Sunda Cloud

by Kat Duncan

  "Valter, we have to find a way."

  "Kem we need two billion dollars. Now. Not tomorrow. Even I can’t think of anyone who would invest that much money in so short of time on so uncertain a company."

  "Valter," Harry mused. "I am appalled at the level of corruption in government. Sunda is right. It is crushing the life out of the people. But I also believe in my country. In just a few short years we forged a democracy. I know in my heart we can solve these problems. But democracy is not easy. It takes time. Time that we don't have. We must find a way to overcome Sunda and Anton. The fate of my nation depends on us."

  "There is only one answer," Valter said. "I will pledge the resources of SBU."

  "Valter, you can't," Harry pleaded. "That is against your responsibilities to your bank, to your depositors and share holders. It would destroy your career. It could destroy SBU. It is your duty to protect the bank."

  "To hell with duty. All my life I've followed my duty. Just for once I'd like feel what Anton feels when he abandons duty."

  "If you endanger the bank your father will dismiss you. Then, God forbid, Anton gets control of SBU. The whole world economy will be in danger then."

  "I don't care. I have finally found a reason for living for myself." Valter turned to Kem. "I've only known you for a few short hours, but you've changed my life. I've always wanted something, but I never knew what. The answer is purpose. You, your life is all about purpose. Giving to others. Making a difference in the lives of people."

  "Valter, I feel the same way. I've always known my life was to give to others, to my people. But I also knew I needed to find one person who could understand. To share myself. To complete the flow of life."

  "Seatbelts!" shouted the pilot. "We have to make a quick landing."

  "Can't you circle for a minute?"

  "No. Helicopters all around us, ferrying the last of the staff out of the presidential palace. We have to land now."

  ***

  Pungent smoke swirled around the gleaming white stonework of the Presidential Palace as the Indonesian Army helicopter hovered over its back lawn. Below them, burning cars spewed their flames skyward. Protestors choked the street. The ornate iron fence could barely contain the angry fists that shook at them as they descended.

  "My country," Kem whispered, clutching Valter's arm, "it is dying."

  The pilot carefully maneuvered them down to the manicured lawn, trying to avoid the desperate presidential staffers as they rushed the machine before it could settle into a full landing.

  "Where is the President?" Kem asked as wild eyed office workers clawed their way past her.

  No one replied. "They're coming," one croaked looking back over his shoulder.

  Valter looked to Kem. "We're too late."

  She looked to the floor and nodded no. Then looked up. "My father didn't say it was too late."

  She stepped out.

  "Last flight," the pilot called to her. "Get back in."

  She shook her head no.

  "Lady, I wouldn’t go in there for a million dollars."

  She turned to him. "Neither would I." She turned and marched toward the palace.

  "Kem!" Valter pleaded, darting after her.

  She turned back. "Valter, I must follow the flow of life."

  He looked back to the safety of the helicopter, then turned to her. "And I must follow you."

  She looked to him. "Are you sure?"

  Valter took in a deep breath, and stood with shoulders back "Yes." He looked to Harry still in the helicopter, and then waved the pilot away.

  The whirling blades revved to speed, momentarily clearing the air as the landing skids lifted from the grass. For a moment the helicopter hovered, then the pilot pushed the throttle pedal and the machine pulled skyward. Harry jumped. He landed hard, and rolled.

  "Harry!" Kem screeched.

  Valter ran to him, and helped him to his feet.

  "No going back now," Harry gulped.

  They darted across the lawn and through a back door. Their footsteps echoed in the cavernous building. Every office they passed looked perfectly normal. Lights were on, computers hummed, and telephones rang. But there was not another person in the entire building.

  Harry paused and pointed to a television showing news footage of what they had just seen with their own eyes. The crowd was advancing. The metal fence strained against their weight.

  "They’ll break through any time now," Harry warned.

  Kem led them up a flight of stairs, and entered her finance ministry office section. She sat at her desk, and booted up her computer.

  "Look at this," she said, spinning the monitor around for Valter and Harry to see. "Valter’s bailout is continuing to work. The rupiah has stabilized."

