The Fifth Season (44 page)

Muis's driver assessed the situation quickly. It would take at least half an hour to clear. He withdrew his pistol and fired into the air once, sending the crowd scattering in all directions. Then he shouted at the line of drivers to listen to his instructions. He marched to the end of the double line of vehicles, waving his gun threateningly, forcing those arriving off the road. Then, one by one, he ordered the second line of traffic to reverse, some slipping off the road into deep ditches in panic, terrified that the fierce-looking, armed soldier might shoot.

Finally, the road on their side had been cleared, and the oncoming traffic slowly edged forward. By now, a similar situation had developed on the other side of the bridge with two rows of traffic bunched together, feeding onto the narrow bridge and creating yet another bottleneck. Then, amidst the angry shouting to hurry, a driver panicked, losing control, his truck plunging the articulated trailer behind, partly over the side. The vehicle hung precariously, the petrified driver unable to extricate the heavily-laden trailer from its predicament.

Aware of the accident, Muis' driver peered across the river, along the double line of oncoming traffic, then reported back to his master who checked his watch, annoyed that his journey had taken so long.

‘Ring ahead,' Abdul Muis ordered, ‘tell them to send another vehicle to meet us on the other side,' and he did so, security at the country facilities immediately dispatching a jeep to meet the Haji. More than an hour later, having walked across the bridge and through a kilometer of stagnated traffic blocking all movement on the other side, Abdul Muis climbed into the jeep, and was carried away, urging the driver to go faster as he wished to arrive in time to prepare for the
Magrib
prayers.

* * * *

Less than one hundred kilometers to the north, the first Tomahawks crossed the Java coast, cruising towards their targets. Each of the missiles had been fed with target and terrain information, taking position information from global positioning satellites for course direction and altitude.

The first five missiles were directed to the rural setting, the remainder towards Muis' Surabaya home and the
Mufti Muharam
headquarters.

On-board terrain-following radar kept the Tomahawks from running into Java's mountainous terrain, using internal maps to determine precise location, distance to target, coordinates and any other relevant information. It could not have been easier if someone had put a red cross smack in the middle of Abdul Muis's forehead.

* * * *

Without warning, the first wave of missiles impacted six minutes later, Haji Abdul Muis' retreat disintegrating as all three Tomahawks struck the retreat, killing all who were there. Osama bin Ladam died as he had lived - violently - his body buried under tons of concrete rubble when the main building imploded under the explosive impact.

In Surabaya, the air ruptured as more than a dozen of the remaining Tomahawks found their targets, destroying the
Mufti Muharam
Headquarters and Abdul Muis' magnificent mansion. Many of the surrounding buildings were also destroyed, their occupants victims of the incredible blasts. In all, more than four hundred died in the Surabaya attacks. Of these, thirty had been children attending religious classes, held in an adjacent home.

Oblivious to the calamity, Muis continued on his way, surprised when his mobile phone activated, even more surprised when he heard the self-appointed President, General Winarko, on the other end of the line. They talked, Muis ecstatic that his enemy had requested a truce. Muis agreed to consider Winarko's proposal, promising to speak again before the day was out.

But this was not to be. A short time later, as he approached his place of birth Muis' jubilation froze on a stony face when, in the distance, he observed palls of billowing smoke climbing high into the fading sky, from where his personal mosque once stood, as guardian, overlooking his rural headquarters.

* * * *

‘None of us will ever forget the horror of the cowardly attack on the United States Embassy in Thailand and the deaths of our fellow citizens at the hands of Moslem extremists.' He paused, waiting for the monitor to display his next lines.

‘Based on reliable U.S. intelligence sources, I am now at liberty to disclose that our intelligence services have concrete evidence that the
Mufti
Muharam
Moslem leadership was responsible for the suicide-bombing in Bangkok.

