“He also owns three big combined container and break bulk liners that work a couple of regular deepwater circuits. One is up the China coast with stops in Vietnam, the United Republics of Korea, and Russia. The other run circumnavigates the Indian Ocean, Bangladesh, India, Pakistan, a couple of the Persian Gulf states, and the African Horn. Harconan focuses on the trade out of some of the rougher secondary ports the bigger lines shy clear of.”
“The smugglers ports, you mean? The ones with iffier customs coverage?”
The blonde intel quirked an eyebrow. “A judgmental and suspicious person might say that, Boss Ma’am.”
Tran resumed the discourse. “In addition to their own vessels, Harconan Seaways operates an extensive charter and brokerage service. They may have several dozen pinisi under hire at any one time, moving cargo in and out of the lesser Indonesian ports.”
“And does Harconan Seaways ever suffer from pirate attacks?”
Tran smiled. “Oh, yes, almost more so than the other regional shipping lines. Mr. Harconan has frequently stated his concerns about piracy in the Archipelago. While he has not lost ships or personnel, his cargo losses are quite extensive every year. Cargo like maritime diesel power plants, outboard motors, radio and radar equipment — all never recovered. It is fortunate he always keeps his ships and the loads they carry well insured.”
“A wise businessman,” Captain Garrett agreed.
“He is.” Tran continued with the story. “When his father died, leaving Makara as his sole heir, he was very much, as you Americans say, ‘in the catbird seat’.”
“He bought out the remaining holdings of the last few Harconan relations and investors with a surprisingly large personal cash reserve, assuming full control not only of the shipping line but of the Jakarta Trans-Asian Bank, and of Harconan Trade and Brokerage. He united all three as divisions of a holding company called Makara Limited, with a company headquarters established on Bali.”
“There’s your personal control,” Amanda commented.
“Quite so,” Tran agreed. “He has refused to place Makara Limited stock on the open market, keeping his own hand solely on the tiller. In spite of that, Makara Limited has boomed. It is a multi-hundred-million dollar operation currently, and Harconan is a name to be strongly reckoned with among the new taipans of the Far East.”
“That’s rather peculiar, isn’t it?” MacIntyre commented, his craggy features thoughtful. “If the man’s made his pile, why continue with these piracy operations? Why keep risking it all? Why not do what the old Mafia dons did — go legitimate and sit back in the sun for the rest of his life?”
“Two reasons, I believe, Admiral. For one, I suspect that Harconan has an agenda beyond mere monetary gain. The wealth Harconan is acquiring through his piracy operations is being channeled back to the Bugis. He is making piracy attractively profitable for the sea clans again, luring the men away from fishing and trading and shoreside employment and encouraging the old raiders’ ways.
“As the men return, he hones their fighting skills giving them better ships, better weapons, and better training. Soon they will no longer be pirates. They will be a navy.”
“A navy that owes a secret allegiance to Makara Harconan,” Amanda Garrett interjected.
“You got it, Boss Ma’am.” Christine Rendino looked up from her laptop. “We saw this mechanism once before, in West Africa. A sufficiently charismatic and effective leader can turn a tribal culture into an empire practically overnight. He just has to prove he’s a winner.”
“‘Charismatic and effective’ very much describes Makara Harconan,” Tran agreed. “Among the Bugis colonies he is already a known and respected man. He maintains a number of private philanthropic operations within the archipelago, providing aid and assistance to the Bugis. Things such as schools, better medical care, better housing. Many Bugis already say he has done more for them than Jakarta ever managed.”
Tran hesitated before continuing. “If you know where to listen, there are already whispers of the coming of a raja samudra, a ‘sea king’ who will restore the glories of the ancient Bone Empire of Sulawesi, the apex of Bugis power within the archipelago. No name has yet to be attached to the title — publicly, at any rate.”
“The restoration of some mythic ‘golden age’ or ‘shining time’ has set more than one culture on the road to war,” Amanda commented grimly. “Where does our ‘sea king’ have his current throne?”
Christine took over the flow of the briefing. “Makara Limited’s corporate headquarters are located in the coastal town of Nusa Dua, near Benoa Harbor. I suppose you could call Nusa Dua a suburb of the island capital of Denpasar. However, Harconan’s personal headquarters are located on another smaller island off the northwestern tip of Bali, near the approaches to the Bali Strait.”
Christine rotated her laptop’s screen on its pivot point, displaying a chart call-up. “It’s called Palau Piri, Island of the Princes, appropriately enough. Harconan owns the whole damn island outright. Apparently it’s been in the family for centuries. Access by personal invitation only.”
Amanda whistled softly. “Interesting. He must like privacy and borders both. And he must have picked Bali for his headquarters for the same reason we did: its strategic central location. Have the G-Hawks had a look at this place, Chris?”
“Oh yeah, very impressive.” The intel called up a high-altitude photo file. “About two square miles in area. As you can see, it’s heavily forested with black-sand beaches all the way around. Reefs to the north and west with a small breakwater harbor and a set of piers on the south side.”
On the screen, a window formed around the small group of structures near the piers, the image zooming up to fill the screen. Reaching around, Christine conducted a guided tour with a pencil tip.
“The only structures are the half-dozen inside the Harconan compound, the rest of the island is maintained as a nature preserve. That very impressive single-story building on the bottom left is the Harconan mansion. That’s a helipad next to it, with the pontoon-equipped EC365 Eurocopter that Harconan uses as a personal executive shuttle.”
The pencil tapped another point on the screen. “This is a boathouse. Beyond a couple of utility launches, you’ve got a Magnum VI open ocean racing boat in there, a dope runner’s special. According to the builders in Florida, it’s equipped with a triple set of turbo-charged 454- cubic-inch Chevy engines and extended-range fuel tanks. It can walk away from just about anything afloat, even a Sea Fighter, and it has a five hundred-mile range at a ninety-knot cruise.”
“How about the other big building with the beach apron?” Amanda inquired.
“It’s what it looks like, a seaplane hangar for the Makara corporate aircraft, a Canadair CL215-T twin turboprop amphibian, again with extended-range tanks. It could take you anywhere from Cooktown to Shanghai without refueling.”
“Give this man two spare seconds and he could vanish off the face of the earth,” MacIntyre commented, leaning closer to the screen.
“Pretty much so, Admiral, sir,” Christine replied. “Note how the compound is energy-independent, with solar cell arrays on the roofs and a couple of wind turbines here and here. You can also see the multiple satellite dishes. The place is wired like a NASA ground station, with direct access to all major satcom information nets. It’s also guarded like Fort Knox. There’s a permanent forty-person staff in residence, half of whom are armed guards.”
“Nung Chinese mercenaries, to be specific,” Tran added. “The best in Asia, equipped with automatic weapons and night-vision systems. You also have a sea-and-air-capable radar system, low-light television monitors covering the beaches, and a charged and sensor-wired perimeter fence around the compound itself.”