The Spy Series: The Usurper General

By Gregory C. Langtry

The mole has been caught. The spy network has collapsed and is on the run in Indonesia during the late 1990’s. The Foreign Ministers in the Australian Government has panicked. He can see the potential political scandal could destroy his career. The timing could not be worse. President Suharto is approaching his retirement with the Indonesian’s political parties and military plotting to take control of the country. During the worst financial crisis the region has ever seen.
In desperation the Minister has forced Stuart out of retirement to re-establish a new spy network so the Australian Government can monitor the chaos.
Stuart reestablishes intelligence gathering by penetrating the Indonesian Government where they uncover a plot that threatens to start a regional war, a war that could spread and turn South-East Asia into a battlefield.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gregory C. Langtry
• Release date: Oct 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310887642

Gregory C. Langtry

I was born and educated in Sydney, Australia where I obtained tertiary qualifications in Metallurgy and Production Engineering and by day I work as a Quality and Technical Manager. In Australia the climate is very agreeable which has allowed me to surf, fish, bush-walk and enjoy an outdoor life in my spare time. My other love is reading. I enjoy history and political intrigues and researching why historical events eventuate. To develop a better insight as to what really caused the events to occur by reading in between the lines of history.I have traveled extensively for both business and pleasure. I enjoy meeting people from different cultures and leaning how they view and navigated their way through life. This has allowed me to witness the best and worst in people.On one overseas trip when I was returning home. I was reading a novel which I was not particularly enjoying and what made matter worse the entertainment system in the plane was broken. I was so annoyed by the book and the long flight I decided I could write something better. From that day I stopped reading and began writing using my interests and background to generate stories based on people I have met and putting their characteristics into fictional characters.I have found that getting books published is difficult for new authors. So I have been writing and waiting for the e-book market to grow and have now begun to release my novels.I want to write for different genres’- fantasy, science fiction and historical based thrillers.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

THE WINDS OF CHANGE

The winds of change had swept through South-East Asia for several years. Long-time stalwarts like President Marcos of the Philippines had gone. Tienanmen Square had come and faded into history. Britain the last colonial power in the region was on the verge of leaving Hong Kong. People power was growing.

In early July 1997, a gentle breeze emanating from Thailand turned towards Indonesia only to escalate into a raging typhoon that would blow the smoke and shift the mirrors that shrouded the economic dynamism of the Asian miracle. Not only did it threaten the region, it diminished the tigers of the Pacific Rim, ultimately to threaten every monetary system on the planet.

It was christened ‘The Asian Contagion’ in jest; but this jest was quickly lost as the enormity of the situation unfolded. On the second of July the Bank of Thailand was forced to float its currency. The baht immediately plummeted by 20 per cent against the US dollar. The contagion spread to affect the Philippines followed by Malaysia with both countries being forced to spend billions of dollars in a bid to save their currencies.

Indonesia was confident it could withstand the storm. Realists on the archipelago knew different and kept a constant vidual peering to the North and North-West, until signs of the downturn came looming on the horizon. Signs that threatened the decade of good times, and worst of all, threatened to expose the underlying weaknesses of their flawed economy.

In the later part of 1997 the Contagion drew closer to Indonesia with the tired old mantra coming forth, The fundamentals are sound and the down turn would be short lived, were being spoken by the Government in Jakarta and echoed by the World Bank that knew but refused to acknowledge the true dilemma while all around them the economy imploded.

Many in Jakarta had a more simplistic view that the decades of economic sins committed by the Suharto family and their cronies were finally being brought home with only the speed of the fall surprising the millions of Indonesians. Virtually overnight the wealth of the nation evaporated leaving the nation in a state of shock.

After the second month of the rupiah’s decline, the currency had lost 30 per cent of its value against the US dollar. Forcing Suharto to do what he had never done before.

He asked for help.

On the eighth October 1997 he called the International Monetary Fund (IMF).

Denis De Tray, the head of the World Bank in Jakarta responded positively. So did many in the international financial circles, who at the time did not understand it was one thing for Suharto to make a request for help from the IMF and quite another to actually implement serious economic reforms. Over the following weeks the Indonesian Government and the IMF were locked in negotiations in Jakarta’s Grand Hyatt Hotel to barter over the economic future of millions of people, while Indonesia continued to slide further into the abyss.

Across the table they argued to and fro until the IMF negotiators made it clear that Suharto had to speed up the pace of economic reform and tackle the rampant corruption and nepotism that flourished in Indonesia. At the top of the list of extravagant projects was Tommy Suharto’s national car project, which was considered by many as an extravagant folly into absurdity. Still unknown to the IMF were the complexities of doing business in Indonesia and that Suharto would be more loyal to his family and their business interests than the interested of the nation, all the time secretly undoing whatever agreement that was struck.

The deal was eventually put in place, later referred to IMF Package Mark I. This gave very few specific undertakings, but allowed the Indonesians to achieve their objective that is to create the perception that change had occurred and, that the IMF had repaired the ailing Indonesian economy.

