The Contract Man

by A P Bateman

  “Who filed the report?” Arnott asked, looking at the document folder on McCullum’s broad desk.

  McCullum frowned. “King filed it himself, before taking his official leave.”

  Marcus Arnott nodded. “And does King mention that he let the Kurd take the shot?”

  “No. That little gem of information came from Langley, via an extremely irate CIA field agent who was working as a liaison officer with Kurdish rebels in northern Iraq. He was forced to leave after the area became too hot with Iraqi soldiers and ISIS hit and run fighters.”

  “Presumably this band of merry men knew that King was British?” Andrews pursed his lips together as he ruminated out loud. “Then the answer is simple, we have no alternative,” he paused, glancing at the Scotsman beside him. “King will have to go back to Iraq and tidy the loose ends.”

  4

  The girl swept a hand through her mane of anthracite black hair and giggled childishly, baring brilliant white, oversized teeth. She set her champagne glass on the smoked glass table, smoothed down the blue satin skirt, which had started to ride high up her slender thighs and then gently reached over to stroke the man’s clean shaven chin.

  Junus looked across at his companion and grinned wolfishly. “I think she likes you my friend. If you like, business can wait until later…”

  Charles Bryant laughed, brushing the girl’s hand away and picking up his gin and tonic. “Are you joking?” He glanced at the girl, then chuckled to himself as he sipped some more of his aperitif. “The last time I saw a mouth like that, it was wearing a bit between its teeth!” He roared with laughter, then stared at his Indonesian friend who had missed the joke. “You know, a bit, as in a horse’s mouth.”

  The tiny Indonesian concentrated hard then laughed, somewhat overdoing it, as he suddenly gained enlightenment. “Oh yes, I see what you mean.” He glared at the girl and suddenly clapped his hands together. “Tidak terimah kasih!”

  The girl’s expression fell as she was unceremoniously dismissed. She picked up her drink, then walked back towards the bar, swaying her hips excessively as she worked the room.

  Bryant glanced around the quiet bar and nodded towards the booth at the far end of the room. “Now her, well that would be a different story altogether.”

  Junus turned around and stared at the three girls who sat together, quietly sipping from over-decorated cocktails. One of them stood out, altogether more beautiful. She had sharper features than the other Javanese girls and she was elegantly tall. She smiled sweetly across at them, then flicked a loose lock of hair away from her eyes before seductively licking sugar crystals from the rim of her cocktail glass.

  Junus turned back to his friend and grinned lecherously. “My friend, you have a lot to learn about Asia.” He picked up his bottle of Bintang and took a long pull on the neck before placing it back down on the table. The beer was icy cold and the bottle was wet with condensation making the label start to peel.

  “What do you mean?” Bryant watched the girl as she sensuously rolled a cocktail cherry between her slender fingers, then popped it between her pouting lips. “She’s a beauty.”

  Junus chuckled. “In Asia, when something looks too good to be true, that is because it usually is. His name is Numan, and he’s Balinese. He works three of the local bars and for practical reasons, only goes so far,” he paused shaking his head. “Ironically, he is one of the best looking girls in Jakarta.”

  Bryant stared at the ‘girl’ in amazement, then turned back and faced his colleague. “I’ll be blowed…”

  “You could well have been!” Junus creased with laughter and picked up his bottle of Indonesian beer. “It’s the only service he offers!”

  Bryant smirked, shaking his head in dismay. He picked up his gin and tonic, swilled back the remnants then clicked his fingers at a nearby waiter. “Another round, my good man,” he paused, staring at the vacant expression upon the waiter’s face. “One Bintang and one gin and tonic. This time, kindly see to it that the tonic is brought separately, in its bottle.”

  The waiter nodded, then ambled his way leisurely back to the bar, where a hugely overweight barman started to prepare the order.

