Borneo Pulp by John Francis Kinsella
Sutrawan casually suggested they fly to Bali for the weekend and Jenny jumped at the idea. His excuse was he had some business to settle there and wanted to get away from the noise and heat of Jakarta. The plan was to leave on the Saturday morning and they agreed to meet at the airport and taking a regular flight on Garuda to Denpasar, about an hour’s flight from Jakarta.
They were then surprised when Sutrawan had left a message the Friday afternoon inviting them both to the Nusantara nightclub for dinner the same evening. He had asked them to meet him there at eight o’clock. Ennis was curious as to why they had been invited, he had seen Sutrawan only the previous day, and he had mentioned nothing.
Ennis had been to the Nusantara there several times before, there was a good restaurant with a small dance floor and every evening an attractive resident singer with an excellent group of musicians entertained the dinners until the early hours.
They took a taxi to the Nusantara Building; the nightclub was on the 24th floor. The building, Ennis had heard, was owned by Japanese, it was not surprising as it housed the representative offices of many internationally well know Japanese companies. They took a private lift directly to the 24th floor, where the hostess welcomed them with a dazzling smile. She told them that Bak Sutrawan’s party had not yet arrived, and suggested that they wait at the table that had been reserved for six people or alternatively at the bar.
They were early as usual, Jenny remarked, and decided that the bar would be more appropriate, where they headed for a before diner drink waiting for Sutrawan, and curious to know who the other guests would be.
As they sipped their drinks they looked out into the darkness over the city. Beyond the reflection of the candles in the panoramic windows, they saw the lights of some of the nearby high rise buildings. The lights of Jakarta were unlike those of many other cities; they were soft and from the Nusantara seemed to be very far down, they were like the lights of a vast sprawling village.
The noise of the traffic on the avenue below, Jalan Thamrin, was almost inaudible, the lights of the cars seemed to move very slowly.
From where he was seated at the bar, Ennis could see from the corner of his eye the restaurant lobby, where the lifts arrived. He glanced in that direction from time to time, keeping a look out for Sutrawan.
After a short wait he appeared out of the lift, smiling, his thick black hair slicked down, his muscular torso filling the grey silk batik shirt, he ushered in his guests, a cigarette in his hand and his diamond studded gold watch sparkling in the lights of the lobby.
Ennis could see that there were two attractive young women, who did not appear to be Indonesian, and a man he seemed to recognise as Nat Somchai, a Thai. He remembered having briefly him met once or twice before. Sutrawan looked around and the hostess nodded in the direction of the bar, Ennis waved, and they went to greet Sutrawan.
‘Hello John,’ he said, pumping Ennis’ hand and then kissing Jenny on the cheek.
‘Let me introduce you to Nat, I think you have met before, yes?’
They shook hands, whilst the girls stood demurely to one side.
‘And this is Siriphen and.....’ He struggled trying to pronounce the other name.
‘Visavarunee,’ Nat helped him out, as the girls giggled with embarrassment.
‘I’m sorry Thai names are so difficult, and this is Jenny.’
Sutrawan spoke raspingly, telling them he had caught chill and was loosing his voice.
Nat was on a visit to Jakarta. ‘Business and pleasure,’ he said with a wink, it was evidently more pleasure than business. His girl friend, Visavarunee, was a picture of Thai perfection, beauty and class, clearly from a very good family background. Her friend could have been described as perhaps a little plain, but certainly not unattractive, like Visavarunee she too had class.
They were seated by the hostess, at a table next to the musicians, adjacent to the small dance floor. The headwaiter took Sutrawan’s order for drinks, a bottle of Hennessey XO for the men, a cola for Jenny, with juices for Visavarunee and Siriphen.
‘We shall cook our own dinner!’ said Sutrawan laughing as he ordered the main course, a Shabu Shabu, what was sometimes called a Steam Boat, filled with a vegetable broth and heated by live coals until the broth was on the verge of boiling. Then fresh spring onions, oriental cabbage leaves and cubes of soya pâté were all carefully stirred into the broth by Sutrawan. The guests then took with their chopsticks thin slices of red raw beef, presented on two enormous dishes, placed on the table between each of the three couples. They then stirred the meat with their chopsticks lightly in the broth until it suited their taste .
A delicate operation, if they were to avoid being burnt or splashed by the boiling vegetable broth, which dripped from the meat held by the chopsticks. They laughed a great deal, enjoying themselves as the music played in the background. Nat recounted amusing stories of their last two days in Jakarta; he spoke perfect English, as did his two girl friends.
From time to time, Sutrawan shook hands with a friend, who arrived in the restaurant, or waved to another, at the same time looking after his guests, serving them meat and drinks. He paid particular attention to Siriphen, who intrigued him, especially as she was alone; it was a challenge to his power of seduction.
The nightclub singer hovered near their table, asking for requests, which they wrote on small slips of paper, whilst Sutrawan joked, asking Nat to sing. Nat replied by laughing promising he would sing later. From time to time Sutrawan with great amusement whispered remarks in Chinese, concerning Visavarunee, to Jenny who laughed a lot.
Sutrawan was always the master of surprises; he mixed people together like an alchemist, with unexpected results. Ennis by then knew him well; he waited for the moment, which was not long in coming.
‘John, you know my friend Lee?’
‘Soetero?’
‘No, Lee from Hongkong Allied.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Ennis was surprised and alert.