  The two men examined the data. "But it won’t hold if Indo-Pet collapses," Harry said.

  The sound of gunshots rang from the streets. Kem screamed as a bullet blasted through the window. Valter wrapped his arms around her as shattered glass cascaded onto the floor.

  "They are coming. Time is up." Valter pulled out his cell phone. In a flurry of Swiss German he barked orders into it. Rage came to his eyes as he paused to listen to replies. Then his tone became stone hard as he ordered the tacticians on the other end of the line to destroy the company they worked for. Finally, he snorted, and closed his phone.

  "It is done. SBU has just purchased two billion dollars of Indo-Pet bonds."

  They turned their attention to the computer screen. Then a crash came from the floor below them. Footsteps echoed in the marble rotunda. Shouts and crashes confirmed that the elegant offices were being looted. Kem ran to the shattered window, and tore down the curtains. With frantic pulls she tore the cloth into white bands, and tied them onto their arms.

  Valter kept his eyes on the screen. "There," he pointed. "An uptick."

  The door was kicked open. Two men in peasant’s clothes, and wearing black armbands burst in. One raised his machete and hurled toward Valter.

  "Stop!" a man at the door ordered. He walked in and placed his two fists on his hips, examining the trio and their white armbands. Chaos crashed in the hall just outside the door. Inside the room was deadly quiet as the man decided who would live, and who would die. Slowly he stepped around them, looking them up and down, his face a sneering mask of hatred. He flicked at the white band on Kem's arm. "This one," he pointed to Kem, "belongs to The Leopard. He will decide what to do with them."

  ***

  Luke paced his top floor office, darting back to his computer screen to watch as Indo-Pet’s dropping stock price dragged down Global Phoenix. Another down-tick. With a mighty kick, he sent his waste basket flying across the room.

  "Get Nikolai on the blower," he fumed to his secretary.

  "Moscow is nine hours ahead of us," his secretary called from the outer office. "He’s sleeping."

  "I don’t care is he’s taking a crap in a whore house. Get him on the phone. Now."

  Several minutes later his phone rang.

  "That sonnafa bitch Anton is taking out Indo-Pet. You’re the one who told me to buy it."

  "We need Indo-Pet fabrication capacity for Novshesta."

  "No. You need their capacity. Not me."

  "Novshesta is important to Russian Republic. Public money cannot be used. Only private. That is why I needed you."

  Slowly realization came to Luke.

  "You planned this, didn’t you? You don’t care that Indo-Pet lost money, as long as their doors stayed open long enough to build your precious Novshesta. If it took out Global Phoenix with it, even better. You’d get the designs. You commies don’t give a fig how much money is lost, as long as you win your little game. You’re a bigger horse’s ass than Anton." Luke slammed down his phone. He grabbed a chair and threw it across the room.

  Think, Luke, think. He stomped to his bar and poured a bourbon. No ice, no water. He pounded it down in one gulp, and refilled it.

  Then it hit him. He checked the stock p
rice of Trans-Sea. It was dropping faster than either Indo-Pet or Global Phoenix. Anton was betting the farm that Global Phoenix would run out of money before Trans-Sea. Two could play that game.

  He punched a number into his cell phone. "Buy Trans-Sea. Break it up. A thousand small purchases so we don’t upset the falling stock price. I want ten percent of the company, controlling interest." He slapped his phone closed.

  The secretary walked in and handed a note to him. Valter Mahler had just bought two billion dollars worth of Indo-Pet bonds. No stock. Only bonds. Luke sank down into his massive leather chair, staring at the note. All risk. No profit. He let out a deep belly laugh, and pressed redial on his cell phone.

  "Make that twenty percent."

  He leaned back, put his booted feet up on his desk, and slowly sipped the rest of his bourbon.