  Bryant looked back at Junus. There was something amiss, something that he could not quite put his finger on. He had been doing business with the tiny Indonesian for the best part of five years, ever since Bryant’s company, CB Mineral Tec, had contracted to supply machine parts for a contract which Junus’ partnership had won to build a hydro-electric plant and dam in Sumatra.

  CB Mineral Tec had severely undercut the opposition, but Bryant’s ploy had worked. He had lost a considerable sum of money funding the underpriced project but in doing so he had soon found a powerful ally in Junus Kutu, an ally who had since found CB Mineral Tec a good many profitable contracts. Since then, the two men had worked closely together, under the age-old adage governing everyday life in Asia: You scratch my back, I scratch yours.

  Bryant maintained offices in Singapore, Jakarta, Darwin, Houston, Johannesburg and Aberdeen, covering all aspects of mineral and oil exploration and mining, as well as arranging joint ventures with fellow companies on a plant and workforce hire system. Usually cheap Filipino and Indonesian labour.

  Junus, by contrast, was involved across a much wider spectrum than minerals and specialised construction programs. Junus Kutu was a major player in the Indonesian archipelago. If it was precious and buried deep in the ground Kutu was involved in getting it out. If a business had interests in Indonesia, Kutu could see that its shares and worldwide interest soared. Whether it was hotels, restaurants, tourist theme parks or national airlines - Junus Kutu could get the relevant planning permission and operating permits and in return for his fee and a substantial block of shares he would see to it that the businesses thrived. Altogether Junus Kutu was an extremely powerful and influential man. Charles Bryant liked him a great deal.

  The waiter placed Junus’ beer on the table then went to great pains to show Bryant that he had brought him both a chilled glass of gin, and a separate bottle of tonic.

  “Yes, yes, thank you.” Bryant waved the young man away, then picked up the mixer bottle and carefully poured half of the tonic water onto the thick pile of ice. “Will they ever get it right?” he asked, shaking his head in dismay. “You finally get them to serve the gin and tonic separately and then the bloody idiot forgets the lemon!” He glanced up suddenly, realising that he might well have caused his friend offence.

  Junus smiled benignly. “Bloody natives, eh?”

  Bryant sipped a cold mouthful and turned solemnly to the small man in front of him. “Come on then, Junus. I have a strange feeling that tonight isn’t just for chatting about girls or catching up with each other because I happen to be in town for a couple of weeks,” he paused, setting the glass down onto the table. “And I don’t think you want to talk about regular business, or you’d have taken me to a decent restaurant and not this place.”

  Junus Kutu glanced around the room, which was starting to fill up with the sort of people who seemed to frequent the place, and many others like it. “What, you don’t like this place?”

  “If the best looking woman in here is a bloody bloke, then no!”

  Junus laughed out loud, then leant forward conspiratorially. “Tell me my friend, what do you know about the current state of Indonesian politics?”

  Bryant frowned. He was painfully aware of the sudden upheaval of recent years, of Golkar, the once governing party devolved, then reformed and put in as a major part of a coalition. Many felt they were gaining power by stealth. And the growing unrest among the smaller, previously more independent islands threatened to domino into separation of power. It had made the exploration and mining projects increasingly difficult. However, his views might well be entirely different from those of his friend, and if there was one lesson that he had learned well in Southeast Asia, it was not to offend one’s business associates. He picked up his glass and slowly sipped the refreshing contents
before turning warily to his companion. “Why do you ask?”

  Junus smiled wryly. “I see your predicament, but I need your valid opinion. Come, my friend, you are a well-travelled fellow and what’s more, you have spent a great deal of time in my beautiful country.”

  Bryant kept hold of his glass, smoothing his finger around the condensation which trickled down the side of the vessel. He gnawed subconciously at his lip, then nodded. “All right, if you wish. I know that your country is officially a democracy, and that Golkar was an invention of necessity, but when all is said and done, the fact remains, the alliance is dominated heavily by the military. The core of the alliance, the farmers, the fishermen, even the professions, are mere afterthoughts.”

