“Not a description I would use, but you’ll have to wait and see.”
Chapter Fifteen
Although Abby had told me he had changed his boat since I was last in Brunei, the new one certainly wasn’t what I expected. He informed me with great pride that it was a 50ft Ocean Alexander Motor Yacht.
It was fully air conditioned with two spacious double ensuite staterooms plus a three berth forward cabin, also with ensuite. There was a large saloon and fully equipped galley, a huge upper deck fly-bridge area and a walk-in engine room with stand-up headroom. Although nearly twenty-years-old, Abby said he fell for the launch the moment he saw it, and I could understand why – it was unadulterated luxury.
I didn’t dare ask how much the launch had cost him.
We roared away from the Muara naval dockyard and I could see in his eyes that he got a tremendous kick out of the powerful throbbing from the two in-board engines, and was equally delighted to be able to show off to me his relatively new acquisition.
Muara was home to the Royal Brunei Armed Forces Naval Squadron as well as The Sultan’s rather splendid Royal yacht. Looking back towards the port, there were three fast-torpedo boats in view – one of which was in dry dock – and a minesweeper. There were also a few smaller naval vessels, but none could match the splendour of the Royal yacht that was alongside the main quay, its vast white hull gleaming in the sunshine, and a thin trail of smoke coming from its single funnel.
“Quite a launch,” I shouted, clinging onto the rail in front of me against the buffeting each time we hit a wave. “It must be your pride and joy.”
He smiled. “Second only to Nazira and the children,” he shouted back, the wind making his shirt billow out behind him. He was wearing the baseball cap he had always wore when we played golf together, a plain pale blue short-sleeved shirt, dark blue shorts and open-toed sandals. I had managed to pack suitable clothing in anticipation of what Abby and I might be doing.
During the short drive from Bandar to Muara, Abby and I had exchanged pleasantries only. He wanted to wait until we were alone and out at sea before saying anymore about why I was there. The secrecy was becoming more intriguing by the minute.
Passing the turning to the Panti Menteri Golf Club he commented that we must have a game before I went back, which suggested that his problem might not be as serious as I originally thought. If he was contemplating a round of golf then perhaps my imagination had been working overtime.
During our intermittent periods of silence, my mind wandered back to the breakfast I had shared with Sophie Mackintosh. She was very pleasant company and none of the hardness I had suspected was there. I anticipated enjoyable evening with her, although there was a distinct possibility that what Abby had to tell me might put the dampers on it.
I hoped not.
We powered our way out to about four miles offshore and anchored a hundred yards from the yellow sands of a secluded, uninhabited and idyllic small island. Abby suggested that we went for a swim first, which we did, and afterwards we took ice-cold drinks up to the top deck and sat in the shade of a side awning.
Abby looked at me for a good few seconds before he spoke. “Richard, I am afraid something is going on and unfortunately, but hopefully for the right reasons, I am limited in what I can tell you about it. However, I would trust you with my life and it is on that basis that I have persuaded the Government, and by that I mean His Majesty the Sultan, that I should seek your help in a matter that could affect the stability of my country and ultimately its future. You are the only personal link I have with the UK that I can trust to the extent that is needed. Do you understand?” Abby took off his glasses. I had never seen such a serious look in his eyes before.
“Abby, I count you as one of my closest and dearest friends and yes, you could trust me with your life..” I smiled. “It’s a pity we live so far apart – I’d love to be able to thrash you at golf every weekend.”
Although he looked serious, Abby accepted the need for a touch of light-heartedness as it underpinned our relationship. “Richard, I am much improved, as you will find out.”
I smiled ruefully but then respected Abby’s need to be serious. “If I’m able to help you, I will, you know that. I admire and respect you and your country too much not to offer help if I can. But from what you’ve said already, and that’s very little, the situation has to be political, so are you sure I’m the right person you should be telling whatever it is?”
He shook his head a little as he looked at the now empty glass in his hands. “Richard, before I do tell you a little more I am afraid I must ask you what you might consider to be a strange and personal question.”
I shrugged. “No change there then,” I said, “ask away.”
He slowly raised his head. “What is your relationship with the lady called Sophie Mackintosh?”
“Sophie Mackintosh?” I repeated, taken aback by his question. “That is a strange question,’ I added.
“Yes, I know but I will explain. So how well do you know her?”
“Well … well, I don’t think I can really I do know her. We came in on the same aircraft yesterday, met in the swimming pool this morning and then had breakfast together, and that is the extent of our … relationship as you put it. We’ve literally only known each other for a few hours.”
“So you did not know her, nor did you know of her, before yesterday?” Abby asked, his face still serious.
I shook my head and spread my hands. “Honestly, Abby, I really don’t know her.”
He nodded. “I thought that would be the case.”
I drained the now warm orange from my glass. “I think you’d better start at the beginning, Abby, but before you do, I’m having dinner with Sophie Mackintosh this evening. Does that in any way change what you’re able to tell me?”