‘You met him in Australia.’ It was a statement of fact.
‘Yes, he was introduced to me by a friend from one of the banks.’
‘Well he called me, you know were old friends, were selling Kawasaki forest machines together.’
‘Yes he told me.’
‘Did he talk to you about the clear cutting contracts for transmigration in Central Kalimantan?’
Ennis’ puzzlement must have been clear on his face, he had not heard of such contracts.
‘They’re in Borneo, Central Kalimantan, our future concessions,’ He said with a smug smile.
‘Oh!’
He made an exaggerated wink, telling him that they would talk about it the next day, during their trip to Bali. He announced Nat and his two friends would join them.
‘Gan bei-drink up young man-sing Nat,’ Sutrawan tried to shout, but it was a hoarse croak.
Nat was one of Sutrawan’s mysterious friends, he was one of those people born with all the luck on his side, he was wealthy, good looking and intelligent, a perfect playboy. Nat was the President of the Thai Olympic Committee, and more extraordinary the Vice Rector of the University of Bangkok.
Sutrawan amongst his many engagements, was the president of the World Badminton Association, and had been working hard for the next Olympic program. Nat was one of his many contacts in ASEAN. He was a close friend of Thailand’s Prime Minister, a useful friend in a country where Sutrawan’s partner Gao, was also investing heavily in the pulp and paper industry.
Nat took the microphone; Ennis had observed that he had consumed a good amount of XO; he was a little concerned about what might follow.
He was surprised. In fact astonished, was more his reaction. He had feared the worse, but he could not have been more wrong. Nat was an accomplished nightclub singer; he could have been a professional. His repertoire was nothing less than extraordinary, from Frank Sinatra to Julio Iglesias. He enchanted his audience with his charm and style, as Sutrawan glowed in the pleasure and success of hi
s friend.
They enjoyed their evening; it was perfect, almost magic. The next day they would leave together for Bali, and already anticipated the pleasure of being together.
They waited for Sutrawan’s car at the entrance to the Nusantara Building at street level. His Kretek glowed as he drew deeply on the cigarette, the breeze sending a shower of sparks into the warm air; it appeared like a halo around his head. He distributed largess to the doorman and the parking attendant as his driver opened the doors of the Mercedes for them.
His voice was rasping, he laughingly made signs, like a mute, indicating to them to squeeze into the car, four in the back and two in the front with the driver, they laughed a lot, a little tipsy with drink and pleasure.
Sutrawan was becoming desperate at his lack of success with Siriphen and the two girls were increasingly amused by his efforts.
Ennis and Jenny were dropped off at the Borobudur; they said goodnight, Jenny telling Sutrawan to take care of his cold, whilst blowing him a kiss.
On arrival at Denpasar airport, on the island of Bali, they found a small delegation waiting for them, they looked serious, and perhaps, as Ennis thought, a little sinister.
It was not surprising, since the leader was the Provincial Commander of the National Security Police. Ennis recognised the kind he was, an army man, who was no doubt linked by mutual trust to Sutrawan, through a complicated network of favours that were constantly given and returned. Sutrawan paid a great deal of attention and effort, to maintaining and privileging his network.
Colonel Supramanto was typical of the moustachioed military men in Indonesia, well fed with an air of silent confidence, slick and not unsurprisingly tough. They exchanged greetings, in a businesslike manner. Sutrawan continued a discrete exchange as Supramanto accompanied them to the two cars, waiting to take them to the Hotel.
The Bali Beach Hotel was at Sanur Beach, about twenty minutes from the airport, where Sutrawan had an eight-room suite. Ennis had to admit to himself, that he was curious about Bali. He had avoided what he saw as a tourist trap up to that moment in time, he was almost proud to say he had never visited that tiny exotic island, with its two and half million population whose religion was Hindu-plus half of the Australians from Sydney during the tourist season.
Another point of interrogation that lay in the back of his mind, was why Sutrawan had invited him, it was not simply for the pleasure of his company. That was sure, because whilst Sutrawan travelled extensively, there was always a business reason lurking in the background, even if he mixed it with his apparent pursuit of pleasure.
It was part of his business philosophy, providing an environment that was propitious to the development of friendship and the creation of lasting bonds with his partners. It also helped to determine whether his circle of friends and relations accepted the newcomers. Those they rejected were rejected by Sutrawan.
Nat was a long-standing friend, perhaps he was merely entertaining him for the weekend. There was another serious reason, which was that Sutrawan simply wanted to screw Siriphen’s friend, who represented a particular challenge, being of a good family and being relatively shy, she was different to the nightclub singers and hostesses, whom he normally pursued.
They settled into one of the rooms of the sumptuous suite, which although Ennis found spacious was nevertheless stifling having Sutrawan so near. He felt that he was Sutrawan’s creature, unable to relax, called to keep him company whenever he opened the cognac. His room phone rang, it was Sutrawan.
‘Hey John come and have a drink!’
They found him perched at the bar in the main reception room of the suite.
‘Have a drink,’ he said waving a bottle of XO. He looked tired and pale.
‘So how are you? Did you speak with Danny?’
‘About what?’
He shrugged, ‘About the plantations? By the way John what’s Suarez doing?’
Ennis was surprised at the question; he did not understand what Sutrawan was getting at.
‘I don’t know, I mean he’s supposed to be preparing a plan for replantation, timber farms and all that.’
