Sunda Cloud

by Kat Duncan

  "So how did you save the economy?"

  "We didn't. Taborda made a fortune, hundreds died in riots, the government collapsed, and the country fell into decades of poverty under a tyrannical dictator."

  Kem's hand went to her mouth.

  Valter pinched the bridge of his nose.

  "Professor, based on your experience, what would you do to stop Anton?"

  "Find which companies he has targeted, and provide support. In the Paraguay case, we later we found out Taborda was shorting only one company. Had we known which company it was, we might have been able to stop the whole sorry affair."

  "If you couldn't find the companies then, how do we find them today?"

  "Kem," Professor Jones suggested, "you did your doctorial thesis on regression analysis. In 1954 we didn't have the computers that could do that. But today, you do."

  Kem's eyes darted, her mind deep in thought. Then she locked them onto Valter's.

  "Yes. I could do that."

  "Then that is your answer."

  "Thank you Professor Jones."

  "You are welcome, Valter. Say hello to Anton for me, next time you see him."

  Valter snorted. "Thank you Professor Jones." He closed his phone.

  "Valter, may I use your computer?" she pointed to the jet's multi-media computer center.

  "Yes. You run the analysis, while I line up support money for the currency and Anton's target companies."

  ***

  There was a knock on the door. An aide stepped in and handed Sunda an iPad. "It has begun."

  A newscast was playing on the screen. A swirling crowd swarmed over the elegant stone steps of the National Bank of Indonesia as angry depositors demanded their money. Police with riot shields and batons stood before the polished brass and glass doors, holding back the throng.

  As the rupiah collapsed, it took with it their jobs, their homes, their pride. Even their food.

  Sunda held the display for the woman sitting next to him to better see.

  "The people remember the last crisis, Hijau."

  "Yes, grandfather. Just like last time. The bank closings and the collapse of the currency. But most of all, they have remembered the frantic run on the banks as people refused to be the last one in line and left empty handed."

  "Your sister, Kemuning, has foolishly tried to stop this. She can not stop the flow of life."

  The crowd began to surge. The police, far outnumbered, couldn't hold the line. The camera caught the brutal action as several officers fell and disappeared under the feet of the mob, their dying screams lost in the roar. Other officers swung their batons. Bloodied protesters pushed forward, pinning the policemen against the unyielding stone of the bank.

  With sticks and stones the horde beat on the door. A twisted section of metal fencing became their battering ram. It took several tries before the looters learned to focus their power together. The doors shattered. The forward-most of the people were instantly trampled as the mob poured over them.

  Hijau chuckled. "It will do them no good. In the end, everyone will lose everything. The paper they demand will soon be worth nothing. The people. The banks. Soon the corporations. All are yielding," she said. "Like the goat, they are not gone. They are merging into a more powerful being."

  "The flow of life," Sunda commented.

  ***

  Valter snapped off the jet’s TV monitor, and the terrifying images from Jakarta disappeared. He glanced at Kem's pale expression and his gut twisted.

  "I didn’t think," Kem’s voice cracked, "this would happen so fast."

  "There is still a vivid memory from the last crisis. Any luck with your analysis?"

  Kem blew a hard puff of frustration. "This isn't working," she said pointing to the jumble of data on the computer screen. "Anton is doing multiple buys and sells. Moving stocks around in a shell game to hide his true intentions. Even my regression analysis program can't unravel the tangle of data. It will be days before we have an answer." She placed her elbows on the computer desk, and covered her eyes. Then she straightened. "How did you make out?"

  At that moment, Valter's phone rang. His listened for a moment, then smiled.

  "Thank you, Mr. Director," Valter said, as he closed his phone. "The World Monetary Fund has agreed to currency support."

  "Valter! That is fantastic!" She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" Slowly, she pulled back, her eyes looking into the depths of his. For a long moment, they did nothing. Then with an embarrassed glance down, she released him.

  "Kem. I, ah…"

  "Yes, Valter?"

  Valter straightened and pulled back. "I, ah, suggest you call up the Indonesian BEI stock index data. Let's see how the Indonesian Stock Exchange is responding."

