Chapter One - Richard Lewis

sellers waited by the hotel's main entrance. Dharma's aunt Mak Jangkrik had set up a
temporary stall for her songket, crowded by officers wanting a souvenir to take home to
wives or mistresses.
The power was out again, and slouched in a lobby chair, Reed sipped a warm
lemon juice. The air hung thick and humid. He withdrew into himself, holding very still.
When you waited like this, not only did you lessen your sweating, you had all the time to
notice details, such as the plate numbers and insignia of the army vehicles in the VIP
parking lot, their plate numbers and insignia. He didn't bother with his camera, which
would have elicited misunderstandings.
A group of men in civilian clothes came into the lobby and took a corner table.
With a sharp spike of interest, Reed recognized a splendidly mustachioed man who was
one Sukarno's presidential attaches. Reed knew the attaché from Djakarta, had even
bought him a set of golf-clubs. The attaché chain smoked cigarettes as he chatted with the
three other men, two of them local contractors. When the contractors took their leave,
Reed wandered over to greet him. "How's your handicap?"
The attaché made a face. "I hardly have time to play anymore. So busy. Right
now I'm sorting out supply problems for the hotel in Sanur."
Using Japanese war repatriation funds, Sukarno was building out at the Sanur
beachfront yet another grand hotel. What a clever fellow Sukarno was, letting other
countries build his stadiums and highways and monuments while his country slowly
starved. "Will it have a golf course?" Reed asked.
"Of course." The attaché nodded at several of the army brass exiting the function
room for a buffet lunch. "We must give our generals a place to play. When will we see
you in Djakarta again? Madame Dewi would appreciate another salsa lesson," he said,
referring to President Sukarno's young and beautiful Japanese wife, whom Reed had
politely danced with several times at the swank Nirwana Nightclub. With a wink, the
attaché excused himself, saying he had to go out to check on the project.
As the conference attendees attended to the buffet table, Arini strode into the
lobby, graceful in a new dress of many pleats, looking copied from one of the fashion
magazines Reed had bought for her in Singapore. He discreetly signaled to her.
She glanced at the army officers and murmured, "Tomorrow will be a better time
to meet."
"It's not business. It's personal. About Naniek."
"What about her?"
"I'd like to meet her. I was wondering if you could arrange something."
Arini giggled. She was a stylish and competent woman—Reed had heard her
laugh many times, but never giggle. "Aduh," she said. "Sit down before you fall."
He plopped back onto his chair. "I've never felt like this before."
"You are in love with her?"
"It that what this is? I don't think so. I don't even know her at all. It's crazy."
"Reed, you don't need my help. Go see her. Why not today? Late afternoon is
usually the best time to visit."
"Just like that?"
"It is not against the law. Go, today. Don't waste any more time."
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