Azahari agreed with Hambali’s suggestion. ‘Will you make arrangements for the funds?’
Jakarta
BAKIN (Indonesian State Intelligence Coordinating Agency)
General Hadi Suharman’s granite expression signaled his determination. ‘No excuses, Colonel, we should already have assets on the ground. I want the situation rectified immediately. And,’ he glared at the two officers present, the air sticky with testosterone, ‘…the balls of whoever was responsible for this screw up.’
Colonel Sutrisno moved to damage control. It was his department that had missed the significance of the intelligence that had raised the General’s ire. He gestured to the Special Forces officer at his side who was temporarily assigned to BAKIN, and said: ‘The Major has offered to oversee the operation personally.’ BAKIN, Indonesia’s State Intelligence Coordinating Agency was the central intelligence-gathering body which scrutinized both domestic, and foreign intelligence gathered by its own agents, as well as that collected by the army and police. BAKIN was directly under the President’s control and maintained its own communications network outside the civilian and military administrations. Army officers were regularly seconded to BAKIN for special duties – whereas BIA, the Armed Forces Intelligence Agency was charged with the collection of information relating to external defence and internal security, processing and operational functions.
General Suharman challenged the Major. ‘You are familiar with this piece of shit called Isamuddin?’
In no way intimidated by his corpulent superior, Major Tony Supadi responded confidently. ‘Riduan Isamuddin, aka Hambali.’ He paused, drawing upon information from files he had studied, ‘returned to Indonesia last week, intelligence suggesting that he may be in Ambon training others in explosives applications.’ The Major was careful not to reveal more than the BAKIN files contained.
Suharman’s eyes narrowed. Although the young officer had the necessary skills to carry out the assignment, he had yet to be tested. ‘You are to remove Isamuddin and his supporters from the scene. Is that clear?’
Supadi glanced over at Colonel Sutrisno who remained expressionless. ‘Yes General.’
‘Then get your team together immediately and report back to me.’
Colonel Sutrisno intervened. ‘With Ramadan well under way it might be tricky.’ The ‘Dirty Ops’ departmental head was not overly keen to commence the covert operation during the fasting period. ‘Sending a ‘housekeeping’ team at this time might not go down too well.’ To peaceful, devout Muslims, Ramadan was a time of prayer and reflection.
Suharman’s lips barely moved. ‘I remind you that Nabi Mohammed fought to retake Mecca at the Battle of Badr during Ramadan. You are to act during the festival of Lailat al-Qadr, to achieve the most effective results.’
The Colonel shuffled his feet nervously, always uneasy when the General used references to the Koran to support his own distorted views. The Lailat al-Qadr ‘Night of Power’ festival marks the night when Allah through the angel Gabriel first revealed the Koran to the Prophet Mohammed. It is celebrated during the final ten days of Ramadan — a time when many extremists believe themselves to be empowered with super-normal capabilities; when would-be martyrs are fearless, for to die for Islam would guarantee purification and acceptance in heaven. General Suharman’s orders worried the Colonel, as it would be his responsibility to lead the covert action in Ambon at the time of this festival. ‘But General, Lailat al-Qadr is less than two weeks away! That doesn’t give us adequate time to prepare.’
General Suharman waved a hand dismissively. ‘Then I suggest you get to it. There will be no further delay.’
* * * *
Alone and deep in thought General Suharman considered the consequences of the unlikely event his clandestine operation being exposed. With President Suharto’s shock resignation in May the year before creating the worst leadership vacuum the country had seen since the 1966 coup d’etat, Suharman and a number of other generals had gathered, determined to protect their vested interests.
When Suharto’s regime came to its abrupt and violent end the long-standing ideological divisions that had festered unnoticed under the former president’s iron rule suddenly flared, revealing the depth of factional rivalry within Indonesia’s armed forces. Faced with the disgrace associated with Suharto’s resignation, General Suharman and his fellow loyalist officers moved to consolidate their positions against their younger opponents, preparing for exigencies that would undoubtedly occur during the looming power struggle.
General Suharman’s old guard, referred to as the ‘ Merah-Putih’ officers whose loyalty was symbolized by the red and white colors of the Indonesian flag, had prevented the ‘Hijau’ (Green), reformist officers’ attempted coup d’etat against Suharto’s nominated successor, Habibie, within days of his ascent to power. Suharman despised the ‘Hijau’ group of officers, so named because of their identification with modernist Islamic teachings, for it was these traitors who had provided information and logistical support for students back in May, precipitating Suharto’s fall, and the collapse of the New Order.
Suharman knew that most of the ‘Hijau’ members were military academy graduates from the years 1973-1974. He had learned that these officers were integral to the inner-circle, known widely as the “Kelompok 20, ‘The Group of Twenty’. During the past nine months when Reformasi had suddenly become the new, all-embracing, catchword, many ambitious senior military officers, in line with the country’s evolving mood, commenced looking for alternative leadership, further exacerbating existing factional rivalries within the powerful military machine. This group of twenty generals and influential reformists with their radical reformist ideas were considered an abomination by the old guard.
With widespread disappointment growing amongst Indonesian intellectuals, both civilian and military, General Suharman and his ‘Merah Putih’ loyalists refused to wait quietly in the wings, their impatience growing as their positions continued to be marginalized, this loss of power impacting heavily on revenues generated by the complex foundations under their control.
But the obese general knew that significant funds would be needed to meet the threat from within. Faced with international condemnation relating to human rights offenses, Suharman’s TNI, Indonesian Armed Forces’ associates were suffering the consequences of partial weapons’ embargoes – and the ‘commission well’ was rapidly drying up. That half the nation’s F16s were no longer operational and the air force C130s were grounded due to the lack of spare parts, weighed heavily on his mind. That morning he had read, with dismay, that even the British Hawk aircraft were no longer fully operational.
During Suharto’s reign arms contracts generated lucrative commissions for the military machine. However, although some U.S. defence contractors had managed to circumvent their Congress’ ban, these multinationals were extremely difficult to deal with. Suharman unhappily accepted that it was now most unlikely his group would benefit from the Lockheed Martin and Boeing’s collective $54 million in contracts that President Clinton’s Administration had recently approved.
Faced with the revenue loss, Suharman’s fellow generals had taken alternative measures to shore up their incomes, targeting foreign companies which they then proceeded to squeeze. Mining giant Freeport’s West Papua management succumbed when TNI elements incited unrest which, in turn, jeopardized the mining operations, the U.S. based miner