Unknown to all at the time was what was lurking around the corner. Few suspected. Some, when they saw what was coming, closed their eyes and hoped if they held them tightly enough it would simply pass them by, but when it happened most were completely taken by surprise.

THE CRASH!

Christmas approached with the rupiah trading at 6000 to the US dollar. At that rate most of the companies in Indonesia were technically bankrupt. In a few short weeks the rupiah plummeted to unbelievable levels of 16,500 against the dollar.

When it came the landscape changed overnight. The flow of life in the busy Jakarta streets stopped as the people queued outside the many banks; desperate to get their money out. Unknown by most was the Indonesian banking system was in a shambles.

This was because the banks were both numerous and poorly regulated with every corporation believing it was a measure of their status that they should own a bank.

Worse still the Suharto Government condoned this view. It believed the multitude of banks were good for the economy and national development. But many of these banks treated their customer’s deposits as little more than slush funds for grandiose projects with the Bank Central Asia (BCA) acting as a perfect example. Thirty percent of the bank was owned by Suharto’s eldest children, Tutut and Sigit, The Bank Central Asia, channelled public money, exceeding the twenty percent legal lending limit, into its owner’s projects, often at heavily discounted interest rates. Post-crash the run on the Bank Central Asia drained its coffers of almost half its deposits and along with the others forced the government to mount a rescue operation for the two hundred banks that operated in Indonesia. Most of them were as badly run as Bank Central Asia, some were even worse.

It was as if someone had turned off a switch. The once-booming city of Jakarta, which resembled a large construction site, ground to a halt. Westerners left the city in droves to create a pilgrimage to the airport.

While this visual meltdown of the economy was made clearly evident, Suharto and his government took it all in their stride. Suharto simply treated the IMF package as an inconvenience or like an unsavoury taste, which one could wash out of one’s mouth with time.

As the weeks passed there was mounting evidence that these reforms and promises, which had been made to the IMF were not being undertaken. Worse still that Suharto’s children were beginning to claw back some of what they had lost through receiving government approvals for a number of projects that simply weren’t affordable in such desperate times.

Finally the inevitable rumours started. Suharto was sick, which quickly escalated too he was on his deathbed. Finally he was dead. Followed by the denials and TV footage to prove he was still alive.

While Indonesia continued to slide further into the economic abyss.

The end of the year loomed and the cracks in the Suharto government opened; many of the orang kecil, the little people, beganthinking it was time for Suharto to go. Few dared to speak of this at first, soon many found their tongues. While others, powerful military men looked on and knew the end of Suharto and his cronies was near and that the Presidency was within their grasp, then it became obvious. The factions quickly realised they only had a few precious months to plot, manoeuvre and when the time was right, strike and grasp the mantel of powder, The Presidency.

CHAPTER ONE

THE MOLE

Parliamentary Offices Jakarta, January 1998.

‘What’s wrong with Abdi, he’s been in a terrible mood for the last two days’ asked his personal assistant?

Her friend at the next desk leaned across and whispered. ‘I heard Suharto is under a lot of pressure and is thinking about making changes to his cabinet, including the Cabinet Secretary. Abdi might lose his job!’

‘Poor Abdi! Quick someone’s coming!’ Instinctively the two secretaries began typing as a military officer in his late twenties walked briskly down the corridor. He stopped at her desk and announced without the slightest hint of emotion. ‘My name is Captain Azimi. I am here to see Assistant Cabinet Secretary Abdi Reza.’

She couldn’t remember his name on her appointment list so she glanced at her book without finding his name and was about to tell him to leave when she noticed the insignia on his shoulder. Only then did she realise he was from Badan Koordinasi Intelijen Negara (BAKIN), The State Intelligence Coordinating Agency, and not someone who could easily be put off. ‘He is free at the moment but has another appointment in twenty minutes’ she said with a pleasant smile hoping she might receive a reassuring smile in return.

She shyly glanced up to see his reaction only to see an icy expression. Disappointed and annoyed by his response she abruptly stood up then curtly said, ‘please follow me!’ and led the officer to the Assistant Cabinet Secretary’s office. She knocked then opened the door to introduce the Captain only to be sharply cut off by her boss.

‘I don’t care who you think you are Captain! I won’t have you barging into my office. Make an appointment! Now get out!’ yelled Abdi.

Captain Azimi’s remained unmoved his frozen face unaffected by Abdi’s tirade. He mealy waited for Abdi to run out of rage. After the bureaucrat tirade faded he moved his eyes and glanced at the young woman without the slightest movement of his head then growled. ‘Close the door on the way out!’ The tension in the room rapidly rose at an alarming rate while she stared at her boss with pleading eyes desperately wanting to leave but she couldn’t, not until her boss dismissed her. She lost her self-control and started trembling while the two wills silently clashed with her impending departure signalling the victor.

