Kerry B Collison

Indonesian Gold


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      KALIMANTAN & REGION

      Published by: Sid Harta Publishers

      P.O. Box 1042

       Hartwell Victoria Australia 3124

       email: [email protected]

      Internet sites:

       http://www.sidharta.com.au

       http://www.publisher-guidelines.com

       http://www.temple-house.com

      First Published: January 2002 Copyright: Kerry B. Collison Design, Typesetting, Graphics: Alias Design Cover Design: Mario Cicivelli

      Editing: Robert N. Stephenson Proofreading: A. J. Stephenson

      © This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any person without the written permission of the copyright owner. Collison, Kerry B. ISBN: 9781877006098 (e-Book)

      INDONESIAN

      GOLD

      ©

Kerry B. Collison

      Also by Kerry Collison

      Non Fiction

      The Happy Warrior – an anthology of Australian Military Poetry

      Co-edited by: Kerry B. Collison & Warrant Officer Paul Barrett

      In Search of Recognition – the Leo Stach Story

      (Biographical)

      Fact-based Fiction

      The Fifth Season Indonesian Gold The Asian Trilogy

      consisting of:

      Jakarta Merdeka Square (Freedom Square )

      (book of the month, Singapore)

      The Timor Man

      (book of the month, Singapore, Hong Kong, Australia)

      Screenplays

      Co-author – The Golden Flux

      Recognized for his chilling predictions in relation to Asia’s evolving political and economic climate through his books, he brings unique qualifications to his historically-based vignettes and intriguing accounts of power-politics and the shadowy world of governments’ clandestine activities.

      Further information is available on the Internet site: http://www.sidharta.com.au Photo: Courtesy of Dominion Newspapers, N.Z.

      Author’s Note

      For those readers who are new to Indonesia, The Philippines and the Malay Archipelago, or unfamiliar with Australian slang, there is a glossary at the back of this book, following the Postscript.

      The use of italicised dialogue is deliberate – this indicates that the characters are, in fact, conversing in their own tongues.

      This story is a work of fiction. The inspiration for this novel was based on events surrounding the infamous, billion-dollar BRE-X gold fraud, and the determined few who recklessly destroyed so many lives and severely impacted on indigenous cultures with their all-consuming quest for gold, in Kalimantan, Indonesian Borneo.

      The characters as depicted in Indonesian Gold and the events recorded in this book are not intended to reflect any association with any real person in any way, with the exception of those characters whose names are accurately recorded.

      ‘Be not penny-wise; riches have wings , and sometimes they fly away by themselves , sometimes they must be set flying to bring in more.

FRANCIS BACON (1561 – 1620 ) Essays: Of Riches

      Part One

      Fire ,Water, Earth and Wind

      Prologue

      The pilot’s grip on the cyclic control firmed instinctively as an abrupt wind change challenged the hovering helicopter, lateral stability maintained as he manipulated the collective and foot pedals to position the helicopter directly above the deserted stretch of exposed, river sand.

      Droplets rolled down the pilot’s brow momentarily blinding, and he cursed loudly, wiping sweat-stung eyes with the back of his torn flying suit as he struggled to identify movement through the thick, jungle canopy, along the river’s edge.

      Where the hell were they?

      His concern growing, the pilot permitted the chopper to drift as he continued to search for signs of his party, relief sweeping across his face when he spotted the men breaking from the dense jungle, dragging their unwilling companion towards a narrow, treeless strip near the water’s edge.Without hesitation, the pilot decreased the main rotor’s lift, the hasty descent resulting in his approaching passengers’ near decapitation as whirling blades drove the placid, silicon-laden carpet below into a maelstrom of stinging, blinding river-sand.

      Camouflage-battle-dressed soldiers dragged their gagged captive across the shallow water and onto the sandbank, the soft, dry surface tugging at their boots and she pleaded, begging for mercy, her cries drowned by the helicopter’s blades as these chopped furiously through the thick tropical air.

      The pilot signaled, impatiently, observing as the men bundled their prisoner on board. He then drove the Bell 205 to five thousand feet, before navigating his way visually to the drop zone.There, he hovered steadily, cursing the two men as they struggled to untie their hysterical victim’s hands while she kicked and screamed.

      Her captors punched her repeatedly – savagely. When her limp frame offered no further resistance, the killers removed the cloth covering her face and tossed her, unconscious into space, watching in silence, as she tumbled earthwards towards the slashed and burned forest floor, below.

      ****

      The young woman’s death would be recorded as a suicide.Two months later North American stock markets would reel in shock when it was discovered that the Kalimantan gold mine, once touted as the world’s richest deposit, was indeed, worthless.

      Chapter One

      May 1989

      Kalimantan Timur (Indonesian East Borneo)

      To the unskilled, the suggestion of change in the still, suffocating, humid forest air might have gone unnoticed. As the momentary breath of wind passed by ever so gently, Jonathan Dau paused, conscious of the shift in the natural balance of his immediate environment. The shaman cocked his head to one side and listened. Somewhere, amongst the trees, a wild pig snorted and the shaman stiffened – identifying the deception; and one so often played by the spirits. Encumbered by this thought, the Dayak chief’s hand unconsciously moved to the gold amulet hanging on a simple thread around his neck, and he whispered an appropriate chant.

      Deep in the sun-hidden canopy above, where wild, black-speckled orchids hung unnoticed, protected from man’s curious hand, proboscis monkeys engaged in dispute or play squealed – their occasional engagements of no importance to the Penehing leader, Jonathan Dau. With brow creased and a perceptive eye, he searched his timeless surrounds, finding reassurance when the hornbill came into view; satisfied that she would watch over him. Equipped with the cautionary signals his instincts and empiric knowledge had taught him to respect, the shaman exhaled slowly and paused. Then, with rehearsed motion he drew deeply, his chest swelling, as