Indonesian Gold (50 page)

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Authors: Kerry B. Collison

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BOOK: Indonesian Gold
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Although Angela accepted that her participation at the
ASEAN convention would not bring immediate relief to the Dayak people, she remained determined
that persistent lobbying outside of Indonesia would eventually fuel international outrage,
causing Jakarta to revisit its humanitarian issues. But, of one result she could be certain – the
other members of the Indonesian delegation were not at all pleased with Angela, several warning
that she would be asked to account for her speech, upon return to Jakarta. Angela had accepted
their criticism, graciously, confident that her newfound profile amongst the other ASEAN
participants would provide her with adequate protection from potential, disciplinary
measures.

The rest of the day passed quickly, by which time Angela
had attended the remaining lectures of interest and, as the hour approached for her appointment
with Campbell, she slipped down to the hotel's shopping arcade for something appropriate to wear
at the pool. Angela knew that she had seriously neglected him over the past days, even at the
official banquet when, at the insistence of the Malaysian Prince, seating arrangements had been
altered to accommodate her presence at his table. She acknowledged that Stewart had been most
understanding with the unexpected demands on her time, and was determined to make
amends.

Now, back in her room, concerned that she should have
searched wider for a single-piece suit she stood, naked, facing the full-length mirror, gently
running her hands from breast to thigh, contemplating her figure and the challenging two-piece
swimming costume, laid out on the bed, behind. Then, with an air of resignation, she tried the
bikini – troubled with the signal this outfit would surely send to Stewart Campbell. She finished
dressing and peered out the window down towards the beautifully sculpted tropical garden
surrounding the pool, relieved that the sky was relatively clear.

****

Campbell lay reading, poolside, when a low, soft whistle
of appreciation from a group of goggle-eyed guests drew his attention and he glanced up,
instinctively flashing a smile as the naturally tanned, bikini-clad figure came into full,
frontal view – his face collapsing into disbelief when he recognized the stunning form
approaching was Angela. Paralyzed with surprise, Campbell could then only gape while the click of
high heels on paving registered time as Angela's long, slender legs carried her sensuous shape
into immediate focus.

She wore a shoulder-to-knee chiffon wrap that trailed from
her side, the lines of her body accentuated by a natural, rhythmic sway. Angela came to a stop,
placed her towel on the empty deck chair, the loosely worn wrap sliding from her shoulders as she
turned.

‘It's hot,'
was all she
said, removing sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat, then flicked her head to one side.

Campbell
continued to admire
in speechless wonderment as she bent down and slipped out of her shoes, providing him with a
generous view of firm breasts.

‘Aren't you coming in?'
she invited, stepping towards the pool.

Realizing he had never seen Angela even partially
undressed, until now, he could do nothing but stare in awe as Angela launched herself into the
water, glided to the other side of the pool, and then beckoned.

‘Come on, Stewart, what are you waiting for?'

Campbell
could not help
overhearing a male voice remark that if Stewart did not go to her, he would, the response from
the man's fellow guests filling their surrounds with guffaws and other inaudible
comment.

He rose, stretched to full height, walked as casually as
he could to the water's edge, and dived into the pool. With two powerful strokes he was by her
side.
‘I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me, again,'
Campbell placed his hands on
her waist, pulling her gently forward, her long, black hair trailing behind.

Playfully, Angela resisted, slipping easily from his
grasp.
‘I'll race you to the deep end!'

Campbell
smiled mischievously.
‘Race? Okay!'
and plunged forward, attempting to catch her off-guard.

Without hesitation, Angela struck out, her graceful
strokes taking her to the front, their race over within seconds. His heart racing, Campbell could
only stare at his companion in wonderment.

‘My God, Angela, where did you learn to swim like
that?'
he asked, breathless.
‘Why didn't you tell me you were
this good?'

She laughed.
‘I haven't been swimming in such a long
time. All the children in my village learn to swim at an early age.'

‘I always thought that Indonesians were terrified of
swimming,'
he managed, deciding at that moment to spend more time
in the gym when they returned to Jakarta.

‘Then you're in for quite a surprise, Mister
Campbell!'
Angela's hand hit the water playfully, the stinging
spray momentarily blinding him before he lunged, locking her inside his arms.

‘You're the one in for the surprise, Miss
Dau,'
he retaliated, dragging their bodies down together, Angela
twisting and kicking defiantly as she struggled to escape. His feet touched the bottom, just as
the calf muscle in his left leg locked and he doubled with the severity of the pain, swallowing
water as he struggled for the surface.

‘Are you okay?'
Angela
held an arm and attempted to steer him to the pool's steps. Campbell spluttered, coughing up
chlorinated pool water as waves of excruciating pain gripped his leg muscle, and he heard voices
call out, suddenly aware of others in the water, alongside.

‘Heart attack?' the guest suggested, supporting Campbell's
weight as they moved back to the edge of the pool.

‘I don't think so,' Angela replied, with concern, ‘more
like a cramp.'

Assisted from the pool, Campbell's acute embarrassment
grew as others came to his aid, everyone present offering medical advice.

‘Massage his leg,' someone suggested.

‘No, that won't do any good. She's cracked him in the
balls. Look at how he's holding himself!' quipped another from a distance.

