Indonesian Gold (45 page)

Mandatory photographs of the President and his inept V.P.
hung solemnly overlooking the room's centerpiece setting, a late Nineteenth Century,
beveled-glass-topped, coffee table, saved from the Sultan's
Kraton,
in Jogyakarta during
the Indonesian struggle for independence. A hand-woven Pakistani Peacock woollen carpet lay
spread underneath, its rich colors in no way humbled by the historic piece, above. Studded
library armchairs completed the setting – on this day, all occupied, the meeting called by Major
General Umar Sudopo, the Chief of Socio-Political Staff at Defence HQ, at the request of
Brigadier General Sukirno. The latter not only now headed the military's powerful parliamentary
block of allocated seats, but also chaired the ruling party's energy and mineral resources, and
forestry committees.

The billionaire Chinese Indonesian timber tycoon sitting
alongside Sukirno was Bobby Djimanto (a.k.a. Tan Khu Sui), the unofficial timber and logging
partner to the Palace, a man comfortable in the knowledge that he was untouchable, his own
fortune protected by presidential, vested interests. Also present was the
Kopassus
,
Special Forces Commander, General Praboyo, who had accompanied the Governor designate for East
Kalimantan, to the meeting.

Umar Sudopo was the first to speak. He addressed the
Minister whose portfolio, inter alia, also included Transmigration.
‘Mas, perhaps it would be
appropriate for you to bring us up to date regarding numbers etc, with respect to the
trans-migrants relocation?'

The Minister nodded, then referred to his notes.
‘The
bulk of families willing to migrate to Kalimantan are from the island of Madura. Last month, we
completed preparations to transport families totaling fifteen hundred and twenty-seven men, women
and children, from villages near to Sumenep. Their original destination was Palangkaraya in
Southern Kalimantan. The ship conveying these families, their personal possessions and government
subsidized rice stocks, having been diverted in the last twenty-four hours, will arrive in
Samarinda before the weekend. Once they have been offloaded, they're all yours.'

General Umar Sudopo thanked the Minister and asked,
‘Are you ready for their arrival?'

All eyes went to the Special Forces officer who replied,
‘Yes. We've organized trucks and buses to move them to holding camps.'
Those present were
not surprised that Praboyo's
Kopassus
troops had been delegated the task, as this
operation had been devised to provide cover for the Special Forces' deployment into the timber
and oil rich province.

‘And from there?'
Umar
Sudopo wanted to know.

‘We'll move them upriver in one operation, so that none
take root in the city. The transfer shouldn't take more than a week.'
The
Kopassus
officer's lip curled slightly.
‘They haven't been informed of
their precise destination, yet.'

‘They will be aware of what happened at Pamekasan
Baru,'
Bobby Djimanto muttered, his only concern, the millions in
revenue lost since the slaughter.
‘How are you going to keep them at Longdamai?'
In other
provinces where Djimanto maintained logging operations he had provided barracks where the
military had tortured prisoners, and heavy equipment for the digging of mass graves.

The Special Forces officer's mouth twisted further, into a
cruel smile.
‘There will be a small contingent of Kopassus troops on site to assist with their
assimilation. I don't think there will be too many problems.'

‘What's happening with land allocation?
General Sukirno, who had remained silent until now, directed his question to
the man who would take up office as the newly appointed provincial governor, within the
week.

‘Each family will be allocated two hectares. A team from
the Agrarian Department is already on their way to Longdamai, to survey and oversee the
process.'

‘How many workers are amongst this group?'
Bobby Djimanto asked.

‘Three hundred and eighty two,'
the Minister responded, apparently pleased with the number.
‘We intend increasing the
size of the settlement by another seven or eight hundred over the next months.Within six months,
the population should reach at least three, perhaps four thousand.'

This announcement appeared to please the timber baron.
‘The more, the merrier, as far as I'm concerned, send ten, even twenty thousand if you
can.We'll need as many hands as we can muster, what with the recent increase in demand from
Japan, for Kalimantan timber.'

General Sukirno concealed his distaste for the Chinese
cukong.
Since the President had assumed power, Djimanto had benefited greatly from his
association with the Palace. In the Chairman's buckled opinion, this man's insatiable greed was
responsible for much of the current ethnic conflict, and it seemed that his demands would never
end. In 1990, when
Jalan Cendana
had ordered a ban on the export of all rattan products
from Kalimantan, Dayak growers were forced to sell their raw material to Djimanto who, armed with
the presidential decree had established a massive furniture factory at Semarang, in Central Java.
The monopoly resulted in a great famine throughout Central Kalimantan, where more than one and a
half million hectares of rattan farms supplied eighty percent of Indonesia's rattan export. Where
there were once thriving Dayak communities there was now pestilence and starvation. With
increased Japanese demand for timber, Djimanto's quest for even greater acreage of prime forest
had brought the President's transmigration dream into question.

‘At least half of the first contingent will be assigned
to work for local mining operations,'
General Sukirno insisted.
Bobby Djimanto remained silent, aware that his powerful Palace associates had shown more than
passing interest in the area's gold mining potential.

‘As soon as the Madurese are settled, we will take one
hundred men, and their women if they wish, upstream to Longdamai Sial.'
The Special Forces officer had already been briefed as to the urgency in providing labor
for the site, to demonstrate to the foreign investment mining community that Kalimantan remained
secure.

‘Will any of your men accompany them?'
the future governor inquired.