Abby nodded and did let his expression lighten a little. “As long as you promise me that you only wish to see her again to find out if her figure is as good out of a swimming costume as it is in it.”
I smiled. “I wish … but have you been spying on me, Abby?”
“Not me, Richard, but yes, you are being watched but it is for your own safety.”
“My own safety? Since when have I ever been in danger in Brunei?”
He smiled and inclined his head. “Never before,” he said.
“Are telling me I am this time? Why?”
The sudden noise of jet-engine aircraft distracted both of us.
Abby turned away from me and looked in the direction the noise was coming from. I didn’t see the planes at first because I was looking up, not straight ahead. It wasn’t until they were almost on top of us that I saw them. There were three fighter aircraft flying in close formation, they weren’t more than forty feet above the sea and they were heading straight for us. Abby and I automatically crouched down, trying to make ourselves as small as possible, but I remained fascinated by what was coming towards us. When they were about four hundred yards from the boat, all three aircraft suddenly went into a steep climb. The noise and heat from back-blast left by their engines was horrendous.
Looking up I saw the planes levelling out from their climb at about five thousand feet and then, almost in slow motion they headed back in the direction from which they had come.
“What the hell was that all about?” I asked, helping Abby to his feet.
He was also watching the retreating aircraft. “I do not know for sure, Richard, but I think I can hazard a good guess.” Sitting down, Abby looked quite shaken as he replaced his sunglasses that had fallen off as the planes forced us to lie flat on the deck. “Did you see their markings, Richard?”
“Not really.” I said. “I was more intent wondering what they were trying to do. They were so close I could see the pilots and the heat from their afterburners could have killed us. Were they Sukhoi Su-27s.”
Abby nodded and said, “They were Chinese Air Force jets.”
The noise from the aircraft was now faint. “Chinese? You sound
as though you aren’t surprised to see them.”
Abby smiled ruefully. “I am not, Richard.” He looked over his shoulder.
“They were probably having a bit of fun but they were a long way from home. If they were Chinese, they must have come from a carrier.”
“You are right, Richard.” He looked out to see again before taking a deep breath. “Shall we have some lunch and another drink, and then perhaps I can disclose a few things to you without further interruption?”
We went down into the air-conditioned saloon where he produced various tasty morsels from the fridge and as we sat and ate, he told me why he thought we had been buzzed by the jets.
“Those jets will have been from a carrier off the Spratley Islands,” he said, “I think we talked about them the last time you were here.”
I nodded. “Yes, we did. You told me there were disputed territories, not only because of their strategic value but also because of off-shore oil and gas resources.”
“That’s right, Richard, but the region is still largely unexplored and there are no reliable estimates of potential reserves. Over the years, the Spratley Islands have been claimed in whole or in part by all the main oil and gas producers in the region, all of which, except Brunei, now have a military presence on the islands. Although there have been minor skirmishes, the main antagonists being China and Vietnam, all claimant countries have declared their intention to resolve any claims peacefully.”
I frowned. “So, can I presume that isn’t the reason why I am here?”
Abby dipped his head. “You can, Richard, but not completely, please bear with me for a little longer. What I have told you is probably why the Chinese Air Force has playfully strafed us. Brunei may be hundreds of miles from the Spratley Islands, and we may be the only nation in the area not to have a military presence there, but we still have as much right to claim an interest as any other nation. The Chinese are becoming increasingly confrontational and testing the defences of peripheral countries. We are now outside Brunei territorial waters and therefore if I were to initiate a diplomatic protest, the Chinese would simply apologise and say that their planes had as much right to be in the area as anyone else. When they saw my boat, they immediately climbed to avoid an accident.”
“And in reality, Abby, what’s the truth?”
“In reality, Richard, it might sound a little fantastic but I would not be surprised if our, or maybe just my presence out here had not been reported and what we experienced was a deliberate act of intimidation towards a senior minister in the Brunei Government.”
I spread my hands, appreciating what he had told me about the Spratley Islands but they were a delaying tactic. The real reason I was there had yet to be revealed, but I felt I needed to humour him for a little longer. “It’s obviously happened before,” I said.
“Yes, but not to me.” He hesitated for a moment. “Can we go back up on deck, please, Richard? I would prefer to be able to see what is around us.”
“Of course,” I replied, hiding my unwarranted amusement from Abby. I followed him up the steps to the top deck.
Abby rested his hands on the rail and looked in the direction from which the aircraft had approached earlier. “Richard, I am sorry for what I am about to say, but it is your government that is the cause for the concern within my own administration.”
“My government?” I said. Abby’s statement in its own right was surprising but, more importantly I couldn’t immediately understand why it was me who was being told Brunei’s problems. A close friend or not, inter-Governmental disagreements were way out of my league and I didn’t want to become involved.
However, the intrigue maintained my interest.
Abby turned from the rail. We were in the open. The sun had passed its zenith and was beating down onto my head. I shaded my eyes with my hand.