The Captain’s patience eventually ran out as he decided to bring this stalemate to an end. He broke his statue like presents by abruptly moving closer to the young woman without the slightest hint of good manners then he firmly placed his right hand on her back and steered her out the door. Finally with the palm of his hand he slammed the door shut.

Relieved to have escaped the office she ran to her desk and collapsed in her chair, still shaking and almost in tears. After a few seconds she looked up and noticed her friend staring at her as she wondered what had just happened. Unable to speak at first she gradually composed herself after she wiped away a more few tears. ‘I have never seen such a cold-hearted man in my life. I think Abdi must be in some sort of trouble’ she whispered.

Her friend leaned closer and could see her still shaking hand which prompted her to whisper reassuringly. ‘I’ve seen that sort before. All show and no backbone. Mark my words. Abdi will throw him out then reprimand his superior officer! Don’t worry! He’ll soon be gone and you’ll never see him again.’

Abdi’s personal assistant leaned back in her chair unconvinced. Something about this captain was truly frightening. Just then the phone rang and snapped her out of her frightened state. She glanced at the indicator light and saw it was Abdi’s line. ‘Cancel my 10 o’clock,’ then she heard another muffled voice. ‘No! Cancel all my appointments for the remainder of the day.’

Slowly she put the hand piece down and watched her friends face which was a reflection of her own. Abdi’s frightened. I can’t blame him. So am I. Only then did she notice her hand was still trembling.

* *

‘Now that we have rescheduled your appointments you may start by telling me about this’ while handing a manila folder to the Assistant Cabinet Secretary.

Reluctantly Abdi took the folder and glanced at Captain Azimi and saw again his expressionless face with his eye’s still burning deeply into his. He couldn’t bare his eyes any longer and turned his attention back to the folder and, tried to keep his composure as he saw the first photograph.

‘Who is this man’ demanded the Captain.

Abdi recognised the Executive Club dining room, which prohibited cameras. ‘How did you get this photo?’

Captain Azimi said nothing and continued his uncomfortable scowl.

Abdi conceded it was pointless to ask any further questions so he reluctantly replied, ‘His name is Brian Hemming. He is an Assistant Secretary to the Australian Ambassador.’

‘So why are you meeting with a foreign diplomat?’

Abdi returned a half smile as he knew he had a good answer, ‘I meet with him every few weeks. Suharto uses him as a back channel to pass on unofficial views or ask questions of the Australian Government without the possibility of creating any diplomatic difficulties. As everything said is unofficial and can easily be denied. At that particular meeting I was asking if Australia would support Indonesia with its discussions with the IMF and World Bank. Officially if it was known that we had asked the value of our currency would have fallen and our current negotiations with the IMF would have become exceedingly difficult.’

‘Are you entering these meetings in the Foreign Diplomat Meeting Register’ asked the Captain.

‘Most certainly! You will find that meeting with a summary of our conversation in the register. Surely you have examined the register?’

‘Yes I have noted that meeting.’ Then the Captain reached into his brief case and pulled out another manila folder and handed it to Abdi. ‘Now tell me about these other meetings and why they’re not in the register?’

* *

It was 9.37 pm when Abdi Reza passed through security and walked slowly to his car. He was exhausted from being interviewed for most of the day and knew his life as he knew it had come to an end. While being completely unaware that other eyes followed his every move.

Captain Azimi watched from a third floor window where he made a call on his mobile phone. ‘You were right! His face said it all. I was only surprised he didn’t wet himself. Yes I’m certain he will make a run for his handler before he attempts to leave the country. Either way we have him. Now we have the mole all we need is his handler. I just hope it’s an Australian!’

* *

Abdi drove east down Jendral Gatot Subroto towards Pancoran, constantly glancing in his mirrors for a tail. He was in serious trouble the sort of trouble that could only come in your worst nightmares. After he glanced in the mirror again he cursed the day he had agreed to spy for the Australians.

Unsure on where he should go he decided in the end to go to a small restaurant he hadn’t visited for at least two years, so he could hide for a while and call Tony to get him out of this mess. Twenty minutes later he arrived at the restaurant. He found very little had changed in his two years absence though he felt relieved to see it was less than half full as he was in no mood for crowds.

To his surprise his nerves failed him and he felt he was on the verge of panic. Only then did he realise he was walking too quickly and was almost in a run until he reached the back of the main dining room and found himself staring at the wall. Embarrassed by his behaviour him simply collapsed in a chair then placed his face in his hands and felt the sweat running down his face. At first he was in denial and thought it was the high temperature and humidity but his pounding heart told him different. Reluctantly he looked up and expected everyone to be staring at him but to his relief no one had taken any notice so he sighed then clasped his hands and whispered to himself ‘calm down, calm down you fool before anyone notices.’

A waitress soon appeared and spoke to him. Abdi jumped from fright which also startled the waitress. So he politely apologised then ordered a meal of Rendang with Nasi with a Bintang beer. Once the beer arrived he downed it quickly then ordered another. As he waited for the next beer he saw the public phone on the wall so he took the opportunity to call his handler, not daring to use his mobile.