  Chapter Four

  Rough hands pushed Kem, Valter and Harry out the palace doors. Burning cars dotted the dark street. Smoke curled around the elegant marble columns. Jeers and chants were hurled at them from thousands of protestors that pressed to the bottom step below. The bunt of a machete beat Valter to the front of the top step for all to see. The crowd waved angry fists and spat, heckling the white arm band he still wore. A glass bottle bounced off his chest. A fragment of brick cut his face. Red drips fell across his linen shirt. Only the men with black armbands stopped the throng from surging up the steps and tearing him apart.

  Valter's eyes darted across the hoard. He'd dealt with riots before. This could get very ugly, very fast. An angry mob could do anything. And usually did. In this very location, the 1998 riots had been vicious. A thousand people had died in this very spot. Better that he absorbed the danger rather than Kem or Harry.

  As had happened then, the people today had just lost everything. Everything the democracy had built was washed away by the economic tsunami that had crashed over them. They were a tinder box, waiting to explode. With every passing minute the anger grew louder. It wouldn't be long before the machetes could no longer protect him. Hopefully Kem and Harry could escape in the resulting confusion.

  The thumping approach of a helicopter grew until it overwhelmed the noise of the crowd. Over the log-jammed lawn the old Soviet Mi-8 swooped, and then hovered. Slowly it descended. Hundreds trapped below it screamed in terror. Panic swept through the yard as people shoved and fought to retreat as the massive machine came down on them. Fanned by the downdraft, the car fires swept over dozens of people. Throughout the yard, people shoved and pushed. Several fell and were trampled. The helicopter's wheels crushed several others.

  The engine sputtered to silence, and so did the crowd. The crackles and pops of the car fires where the only sounds. All eyes fixed on the helicopter. The door opened. People fell back as the head of a leopard appeared and snarled its warning to everyone. The animal pranced forward. Its hungry eyes scanned the crowd. Drool dripped from its fangs in expectation of its next meal. Sunda followed with Hijau behind. Their eyes were also hungry. Absolute silence thundered over the crowd. With slow deliberate motions the three strode toward the steps of the capitol building. Sunda's cane clicked on the stones as he ascended.

  At the top he turned and gave the leash to Hijau. She knelt and affectionately scratched the cat’s ears.

  Sunda stepped past Valter, never acknowledging his presence. Sunda looked Kemuning directly in the eyes. No emotion. Just cold determination. His gaze made Valter's blood freeze. Granddaughter or not, Sunda could kill her.

  Kem stared back, her eyes a mixture of hard defiance and soft pleading. She received nothing back. With grim determination she straightened.

  Sunda's gaze broke away. He walked to a microphone that had been set up. The crowd stood in silence, waiting. He raised his hands. The people roared in greeting. Then he turned his palms out to signal halt and restored silent obedient order. His gaze swept across the people.

  "For thousands of years Indonesia has built its history. We have had many leaders. Emperors, sultans, pirates, colonialists. The strong ones allowed the natural flow of life. When they did, the people prospered. The weak ones did not and the people suffered. This is truth. No one can say it is not.

  "Today it is the same. Jakarta is weak. Corruption is everywhere. Let me ask you, the people. Raise your hand if you think Sunda or Hijau are weak."

  Hijau pulled the leopard's leash, and it let out a bone rattling roar. Not one single hand was raised.

  "It is voted. It is decided. Sunda is your new leader. It is done. Let the first man step forward to stop me."

  No one stepped forward. Sunda nodded in affirmation, and turned to enter the capitol building.

  ***

  "Mr. Lukeson is on the line for you, Herr Zelman."

  "Luke. Good of you to call."

  "I out-foxed you, Anton."

  "What? How?"

  "I just bought controlling interest in Trans-Sea. And, I just fired your ass. I’m the new CEO."

  "But…"

  "Now, don’t go begging there, Anton. Suck it up like a man." Luke let out a belly laugh and slammed his phone.

  Anton double-checked his computer. Luke was right. He had controlling interest of Trans-Sea. All of its assets now belonged to Luke.

  Anton smiled. Everything was going perfectly.

  ***

  Kem watched as all hope of saving her democracy followed her grandfather into the building.

  "I stop you," she called out.

  One of the guards raised his machete to her. Valter pulled against the hands that held him.