  Junus nodded thoughtfully and sipped at his bottle. “True. But things are better now we are a coalition democracy, do you not think so?”

  Bryant nodded cautiously, suddenly suspicious of where this might be leading. “I suppose so, but things certainly got a bit hectic when the rupiah crumbled.”

  “I am not disputing that,” he paused, eyeing his companion closely. “But between you and me, business is good now, no?”

  Bryant nodded. “It’s up and down, but yes, the ups outweigh the downs.”

  Junus smiled. “Exactly. Tell me, what is your single most dependable resource within your company?” He held up his hands defensively. “Please my friend, bear with me on this.”

  Bryant frowned, then shrugged. “Oil. That is probably where I get the most contracts.”

  “And where do you receive the most contracts for oil exploration and production?” He sipped his beer, then added, “On a global level.”

  Bryant stared at the little man cautiously. “Indonesia. Why do you ask?”

  “Last year, my country produced five hundred million barrels of oil. With proven reserves of eight point five billion barrels. With these figures, Indonesia is the world’s leading oil producer,” he paused. “But you already knew that.”

  Bryant nodded, keeping his wary eyes on his companion.

  “Not only do we produce the most oil, we produce in excess of four point eight billion cubic metres of natural gas. We produce the most tin, at approximately twenty eight thousand tons, the most copper, at around three hundred thousand tons, and four million tons of coal. Add this to the two hundred thousand tons of iron ore, the two million tons of nickel and the five hundred thousand tons of bauxite, and I think we know why your principal office is now in Jakarta.”

  Bryant remained silent as he looked suspiciously at Junus Kutu.

  “Relax, my friend. I do not mean to offend. I only wish to put things into perspective.”

  “I’d say that you’ve achieved that, Junus. But frankly, I don’t see where this is heading. Of course my biggest interests are within your country, but that is where a great many companies’ interests lie.”

  Junus held up his hands. “I am aware of that. It is other people’s interests that have put me where I am today, and a great many others like myself. But let me just outline one more point. Mining makes up for thirteen percent of gross domestic output and more than seventy percent of the country’s export earnings. Impressive, isn’t it? But what if I were to say that it only employs one percent of the country’s total work force?”

  Bryant shrugged. “Machines do most of the work and companies need skilled labour to operate them.”

  “This is true of a great many things and personally, I can understand it. I am a businessman. A westerner at heart.” He shook his head somberly then sipped another refreshing mouthful of beer. “But the trouble with your average, ignorant Indonesian is that he is just a simple peasant, a native. It’s in the blood.”

  Bryant stared at him impassively, not wanting to risk agreeing with what he thought to be perfectly true.

  “Now, if someone influential, someone with a great deal of power and support, were to try and change things, try to get an ignorant population’s support by promising to deliver their dreams to them on a plate, then in the long term, things could soon become extremely difficult for people like us. People who, when all is said and done, exploit both this wonderful nation and its people,” he paused, studying Bryant’s apparent blankness. “Now, if this influential person had the support of the underpaid yet loyal military and the people of the smaller islands, who as recently as the sixties or seventies were independent – Hell, were headhunting and performing acts of cannibalism - then business as we know it could be changed dramatically.”

  Bryant nodded. “Situations change, governments change. That’s just an aspect of business risk.”

  “Very well, I accept that. But what if this influential person could swing the people one hundred and eighty degrees? What if he could take a nation which is hampered by extreme right-wing corruption, and turn it into a communist state?”

  Bryant laughed out loud and picked up his glass. He gulped the last remnants, then turned around and waved to a waiter who was hovering near the bar. Junus Kutu remained silent as the waiter ambled to their table, then stood in front of them silently, awaiting their order.