‘No more than half a dozen,'
was the response. Most around the table accepted that the number would be adequate.
Kopassus
troops had a fearful reputation, the mere mention of their command sufficient to
bring most to heel.

‘Then you're not expecting further interference from
the Dayaks?'
Umar Sudopo appeared unconvinced.

‘We have another two hundred men camped a hundred
kilometers west of Samarinda, should the need arise.'
The Special
Forces general did not elaborate; he knew that those present would assume, correctly, that these
well-trained troops would have heli support and could be transported to any trouble spot in the
area, within hours. With the recent explosion of ethnic violence between the Dayaks and
trans-migrants, Jakarta had quietly moved this elite force into the province, to protect Palace
timber interests.

General Umar Sudopo turned to his fellow officer.
‘Mas
Sukirno?'

Sukirno placed both hands on his knees, and stretched,
straightening a weary back. He sat, thoughtfully, confident that the decision to redirect the
Madurese would resolve a number of pressing issues. Having an increased military presence in
Kalimantan would deter the Dayaks from further insurrection and, with a restored transmigration
program underway, within a few years, the former headhunters would be pushed further into the
mountainous regions where the difficult terrain precluded economic timber extraction, at this
time. The Madurese would clear the way for future generations of migrants, providing a less
hostile environment for the Javanese. General Sukirno was familiar with the government's forward
planning estimates which forecast that the number of trans-migrants to Kalimantan, from Java's
teeming millions, would match the indigenous population within thirty years.

‘I think that just about covers it,'
Sukirno said, the meeting ending abruptly, General Umar Sudopo quietly
relieved that he would still have time for eighteen holes at the
Pondok Indah
course, with
a number of close Chinese business associates.

****

Borneo Gold Corporation – Vancouver

Christopher Fielding threw the brief and enigmatic radio
message onto his desk, scratched the back of an ear, then punched the interoffice line connecting
to Alexander Kremenchug's office.

‘Got a minute?' Fielding then leant back in the leather,
upholstered swivel chair, waiting for his associate to enter.

‘What's up?' Kremenchug wandered in, Fielding waving the
typewritten memo for Alex to read. When he did so, a frown creased his deep, suntanned brow, his
healthy coloring a product of a recent visit to the Caribbean. ‘Sharon has moved the drilling
program further upstream?' Kremenchug rechecked the message, baffled by her decision.

‘And that's not all,' Fielding elaborated, in customary,
defeatist style, ‘she's all but brought the entire project to a halt.'

‘What's happened?' Kremenchug's stomach sent a signal that
he had forgotten his medication, the minute ulcer reacting to copious amounts of coffee and
concerns arising from the moment.

‘Reading between the lines, looks like she has a strike on
her hands.'

Kremenchug
shook his head. ‘No
– not in Indonesia. Striking is prohibited by law.' He reread the memo, bewildered by Sharon's
arbitrary decision to move the operation.
What was she up to now?

‘Either way, they don't have any labor on site,' the
worried company president imparted. ‘Do you think you should get out there and see what she's up
to?'

Kremenchug
had been thinking
just that. ‘When's the next radio link scheduled?'

Fielding checked the papers on his desk. ‘Around five this
afternoon.'

‘Okay – I'll make a point of being here.' He looked over
at Fielding. ‘Let's not make any announcements, yet.'

****

Fielding's limpid expression reflected the frustration he
felt, the radio link distorted due to weather between the Mahakam area and Jakarta, where the
transmission was interfaced with a standard telephone connection, back to the offices in
Vancouver.

‘Would you say again, Sharon?' he pleaded, one hand taking
notes as both parties struggled with the airwaves' distorted connection. ‘Baird has radioed that
we will have men on site within twenty-one days,' she advised. ‘I confirm,' Fielding finally
understood. ‘Will you be back into full swing by then?'

‘Yes,' he heard her voice break up, reappear, only to fade
away again, the garbled sounds alien to the ear. ‘We will have the first drilling results within
four to five weeks,' the voice reverberating down the line advised.

‘Do you want Alex to come over?' Fielding asked. This was
greeted with an extended silence, punctuated only by interference caused by the lightning storm
over West Java.

‘…not necessary,' was all he could glean from the lengthy
reply. Kremenchug indicated to Fielding that he wished to speak to Sharon, taking the other man's
place behind the desk.

‘Sharon, this is Alex,' he strained to separate the sounds
emanating from the phone, shaking his head in annoyance. ‘Sharon, it's Alex. Are you sure
everything's all right?'

‘…fine, Alex,…nothing's…' was all he heard, before the
line went dead. He looked up at Fielding and shrugged.

‘Well, at least we know she's still operational,' Fielding
said, with some relief.

‘Are you clear as to why she moved to the new site?'
Kremenchug asked, not having been party to both conversations between Sharon and the company
president when connection had first been made.

‘Sure,' Fielding said, his voice unconvincing, ‘although,
I would have preferred she'd discussed this with us first.' He made a mental note to see what
could be done to improve communications with the field.

‘Baird's in Jakarta,' Kremenchug said, ‘I'll give him a
call, later. He'll be able to fill us in with more detail.'

Fielding stooped his shoulders and looked glum. ‘Let me
know in the morning. I don't want to make any announcements until we can confirm that drilling
has recommenced.'

Kremenchug
considered this,
clearly aware of the game that was constantly played by publicly listed companies, forever
striving to keep market interest alive in their activities, hopeful that frequent media releases
would drive stock values higher.

‘Fine, Chris,' he said, ‘I'm sure that Eric will be able
to shed more light on what is going on.'