‘Has he said anything unusual to you?’
‘No,’ Ennis hesitated, ‘he’s just said that things are a bit slow, the plantations would probably be late.’
‘Listen John, don’t worry about the plantations, Danny is working on that. In any case if the plantations are late we’ll do the same as we have done at our Bintang Agung pulp mill.’
Ennis looked questioningly.
‘We’ll use the logged over forest, clear-cutting like I told you the other evening, no problem there’s plenty of wood there,’ Sutrawan laughed pouring a large cognac for Ennis. ‘Hey, drink up!’
So that was it. It was not more than a couple of weeks since Suarez had expressed worries that Bintang Agung’s plantation programme was having difficulty. It was his diplomatic way of saying that they were almost non-existent. They were ten years behind in the selection of trees; just a few thousand hectares had been planted.
Ennis felt strangely hollow, he suddenly realised that what Ohlsson and Jenny had been preaching was probably true. He felt disappointment with Sutrawan a hint of a force that he had not previously sensed before.
‘Hey John, I’m going to relax a little,’ which meant that he intended to sleep for two or three hours.
‘Tonight you are invited to the Balinese theatre, its here in the hotel gardens, I’ve seen it all before,’ he laughed, excusing himself. ‘After the driver will bring you to the restaurant, I’ll meet you there for dinner.’
The two Thai girls looked pleased; they did not want to miss any of the tourist attractions whilst they were in Bali.
‘So be in the lobby at six, now I suggest you take a rest!’ he looked at Ennis and Jenny with a wicked smile.
Ennis smiled back, but thought to himself, what does he think we do, fuck all the time, and then on reflection he admitted to himself, well I suppose we do, at least part of the time.
They had a couple of hours and decided to look around the hotel, the gardens were magnificent, and they were big, very big. There were tennis courts near to the beach, which were practically deserted. As they stood on the edge of the beach looking at the sea, one of the tennis attendants struck up a conversation with them.
‘What’s down there?’ said Jenny, waving to where the beach curved away to a point in the distance.
‘Nothing,’ he told them. ‘It is nice for a walk, but there are no villages nearby, just the beach, it’s quiet, best to stay here. If you want to see more, go to Sanur or Denpasar, a big town,’ he said with a proud smile.
They walked hand in hand down the beach, Jenny was wearing a one piece swimsuit with a light almost transparent batik sari pulled around her shoulders, to protect her from the sun, she did not value a tan as did European women, she preferred her skin natural, dark skin was for peasants.
They walked for almost an hour before turning back; there was almost nothing on the beach apart from a few stray dogs.
The theatre was a replica of a Balinese temple, built in dark volcanic stone, carved with scenes from Hindu mythology; it was open to the sky. The five of them were seated in front of the stage, the girls chatted in excited anticipation of the show as they looked at the stage on which were scattered deep red exotic blooms. It was cleverly illuminated with long dark shadows, giving it a dramatic effect, it was night and occasionally the sky was lit by flashes of lightning on the horizon.
The show was moving and dramatic, recounting in a spectacular dance, one of the great legends of the Ramayana to the hypnotic music of the Gamelan. Ennis had to admit that he enjoyed it; the mystic traditions of Bali lived up to their reputation, even if some had been invented for the benefit of the twentieth century tourist industry.
After the show they returned to the hotel reception, arriving just as large drops of rain began to fall, the driver was waiting to take them to a restaurant where Sutrawan was waitin
g for them.
They were disappointed by the restaurant, it was plain and uninteresting, an anticlimax after the theatre. Sutrawan was already installed in a sombre corner, with Supramanto, the National Security Police commander.
The restaurant that was not especially full, it was not surprising. As the dinner wore, on Sutrawan seemed to be more engaged than normal in a deep tête-à-tête with his police friend, speaking an Indonesian, which Ennis had great difficulty to understand, not only because of Sutrawan’s rapidly disappearing voice but because they were not speaking in Bhasa, but a mixture of Javanese and Bhasa with some Balinese thrown in.
In the relatively dim light of the open-air restaurant, the police chief took on a serious and sinister look.
‘John!’ Sutrawan suddenly said in English. ‘Supramanto here can help you in Kalimantan’
Ennis was taken by surprise.
‘Supramanto is with the Security Forces, his brother’s unit is responsible for logistics for the army command in Kalimantan.’
Ennis animated interest, although he could not directly see where this unexpected proposition was leading.
‘All movements, in and out of the country, have to be controlled by the security forces. In our project in Kalimantan, we shall be moving people and materials directly to and from Singapore each month, according our permits from the Central Bank, the Minister of Industry and the BKPM.
His brothers unit that provides security and issue permits for all movements in and out of the province.’
‘I see,’ Ennis murmured, waiting for him to arrive at the essential point.
‘Supramanto’s son will be going to study at Brisbane University next year, he’ll require assistance, so I have promised him that you will help,’ he beamed. ‘His brother is with the Airforce Transport Command in Kalimantan, so shall be able work with him for transport questions.’
Ohlsson had explained to Ennis that such military men provided cover for many illegal-logging operations in concessions controlled by the army and their friends. The very fact the Supramanto was a friend of Sutrawan seemed to point in that direction, and the not so subtle introduction of his brother was confirmation.