  The computer screen filled with multicolored lines, all trending steeply downward.

  "Not good," Valter throated.

  "Look," Kem said, pointing to one, "the rupiah is leveling off."

  "Currency support is working."

  "Yes!" she squealed, holding up her hand for an American high five.

  Instead of slapping a reply, Valter wrapped his hand around her fingers and looked into her eyes. With a delicate touch of his lips, he kissed her fingers. Then he cleared his throat and looked away.

  "But the overall BEI index is still dropping," he stated.

  "We have to find Anton's trigger company. But how?"

  "I don't know, but I know just the man who does."

  Chapter Three

  The SBU jet circled the small airfield a hundred kilometers northeast of Gondia, India. No terminal, no control tower. Not even a hangar. Just a strip of asphalt to serve this remote section of the country. By the end of the runway sat a car in the early morning haze.

  The jet taxied to a halt and Valter lowered the door to form the short stairway to the ground. Next to the car stood a man with a friendly expression. He wore a business suit that hung loose on his thin frame. His jet black hair, streaked with silver, sat atop a brown face. His trim figure seemed both alert and relaxed.

  "Harry," Valter enthused, "so good of you to meet with me, my friend."

  "Valter, you surprised me with your call. I had no idea you were in the area."

  "I left Zurich on short notice. I'm sorry to get you out of bed so early."

  Valter reached back to take Kem's hand as she stepped out.

  "Harry, this is Dr. Kemuning Pangbar, Minister of Finance of Indonesia. Kem, Harto Onbekana the SBU Southwest Asia district manager."

  "Good morning, Kem. Good seeing you again."

  "You know each other?"

  "We’ve worked together on a number of projects. Usually on opposite sides of the regulatory table."

  "Good seeing you again, Harry," she said.

  "Congratulations on your promotion, Kem. I’m sure Jakarta put you in your position to give an image of honesty and reform, and have subsequently blocked your every action."

  "Not every action."

  "The tiny sparrow who believes she can topple the mighty tree one peck at a time. You are admired by all Indonesians, but no one thinks you can succeed."

  "Harry, you are her fellow countryman, show her some support."

  Kem's delicate hand fell upon Valter's arm. "He speaks the truth. At times I have my own doubts, but I must carry on my mother's legacy."

  "That is exactly why all Indonesia admires you." Harry turned to Valter. "What can I do for you two?"

  "We are trying to figure out the actions of Anton Zelman, and need your help."

  "But of course. I take it your brother is behind the riots in Jakarta."

  Valter nodded. "Half brother." He paused. "Harry, things are falling apart in Jakarta. We don’t have much time. I think you’d better come with us, and we'll talk on the way."

  "Valter, Jakarta is five thousand kilometers. I don't even have a toothbrush."

  "Harry," Kem softly spoke, "Indonesia, our country, is dying. It needs yo
u."

  "Please do this for me, Harry. I’m not asking as your boss, but as your friend. There is no time."

  Harry looked to the two, nodded, and the three stepped into the jet.

  As the pilot maneuvered into position for take off, Valter quickly poured three snifters with cognac.

  "This must be serious," Harry stated, eyeing the cognac. "This is how Churchill and Roosevelt solved the collapse of the European economy after World War II."

  "See it as you will," said Valter, handing a snifter to Harry. "We think Anton is trying to destroy the Indonesian economy by engineering a multi-pronged attack on the rupiah. One prong is the collapse of a major corporation. We need to identify that company, and devise a support plan."

  Valter took a seat beside Kem and placed a drink into her outstretched hand.

  "Indonesia still has a number of state owned enterprises," Harry explained.

  "Which we are transitioning to the private sector," said Kem, after taking a sip.

  "Yes, Kem. You are doing a fine job of that, I might add. But because they are in transition, that means they are vulnerable. If I was Anton, I'd pick one of those."

  The jet's powerful engines pushed them into their seats, and then the nose lifted skyward.

  "That narrows things a bit, but it is still a lot of companies," concluded Valter.

