The Fifth Season. Kerry B Collison
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support for Israel to act alone. He firmly believed that for Israel to vacillate, would ultimately place their country at extreme risk as Israel had insufficient retaliatory capability to survive an Islamic-led nuclear attack.
The director felt the despair of impotency this knowledge carried, his concern that Israel’s own facilities could not provide the defense his country required. Names such as Dimona, Eilabun, Nevatim and Be’er Yaakov came to mind as he considered the nation’s nuclear and missile facilities, wondering just how much more of the country’s budget would be consumed by these demanding capital intensive projects.
The thought of the many billions raised in the United States via their Swiss-based banking operations warmed his heart. He prayed that Israel could always depend on her powerful American lobby without which his country might not survive. It had been imperative that Israel manage its off-shore funds through Geneva for, ironically, many of the country’s investments had been conducted in Moslem nations such as Malaysia and Indonesia, where oil and other precious resources were found in abundance. Major General Saguy’s eyes dropped back to the folder lying almost innocently on his desk.
As he further considered the file’s contents, the director’s fingers tapped a silent beat on the plate-glass-topped desk, his mind preoccupied with the one report which had first alerted Mossad to China’s provocative intentions. He remembered reading that it had been as early as 1985 when Lekem, Israel’s Bureau of Scientific Relations had identified the increased flow of technical information from the Chinese to a number of Moslem nations . Lekem agents located in Israeli embassies throughout Asia and the Sub-Continent had stumbled across Beijing’s first transfer of nuclear technology to Pakistan. Alerted, Mossad worked together with its sister agency in the covert collation of all material which fell into their hands.
Now, with more than ten years of data to substantiate their intelligence, it was clear that China’s efforts were soon to bear fruit.
Shabtai Saguy closed the highly classified file stamped ‘ Most Secret -ha-Mossad le-Modiin ule-Tafkidim Meyuhadim’, removed his glasses and rubbed his tired, gritty eyes, while wondering how other intelligence chiefs always managed to find time to play golf. He then stared down at the document cover before him and a thought crossed his mind, causing a thin, mirthless smile to crease his lips, as he visualized Saddam’s mocking face collapsing into shock once the game unfolded, revealing his weakened flank. Buoyed by this image, Major General Sabtai Saguy left for the Prime Minister’s office where he expected to receive confirmation that Israel would send its scientists and engineers to New Delhi.
If Pakistan was to have its Islamic bomb, then India’s one billion Hindus would receive Israel’s assistance to discourage the further spread of Chinese nuclear technology. Israel’s contribution would prevent, hopefully, the world’s largest Moslem nation, Indonesia, from acquiring such weapons of mass destruction through their new companion, Osama bin Ladam, the man now recognized by the Jewish community worldwide, as their most serious threat since Adolf Hitler.
* * * *
Indonesia - Surabaya – August, 1997
The white Mercedes 300 carrying General Praboyo’s mother was last to arrive at the compound, and even before her driver could assist the aging woman from the vehicle, heavy-duty reinforced steel gates slid into place with an ominous grating noise, momentarily startling the seventy- year-old.The woman’s frail figure belied her true strength as she shuffled slowly past tall, white-washed walls towards the colonial villa’s entrance. Her well-armed driver followed closely, ready to spring to her aid should the need arise. As they moved slowly along the crushed stone path she hesitated, then reached out and picked a small bunch of white and yellow frangipani which hung low on the tree. The aroma obviously pleased her as she turned and smiled, before passing the flowers to the driver. They continued towards the entrance where a number of men waited, their hands clasped in traditional welcome gesture. Satisfied that she was in safe hands, the driver returned to stand by the limousine.
‘Selamat datang, Ibu,’ the men greeted, edging aside as she stepped through the doorway, nodding courteously. They moved, with solemn gait, into the main guest lounge area where a number of white-clad, male servants fussed over the guests, before discreetly retiring to their own accommodations. It was not until the customary pleasantries had been observed and tea taken that the host, one of Indonesia’s most prominent Moslems and senior adviser to the Ulama Akbar leadership, addressed those gathered, in sotto voce.
‘We welcome you back, Ibu, ’ he commenced, smiling at the elderly lady who sat comfortably, in the well-cushioned rattan chair. ‘It is regrettable that this meeting has required you to travel alone, and so far from your home. It would seem however that your efforts are to bear fruit, subject of course to your son’s agreement concerning our requests, as discussed during our last meeting.’
The General’s mother returned Haji Muhammad Malik’s smile, but there was little warmth in her heart as she did so, for this was the meeting about which she had agonized for so many months, before finally agreeing to her son’s request. His image came to mind, and she paused, sipping from the thimble-sized teacup before responding.
‘Pak Malik,’ she commenced, looking at each of the four men in turn, ‘we have given a great deal of thought to what you have proposed. I am pleased to inform you that the General accepts your kind offer.’ She hesitated, as if reluctant to continue. ‘But to be honest with you, as a mother, I am not entirely at ease that this alliance will be without risk to my son.’
She could see from their expressions that her candor was unexpected.
‘Then, of course, the issue of my personal religious differences, must still be resolved.’ She had prayed that they might reconsider earlier demands and would not still insist that surrendering her own faith remain a prerequisite to their agreement. But, she knew in her heart, that these hard-line religious leaders would not consummate the relationship unless she converted. Had it not been for her son, she would never have considered such an unreasonable request. Habit directed her fingers gently upwards where they touched her neck in search of reassurance; the platinum cross she had worn since childhood had been removed, whilst dressing in preparation for this meeting, and placed in the safety of her purse.
‘Madame, we ask your understanding in this matter. Your current position has presented us with some resistance amongst our colleagues,’ Haji Abdul Muis advised, his soft voice almost inaudible to her ears. ‘The question must then be, would you accept embracing Islam? ’ The General’s mother turned her head slightly, and looked directly at the aloof and unsmiling figure. She knew that the support of Abdul Muis’s following of thirty million was essential to her son’s success. She would need to show subservience to this man.
‘Yes,’ she said, with rehearsed conviction, ‘if that is the price to be paid, then yes, I would convert to Islam.’ The Ibu observed from the immediate change in their demeanor that they were all pleased, albeit surprised, at her commitment to abandon her Christian beliefs. Previously, she had been adamant, and stubbornly refused to even consider such a notion.
‘Then you may inform your son that when the time arrives, he may count on both the Ulama Akbar and the Mufti Muharam,’ Malik declared, his statement accompanied by confirmatory nods from the others. The Haji rose slowly and held her hand warmly, signaling that he understood the sacrifice she had agreed to make, a sacrifice which would guarantee their support for her ambitious son.
Satisfied, General Praboyo’s mother departed their company, saddened by the knowledge that she must fulfill her pledge to abandon her own faith, and embrace the teachings of Islam in order to secure the support of the country’s powerful Moslem parties.
As her Mercedes drove slowly away, she stoically accepted that her actions that day could easily precipitate the beginning of the end of the current Indonesian leadership.
She sighed, dabbing at the dry corners of her eyes, wondering why it was so difficult for an old woman to cry. She dismissed the cloud of depression which threatened, closing her weary