Supramanto relaxed and smiled, that problem was out of the way, it was clear that some deal had been agreed; Ennis’ presence had been necessary as some kind of witness and proof of their engagement. He had been unwittingly used by Sutrawan to spread his hold on clear cutting for pulpwood to Kalimantan.
Sutrawan’s voice had almost disappeared, and Supramanto started talking in excellent English, turning the conversation to a subject that he was more familiar with, police work on the island of Bali.
He surprised them, talking of drugs, vice, robbery and violence, which he explained occurred almost exclusively amongst the transient tourist population and which was often perpetrated by marginals who had illegally overstayed their visa period. His job seemed to be that of a cop anywhere, but, with the added responsibility of keeping things under wraps, avoiding bad publicity in the media for the tourist trade.
He turned out to be very amusing and enjoyed drinking with them. They finally settled down and stayed until quiet late listening with eyes wide open to Supramanto’s unusual and interesting stories, some of which were quiet gruesome. It was eleven when he was called over his radio on police business; he excused himself and left the table.
They returned to the hotel as Sutrawan made signs that he was tired; he had lost his voice completely.
Three days later Ennis left for Manila to discuss details with the Asian Development Bank. On his returned to Jakarta, after ten days absence he called Sutrawan and was informed he was out of town. The ADBs specialists were due to arrive in Jakarta ten days later, to go through the draft agreements and Sutrawan’s presence, as local partner was necessary.
After several unsuccessful attempts to get Sutrawan, he finally got through to Danny, who said he could not talk over the phone and suggested that they meet for lunch at a Japanese restaurant that he knew Ennis liked.
‘Bak Sutrawan is in Boston.’
‘In Boston!’ said Ennis surprised; there had been no talk of Boston when they were in Bali.
Though Ennis was not informed of all of Sutrawan’s movements, he felt sure that he would have mentioned a trip to Boston to him whilst they were in Bali together.
‘Yes, to Boston, he’s been having trouble with his throat, he can’t talk and he went to Singapore.’
‘Singapore?’
Danny laughed, ‘Don’t look so worried its nothing, enjoy your Tepanyaki.’
‘Is he ill then?’
‘No nothing serious, you know here in Jakarta, if people have anything they go to Singapore, so Bak Sutrawan went to Singapore.’
‘What did they say then?’
‘They said he lost his voice,’ he laughed again. ‘That was easy to diagnosis, they said he should see a specialist and as he was going to Boston anyway for the Badminton Association to talk about the next world championship, he decided to see a specialist there,’ Danny said shrugging his shoulders.
‘When will he be back?’
‘In a couple of weeks.’
Ennis was a little bit uneasy; it was unlike Sutrawan to be ill. It did not look right and Ennis suspected that he was avoiding him for some obscure reason.
He would be away for two weeks, just when he was needed for the ADB visit. Danny was running the business whilst Sutrawan was in the USA and Riady was looking after the pulp mill project.
The trouble was that when Sutrawan was away, everybody looked after their own personal interests, their own pet projects, and the main business tended to get second seat. It was a critical moment and Sutrawan’s presence was important as only he could make any important decisions.
Sutrawan did not return as scheduled and the meeting with the ADB took place with Riady being present. Riady informing him that Danny had flown to Boston, that was too much for Ennis, a waste of time. The ADB representative left without any real progress being made.
Ennis flew to Taipei; it was exactly one month since he had since he had last seen Sutrawan in Bali. A rumour was now making the rounds that Sutrawan would be away for several weeks. Ennis was perplexed; he had been getting pressure from Paris to find out what was going on if anything, as Axelmann could not keep the banks on hold indefinitely, they should be at least given some dates.
He took the lift up to the fourth floor in the Mei Chih building and was shown into the waiting room by the receptionist. The waiting room was reserved for important visitors; in reality it a trophy room, an example of pure Chinese kitsch, where the company displayed the gifts made to the Gao’s over the years. Ornate clocks in glass cases, engraved shields and elaborate flags.
He received the traditional glass of hot water and as he sipped it, remembering the first time he had been treated to the ritual, he had thought that they had forgotten the tealeaves.
The wait was longer than normal. Gao arrived in his busy-busy down to business manner. He was dressed in his usual well-cut blue pin stripe, Japanese style, business suit, wearing a white shirt and a sober tie. Normally he was friendly and smiling. This time he wore a fixed and serious face.
‘Hello Mr Ennis.’ He always started on a formal step, before settling into a more familiar style.
Ennis had always used the formal style of addressing him-Mr Gao-he did not know his familiar name, though certain foreigners called him S.C., initials for Sho Chung.
He got down to serious matters at once.
‘You know that Sutrawan is seriously ill.’ It was more of a statement than a question.
Ennis replied with an expression of sympathetic interest, the information was nothing new, he convinced himself that Sutrawan had nothing serious.
‘They have diagnosed throat cancer.’
He hesitated, between shock and mild disbelief, knowing that the differences in life style of the two men had more than once created mutual antagonism. Ga
o in the conservative Chinese Confucian tradition considered Sutrawan as a hua hua gong si, a spend thrift playboy. Sutrawan, who had worked his own way to riches, from the tough life of a Surabaya rice porter, considered Gao, the son of an old moneyed family, as a soft daddy’s boy who could not drink and who disapproved of Sutrawan’s friends and life style.
‘He is having chemio-therapy treatment in Boston, I’m sorry to tell you that there is no hope, he will be returning to Jakarta at the beginning of the month.’
