By so doing, President Santos has embraced, endorsed, and normalized the practice of foreign navies patrolling these waters which the Alliance considers to be territorial.
Santos has shared valuable strategic intelligence with the Americans. He has allowed Indonesian military forces, particularly the navy, to engage in joint military operations with the US and British navies, further legitimizing the presence of Western navies in Indonesian territorial waters.
Removal by Assassination: Regrettably, the Strategic Alliance has concluded that the only solution for the future of Indonesia, a future in which Indonesia will reach its manifest destiny as the world’s first Islamic Superpower, is the removal of Santos by assassination.
The Alliance hoped for the legitimate conversion of Santos and his repentance from his sinful ways. Santos forewent opportunities to bring his policies in line with an Islamocentric agenda.
In reaching this decision, history should record that the Alliance has considered the option of removal by political means, as opposed to the assassination of Santos. However, having considered all options, the Alliance has concluded that removal by political means is not guaranteed, and thus unworkable.
Operational Plan for Assassination
The Strategic Alliance adopts and endorses an assassination plan against President Santos designed to minimize risk, insomuch as possible, to the lives of others. Therefore, the optimal means of assassination calls for a plan to be carried out inside the Merdeka Palace, by certain members of the president’s inner circle…
BA-WOOF…BA-WOOF.
She backstepped at the sound of the bark, gasping for breath, her eyes still on the computer. BA-WOOF.
Probably just a rat outside. The dog barks all the time at night. She tiptoed to the foyer again.
What now? The report was several hundred pages. She could never finish reading it before five o’clock. Plus, the general’s military aides would arrive before then to prepare breakfast and give him his daily briefing.
Sweat formed on her palms.
She walked back to the computer and reset the report back to the first page. She felt in the desk drawer just under the computer. Pens, pencils, paperclips, and a small memory stick crossed her fingertips. She pulled the flash drive out and held it against the light from the computer screen. Two gigabytes.
She inserted the flash drive into the USB port. The orange light flashed off and on. The computer beeped.
A message flashed, indicating that a “Removable Disk E” had been inserted into the computer. Quickly, she saved the file onto the flash drive.
A light came on downstairs. Probably in the kitchen.
Kristina yanked the memory stick out of the desktop and dropped it into the pocket of her bathrobe.
A gurgling, bubbling noise-the sound of the coffeepot starting to heat up for breakfast. Then, footsteps coming down the hallway…
Kristina punched the power button. The screen went black. Total darkness fell over the study.
Click. Someone turned on a lamp. The lamp cast a soft, incandescent glow from the foyer into the study. Kristina crouched down into a dark crevice of the room, away from the direct stream of the light.
The silhouette of a woman stood there, in the doorway, staring into the room. Was the woman watching her?
As her eyes adjusted, Kristina recognized the svelte figure as Madina, a civilian woman and a new member of the general’s kitchen staff.
Chink, chink, ching. Keys jingled against the front door. Madina walked off to the right, out of sight, toward it.
There was a creaking and the rush of light wind as the front door opened.
“You are early, Captain,” Madina said, in a voice that carried a certain excitement.
“The general had a very late-night meeting.” This was the voice of Captain Hassan Taplus, the slim, ambitious young officer the general had first sent to fetch her. “I need to clean up his study and prepare him for his morning meeting.”
Kristina held her breath and prayed.
“You look so tired, Captain.” Madina’s voice was a bit needy. Kristina sensed that she liked Taplus. “I’ve just put on coffee,” she said. “Could I interest you in a fresh cup before you start?”
Please.
“Well, I really need to get the general’s study organized,” Taplus said, not convincingly. “Perhaps another time.”
“Oh, just a cup. Please? I’ve got it brewing in the kitchen. Why don’t you come back? I won’t hold you long.”
Taplus would not take the bait. Kristina was as good as dead.
“That would be great,” Captain Taplus said. Kristina exhaled and thanked the God that she had not been faithful in serving. “But I cannot linger. The study is a mess, and the general is leaving for Pakistan later today.”
Kristina waited as the sound of their footsteps reverberated down the hallway, fading slightly as they approached the kitchen. She heard the sound of ceramic clanking.
She stood and tiptoed into the fully lit foyer, then quickly up the staircase, as the sound of flirtatious laughter floating up from the direction of the kitchen gave way to the loud snoring in the bedroom.
Her gentle touch had been surprisingly electric, Captain Taplus thought as he slipped out of the kitchen from his unplanned earlymorning rendezvous with Madina.
She was a looker.
Now as he switched on the overhead lights and entered the general’s study, he was beginning to have second thoughts. Madina could have waited. The general could not.
Taplus checked his watch.
The general would be up in forty-five minutes. Part of the reason for the mess was that the general had ordered everybody, including Captain Taplus, to drink, to celebrate the first successful stage of the Malacca Project. Being the good soldier that he was, the captain naturally obeyed his leader.
Besides, the captain was part of the general’s inner circle, and had been promised by the general that he himself would see the rank of brigadier general in the new Islamic Republic of Indonesia-becoming one of the youngest general officers in the history of the army of the Republika. But all that would depend on him continuing to do his job in a professional manner, without any glitches. The drinking and the celebration had put him behind schedule.
First order of business would be to get these liquor bottles and food trays up.
He stepped out of the study and went back into the kitchen, where he was greeted by the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sight of Madina’s attractive figure from the backside.
“Excuse me, Madina.”
She turned from kneading the general’s bread and smiled. “Back so soon? Want another cup?”
“Perhaps later. I need a few trash bags.”
“Certainly, Captain.” She reached into one of the cabinets below the sink. “Here’s a brand new box for you,” she said, with a smile and a wink.
“Thank you.” He took the box and quickly headed back to the study, where he removed a green trash bag from it and started dropping liquor bottles in it.
He noticed a hum coming from the computer. But the screensaver was not on. In fact, the screen was black.
“Strange,” he mumbled to himself. Maybe it was in hibernation mode. He pressed the space bar. Nothing. Again. Nothing.
The screen. The power button. He punched it. The screen came alive. In bold, black letters, THE MALACCA PLAN stared at him.
“What in the name of Allah!”
“Is everything all right, Captain?” Madina called from the kitchen.
“Yes, of course,” Taplus lied. “Just a little spill.”