The phone rang out then a terrifying thought crossed his mind has Tony been arrested. No! They couldn’t have him or those pig eaters would have arrested me. So he returned to his table and found his beer waiting for him then signalled the waitress for a third. Eventually the paranoia started and he began glancing around the restaurant until he felt confident that there were no new faces. This prompted him to try the phone again. Finally someone answered ‘Hello, who’s this?

Tony is that you? It’s Abdi! I need to see you now, right now!’

Oh shit! He’s got my number was the first thought to cross Tony’s mind. After hearing Abdi’s panicked voice he knew his mole was blown. Probably by someone from the likes of BAKIN and he was now on the run. Normally this guy was a reel arrogant bastard now he was scared witless.

‘How did you get this number,’ demanded Tony.

‘I know your number and a lot more! So guess what I’m going to do if you don’t get me out of Indonesia’ threatened Abdi.

‘OKAY, calm down! Now tell be from the start. What happened?’

‘A Captain Azimi from BAKIN barged into my office this morning with photographs of me having dinner with several people. One of them was of you. I made up some bullshit story to buy some time but it won’t take long for those pig-eating bastards to discover the truth. I’ve got one, maybe two, days before they arrest me.’

Tony was more than worried. He had thought his safe house was secure but now it had been blown wide open. If Abdi knew, who else might? Anxiously he opened the curtain and looked down from the first floor window just hoping he wouldn’t see twenty soldiers storming towards the front door. His heart skipped a beat before he conceded that the street was empty. Tony nervously swallowed to remoisten his suddenly dry throat before he could continue. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in a small restaurant on the corner of Dr Sahario and Barkah just down from the Dr Sahario Flyover,’ whispered Abdi only then realizing he had been talking too loud. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed the appearance of two young men that had just walked in and immediately felt his knees go weak.

‘Listen! Have a meal and relax, at least try to relax while I make all the arrangements. I’ll be there in about two hours’ said Tony.

‘I want you here. Now!’ Only to see a few patrons look in his direction.

‘Shut up and listen! Now pull yourself together Abdi. If you’ve been careful they won’t know where you are and will be looking at the transport terminals when they discover you didn’t go home. So you’re safe for the moment. I need time to organise because the moment we start moving we could be seen then it’s all over’ said Tony with all the reassurance he could muster.

‘I’ll wait. Just be quick!’ pleaded Abdi dejectedly, as he reluctantly conceded he had little choice. He walked dejectedly back to his table then noticed the two men were joined by two women and were busy talking, so he relaxed a little more as he waited for his meal.

Tony walked away from the window cursing then finally said out loud to himself ‘calm down you stupid bastard.’ He phoned Peter another ASIS agent that worked with him but was officially attached to the Australian Embassy. Not an illegal like himself. Fortunately Peter had never met Abdi, so he hoped he didn’t know Peter even existed. ‘Peter! Bazza came over with a slab and some footy tapes, you want to come over?’ This was a predetermined code message they had set up when Tony had first arrived in Jakarta. It simply meant he and the safe house were blown and he was getting out.

Peter was about to go bed and said nothing for a moment as he considered the implications, Tony’s in for the high jump and so am I if those bastards are waiting for us. He didn’t want to go but he knew had little choice so he replied with all the false enthusiasm he could muster. ‘I could do with some beer and footy! Be right over!’

‘Thank God!’ Tony gasped after he put the phone down then reluctantly tore himself away from the window and ran into his bedroom where he pulled open the bottom dresser draw. He reached under and felt a large envelope, which was taped underneath then ripped it off the draw and tore it open. In less than a second the contents were all over the bed with him frantically searching for the flight timetable. He quickly flicked through the marked pages until he found that Singapore Airlines had a flight in three hours going to Sydney. Next he grabbed an American Express card from the pile and dialled the number on his escape plan, the number for the airline’s head office in Singapore. All the time desperately praying there was an empty seat.

* *

It was now late with only a few customers left in the restaurant. Abdi’s nerves were shot. ‘Where are you Tony you round eyed bastard?’

* *

‘Yes’! Tony punched his fist in the air. He had a seat. He quickly changed then put all the money from the envelope and the other items into his brief case followed by a few clothes into his travel bag with the last of his papers being stuffed into his brief case. He looked around to see if he missed anything, satisfied he hadn’t he ran into the bathroom where he grabbed a towel and started wiping down the area to remove any fingerprint. He appreciated he couldn’t remove them all in the short time that he had but he wasn’t going to make it easy for those BAKIN bastards. He heard a knock at the door with his heart skipping several beats. At first he couldn’t get his feet to move then after a few terrifying seconds he found his feet shuffled on their own until he reached the door then he knocked once then heard two fast knocks. He opened the door he saw Peter’s relieved face and in one swift action reached out and grabbed Peter’s arm and pulled him in then quietly closed the door.

‘What happened?’ demanded Peter as he went to the front curtains to look at the street.