‘Should we ask the attendant to call the hotel doctor?'
the man who had come to Campbell's aid asked, unable to take his eyes off Angela.

Campbell
managed a string of
squeaky words, insisting that he would be all right, refusing their offers of
assistance.

Gradually, the pain subsided, and he was able to walk.
Angela supported Campbell's limping shape as he hobbled back to the other end of the
pool.

‘Well, that was embarrassing!'
he slumped into a chair.

‘
Could happen to anyone, Stewart.
'

‘
I know that. It's just that the timing couldn't have
been worse
.'

‘Why?'
Angela threw the
wrap around her shoulders.

Campbell
watched as she dried
her hair.
‘Cause I was about to challenge you to another race; I think I gave you too much
start back there.'

‘There'll be other opportunities,'
she smiled impishly.
‘But the result will be the
same
.
'

‘We'll see,'
was all he
said, relaxing now under the afternoon sun's fading rays.

They remained resting in the deck chairs until the
tropical night descended, the light variation in temperatures enough to drive them back
indoors.

****

‘Are you certain that you're up to it?'
Angela asked, not overly anxious to go out.

‘Absolutely, I asked management to send up a masseur from
the gymnasium. He says it's not unusual for calf muscles to lock like that. Something to do with
a low salt diet – speaking of which, I'm starved. Are you ready?'

‘
Why don't we have something in the room,
Stewart?
'

‘No, I'm really okay now. Besides, this is our third night
in KL and you haven't seen anything yet. I thought we would grab a taxi down to the Petaling
Street night-market area and find a restaurant there.'

‘You're only going out because of me. I'd be just as happy
to stay in and have something here. Besides, it's raining again.There's not much point in going
out sightseeing in this weather.'

‘We'll borrow an umbrella from the
concierge,'
he tried, frustration creeping into his
voice.

‘
Stewart, there'll be other opportunities. Let's stay
in.
'

‘No,'
he refused,
stubbornly.
‘We'll go out for dinner, first, then find a quiet lounge
somewhere.'

****

An hour later they faced each other across a table
littered with broken, Sri Lankan crab shell. The messy, Singapore-style, stir-fried whole crabs
that had been cooked in the traditional, buttery, milk and curry sauce now but a culinary memory.
Across from their table where the room lay divided by a series of display tanks filled with live
seafood, lobsters, fish and crabs, all on offer for the restaurant's patrons, Angela observed a
large group of children standing together, discussing their preferences.

‘They seem happy,'
she
commented, Campbell following her gaze.

‘Why wouldn't they be?'
he asked.

‘You don't see it?'
she
asked, surprised.

‘See what?'
he turned,
but still did not understand.
‘Just a bunch of kids working out what they're going to
eat.'

‘It's more than that, Stewart,'
she pointed out,
‘there's at least three different ethnic groups, all happily
spending time together. Something that one would never see outside of a school in
Indonesia.'

‘It's probably a community outing,'
Stewart surmised,
‘and before you become too supportive of Malaysia's
ethnic tolerance, I remind you of the bloody race riots of 1969 when Chinese children were
barricaded inside cinemas, the buildings then torched. The death tolls resulting from those riots
were on a par with what we've seen in Jakarta.'
He filled a glass with soda and quenched a
sambal
-inspired thirst, hoping he would not regret the generous servings of chili sauce
and bell peppers that had accompanied the meal.

‘Perhaps so,'
she
argued,
‘but look at them now. At least there is evidence here that multi-cultural groups can
co-exist, unlike you know where.'

Campbell
shook his head at her
naiveté.
‘Angela, believe me when I tell you that this country is far more likely to explode
into race-related riots than Indonesia. Suharto keeps the lid on everything back home whereas
here, that's not so easy with the Chinese and Indians representing something like forty percent
of the population.The indigenous Malays are split,ethnically,with diverse cultural differences.
Granted, these are not as extreme as one would find in Indonesia, but they do, nevertheless,
exist. It's not so easy here for the government to suppress the people as it is in your neck of
the woods, although some might argue that the Internal Security Act provides the Prime Minister
with far too much power. Malaysia grew to nationhood out of a British colonial past, whereas
Indonesia became a republic only after warring with their Dutch masters and Japanese occupation.
Malaysia had the advantage of an orderly transition to independence, and follows the Westminster
system of government, draconian in many ways that it may be. But, don't be fooled by what you see
on the surface. There is a growing Islamic fundamentalist movement here,and that could result in
Malaysia being torn apart should extremists start to exert influence over the relatively
moderate, local Moslems.'

Angela peered across at Campbell.
‘So. You seem to be
very well versed in local affairs. Ever had a Malay girlfriend?'

Her question caught him by surprise.
‘No…why?'

She smiled, widely.
‘Just curious, that's
all.'

‘
Would it bother you if I had?
'

‘Not at all,'
she
answered, observing him closely.
‘What you did before is of no interest to me – providing it
remains in your past.'

‘Everyone has some baggage in their life.'

‘I don't,'
she
declared, lightheartedly.

‘
Then you are indeed a very fortunate young
lady.
'

‘And one with principles?'
dark, pencil-thin lines above her eyes turned upwards with the questioning face.
Campbell knew she was hiding a smile, familiar now with many of her ways.

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