  Bryant placed his order for a large gin and tonic, this time emphasising the addition of a slice of lemon. He turned to Junus, who simply held up his empty bottle for the waiter to see what he was drinking. Bryant turned back to his companion as the waiter strolled casually back to the bar. “My dear Junus, I think that you have had perhaps a little too much sun. Either that, or you have drunk one too many beers!” He smiled as he shook his head. “A country cannot just change to communism. For a start, it’s a dead, discredited policy. The Soviet Union collapsed, all the satellite countries separated. It doesn’t work, nobody believes in the concept anymore.”

  “When people have nothing, then they will clutch at any straw. The grass is always greener. Isn’t that what you say?” he paused, checking that he had used the correct colloquialism, then continued. “Indonesia is the largest country in South East Asia, its islands total over thirteen and a half thousand, over six thousand of them are inhabited, yet these six thousand islands make up the fifth most populated country in the world. Its people are among the poorest. No other country produces so much for its economy, yet returns so little to its people. Civil unrest is abound, poverty is rife.”

  Bryant looked up at the pretty girl who was hovering in front of them, smoothing her hands over a shapely pair of hips. She smiled seductively, pursed her lips to form a kiss. “You want good time?” she asked in a sing-song voice. “I give you good time, mister.”

  Bryant held up his hand dismissively. The girl ignored his motion and made to sit down.

  Junus leant forward and shook his head. “Tedak!” he snapped.

  The girl glared at him, her features changing dramatically. “What wrong, you gay? You no like women? You have small cock!” She stormed away then turned around after a few paces and loosed a rapid outburst of Bahasa Indonesian, before finally walking back to the booth where Numan, the best looking ‘girl’ in Jakarta, was seated with three others.

  Junus stared at Bryant and shrugged. “You see, those girls are the lucky ones. They are the ones who are pretty enough to be of some use. What about the ugly ones, what does this country hold for them?”

  Bryant frowned. “But I still don’t understand what you’re saying. You said if someone could turn the country around. Who do you mean, and what do you know?”

  Junus smiled. “My friend, I know more than the government, and believe me, they’re extremely worried indeed. What I am about to say must be purely confidential.”

  Bryant nodded. “Of course. But why are you telling me this?”

  The Indonesian waited for the waiter to place the two drinks on the table, then leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “There is something going on right now. If we, as businessmen do not act, then our interests in this nation are finished.”

  “Finished?” Bryant smiled. “My dear Junus, governments change all the time, but business always goes on.” He re
ached forward and tipped a little tonic into his iced gin, then picked up the glass and took a shallow sip. He placed the glass back to the table and smiled. “You just have a few more pockets to line, that’s all.”

  “Governments change, I will grant you that, but I have very interesting information indeed,” Junus paused. “During the course of my life, I have made a great many useful contacts. However, unlike many businessmen, I go to great pains to keep in touch, in good favour.”

  Bryant felt a lump in his throat, wondering whether their relationship outside business matters was merely one of convenience for Junus Kutu. He picked up his glass, grateful for the distraction, and took a few small sips.

  Junus did not detect Bryant’s sudden change of mood, merely picked up his bottle and took a large gulp, before staring intensely at his companion. “What I am about to tell you now is in the strictest confidence. To mention it carelessly in this country could result in your untimely death,” Junus paused to see whether he had his friend’s consent to continue. Bryant simply nodded, intrigue getting the better of him, as it always did. “I have friends within the present government, useful friends,” Junus paused, raising an eyebrow, as if to emphasise the purpose of these so-called friends. “At this moment in time, it would appear that the Indonesian people are ready for a change and being mostly a poorly educated race, they do not realise that change at this moment in time could be terribly destabilising for the entire nation.”

  Bryant nodded, all too aware of the government’s struggle to keep the economy afloat. Like most, he had suffered financially from the instability and unrest, but as with most troubled times, when the dust finally settled, there was even more money to be made than before.

  “The government are panicking. Deep down they know that they are failing the people. Sure, we have the concept of Pancasila, the Five Principles, but do they deliver them? Of course not!