‘Those BAKIN bastards came sniffing around Abdi and he panicked. Now he’s in a restaurant on the other side of Jakarta waiting for me.’

‘Tell me you’re not picking him up’ snapped Peter.

‘Shit no! Those bastards would be sitting there waiting for me. They can have Abdi but I’ll be damned if they’ll get me!’ cursed Tony which prompted him to glance at his watch. ‘Two and a half hours and I’ll be on a plane. Now let’s make ourselves scarce before Abdi turns up.’

‘He knows about the safe house?’ demanded Peter.

‘He knows the number so he probably knows the address’ grumbled Tony as he moved for the door.

Just before Tony went to grab the handle Peter slammed his hand hard against the door and held it shut so he could face the other ASIS agent and demanded with more than angry tone. ‘Why in the hell did you tell him about the safe house?’

‘I didn’t!’ said Tony angrily as he glared back at Peter’s face.

‘Oh shit! Oh shit! You didn’t book two seats did you?’ gasped Peter.

They crept down stairs then stopped at the front door of the apartment block and peered out and hoped. The street was quiet.

Peter whispered ‘Come on!’

* *

The restaurant was about to close so Abdi had little choice but to leave and wait on the footpath on the corner. He stared aimlessly up and down the near empty street, unsure what he should do. ‘He’s not coming. He’s not coming! Curse those Australians! I tell them everything and now they sell me out, just when I need them most. Curse them, curse them all.’ He walked to edge of the gutter and stood there and once again stared down the road towards the flyover then back at his car, paralysed by indecision.

* *

Further up Dr Sahario Drive Captain Azimi sat in the back of his unmarked car where he noticed a man in casual clothes that came out of the dark. The man tapped his knuckle on the window before he squatted beside the vehicle in an attempt to keep himself concealed.

The Captain glanced at his sergeant who indicated he should lower his window. ‘Report Sergeant!’

‘Sir the target is now standing on the corner. You should just be able to see him from here.’

‘And your men’ snapped the captain.

‘I have a circle of thirty and ten cars in position. It was also reported that he was seen making a phone call and was arguing, very loudly. Now the restaurant is about to close and his handler still hasn’t arrived.’

The Captain glanced in Abdi’s direction then demanded. ‘Where’s his car?’

‘Around the corner in Barkah Road. Sir! The transmitter is still working’ said the sergeant with pride, as it had been his job to install it without anyone noticing.

Captain Azimi detected his subordinate’s tone, ‘that was excellent work sergeant. He should either be picked up shortly or drive off. Tell everyone we are continuing with the plan. Now get back to your men.’

‘Yes sir!’ Whispered the sergeant and moved off in a crouched walk so he wouldn’t be seen above the parked cars.

The radio suddenly crackled, ‘Section 4, three men walking down Barkah still four hundred metres from the target.’

The captain showed little concern and never took his eyes off Abdi.

He saw Abdi turn and walk around the corner towards his car, which he knew was parked one hundred and fifty metres from the corner. ‘Section 4 do you have the target’ called Captain Azimi over the radio.

‘Section 4, we see him!’

‘Section 3, we have him too.’

‘Section 4, he has pulled his keys out and has crossed the road towards his car. The three men have crossed the road and are walking towards him. He is talking to them. Target is now running towards Dr Sahario Drive. The three men are after him. Knives! I see knives.’Captain Azimi swore loudly a mugging, a damn mugging. He snatched the handset and yelled into the radio ‘Sections 3 and 4 arrest the target. I want him alive!’

Abdi came around the corner and ran up Dr Sahario Drive towards Captain Azimi’s car. Already Captain Azimi could see what was going to happen. His men from section 6 were coming out of their hiding places to cut him off. He now had men in front and behind him.

In a vain attempt to avoid the impending disaster Captain Azimi jumped out of his car and screamed into his radio for everyone to stop but it was already too late. Abdi in terror driven panic turned and ran across the road, narrowly being missed by a Toyota, half way across the next lane the men from section 2 appeared which stopped Abdi in the middle of the lane. He looked back at the men behind him who waited, poised on the footpath.

Captain Azimi screamed into the radio. ‘Stop the traffic! Stop the traffic!’ As if this were a prearranged Abdi was immediately hit by a speeding car which threw his crumpled body ten metres across the road.

Captain Azimi just stood in disbelief, unable to move until his radio inevitably crackled. ‘Section 2, the target is dead.’

CHAPTER TWO

POLITICAL ANIMALS

Australian Secret Intelligence Service (ASIS) Canberra, January 1998.

It was 5.32 am EST when the Senior Operations Officer put down the phone still staring at the code word definitions on his computer terminal unable to believe what he had just read. Inevitably he lifted the phone to make the call he never wanted to make then hesitated before he pressed the button for the Director General’s home number. He knew deep in his gut this would start something, which would develop a life of its own and the consequences would know no boundaries.

‘Blunt! What is it?’ answered the Director General who was still half asleep.

