Chapter One - Richard Lewis

Arini murmured, "Lieutenant Colonel Untung, head of the presidential guard."
She introduced Reed to the light colonel, a short and stocky man, brusque but not
unfriendly.
"You have a gift for the President?" he said.
Reed patted the painting, carefully lodged on the seat beside him.
The colonel inspected the canvas and the carved teak frame. "Come with me," he
ordered.
Awkwardly bearing the large canvas, Reed followed the colonel through the
palace grounds and across a bridge cantilevered over a ravine to Bung Karno's private
quarters. The glossy modern structure overlooked the Tampaksiring temple and its sacred
springs. As Reed entered, the guests assembled in the luxuriously appointed sitting room
momentarily halted their conversation to stare quizzically at him. He recognized many:
the island's Governor, the Chief of Police, several parliamentarians. Many knew him as
well, but didn't quite know the protocol of how to greet an American friend in such a
gathering of Revolutionary stalwarts. They decided that ignoring him was the best course
of action, and resumed their conversations as they waited for Bung Karno to appear. Reed
propped the painting against the wall and stood by the windows. In the gathering dusk,
Reed could just make out the temple's bathing pools. It was rumored that Sukarno spied
on bathing beauties and selected the most nubile maidens to be brought to his bedroom.
There was a stir in the hall. Reed's attaché friend and several of the presidential
staff strode briskly into the room. Following them at a more leisurely pace was slight,
bespectacled Foreign Minister Subrandio and several other cabinet members.
Naniek as well, lovely in a batik dress and heels.
And walking beside her the Great Leader of the Revolution, a stocky, bushybrowed
man, with a black petji cap tilted jaunty on his head. He padded along in his
stocking feet, an aide carried his polished leather shoes. A swagger stick was tucked
under his arm, and his other hand was on the small of Naniek's back. He was chatting
with her, bestowing upon her the full force of his charm. She replied with a laugh,
spotting Reed as she did so, and her smile was undercut by a momentary flare of surprise,
even alarm, but she returned her entranced and radiant attention to the great man.
Reed's knees loosened, and his heart burned with instant jealousy. The President
circulated around the room, greeting his guests with casual radiance. Naniek remained by
Foreign Minister Subandrio's side, refusing to look at Reed.
Finally the attaché brought the Sukarno over to where Reed was standing and
made the formal introductions.
"The salsa dancer," Bung Karno said with that full wattage smile." My wife Dewi
praises your ballroom skills." He spoke in perfect English.
"At least it wasn't rock n' roll," Reed said daringly.
Bung Karno fixed him with a look that made Reed wished he hadn't opened his
big mouth, but then the President threw his head back and laughed. He wriggled his toes
in their black socks. "My body builds up electricity," he said. "I release it through my
feet. Otherwise I might go boom!"
"It is an honor to be here and present you this birthday gift, sir," Reed said. "The
painter is Tjok Arsana, a brilliant artist—"
"Tjok Arsana! That rascal! I've commissioned a painting from him and have been
waiting for months, but he says he needs the full inspiration of the revolution. I told him,
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