  "Well, Anton would also need a company that exports heavily; one that would simultaneously be hurt by the rupiah and also cause further damage to the rupiah."

  Valter turned to Kem. "Who is Indonesia's largest exporter?"

  "That would be Indo-Pet, the Indonesian Petroleum Company. It is huge. Billions in annual sales. It not only produces oil, but deep water drilling equipment as well."

  "Is it being privatized?" Valter swirled the brandy snifter in his hand and drained it. Anton was once-again making him come to the rescue of some corporation he planned to decimate. At least this time when he was finished he could bask in the gratefulness of a woman he already admired.

  "Yes, significant portions have been bought by Global Phoenix."

  "An American company?"

  "Yes, but GP in turn, is in the process of being purchased by a Russian consortium, including the Russian Republic itself," said Kem.

  "That is a red flag. Who is their competition?"

  "Trans-Sea Offshore."

  Valter groaned. "Whose CEO is my half brother." He shifted in his seat. "The pieces are falling together. If Anton can short sell Indo-Pet, he will make a fortune, and wipe out his arch rival in one fell swoop. In the ensuing chaos your grandfather will topple the Indonesian government. Everyone is happy, except for three hundred million Indonesians."

  "So, what can we do, Valter?" asked Kem.

  The worry in her voice made his gut twist again. "We have to stop the collapse of Indo-Pet. That is the trigger."

  "How?" Kem questioned.

  "Collect capital. The question is how much."

  "Hold on. Now that we know the company, I should be able to calculate the needed bailout." She unclipped her seatbelt and stepped to the computer. Her fingers rattled over the keyboard, and peered at the screen. "There," she pointed. "It'll take two billion dollars." Her face sank in dismay.

  Valter took in a fortifying breath. "That might be achievable."

  "Again, how and who?" she asked.

  "My dear, you are speaking with a Swiss banker. I can tell you how, but never who." Valter stepped to the galley, and brought back the cognac bottle. "Thanks to Harry, this calls for a celebration." He refilled the snifters, and raised his.

  "To Indo-Pet."

  "Yes, to Indo-Pet." Kem's eyes sparkled as she and Valter clinked glasses. Their brilliant resonance rung through the cabin.

  "My, what a perfect sound," Harry admired looking at the couple in front of him. "Valter, do you know the story of the first Kemuning?"

  "Only that she was a princess who died young."

  "May I?" Harry asked Kem.

  She sat upright, and smoothed out her sari. "Please, do."

  "The emperor had a number of daughters. Each was named after a color, Blue, Green, Red, and the last Yellow. They were all spoiled, except for Yellow, Kemuning. The most spoiled was Green. In spite of this, the emperor loved them all. He also loved his beautiful garden, and would sit for hours in it. Only Yellow would take time to sit with him to add to his enjoyment."

  Harry sipped his cognac before continuing.

  "When the emperor was away at a war, the daughters demanded too much of their servants. The overworked people were no longer able to care for the garden, and it fell to weeds. Yellow knew how much it meant to her father, and did the work herself to keep it beautiful for him. Her sister, Green, became jealous of what their father would say to his daughters when he returned. Green threw stones at Yellow. One hit her in the head and she fell dead. Fearful of her father's wrath, Green buried Yellow in the garden."

  Valter turned to Kem. "You didn't tell me she was murdered."

  "Even such a tragedy can have a purpose." Kem nodded to Harry to continue, closed her eyes, and leaned back in her seat.

  "When the emperor returned, he greeted all his daughters happily. He asked for the missing Yellow. Green told him she had run away. The emperor sat in his garden and cried, not knowing his tears fell on Kemuning's grave. Watered by his tears, a beautiful tree sprouted and grew lovely yellow flowers. 'Where has my daughter gone,' the emperor asked the tree. 'She is here. It is I, your loving Kemuning. I died to protect what was beautiful.'"

  Valter sat unmoving. He finally took a breath to speak.

  "What happened to them?"

  "The emperor died of a broken heart, and Green became empress."

  "So if Kemuning is the word for Yellow, what is the Indonesian name for the sister Green?" Valter asked Harry.

  "Hijau."