‘Sorry to disturb you so early sir, but I have just received a communication that requires your urgent attention.’

‘Well what is it?’

‘Sir the classification prevents me from communicating it over the phone’ replied the operations office.

The Director was now more awake which allowed him to recognise the voice of the man he had known for over twenty years and considered him a good friend. ‘Garry is it that bad?’

‘Sir you better come in at once. The information is still only sketchy but it has a bad smell about it.’

‘I’ll be there is forty minutes. I want a full update when I arrive’ hanging up the phone he turned to his wife who was now awake. ‘I’ll be home late tonight.’

* *

Charles walked into the lift in the ASIS building and discovered Sigrid already inside; though it was still early she gave him one of her famous smiles along with one of her hearty morning greetings which he found to be as good as a strong cup of coffee. ‘You’re in early Charles!’

The Director General returned her smile ‘I received an early wake up call, when Garry Hyland arrives send him straight in.’

Once he had settled into his office Sigrid brought in the lock box with the overnight messages and placed them on his desk then she told him that Garry Hyland was waiting in the outer office. He simply nodded to prompt Sigrid to open the door.

Garry was an experienced field agent and analyst who had excellent insight, which made his assessment worth noting. Charles was also quietly grateful it was Garry bringing the message and not someone else, as he always felt more comfortable when he received bad news from a friend. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Operation K225 has been blown. Tony Briggs has arrived at Sydney Airport,’ glancing at his watch. ‘He should have boarded the plane for Canberra by now,’ then he gave the director the decoded message.

Garry sat there watching as the colour slowly drained from the Director’s face, he knew this disaster was the end of the best asset Australia had ever had in Indonesia or any other country in the world for that matter. It had created a sensation when Abdi Reza started spying for ASIS now it could potentially end the Director General’s career.

‘I want someone at Canberra Airport to escort him straight to my office. He talks to no one but me.’ He snatched up the phone ‘Sigrid I want a late afternoon appointment with the Minister.’

Charles leaned back in his chair with shock still clearly etched on his face. ‘What in hell happened?’

Foreign Affairs Office Canberra, January 1998.

Charles walked down what seemed to be an endless sterile corridor, which led him through the inner sanctum of Parliament House. He was lost in thought while constantly going over in his mind what he would tell the Minister when unexpectedly he bumped into his old friend Robert McPhee. He was the newly appointed Ambassador to the Unites States, due to fly out the following day.

‘Hello Charles how are you? I haven’t seen you in weeks.’

‘I’ve been working too hard of late and have shamefully been neglecting my friends. I hope you received the Champaign I sent you.’

The new Ambassador smiled and said sincerely ‘I did, and I hope you come over to help me drink a few bottles.’

He smiled broadly and gripped his old friend’s hand and shook it fiercely. ‘That’s a promise!’ and continued to the Minister’s office only pausing to read the sign on the door.Stephen Kingston Minister for Foreign Affairs. He should have backstabber, double dealer and a few other unsavoury names added to his title but we couldn’t tell the public the truth could we. Well it is his public office after all and wouldn’t want to scare the children. He took a deep breath then opened the door.

It was a large office with three secretaries working away on their computer terminals, all showing little interest in the Director.

‘Good afternoon Kerrie.’

She looked up and saw the Director and gave him a half smile then replied with her charming English accent. ‘The Minister is very busy today maybe you should consider rescheduling your appointment.’

The Director was less than pleased with the reply and wondered if it was one of Brian’s little games he liked playing to unsettle people.

‘I have a high priority report for the Minister!’

She showed little interest and pressed the button, which allowed him to proceed to the next office. He heard the electronic latch unbolt that allowed him into the inner waiting room. Ms Gloria White warmly received him, with her customary manner. ‘Please Mr Blunt have a seat’ and with a wave of her hand gestured towards the green leather lounge. Charles smiled at her charade then sat. He could see it was going to be a long wait.

An hour had passed before the Minister’s door opened with the Spanish Ambassador walking out of the Minister’s office, escorted by Brian Morris, the Minister’s political adviser and chief hatchet man. Brian was a tall thin man with brushed back black hair with an unusually thin face, which accentuated the size of his long thin nose. He glanced in the Director’s direction, which prompted the slightest hint of a grin. This reminded Charles this man relished any opportunity for firing political bullets in his direction and today unfortunately would be open season.

Charles cursed his bad luck. He had hoped Brian would be somewhere else when he broke the news. Now he was forced to concede that his only hope was that he had another appointment. But these were only wishful thoughts, as Brian would have been notified and approved the appointment before the Minister had been informed.

The Minister for Foreign Affairs, Stephen Kingston was something else. He was the classic politician, tall with a large body frame with an excellent taste in suits and above all, ambitious. He had visions of becoming the next Prime Minister and Brian Morris was the man to make it happen. Since they had partnered together they had both climbed through the political quagmire that surrounded Canberra, until he achieved the mantle of future prime-ministership, an aura that could not be denied.