Ennis was lost for words he was torn between his friendship for Sutrawan and the heavy consequences his incapacity could have for their business.
‘You must inform your friends in Paris and find a new partner,’ he said coldly and patronisingly. There was a strong hint of I told you so.
Ennis left with a dry bitter taste in his mouth and the sickening feeling he had lost.
BAD NEWS
They were then surprised when Sutrawan had left a message the Friday afternoon inviting them both to the Nusantara nightclub for dinner the same evening. He had asked them to meet him there at eight o’clock. Ennis was curious as to why they had been invited, he had seen Sutrawan only the previous day, and he had mentioned nothing.
Ennis had been to the Nusantara there several times before, there was a good restaurant with a small dance floor and every evening an attractive resident singer with an excellent group of musicians entertained the dinners until the early hours.
They took a taxi to the Nusantara Building; the nightclub was on the 24th floor. The building, Ennis had heard, was owned by Japanese, it was not surprising as it housed the representative offices of many internationally well know Japanese companies. They took a private lift directly to the 24th floor, where the hostess welcomed them with a dazzling smile. She told them that Bak Sutrawan’s party had not yet arrived, and suggested that they wait at the table that had been reserved for six people or alternatively at the bar.
They were early as usual, Jenny remarked, and decided that the bar would be more appropriate, where they headed for a before diner drink waiting for Sutrawan, and curious to know who the other guests would be.
As they sipped their drinks they looked out into the darkness over the city. Beyond the reflection of the candles in the panoramic windows, they saw the lights of some of the nearby high rise buildings. The lights of Jakarta were unlike those of many other cities; they were soft and from the Nusantara seemed to be very far down, they were like the lights of a vast sprawling village.
The noise of the traffic on the avenue below, Jalan Thamrin, was almost inaudible, the lights of the cars seemed to move very slowly.
From where he was seated at the bar, Ennis could see from the corner of his eye the restaurant lobby, where the lifts arrived. He glanced in that direction from time to time, keeping a look out for Sutrawan.
After a short wait he appeared out of the lift, smiling, his thick black hair slicked down, his muscular torso filling the grey silk batik shirt, he ushered in his guests, a cigarette in his hand and his diamond studded gold watch sparkling in the lights of the lobby.
Ennis could see that there were two attractive young women, who did not appear to be Indonesian, and a man he seemed to recognise as Nat Somchai, a Thai. He remembered having briefly him met once or twice before. Sutrawan looked around and the hostess nodded in the direction of the bar, Ennis waved, and they went to greet Sutrawan.
‘Hello John,’ he said, pumping Ennis’ hand and then kissing Jenny on the cheek.
‘Let me introduce you to Nat, I think you have met before, yes?’
They shook hands, whilst the girls stood demurely to one side.
‘And this is Siriphen and.....’ He struggled trying to pronounce the other name.
‘Visavarunee,’ Nat helped him out, as the girls giggled with embarrassment.
‘I’m sorry Thai names are so difficult, and this is Jenny.’
Sutrawan spoke raspingly, telling them he had caught chill and was loosing his voice.
Nat was on a visit to Jakarta. ‘Business and pleasure,’ he said with a wink, it was evidently more pleasure than business. His girl friend, Visavarunee, was a picture of Thai perfection, beauty and class, clearly from a very good family background. Her friend could have been described as perhaps a little plain, but certainly not unattractive, like Visavarunee she too had class.
They were seated by the hostess, at a table next to the musicians, adjacent to the small dance floor. The headwaiter took Sutrawan’s order for drinks, a bottle of Hennessey XO for the men, a cola for Jenny, with juices for Visavarunee and Siriphen.
‘We shall cook our own dinner!’ said Sutrawan laughing as he ordered the main course, a Shabu Shabu, what was sometimes called a Steam Boat, filled with a vegetable broth and heated by live coals until the broth was on the verge of boiling. Then fresh spring onions, oriental cabbage leaves and cubes of soya pâté were all carefully stirred into the broth by Sutrawan. The guests then took with their chopsticks thin slices of red raw beef, presented on two enormous dishes, placed on the table between each of the three couples. They then stirred the meat with their chopsticks lightly in the broth until it suited their taste .
A delicate operation, if they were to avoid being burnt or splashed by the boiling vegetable broth, which dripped from the meat held by the chopsticks. They laughed a great deal, enjoying themselves as the music played in the background. Nat recounted amusing stories of their last two days in Jakarta; he spoke perfect English, as did his two girl friends.
From time to time, Sutrawan shook hands with a friend, who arrived in the restaurant, or waved to another, at the same time looking after his guests, serving them meat and drinks. He paid particular attention to Siriphen, who intrigued him, especially as she was alone; it was a challenge to his power of seduction.
The nightclub singer hovered near their table, asking for requests, which they wrote on small slips of paper, whilst Sutrawan joked, asking Nat to sing. Nat replied by laughing promising he would sing later. From time to time Sutrawan with great amusement whispered remarks in Chinese, concerning Visavarunee, to Jenny who laughed a lot.
Sutrawan was always the master of surprises; he mixed people together like an alchemist, with unexpected results. Ennis by then knew him well; he waited for the moment, which was not long in coming.
‘John, you know my friend Lee?’
‘Soetero?’
‘No, Lee from Hongkong Allied.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Ennis was surprised and alert.