Today, my fellow Americans, on my orders, the United States Seventh Fleet launched a preemptive strike at sixteen thirty hours against the
Mufti Muharam
terrorists. I am pleased to inform you now, that the mission was successful. The targets being terrorist training camps and other facilities used for the preparation of explosive materials, such as those used in attacks against the American Embassy. I am informed that the
Mufti
Muharam
leader, Haji Abdul Muis, was amongst those killed.

It is imperative that those nations which continue to harbor terrorists take note, that the American people will continue to take any measures deemed necessary to prevent the further spread of terrorism. Today, we have sent an unequivocal reminder of our determination to protect the property and lives, of all American people.

Thank you all and God bless you.'

Not until the following morning did the United States President learn of Abdul Muis' miraculous escape from death and, by this time, the entire Islamic world was in an uproar.

Waves of indignation spread through the world's Islamic community, with Moslem condemnation unanimous. The threat of an attack against Israel heightened tensions in the Middle East, the solidarity between formerly conflicting Islamic groups alarming, as shuttle-diplomacy was put to its greatest test in decades. The United States President refused to discount the possibility of further attacks against the Moslem terrorist leader, restraint finally imposed only when faced with the threat of a Chinese intervention in the region.

After the missile attacks, the Arab League protested strongly, passing a twenty-two member resolution urging the United States to avoid future action which would ensure public outrage in the Arab world. The Council condemned the American attack and the violation of Indonesia's sovereign territory. Libya's ambassador to the League, Mohammed bin Karim urged in his statement that the United States, as a permanent member of the United Nations Security Council and as a superpower, to respect the sovereign territorial rights of others and refrain from these aggressive actions. Arab nations all asked the Security Council to discuss the matter, requesting an investigation into the Surabaya strike which, they claimed, killed more than five hundred civilians.

Haji Abdul Muis' personal outrage was no less than that of his enormous following. He sensed that with bin Ladam's death, his hopes for the transfer of nuclear missile technology might now remain a dream and, in consequence, vented his wrath on all things American. The United States Embassy in Jakarta was attacked with petrol bombs, Marine Guards successfully holding their ground until President Winarko sent troops to disperse the angry demonstrators.

Throughout the Moslem camps, Abdul Muis' name became legend, his having survived the massive attack. His secret remained intact. Those who had known of Osama bin Ladam's frequent visits to Indonesia, had all died. Now, his followers believed he was invincible, achieving hero status even amongst those who had not previously supported the
Mufti
Muharam.
Within days, President Winarko's tenure was threatened as many of his own forces transferred their loyalty to the man who many now considered their prophet, and their vessel of hope. Aided by this sudden surge in popularity amongst his enemies' ranks, Muis ordered his troops in a full frontal attack on his former ally, General Praboyo - his strategy to destroy the mountain stronghold, then sweep down across the plains to the capital, Jakarta.

Muis knew he was almost there. Once his forces were knocking at Praboyo's door in Bandung, and he went on to capture the provincial city, General Winarko's resistance would collapse. Muis was convinced that the President had requested the American strike which, ironically, had killed Osama bin Ladam by mistake. Muis would never come to understand that he owed his life to bin Ladam, incorrectly identified in the satellite photograph as Haji Abdul Muis.

That week, his head wrapped in the now-familiar white turban, his body draped in flowing robes Muis finally appeared on the cover of
Time
Magazine
, the feature story titled, ‘The Terror of Jihad' referring to the
Mufti Muharam
leader's recent declaration of Holy War against his opponents and the West.

* * * *

The sounds of artillery-fire were coming closer. He knew he was running out of time. Abdul Muis' advancing forces had obliged the general to concentrate his forces on this front, weakening his position in the face of General Winarko's columns.

‘Bangsat!'
Praboyo swore, having read the message. His adjutant stood nervously waiting for further instructions, wishing at that very moment that he had not been so cavalier in following the General.
‘Bastards!'

Praboyo cursed again, before turning to glare at the junior officer.