His only immediate problem was time. At 56 he had to make his move within the next two years or he would lose his chance to a younger pretender, the likes of which constantly circled the party room baying for prime-ministerial favours and member’s allegiances.

The Director knew once he had broken the news of the loss of their prime intelligence source in Indonesia they would come for him, demanding his resignation. The opportunity would simply be too good to resist and besides having a scapegoat card up your sleeve in Canberra was always handy to have when the time came for allocating blame.

Fortunately he knew their Achilles heel and had been saving it for just such an occasion.

Eventually the Minister’s personal assistant stood and walked to the door. ‘The Minister will see you now.’

As Charles entered the office he saw the mandatory law books and photographs of dignitaries with the minister only then noticing he was once again wearing his trademark yellow tie.

The Minister’s lack of response clearly indicated he didn’t want this meeting by simply gesturing for Charles to sit. Just as he moved around the chair he glimpsed a dark blue suit out of the corner of his eye and knew Brian Morris had just entered the office. Damn the bastard can already smell blood.

The Minister gave his usual smile presenting his friendly façade but Charles knew better. Privately he would have been annoyed at this short notice meeting. ‘Well Charles what’s so urgent?’

‘Operation K225 has been terminated.’

The Minister glanced at Brian. ‘That’s our man in the Suharto Government’ the adviser responded.

The Minister snapped his head back and glared at the director. ‘Charles now tell me what is going on. Am I about to have a blowtorch shoved up my arse?’

‘Possibly! Too early to be sure’ the Director General for ASIS replied coolly.

Brian shuffled in his chair as he tried to quickly consider all the potential implications of this disaster. The Prime Minister loves having the inside running on Suharto. Confidentially he has a strong dislike for the arrogance of the man and to lose such an advantage could terminate careers.

Once the initial shock had passed Charles began the long story then handed the written report to the minister.

‘Tony is safe in Canberra. Fortunately he read the situation correctly and acted quickly before the Indonesians had a chance to grab him. As for Abdi Reza we have no idea at this time but we should know in a few days particularly if the Indonesian Ambassador registers a formal protest.’

After hearing that The Minister stood and walked across the office and stared out his window, which overlooked the parliamentary gardens. ‘Will he talk?’

‘Yes! Everyone does only the time varies. Besides he’s not a brave man. Arrogant but not brave’ proclaimed the Director.

Brian cut in. ‘How long before we can expect any news on the situation in Jakarta?’

‘A few days! We can’t show too much interest or we will tip off the Indonesians we were running the agent. There is a real possibility he is hiding. If we are lucky dead! At this stage they probably have no idea which country he was spying for! I suspect Australia and America will be on the top of the list.’

The Minister turned round and faced both the men. ‘No matter what happens we deny everything. I don’t care where the mud goes but it’s not sticking to me. Have you got that! NOT ME!’

‘We need a plan. If this comes out the finger will be pointed directly at us then the Minister. We will need to make a statement that he did not authorise or have knowledge of this ASIS operation and regrets any embarrassment caused to the Indonesian Government. Minister, you will have to go to Jakarta and see Suharto’ said Brian as he glanced back at the Director.

‘That smug bastard will have me eating shit in front of the world’s media. Bastard’ cursed the Foreign Minister.

Charles visualised the Minister eating shit and almost smiled before coming back to their situation. ‘Minister I believe we maybe crossing our bridges a little early. Better to sit tight for the moment.’

Brian snapped. ‘It’s easy for you to say, everyone will be looking at the Minister’s head not yours.’

The Minister moved over behind his desk then leaned over as he placed both his hands on top. ‘Charles I think it’s time for you to retire.’

The Director General had been expecting this and had carefully thought through the situation before confronting the Minister. He remained calm, too calm. His body language instantly alerting Brian, the Minister’s chief adviser, who was carefully scrutinising the Director General’s every move.

‘No Minister! If I suddenly retired that would not only confirm to the world that we were running the mole but that we are incredible stupid, as well. Besides Minister if I took early retirement I would make sure everyone in this room also collected his pension’ Charles replied dispassionately.

Brian was about to explode but the minister cut him off by raising his hand then leaned further across his desk and said coldly ‘Don’t threaten me Charles. I can remove your arse in seconds!’

‘And yours will be right behind!’ proclaimed the Director General.

Brian was alarmed by the lack of concern on the Director General’s face and knew he had an ace up his sleeve so he took control of the situation by softly speaking to the Minister, who was now bright red in the face and looked like he might explode. ‘We need to talk this through Minister. So let’s put the threats aside for the moment. Charles what aren’t you telling us.’

‘Simply we do nothing for the moment until we know what has happened to Abdi Reza. If the Indonesians enquire we simply say we have never heard of him.’

The Minister crashed back in his chair. ‘You know it’s not that simple. If this starts unravelling we need to have answers and fast. So I want you to tell your agents to start investigating and find out what’s happened to Abdi Reza and most of all find out where he is.’