‘You met him in Australia.’ It was a statement of fact.
‘Yes, he was introduced to me by a friend from one of the banks.’
‘Well he called me, you know were old friends, were selling Kawasaki forest machines together.’
‘Yes he told me.’
‘Did he talk to you about the clear cutting contracts for transmigration in Central Kalimantan?’
Ennis’ puzzlement must have been clear on his face, he had not heard of such contracts.
‘They’re in Borneo, Central Kalimantan, our future concessions,’ He said with a smug smile.
‘Oh!’
He made an exaggerated wink, telling him that they would talk about it the next day, during their trip to Bali. He announced Nat and his two friends would join them.
‘Gan bei-drink up young man-sing Nat,’ Sutrawan tried to shout, but it was a hoarse croak.
Nat was one of Sutrawan’s mysterious friends, he was one of those people born with all the luck on his side, he was wealthy, good looking and intelligent, a perfect playboy. Nat was the President of the Thai Olympic Committee, and more extraordinary the Vice Rector of the University of Bangkok.
Sutrawan amongst his many engagements, was the president of the World Badminton Association, and had been working hard for the next Olympic program. Nat was one of his many contacts in ASEAN. He was a close friend of Thailand’s Prime Minister, a useful friend in a country where Sutrawan’s partner Gao, was also investing heavily in the pulp and paper industry.
Nat took the microphone; Ennis had observed that he had consumed a good amount of XO; he was a little concerned about what might follow.
He was surprised. In fact astonished, was more his reaction. He had feared the worse, but he could not have been more wrong. Nat was an accomplished nightclub singer; he could have been a professional. His repertoire was nothing less than extraordinary, from Frank Sinatra to Julio Iglesias. He enchanted his audience with his charm and style, as Sutrawan glowed in the pleasure and success of hi
They enjoyed their evening; it was perfect, almost magic. The next day they would leave together for Bali, and already anticipated the pleasure of being together.
They waited for Sutrawan’s car at the entrance to the Nusantara Building at street level. His Kretek glowed as he drew deeply on the cigarette, the breeze sending a shower of sparks into the warm air; it appeared like a halo around his head. He distributed largess to the doorman and the parking attendant as his driver opened the doors of the Mercedes for them.
His voice was rasping, he laughingly made signs, like a mute, indicating to them to squeeze into the car, four in the back and two in the front with the driver, they laughed a lot, a little tipsy with drink and pleasure.
Sutrawan was becoming desperate at his lack of success with Siriphen and the two girls were increasingly amused by his efforts.
Ennis and Jenny were dropped off at the Borobudur; they said goodnight, Jenny telling Sutrawan to take care of his cold, whilst blowing him a kiss.
On arrival at Denpasar airport, on the island of Bali, they found a small delegation waiting for them, they looked serious, and perhaps, as Ennis thought, a little sinister.
It was not surprising, since the leader was the Provincial Commander of the National Security Police. Ennis recognised the kind he was, an army man, who was no doubt linked by mutual trust to Sutrawan, through a complicated network of favours that were constantly given and returned. Sutrawan paid a great deal of attention and effort, to maintaining and privileging his network.
Colonel Supramanto was typical of the moustachioed military men in Indonesia, well fed with an air of silent confidence, slick and not unsurprisingly tough. They exchanged greetings, in a businesslike manner. Sutrawan continued a discrete exchange as Supramanto accompanied them to the two cars, waiting to take them to the Hotel.
The Bali Beach Hotel was at Sanur Beach, about twenty minutes from the airport, where Sutrawan had an eight-room suite. Ennis had to admit to himself, that he was curious about Bali. He had avoided what he saw as a tourist trap up to that moment in time, he was almost proud to say he had never visited that tiny exotic island, with its two and half million population whose religion was Hindu-plus half of the Australians from Sydney during the tourist season.
Another point of interrogation that lay in the back of his mind, was why Sutrawan had invited him, it was not simply for the pleasure of his company. That was sure, because whilst Sutrawan travelled extensively, there was always a business reason lurking in the background, even if he mixed it with his apparent pursuit of pleasure.
It was part of his business philosophy, providing an environment that was propitious to the development of friendship and the creation of lasting bonds with his partners. It also helped to determine whether his circle of friends and relations accepted the newcomers. Those they rejected were rejected by Sutrawan.
Nat was a long-standing friend, perhaps he was merely entertaining him for the weekend. There was another serious reason, which was that Sutrawan simply wanted to screw Siriphen’s friend, who represented a particular challenge, being of a good family and being relatively shy, she was different to the nightclub singers and hostesses, whom he normally pursued.
They settled into one of the rooms of the sumptuous suite, which although Ennis found spacious was nevertheless stifling having Sutrawan so near. He felt that he was Sutrawan’s creature, unable to relax, called to keep him company whenever he opened the cognac. His room phone rang, it was Sutrawan.
‘Hey John come and have a drink!’
They found him perched at the bar in the main reception room of the suite.
‘Have a drink,’ he said waving a bottle of XO. He looked tired and pale.
‘So how are you? Did you speak with Danny?’
‘About what?’
He shrugged, ‘About the plantations? By the way John what’s Suarez doing?’
Ennis was surprised at the question; he did not understand what Sutrawan was getting at.
‘I don’t know, I mean he’s supposed to be preparing a plan for replantation, timber farms and all that.’
