Indonesian Gold. Kerry B Collison

      Prologue

      The pilot’s grip on the cyclic control firmed instinctively as an abrupt wind change challenged the hovering helicopter, lateral stability maintained as he manipulated the collective and foot pedals to position the helicopter directly above the deserted stretch of exposed, river sand.

      Droplets rolled down the pilot’s brow momentarily blinding, and he cursed loudly, wiping sweat-stung eyes with the back of his torn flying suit as he struggled to identify movement through the thick, jungle canopy, along the river’s edge.

      Where the hell were they?

      His concern growing, the pilot permitted the chopper to drift as he continued to search for signs of his party, relief sweeping across his face when he spotted the men breaking from the dense jungle, dragging their unwilling companion towards a narrow, treeless strip near the water’s edge.Without hesitation, the pilot decreased the main rotor’s lift, the hasty descent resulting in his approaching passengers’ near decapitation as whirling blades drove the placid, silicon-laden carpet below into a maelstrom of stinging, blinding river-sand.

      Camouflage-battle-dressed soldiers dragged their gagged captive across the shallow water and onto the sandbank, the soft, dry surface tugging at their boots and she pleaded, begging for mercy, her cries drowned by the helicopter’s blades as these chopped furiously through the thick tropical air.

      The pilot signaled, impatiently, observing as the men bundled their prisoner on board. He then drove the Bell 205 to five thousand feet, before navigating his way visually to the drop zone.There, he hovered steadily, cursing the two men as they struggled to untie their hysterical victim’s hands while she kicked and screamed.

      Her captors punched her repeatedly – savagely. When her limp frame offered no further resistance, the killers removed the cloth covering her face and tossed her, unconscious into space, watching in silence, as she tumbled earthwards towards the slashed and burned forest floor, below.

      ****

      The young woman’s death would be recorded as a suicide.Two months later North American stock markets would reel in shock when it was discovered that the Kalimantan gold mine, once touted as the world’s richest deposit, was indeed, worthless.

      Chapter One

      May 1989

      Kalimantan Timur (Indonesian East Borneo)

      To the unskilled, the suggestion of change in the still, suffocating, humid forest air might have gone unnoticed. As the momentary breath of wind passed by ever so gently, Jonathan Dau paused, conscious of the shift in the natural balance of his immediate environment. The shaman cocked his head to one side and listened. Somewhere, amongst the trees, a wild pig snorted and the shaman stiffened – identifying the deception; and one so often played by the spirits. Encumbered by this thought, the Dayak chief’s hand unconsciously moved to the gold amulet hanging on a simple thread around his neck, and he whispered an appropriate chant.

      Deep in the sun-hidden canopy above, where wild, black-speckled orchids hung unnoticed, protected from man’s curious hand, proboscis monkeys engaged in dispute or play squealed – their occasional engagements of no importance to the Penehing leader, Jonathan Dau. With brow creased and a perceptive eye, he searched his timeless surrounds, finding reassurance when the hornbill came into view; satisfied that she would watch over him. Equipped with the cautionary signals his instincts and empiric knowledge had taught him to respect, the shaman exhaled slowly and paused. Then, with rehearsed motion he drew deeply, his chest swelling, as