  Valter turned to Kem. "That is your sister's name."

  Kem had fallen asleep.

  Valter watched her.

  "She is very beautiful," Harry softly spoke.

  "Indeed."

  "Valter, you have a wife and a family. Neither of which are yours." Harry smiled. "I've known you for a long time, Valter. You married out of devotion to duty. Not love. She was in love with another man, and she was carrying in her womb a child that was not yours."

  "You, Harry, are the only other person who knows that." Valter took another sip of his cognac, and nodded. "She was a good person of important social status. I couldn’t bear to see her reputation ruined."

  "Do you love her now?"

  "No. I respect her tremendously. But love. No. We never shared the same bed. Never. Not once."

  "You've been a good husband. Keeping your public image spotless."

  "And the child has turned into the son every man would want. I did not sire him, but he is my son in every other sense. That is more than any man could ask for in one lifetime."

  "Valter, I think for you, that has worked. But only because you never fell in love. Until now." Harry watched his friend watch Kem. "But Kem…. She is different."

  "I knew from the first instant she stepped into my office that I could walk away from duty and simply fall in love."

  "I saw how she looked at you. So can she."

  The two men did not see the corners of Kem's mouth turn up ever so slightly.

  ***

  A man in peasant's clothes and a black armband held an iPhone. He pointed its camera lens toward the wicker and wood desk from which Sunda controlled his growing empire. The desk was empty. Behind the desk stood Hijau, her hands contritely folded, waiting for her grandfather to step in. On her upper arm was a black armband. In her hand was the leash and the leopard.

  The images would be crude, and choppy. Perfect to convey his simple message.

  Revolt.

  The images would be uploaded to the internet, repeated, forwarded, re-processed, and broadcast by a hundred television stations. Within minutes, a million people will have heard the message. That num
ber would rise to ten million within an hour. By nightfall, a hundred million.

  Sunda walked in. His clothes were the same. He had no others. On his arm was a black armband. He nodded to his granddaughter, and sat.

  "People of Indonesia, my countrymen. It is me, Sunda. The Leopard. Too long have we suffered under the rule of Jakarta. The wealthy, the greedy, they now rule our country. What have we received for this? Chaos; corruption; gluttony; immorality. We vote, but do we really choose?

  "We are a nation of three hundred million. Three hundred distinct ethnic groups. Of course we will never agree. That is the flow of life.

  "But the aristocrats use this division against us. We elect impotent leaders who do not bind us. They humor us, afraid to speak the truth, unable to demand order.

  "We see the flow of life around us every day. In the fish in the sea, the animals in the jungle, the birds in the air. They know the order of nature. The strong rule, and life flows. The shark, the leopard, the hawk. They do not hesitate. And life flows as it should.

  "But this is not what we see in Jakarta. The weak and powerless rule. Life does not flow. It stagnates. And the wealthy foreigners suck the life out of our people.

  "This is the truth. This is not as it should be.

  "I have died once for Indonesia. Now I live for Indonesia.

  "It is time. The time is now. Make a move on Jakarta. Throw the weak into the sea. The strong must rule."

  He stood, kissed Hijau on her cheek, and left. The ten second pause of the camera on Hijau left no doubt in the minds of every Indonesian watching of who Sunda had selected to help him rule the country.

  ***

  Sunlight glinted in Kem's eyes as the SBU jet turned and aligned itself with the runway in Jakarta. She stirred and her eyes opened. "What time is it?"

  "It just before three in the afternoon, local Jakarta time," Harry answered.

  "Who is Valter talking to?"

  "He's trying to get support for Indo-Pet. Since you fell asleep he's been on the phone with the Americans, Russians, Saudis, Germans, Japanese, the European Central Bank and every private investor we could think of."

  Valter closed his phone and his head tipped downward.

  "Nothing." Valter let out a defeated breath. "The problem is we need the money for a now private company, Indo-Pet. Once injected, the cash will flow up to the parent corporation, Global Phoenix. It could be used for any project they want. No one will approve that. Anton has designed his trap very cleverly. That is why he split his attack. We're locked out at every turn."