‘Has he said anything unusual to you?’
‘No,’ Ennis hesitated, ‘he’s just said that things are a bit slow, the plantations would probably be late.’
‘Listen John, don’t worry about the plantations, Danny is working on that. In any case if the plantations are late we’ll do the same as we have done at our Bintang Agung pulp mill.’
Ennis looked questioningly.
‘We’ll use the logged over forest, clear-cutting like I told you the other evening, no problem there’s plenty of wood there,’ Sutrawan laughed pouring a large cognac for Ennis. ‘Hey, drink up!’
So that was it. It was not more than a couple of weeks since Suarez had expressed worries that Bintang Agung’s plantation programme was having difficulty. It was his diplomatic way of saying that they were almost non-existent. They were ten years behind in the selection of trees; just a few thousand hectares had been planted.
Ennis felt strangely hollow, he suddenly realised that what Ohlsson and Jenny had been preaching was probably true. He felt disappointment with Sutrawan a hint of a force that he had not previously sensed before.
‘Hey John, I’m going to relax a little,’ which meant that he intended to sleep for two or three hours.
‘Tonight you are invited to the Balinese theatre, its here in the hotel gardens, I’ve seen it all before,’ he laughed, excusing himself. ‘After the driver will bring you to the restaurant, I’ll meet you there for dinner.’
The two Thai girls looked pleased; they did not want to miss any of the tourist attractions whilst they were in Bali.
‘So be in the lobby at six, now I suggest you take a rest!’ he looked at Ennis and Jenny with a wicked smile.
Ennis smiled back, but thought to himself, what does he think we do, fuck all the time, and then on reflection he admitted to himself, well I suppose we do, at least part of the time.
They had a couple of hours and decided to look around the hotel, the gardens were magnificent, and they were big, very big. There were tennis courts near to the beach, which were practically deserted. As they stood on the edge of the beach looking at the sea, one of the tennis attendants struck up a conversation with them.
‘What’s down there?’ said Jenny, waving to where the beach curved away to a point in the distance.
‘Nothing,’ he told them. ‘It is nice for a walk, but there are no villages nearby, just the beach, it’s quiet, best to stay here. If you want to see more, go to Sanur or Denpasar, a big town,’ he said with a proud smile.
They walked hand in hand down the beach, Jenny was wearing a one piece swimsuit with a light almost transparent batik sari pulled around her shoulders, to protect her from the sun, she did not value a tan as did European women, she preferred her skin natural, dark skin was for peasants.
They walked for almost an hour before turning back; there was almost nothing on the beach apart from a few stray dogs.
The theatre was a replica of a Balinese temple, built in dark volcanic stone, carved with scenes from Hindu mythology; it was open to the sky. The five of them were seated in front of the stage, the girls chatted in excited anticipation of the show as they looked at the stage on which were scattered deep red exotic blooms. It was cleverly illuminated with long dark shadows, giving it a dramatic effect, it was night and occasionally the sky was lit by flashes of lightning on the horizon.
The show was moving and dramatic, recounting in a spectacular dance, one of the great legends of the Ramayana to the hypnotic music of the Gamelan. Ennis had to admit that he enjoyed it; the mystic traditions of Bali lived up to their reputation, even if some had been invented for the benefit of the twentieth century tourist industry.
After the show they returned to the hotel reception, arriving just as large drops of rain began to fall, the driver was waiting to take them to a restaurant where Sutrawan was waitin
They were disappointed by the restaurant, it was plain and uninteresting, an anticlimax after the theatre. Sutrawan was already installed in a sombre corner, with Supramanto, the National Security Police commander.
The restaurant that was not especially full, it was not surprising. As the dinner wore, on Sutrawan seemed to be more engaged than normal in a deep tête-à-tête with his police friend, speaking an Indonesian, which Ennis had great difficulty to understand, not only because of Sutrawan’s rapidly disappearing voice but because they were not speaking in Bhasa, but a mixture of Javanese and Bhasa with some Balinese thrown in.
In the relatively dim light of the open-air restaurant, the police chief took on a serious and sinister look.
‘John!’ Sutrawan suddenly said in English. ‘Supramanto here can help you in Kalimantan’
Ennis was taken by surprise.
‘Supramanto is with the Security Forces, his brother’s unit is responsible for logistics for the army command in Kalimantan.’
Ennis animated interest, although he could not directly see where this unexpected proposition was leading.
‘All movements, in and out of the country, have to be controlled by the security forces. In our project in Kalimantan, we shall be moving people and materials directly to and from Singapore each month, according our permits from the Central Bank, the Minister of Industry and the BKPM.
His brothers unit that provides security and issue permits for all movements in and out of the province.’
‘I see,’ Ennis murmured, waiting for him to arrive at the essential point.
‘Supramanto’s son will be going to study at Brisbane University next year, he’ll require assistance, so I have promised him that you will help,’ he beamed. ‘His brother is with the Airforce Transport Command in Kalimantan, so shall be able work with him for transport questions.’
Ohlsson had explained to Ennis that such military men provided cover for many illegal-logging operations in concessions controlled by the army and their friends. The very fact the Supramanto was a friend of Sutrawan seemed to point in that direction, and the not so subtle introduction of his brother was confirmation.