  "She speaks," The Leopard ordered.

  Kem stepped to the microphone. She faltered, scanning the angry faces around her.

  "Speak, weak one," Sunda ordered.

  She drew in a breath, looked to the white band on her arm, and summoned all of her inner strength.

  "People of Indonesia, hear me." Her voice rang through the square. Angry shouts called back. She also knew a thousand cell phones were sending videos across her country.

  "It is me, Kemuning, Yellow Flower, granddaughter of The Leopard. You know me. I am a simple person, the daughter of Indonesia who only wants to protect what is beautiful.

  "Look around you. What do you see? It is ugly, it is chaos. But it is democracy. That is beautiful. That is what I will protect. The freedom to live our lives.

  "The path to democracy is not clear. It is not clean and easy to see. My grandfather shows you an easy path. Do nothing, and he will lead. I offer you a difficult path. One that may take decades of suffering. But in the end you will be free. You will have the greatest possession of the earth. Your own selves. My father, son of The Leopard died to give that to me. He died to give it to you. Sunda does not offer you that. Hijau does not offer you that.

  "So show me. Raise your hand if you will suffer with me, sacrifice with me, and build with me."

  No hands were raised. Valter held his breath. The silent crowd could move either way. Teetering on a knife edge of indecision.

  Sunda chuckled. "It is decided." He turned to enter the building.

  "I will," an old woman called out with a soft voice and a raised hand.

  "I will," said a young man."

  "I will," chorused a dozen others, followed by more.

  Angry shouts rose from the crowd, silencing the softer voices. People shoved and pushed. Fights broke out. Waves of motion swayed across the sea of people. Shirts were torn. A white arm band appeared, then another. A broken brick pelted Kem’s arm. A streak of red showed though her sari. Valter moaned aloud. He felt her pain as if it were his own and struggled against the hands that held his arms.

  "You!" Hijau screamed. "The perfect one. Always working for others. Never taking for yourself. It is not the flow of life."

  "It is the new flow of life," said Kem. "Indonesia will show the world how to build a real democracy."

  "No!" Hijau screamed, throwing another rock. It hit Kem in the temple and she stumbled and fell. Valter yelled as if the rock had struck him.
The crowd roared, guns fired. A group of white armbands surged forward to attack Sunda's guards. Black armbands circled around their leader to protect him from the crowd that had turned against him.

  Valter lunged forward, but a black arm-banded guard held him back. Hijau unleashed the leopard. It snarled and lashed out at the crowd. The black circle moved down the steps, heading for the helicopter. Kem got up and stood before the microphone shouting for calm.

  Hijau picked up more stones and hurled them back at Kem, battering her younger sister until she fell again. She ran to rejoin her grandfather, but the crowd stopped her. Hijau spun on her heal, and darted through a break in the crowd. She dove toward the protection of her grandfather. Black armbands reached to pull her into the protective circle. Then, a shot. Hijau stumbled.

  "No!" Sunda cried. He caught Hijau in his arms.

  She looked up into his mottled face. "It can't be Kemuning. Not her flow of life." Her eyes drooped. Sunda lifted her. The circle around Sunda pushed him toward the helicopter. The leopard snarled and lashed out. A man fell in agony before the cat joined his master in the helicopter. The machine growled to life, and lifted the entourage to the sky.

  Left unguarded at last, Valter ran to Kem. Blood swelled in her eye. "Give me the microphone," she begged. "Lift me."

  Valter helped her to sit up, but she couldn't stand. He put the microphone to her lips.

  "Indonesia must not fall," she croaked. "We must stand. We must fight against the pain, and suffering, and build our nation. I love my country, and its people, and its democracy."

  She gurgled in pain, and collapsed.

  "Kem!" Valter screamed, picking up her blood-soaked body.

  "This is where my father died," she whispered. "It is the flow of life."

  "The flow of life."

  "Cry on my grave, Valter, so I may grow again."

  "I will."

  "I love you, Valter."

  "I love you, Kem."

  Her final duty called. Her eyes glazed, and breath left her.