time of their first meeting, Muis started to emulate his hero in many ways, even in the manner he dressed.
The dinner was attended by a handful of close bin Ladam associates, who had specifically asked to meet with Haji Abdul Muis. Later, the Indonesian was to conclude that the function was to provide bin Ladam’s associates with the opportunity to assess Muis for themselves. The two leaders arranged to meet again the following morning, at which time an accord was reached between the two powerful factions.
When bin Ladam had entered his quarters, Muis was again struck by the man’s presence. Gaunt features covered partially by a long, graying beard, jutting down from his ears covering most of his face and neck, belied bin Ladam’s inner strength. Muis might have been surprised when first meeting the Islamic leader. His movements were slow, stiffened by years of crippling back pain and he carried a cane to support his thin-framed body. But by the conclusion of their early morning tête-à-tête, Abdul Muis was left with no illusions as to Osama bin Ladam’s strengths, impressed with the forty-year old’s clarity of thought, and obvious dedication to his Moslem beliefs. Their discussion was candid, conducted in an atmosphere of Islamic brotherhood, and mutual respect.
‘As a token of my respect for you and your people,’ bin Ladam had said, with an unsmiling face. Surprised, Muis accepted the unsealed envelope.
Inside there was a cheque drawn against a Swiss bank for ten million dollars. He was stunned by bin Ladam’s generosity.
‘For what purpose?’ he asked, silently counting the zeros again, and the international terrorist explained. Muis listened, nodding from time to time, interrupting only towards the end.
‘I have just the place!’ he claimed, excitedly. ‘Ten hectares would be sufficient?’
‘Yes.
