“But which government, sir?” the young woman asked pointedly. “Theirs or yours?”
Kediri escaped into confusion. “I do not understand you, miss.”
“Commander Rendino,” she replied. “We have evidence that major military operations have been conducted involving
units of the Indonesian military that are not being ordered by or reported to
your Ministry of Defense. We can point out a series of recent redeployments of
Indonesian military units that make no strategic sense, except to weaken your
government’s hold on Java and Sumatra. We have assessments that indicate certain phases of
this current round of civil unrest are not being instituted by the Harconan
group. There are even indications certain units of the Indonesian military
known to be faithful to your government have been fired on and destroyed by
other units that most certainly are not! Mr. President, putting it bluntly, the
fix is in – unless you act now, you’re screwed!”
“How do you know these things?” Kediri’s voice rose.
The young woman gave a dainty, impatient snort. “Because we’ve been spying on you, of course.”
No one, including Ahsan Kediri, would ever know how he would have responded to that statement.
A sudden shrill electronic tone sounded in the room. The American woman stiffened in her parade rest, then whipped a small device like a cellular phone out of a belt holster. Flipping the device open, she studied its small screen.
“We’ve just had a security breach in here,” she announced. “A burst bug just went off in this office.”
“A burst bug? What do you mean, Commander?” Ambassador Goodyard demanded.
“It’s a sophisticated spying device, sir,” the woman replied. “It digitally records conversations or data and then transmits them to a remote
station in a high-speed microburst. They don’t register on a conventional bug sniffer.” Apparently, the young woman’s equipment was unconventional, for she was intently studying the north wall of
the presidential office. “They conduct data dumps either at a preset timer or on a remote command. One of
them downloaded within twenty feet of us just a few seconds ago. Either this
was sheer coincidence or somebody is extremely interested in what has just been
said in this room.”
“That is impossible, Commander,” Kediri said, using anger to mask his sudden upsurge of fear. “This room has been thoroughly inspected by my own security staff.”
“I’d give those words very careful consideration, Mr. President.” She clapped the faceplate of the sensor shut and returned it to her belt. “Ambassador Goodyard, we are at risk and we are out of here. I am invoking
security protocols and we are returning to the Embassy immediately.”
“Do you think we may have a problem?” Goodyard asked, frowning.
“We’ll know in the very near future, sir, likely after somebody unfolds and listens
to that download.” She looked across the desk at the President of Indonesia. “President Kediri, I’m only a junior naval officer and a guest in your country. I have no official
standing whatsoever outside of my service and it is not my place to advise the
elected leader of a sovereign nation. But if you would be willing to accept a
friendly suggestion from a concerned onlooker, run like hell!”
Pointman Base
The American Embassy, Jakarta
1250 Hours; Zone Time, October 29, 2008
“Asses and elbows, guys!” Christine snapped as she strode into her ad hoc operations center. “I want all stations manned! We may have problems! Drone monitors, pick up your
real-time scanning of all Jakarta garrison sites. I want to know about any
troop movements.”
“Would you mind having an interested observer, Commander?” Ambassador Goodyard asked grimly, following her into the Embassy’s converted reception room. “If anything’s going to happen, I suspect you will know about it first.”
“You’re more than welcome to stay as long as you like, Mr. Ambassador. We’d set you up with a workstation but I suspect it’s going to get a little busy in here.”
“I can look over shoulders, Commander. Just tell me what I need to know and, if I
get in the way, just shove me to one side.”
“As you wish, sir,” Christine smiled back briefly. This gentleman was learning the ropes.
Christine crossed to one of the field desks that had been set up in the big room
and spoke with the systems operator behind it. “What are we getting out of the presidential complex? Gate specifics for unusual
or priority traffic out of the presidential office or on the reserved
presidential links during the last … oh, twenty minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the SO replied, her fingers dancing across the keys of her mil-spec laptop. “Yes, we have a usage spike – on the lines from the public relations office but using the presidential use
codes. Calls to the Foreign Minister … and the Chairman of the Golkar Political Party. President Kediri made the calls
personally.”
“Access transcripts of the calls.”
Slim fingers danced again. Lines of computer translation flowed across the
screen. “The Chairman and the Foreign Minister have been ordered to report to the
Presidential Palace immediately.”
“You’ve penetrated the Indonesian government’s security to that extent?” Goodyard said, slightly awed and a little disturbed.
“Um hum,” the Intel replied absently. “We can even tell you how many times the presidential throne gets flushed in a
day.”
“Hm,” the Ambassador grunted, thinking of his own office. “Whatever happened to ‘Gentlemen don’t read each other’s mail’?”
“If we can do all of this, Mr. Ambassador, just think of what someone who
actually has access to the palace can do.”
“If that was a bug over in Kediri’s office, do you think our visit may have triggered something?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Let’s assume the potential coup masters have Kediri zeroed and wired and are waiting
to take him out at the appropriate moment. If they think that Kediri might be
about to do a fast fade on them … We’ll have to see.”
“Commander Rendino, we have more Presidential traffic out of the Palace,” the systems operator interjected. “It’s to the Presidential flight at Halim Air Force Base. Translating … It’s a request for the President’s aircraft to be prepared for take-off. No destination given. Now we have a
request for an immediate helicopter lift out from the Palace complex … Halam acknowledges … A helicopter is being scrambled.”
“He believes us. He’s running,” Goodyard commented.
“Sometimes the better part of valor, sir.” Christine removed her glasses from her blouse pocket. Settling them on her nose. she removed a Krackle bar from a dish filled with Hershey’s miniatures that had been set on the edge of the field desk. Unwrapping it, she munched thoughtfully.
*
It might have been an old time Western movie before the big showdown. The largest public square in a city of ten million people was empty, occupied only by its heroic statuary. The golden tip of “Sukarno’s last erection” glinted dully. The mullahs called no one to prayer at Istiqial Mosque. The tourists were long gone from the Hotel Borobudur International. The only movement to be seen was the pacing of the nervous sentries at the perimeter roadblocks.
*
“Situational change at the Sunter bivouac site!” a voice called from across the reception room.
“What do you have?” Christine snapped.