The Director knew that was an impossible request and promptly declared ‘we have a problem. I have no one in Indonesia at the moment the last man Peter Low who is attached to our embassy jumped on a plane earlier today and will be in Sydney tonight. I had to pull him out because our safe house had been blown which linked him with Tony Riggs.’

‘What! You have no other agents in Indonesia. Are you mad?’ yelled the minister who once again jumped to his feet, bright red in the face.

Brian cut in again. ‘Minister you slashed his budget.’

The Minister glared at his adviser for a moment then reluctantly sat back in his chair still fuming.

Charles knew this was the moment to strike, as this would protect him for the entire term of the government and more if they won the next election. ‘Minister, don’t you remember? You slashed my budget and forced me to close all but two operations, now we have no one. If the opposition ever discovers that you put the interests of the nation second to entertaining foreign dignitaries you won’t be the only one to go down. You’ll take the government with you. So far we are the only three that know. So let’s keep it that way.’

Brian sensed a deal was about to be struck and cut in. ‘You know you’ll be finished if this ever gets out.’

Charles replied, ‘I thought that was obvious!’

‘So what are you proposing Charles?’ asked Brian while giving the Minister a slight shake of the head to make him back off.

Charles returned a reassuring smile before he continued. ‘The first thing you must realise is that I am not your enemy and if anyone in this room takes a tumble then the other two will shortly follow so there’s no point arguing. What we need to do is concentrate on getting ourselves out of this mess. Are we agreed?’

Brian gave a slight nod followed by the Minister who leaned forward giving him one of his famous smiles, like a crocodile preparing to grab a wallaby. Charles noted his expression and knew these two had not conceded defeat but were merely waiting to attack if he made the slightest deviation.

‘Minister, the Indonesians don’t have an Australian agent. So a show trial is out of the question.’ He detected a reaction on the Minister’s face, which told him he had not considered that potential disaster. ‘So far they cannot confirm which country was involved so if the ambassador starts asking questions we deny any knowledge. Now before I can start turning the situation around I need my budget back, today! Also I want Stuart McKennzie.’

‘McKennzie I’ve heard good things about him. The Minster for Trade told me last week he has increased trade with Indonesia by three percent and that currently he is chasing a large coal contract, which we thought we had lost to South African’s. He’ll scream blue murder when I tell him. Is there someone else that could do the job?’ demanded the Minister.

Charles shook his head. ‘No Minister! McKennzie has established himself in the best cover you could ever imagine and above all he has Indonesians that will work for him that won’t be noticed. If you want to establish another high level Indonesian Government mole then he’s the best chance we have.’

Brian continued, ‘Charles is right! What I have heard and read about this man is impressive. Minister we have little choice if we want a quick response, McKennzie is the best man.’

The Minister leaned back in his chair. ‘All right he’s yours but I want daily reports until we’re in the clear and I want another mole fast! Before the Prime Minister starts asking questions that I can’t answer.’

‘The budget’ asked Charles.

The Minister paused for a long moment. ‘Yes, but I want results. Brian, start reworking the budget but don’t cut anything that relates to the US Ambassador.’

The Minister unexpectedly leaned forward in his chair. ‘Seeing we are all friends, and be perfectly frank with me. Did you have anything to do with the Salmah affair?’

Charles hadn’t expected that question and smiled as he knew this had been a honey trap to smear Kingston, who was quietly known in some quarters to be a bit of a ladies man. ‘ASIS had nothing to do with her. It was only a coincidence that it happened after the budget cut.’

‘Do you know anything about it’ asked Brian.

Charles knew he would have them eating out of his hand once they knew the truth. ‘Minister this was organized by the Attorney General’s personnel advisers to discredit you. A faction in ASIO did the rest. I didn’t know anything about it until one of my analysts recognised the photo in the papers. She was an agent from Malaysia. Her mission was to make contact with you and make some sort of scandal to have you removed by the Prime Minister. As a result I had a quiet chat with some people in ASIO. I told them I was about to let the media know the full story, unless they got you off the hook. The rest you know.’

Brian cursed ‘Why in the hell didn’t you tell us?’

The Director General smiled, ‘you were convinced I was behind it. Would you have believed me? I don’t think so. Besides, ASIO owes me one and I won’t be letting them forget it.’

The Minister suddenly looked at Charles in a new light with Brian thinking. He’s a smart bastard! In the future I’ll need to be more careful with him.

CHAPTER THREE

STUART McKENNZIE

Bobby Setyadi’s Office Jakarta, January 1998.

Stuart had been an ASIS agent for six years before he was seconded to the Department of Trade ostensibly to increase exports to Indonesia. This allowed ASIS to keep a man in the field without paying his operational costs due to the spy organisation having its budget slashed. Initially he worked for Austrade but quickly realised that progress would be slow so he convinced the Minister for Trade to allow him to start a trading company, which was unofficially supported by the Australia Government. His trading company focused on direct selling or taking commissions for