Bashir’s release from prison in 1982 and facing further arrest for subversive activities, Bashir fled to Malaysia and Hambali followed. The pair became inseparable, Abu Bakar Bashir treating the younger man as if he were his own son.
It was during their self-imposed exile that the vision for a Pan-Islamic state was conceived; their dream to incorporate the ASEAN countries into one Islamic community group: a concept that would predicate the re-birth of the Jemaah Islamiyah.
In 1987 Hambali traveled to Pakistan where he underwent arms training at the Sadar Camp. He was twenty-three years old. After entering Afghanistan as a volunteer Mujahideen he joined in the fight against the Soviet Union. There he met Ali Ghufron, a fellow Indonesian. Together, they fell under the influence of Osama bin Laden and, by 1990 when the billionaire Saudi considered Hambali ready for the mission, Hambali was charged with extending the al-Qaeda network into S.E. Asia and Australia, while Ghufron, who had adopted the name Mukhlas, concentrated on developing Indonesian cells.
Upon Hambali’s return to Malaysia he secured residency and met a Sabah Chinese national, Noralwizah Lee Abdullah who was attending religious studies at the Luqmanul Hakiem School in Johor. By then Hambali had developed an affinity for wearing a kopiah – the white skull cap, bearded face and accompanying glasses providing Osama bin Laden’s nominee with the image of a religious figure – essential to his self-appointed position as a teacher. Assisted by his wife, Hambali ran religious classes that encouraged discussion relating to rebellion and holy war. With the growth in membership in the resurrected Jemaah Islamiyah, Hambali’s reach across ASEAN then stretched through Malaysia, into Indonesia and the southern areas of Thailand and the Philippines. Next, he planned to forge alliances in Australia.
His Malaysian company, Konsojaya Sdn Bhd, was a front import-export operation that provided financial and material support from Osama bin Laden, to many of the terrorist cells deeply ensconced throughout S. E. Asia. The company also provided funding and operational support to the Abu Sayyaf (Father of the Sword) Islamic separatist group through its Manila cell, The Benevolence International Corporation, an entity utilized to disguise their Philippines’ operations.
Recently, Hambali had become increasingly dependent on Dr Azahari Husin. The Malaysian university lecturer had joined the Jemaah Islamiyah whilst engaged at the Universiti Teknologi Malaysia and had trained with Hambali in Afghanistan. He had been instrumental in establishing the first direct links with the Abu Sayyaf the year before, preparing the groundwork for al-Qaeda. Azahari, who held a doctor-ate in engineering from Reading University in the UK, had the necessary credentials to support his expertise as Hambali’s chief explosives expert. As for Indonesia, Hambali had agreed to leave most of the network building to his close associate, Ali Ghufron who continued to enjoy the freedom of travel without raising suspicion.
A knock at the door interrupted his deliberations.
‘Our guest has just cleared immigration,’ his wife Noralwizah reminded from the other side of the door. She would not enter without being invited to do so.
‘Have you checked the hall to ensure everything is in order?’
‘Yes,’ she confirmed, ‘and security is already in place.’
‘Good. I shall join you in a few minutes,’ he said pompously then checked his appearance in the full length mirror attached to his side of the door. Satisfied, Hambali smiled, confident that the evening fund-raising event would be a success.
Indonesia – Jakarta
The Javanese twins ignored the fleeting, quizzical looks as they stood talking in the Sukarno-Hatta International airport con-course, the two Indonesian pilots identical in every way but for their uniforms. The Garuda officer smiled at his mirror image, Imam, and indicated the bars on his sibling’s shoulder. ‘So, now we are of equal rank?’
Imam Suprapto wrapped an arm around his older brother. ‘The ranks may be the same but first lieutenant has a better ring to it than first officer,’ he bantered.
‘Maybe,’ Anwar countered, ‘but Garuda pays us better than you air force pilots.’
Imam laughed. ‘True – and you get to pick and choose from the cabin crew as well.’
‘How much time do we have?’
Imam checked his watch. ‘I have to get back to Halim by 1300.’
Anwar steered his brother towards a coffee stall. ‘How are you handling the Hercs?’
Imam shrugged. ‘Surprised we manage to keep them operational. They’re old, and spare parts continue to be a major issue.’
‘How’s that transfer request coming along?’
Imam cast a wistful look at an elegant tourist when she legged her way past and smiled. ‘Haven’t heard anything yet. If all else fails I’m going to take a shot at transferring to one of the outer squadrons, perhaps even get some time on those Broncos.’
Anwar sympathized with Imam. Neither had achieved their ambition to fly their aircraft of choice. Imam had yearned to fly the F16A fighters but fate had placed him in the cockpit of an ageing C-130 Hercules whilst Anwar was driving Garuda F-28s around the archipelago. His brother’s suggestion that he might go down scale and spend some time flying the OV-10s did not come as a surprise.
Raised on the Madiun-Iswahjudi base within site of the grounded ‘Badger’ Soviet TU-16 bomber tactical strike wing, the Javanese brothers were destined to fly. Their father had piloted these long range bombers until they were grounded by British threats to destroy Jakarta and Surabaya with atomic warheads. As children they had listened, mesmerized, whilst their father had recounted his version of the brinkmanship displayed by the founding President, Sukarno in his quest for domination of the Malay and Singapore states. Even today both the Suprapto men could recall, verbatim, their father’s revelations of how the Soviets had armed Indonesia to the hilt with the most sophisticated weaponry during the early Sixties which, in turn, emboldened Sukarno into declaring a war of ‘Confrontation’ against the Commonwealth states of Malaysia and Singapore. When their father had explained that his aircraft could carry 3,000 kilos of nuclear weapons a distance of 8,000 kilometers, the youngsters were treated to a regional geography lesson pinpointing the Australian and Asian cities that lay within the TU-16s strike capacity – the twins’ vivid recollection of Colonel Suprapto’s rendition of how his flying career had ended and the confusion that had ensued, a constant reminder of the capricious world of aviation both had grown to embrace.
Anwar and Imam had often debated how the former President had folded to the British ultimatum and grounded the TU-16 squadron. They had not understood why the country’s leadership had permitted the emasculation of their Indonesian Forces and, adding to the military’s chagrin, why the Royal Air Force was not prevented from flying missions over Java’s airfields. It would be decades before the pair would read Australian and British Cabinet papers released under the Thirty Year Rule revealing how British Vulcan bombers flew from Singapore to Darwin, the RAF crews carrying their deadly cargo low across Indonesian airstrips with bomb bay doors open, the threat significant as the Vulcan’s were armed with atomic warheads. Anwar had scoffed at the reports of how ABRI, the Indonesian Armed Forces were then secretly subjected to an Australian-British blockade, the West alarmed when Moscow attempted to ship ballistic missiles to Jakarta. The Suprapto twins elected to believe their father’s version of how the failed flow of spare parts had precipitated the squadron’s demise, Colonel Suprapto amongst the many Indonesian pilots grounded in the absence of serviceable aircraft.
Imam again checked his wristwatch. ‘Have to go.’
‘We’ll catch up again during Hari Raya?’ Anwar asked. They had never missed returning home to celebrate the end of the Ramadan fasting month and the ensuing celebrations of Idul Fitri. Even though fasting would commence within that week neither would comply with the Islamic tradition as the strict restraints placed on their daily lives would impinge on their capacity to execute their flying duties effectively.
‘You can count on it,’ Imam assured.