is he?’ she asked the attending nurse, her voice but a whisper.
‘He rests,’ the middle-aged woman replied, ‘the doctor says that he was lucky – this time.’
Sharon moved to the side of the bed, leaned down and kissed her uncle on the forehead, then took a seat alongside to wait for him to regain consciousness. She settled back into the deep, cushioned chair, resting tired eyes after the long, anxiety-filled journey back from London. The General had suffered his second stroke.
Her eyes drifted around the all too familiar room with its rich furnishings, the presence of cigar smoke still evident in the air and, when she recognized the photograph which had been moved closer to her uncle’s side, she shed a tear. Sharon knew that this would have been Alfredo’s handiwork, and she muttered a silent prayer of thanks that Dominguez’s trusted aide had been present when her uncle had collapsed. Suddenly, she felt cold, the threat of Narciso Dominguez dying gripped her with the reality that the ageing General lying there was her only remaining family, and that with his passing, apart from Alfredo, she would be completely alone.
****
Sharon ’s parents, along with her two brothers and a sister, had died when the Hercules transport carrying them to Hong Kong had crashed over the ocean, ten years before. Sharon had been devastated at the time, returning home immediately to attend to matters of estate. Since the tragic incident, Sharon had become the daughter General Narciso Dominguez could never have. Now, the old man and his niece were the sole, remaining members of what was once a most influential, Filipino family.
Although her parents had not been overly wealthy Sharon’s inheritance provided her with the capacity to travel freely for two years, by which time the therapeutic journey had not only diminished her funds, but had given her a greater appreciation of the power of money.
Whilst touring South Africa she managed to secure a position with Anglovest Reef Mines in Johannesburg, during which time she acquired considerable, practical field training under the guidance of more experienced geologists. Sharon learned quickly, enjoying the frequent field survey trips, the magnificent country and its flora and fauna. But, after three years, she yearned for a change of scenery and, touched by an occasional bout of homesickness, wrote to her uncle advising that she wished to come home. She had returned to the Philippines and accepted the General’s offer to live in his sprawling, Manila mansion, grateful for his support and introductions to the wealthy and influential powerbrokers that ate off President Marcos’ table in Malacanang Palace .
Sharon’s most recent visit to London had been to investigate avenues whereby some of the General’s associates’, illicitly acquired wealth, might be converted into American dollars. She had been unsuccessful, and had been preparing to fly to New York to meet with a number of brokers when Alfredo had called, summoning her home to Manila.
Now, as she rested alongside her uncle, Sharon prayed for his recovery.
****
Jakarta – Indonesia
Heavily armed, blue-beret soldiers stood guard on both sides of Jalan Cendana preventing access to the well known address, those permitted to pass through the heavily cordoned street were either members of the First Family, or those closely associated with the Suharto regime.
A red Lamborghini roared around the corner from Jalan Waringin, the driver laughing as he drove the Italian racer directly at the guards, forcing them to leap sideways, and away from his path. With a squeal of burning rubber, the car turned into a driveway, the air suddenly quiet as the President’s son killed the engine and climbed out of his machine, then strutted arrogantly past a black Mercedes-Benz limousine with its ‘RI-1’ plates, into his father’s principal residence.
Inside, he paid his respects to his mother, before wandering through to the rear of the well-fortified compound, where he found a number of his siblings holding court.
‘It could only have been you, with that noisy car!’ an older sister complained.
‘You should be grateful that I get to use the city’s roads as much as I do,’ he retorted, referring to the fact that this sister had managed to convince their father to place tolls on the capital’s highways, the company appointed to collect the revenue, one of hers.
‘What’s wrong with them?’ he asked, nodding in the direction of his two brothers who appeared to be in heated discussion.
‘Same problem as before,’ she replied, clucking as their mother would whenever her children fought. Acrimonious, behind-thescene battles for power were becoming increasingly frequent in this household. Their first public dispute, almost a decade before, over who should be given the LNG shipping monopoly, severely embarrassed Palace circles. The President had finally decided in favor of one, offering the other an additional monopoly with the cukong, Liem Sioe Liong who never failed to contribute considerably to the family’s collective coffers.
****
The children were all well versed in the importance of the cukongs – their father, Suharto, had been instrumental in paving the way for the Chinese to take control over the country’s economy, through which the First Family greatly benefited.
Suharto and Liem Sioe Liong had been financial companions dating back to the days when the former general commanded the Diponegoro Divisions in Central Java. Since ascending to the Presidency, the first major deals the partnership produced were the Bogasari flourmills in Surabaya and Jakarta in 1972, to mill US PL-480, foreign aid wheat. Now, after twenty-six years at the nation’s helm, the First Family controlled more than twenty foundations which owned stakes in a plethora of large corporations such as cement factories, timber concessions, oil palm plantations, fertilizer factories and even the country’s largest private bank. And, this was still not enough.
The President controlled the Judiciary, Parliament, and the Military. He personally appointed the Central Bank Governor, the Chairman of the Security and Exchange Commission and the CEOs of state-owned companies. And he wanted more.
Such was the power and extent of the Suharto Empire, the children entered adulthood distanced from reality, oblivious to the groundswell building against their family, unaware that their country had become a tinder-box of poverty and bitterness, ready to erupt.
More recently, the family had consolidated its interests in Timor, determined to control the oil and gas resources in the Timor Sea, and in Natuna’s gigantic gas fields in the South China Sea. Now, after thirty years of Suharto rule, they had accumulated tens of billions of American dollars in wealth, owned a sprawling array of businesses from satellite communications to airlines, plantations, vehicle assembly plants and even public utilities. The children had acquired luxurious mansions, ranches and hotels in Britain, Bermuda, Hawaii, Germany, Australia and Singapore, their lifestyles a far cry from that of Indonesia’s landless peasants and slum dwellers, who, even if they were successful in finding work, would be forced to survive on as little as a dollar per day. With numbered bank accounts in Switzerland, Austria and Singapore, to hide their billions, the First Family went on the international acquisition trail purchasing fine art, golf courses, condominiums, yachts and private jets, the latter used to ferry the sons to casinos in Australia. And still, this was not enough. With his eyes firmly fixed on the mining sector, the younger Suharto had decided to ask for his father’s intervention, to enable him to acquire holdings in foreign mining joint ventures that had commenced production in Indonesia.
And, when this was granted,