‘What shall I tell them?'
the adjutant asked, mindful of the accusatory look. Everyone, it seemed, was to be blamed for the General's tactical mistakes. The Catalyst of Confusion, Praboyo's irreverent nickname, was now on everyone's lips. His support had crumbled. The disgraced general no longer enjoyed their respect.

‘Tell them to fight!'
was the commander's unreasonable response.

‘We're not going to withdraw?'
the other man asked, shocked.

‘Withdraw? If we abandon Bandung, we'll never recover the city once
they seize it. We can't withdraw!'
General Praboyo slammed his fist down emphatically, as two other officers entered. He glanced up, immediately fearing the worst as both men's grim faces reflected their tidings.

‘What now?'
he snapped, rising from behind his command desk.

‘We can't hold them any longer,'
the brigadier complained,
‘they've broken
through with the AMX's.'
Praboyo frowned at the mention of tanks. His cavalry battalions were equipped mainly with Saracens and Saladins, the obsolescent light-armored vehicles no match for the superior number of French tanks Winarko had managed to muster. The month before, Praboyo's tanks numbered more than seventy. He had fortified Bandung, controlling access to the city with Scorpions and PT-76s, and had placed the small number of French AMXs at his disposal, half-way down the mountain access roads. There, supported by two battalions of artillery, their Howitzers had managed to repulse both Abdul Muis and Winarko's attacks on the mountainous positions.

Control over the area from Bogor up to the mountains had changed hands more than a dozen times since the conflict had started. His inferior numbers had still managed to control the highways leading away from the capital, the tide changing when the Indonesian air force finally swung behind Winarko. His armored forces had been no match for AURI's F-16s and SU-30MKs, which had easily accounted for most of the rebel force's tanks. Although the air force generals had let him down by casting their lot with Winarko, Praboyo had still managed to secure the support of some of the younger AURI officers. When the confrontation first commenced, his air-support boasted seventeen of the aging A-4Es and eight OV-10Fs but more than half of the pilots had shifted loyalties, joining with Abdul Muis' forces, now advancing swiftly from the east. With the exception of two Puma helicopters, the rest had been destroyed on the ground.

When it had become obvious that Praboyo could not withstand a two-pronged attack many had deserted, preferring to throw their weight behind the
Mufti Muharam,
knowing that Winarko would be unlikely to show any mercy to those who had supported General Praboyo. Abdul Muis, however, had welcomed them with open arms. Now, he too was knocking on Praboyo's doors and, to the experienced officer, represented a far greater threat.

‘And the Airborne?'
he asked, expecting the worst. Before being removed as commander of the Kostrad Strategic Forces, he could count on the six airborne infantry battalions based in Java. Although many had deserted Winarko to follow him, Praboyo had not expected that two of the three remaining battalions would be flown in from Sulawesi and used in this assault. His remaining forces were now greatly outnumbered.

‘Dropping out of the sky as we speak.'

‘Anything left of air-defence?
Praboyo asked hopefully, but the brigadier had anticipated this question and was already shaking his head. Vintage eastern bloc anti-aircraft guns were no match for the OV-10s. He knew then, he had lost.

‘We should retreat, Boyo,'
his senior officer advised, the sense of doom descending quickly on those present.

‘No!'
Praboyo responded, stubbornly.
‘If we vacate Bandung, then we've
lost.'

‘Retreat to Sukabumi, Boyo,'
the brigadier recommended,
‘then negotiate
with Abdul Muis from there.'

‘Muis!'
Praboyo snorted,
‘how could I possibly trust him now?'
The other officers did not respond. They knew it was most unlikely that the Moslem leader would want any part of Praboyo now General Winarko had the advantage. It was becoming increasingly apparent that the
Mufti Muharam
would control at least two-thirds, if not all, of Java by the time hostilities had ended. Praboyo shook his head in quiet despair. He had lost. If he was captured, there would be no forgiveness, of that he was certain. Neither Abdul Muis nor Winarko would be likely to show any compassion for their enemy. He would be paraded before the people in disgrace.