Supramanto relaxed and smiled, that problem was out of the way, it was clear that some deal had been agreed; Ennis’ presence had been necessary as some kind of witness and proof of their engagement. He had been unwittingly used by Sutrawan to spread his hold on clear cutting for pulpwood to Kalimantan.
Sutrawan’s voice had almost disappeared, and Supramanto started talking in excellent English, turning the conversation to a subject that he was more familiar with, police work on the island of Bali.
He surprised them, talking of drugs, vice, robbery and violence, which he explained occurred almost exclusively amongst the transient tourist population and which was often perpetrated by marginals who had illegally overstayed their visa period. His job seemed to be that of a cop anywhere, but, with the added responsibility of keeping things under wraps, avoiding bad publicity in the media for the tourist trade.
He turned out to be very amusing and enjoyed drinking with them. They finally settled down and stayed until quiet late listening with eyes wide open to Supramanto’s unusual and interesting stories, some of which were quiet gruesome. It was eleven when he was called over his radio on police business; he excused himself and left the table.
They returned to the hotel as Sutrawan made signs that he was tired; he had lost his voice completely.
Three days later Ennis left for Manila to discuss details with the Asian Development Bank. On his returned to Jakarta, after ten days absence he called Sutrawan and was informed he was out of town. The ADBs specialists were due to arrive in Jakarta ten days later, to go through the draft agreements and Sutrawan’s presence, as local partner was necessary.
After several unsuccessful attempts to get Sutrawan, he finally got through to Danny, who said he could not talk over the phone and suggested that they meet for lunch at a Japanese restaurant that he knew Ennis liked.
‘Bak Sutrawan is in Boston.’
‘In Boston!’ said Ennis surprised; there had been no talk of Boston when they were in Bali.
Though Ennis was not informed of all of Sutrawan’s movements, he felt sure that he would have mentioned a trip to Boston to him whilst they were in Bali together.
‘Yes, to Boston, he’s been having trouble with his throat, he can’t talk and he went to Singapore.’
‘Singapore?’
Danny laughed, ‘Don’t look so worried its nothing, enjoy your Tepanyaki.’
‘Is he ill then?’
‘No nothing serious, you know here in Jakarta, if people have anything they go to Singapore, so Bak Sutrawan went to Singapore.’
‘What did they say then?’
‘They said he lost his voice,’ he laughed again. ‘That was easy to diagnosis, they said he should see a specialist and as he was going to Boston anyway for the Badminton Association to talk about the next world championship, he decided to see a specialist there,’ Danny said shrugging his shoulders.
‘When will he be back?’
‘In a couple of weeks.’
Ennis was a little bit uneasy; it was unlike Sutrawan to be ill. It did not look right and Ennis suspected that he was avoiding him for some obscure reason.
He would be away for two weeks, just when he was needed for the ADB visit. Danny was running the business whilst Sutrawan was in the USA and Riady was looking after the pulp mill project.
The trouble was that when Sutrawan was away, everybody looked after their own personal interests, their own pet projects, and the main business tended to get second seat. It was a critical moment and Sutrawan’s presence was important as only he could make any important decisions.
Sutrawan did not return as scheduled and the meeting with the ADB took place with Riady being present. Riady informing him that Danny had flown to Boston, that was too much for Ennis, a waste of time. The ADB representative left without any real progress being made.
Ennis flew to Taipei; it was exactly one month since he had since he had last seen Sutrawan in Bali. A rumour was now making the rounds that Sutrawan would be away for several weeks. Ennis was perplexed; he had been getting pressure from Paris to find out what was going on if anything, as Axelmann could not keep the banks on hold indefinitely, they should be at least given some dates.
He took the lift up to the fourth floor in the Mei Chih building and was shown into the waiting room by the receptionist. The waiting room was reserved for important visitors; in reality it a trophy room, an example of pure Chinese kitsch, where the company displayed the gifts made to the Gao’s over the years. Ornate clocks in glass cases, engraved shields and elaborate flags.
He received the traditional glass of hot water and as he sipped it, remembering the first time he had been treated to the ritual, he had thought that they had forgotten the tealeaves.
The wait was longer than normal. Gao arrived in his busy-busy down to business manner. He was dressed in his usual well-cut blue pin stripe, Japanese style, business suit, wearing a white shirt and a sober tie. Normally he was friendly and smiling. This time he wore a fixed and serious face.
‘Hello Mr Ennis.’ He always started on a formal step, before settling into a more familiar style.
Ennis had always used the formal style of addressing him-Mr Gao-he did not know his familiar name, though certain foreigners called him S.C., initials for Sho Chung.
He got down to serious matters at once.
‘You know that Sutrawan is seriously ill.’ It was more of a statement than a question.
Ennis replied with an expression of sympathetic interest, the information was nothing new, he convinced himself that Sutrawan had nothing serious.
‘They have diagnosed throat cancer.’
He hesitated, between shock and mild disbelief, knowing that the differences in life style of the two men had more than once created mutual antagonism. Ga
‘He is having chemio-therapy treatment in Boston, I’m sorry to tell you that there is no hope, he will be returning to Jakarta at the beginning of the month.’
Ennis was lost for words he was torn between his friendship for Sutrawan and the heavy consequences his incapacity could have for their business.
‘You must inform your friends in Paris and find a new partner,’ he said coldly and patronisingly. There was a strong hint of I told you so.
Ennis left with a dry bitter taste in his mouth and the sickening feeling he had lost.
BAD NEWS