“My country relishes the special relationship it has with Britain. We go back many years. Before our independence, and since, we have been taught many good things.” He let a slight smile creep on to his lips. “You might think that in certain areas we have not progressed at any speed but that is our way.” He paused. “Britain has retained many loyal friends in the Commonwealth and I become annoyed when I read about the criticisms laid at Britain’s doorstep especially when such criticisms include exploitation. Of course Britain took advantage of the natural resources they found, but at least they made the indigenous people aware of what was available to them in the future. My country is a prime example. We are small and ruled by what others call a benevolent dictator, but we are prosperous and without the early British influence we would not be where we are today.” Abby refilled our glasses from the jug he had brought with him. “When loyalty is suddenly brought into question, though, it makes the faithful wary of what is being done. It makes them look beyond maybe the obvious political reasons behind the change in attitude.”
He paused once again to draw breath and it gave me the opportunity to interrupt. “Abby, I agree with what you’re saying but can you put it into context? What I’m hearing you say is that Britain has in some way reneged on the special friendship it has with Brunei.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Breaking a promise, Richard, is not something we Muslims take lightly. A promise is a commitment that cannot be broken. Britain always promised to be here for us if we were threatened.”
“I’m sorry, Abby, but you have lost me.” I wanted to add ‘again’ but at least now we were getting somewhere.
“Do you remember the last time you were here and when we were playing golf, we discussed the December 1962 rebellion in Brunei?”
“Yes,” I said, “and if I remember correctly, you said it was something that could have meant everything but finished up meaning nothing. Am I right?”
Abby nodded. “It lasted only days, although it was May of the following year before it was certain that all subversive elements had been dealt with. Fortunately, the subversives’ planning was bad and the support expected from neighbouring sympathetic elements, did not materialise, but British troops from Singapore and Malaya were mainly responsible for the failure of the rebellion.”
What we had discussed over four years ago came back to me. “Didn’t you say that although it was insignificant as rebellions go, it was the prelude to the Borneo confrontation?”
“That’s correct, Richard. The Indonesians didn’t want Malaysia to grow stronger by taking Sarawak and what was then British North Borneo, into what is now the Malaysian Federation, and we were drawn into the conflict.” Abby looked at me and paused before saying, “I think history is going to repeat itself, Richard.”
“What?” I said, “the Indonesians are –?”
“No, no, this is nothing to do with the Indonesians. When I say history is repeating itself, I mean the Brunei Rebellion. We believe there are now more seditious elements here in Brunei and in Sarawak and Sabah who are planning to overthrow His Majesty the Sultan and his loyal supporters. Their aim is to make Brunei part of The Federation, but we wish to retain our independence. We think –”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Abby, but if I understand you correctly, are you saying that the Malaysian government is behind what you believe is going on?”
Abby turned and looked towards the horizon. “There is no proof, but it could be more serious than that, Richard. We think there are elements within the British government that might be involved and supporting the radicals.”
I shook my head. “The British government is behind a plot to overthrow the Sultan of Brunei? No, Abby, I can’t believe that. Why would –?”
“Resources, Richard. That is why I told you so much about the Spratley Islands. With what is going on in the Middle East, Western governments need to look elsewhere for secure oil and gas supplies in case they can no longer import from the Middle East. In addition, with a good percentage of the gas being imported by the West from Russia, that link could easily be broken. Although resources in South East Asia are currently small by comparison with the M
iddle East, what might be found of the Spratley Islands and elsewhere, could tip the balance.”
“But why would Britain want to make an enemy of Brunei, we have always been on such good terms. Surely, we would want to –?”
“Malaysia, Vietnam, The Philippines and of course China all have designs on these untapped resources,” Abby said, interrupting. “Although Brunei is a rich country we are considered insignificant militarily and strategically. Some feel that our resources ought to be managed by a larger concern, not by an unimportant little country ruled by a single sultan who spends freely without any thought for his country’s neighbours.”
“I see.” I said, but I didn’t see at all. “I’m almost lost for words, I had no idea … but …” I shook my head again, I needed to bring what Abby was saying back down to my level, and there was only one way of doing that, “… what is Sophie Mackintosh’s connection with all of this … and how did you know –?”
“If you were going to ask how I knew you would be on the same flight, I didn’t know, Richard. I invited you over here because I thought with your connections with the Americans and maybe your contacts in the UK, you could perhaps discover the truth.”
I was beginning to feel the effects of the sun and although I had put on plenty of high-factor sun cream, the afternoon sun was merciless. However, the sun’s heat was a minor irritation in comparison with what Abby was telling me.
“Can we go below deck, Abby?” I looked up. “The sun is …”
“Yes, of course Richard, I was forgetting my manners and I am sorry.”
He surveyed the water around us before leading the way down the ladder to the deck below.
“I think we should be starting for home soon,” Abby said twiddling a few of the knobs on the display in front of him. “The sky is getting a bit dark in the west. I think there might be a squall coming in.”
I moved in front of Abby.
He was still concentrating on getting the launch under way. I wondered if he was having second thoughts about what he had told me.
Pooh Bridge: conscience stricken Page 17
