The Fifth Season. Kerry B Collison

* * *

      Stinking garbage floating down rat-infested canals, snotty-nosed children squatting in the gutters peeing, and rotting, mutilated corpses lying with grotesque, bloated stomachs had soon become all too common sights for Mary Jo, rendering it difficult for her to remain dispassionate, and impartial, when reporting these scenes.

      Two years before, when she first arrived in Hong Kong, the colony was gearing up for the hand-over to China. There was an air of despondency everywhere, even amongst the expatriate corps. At cocktail parties and the races, the conversations were mainly the same. Concerns about how China’s military would treat democratic gains achieved prior to the takeover, overshadowed all discussion, in every corner of the British colony. Professional Chinese packed their bags and followed their money to Canada, Australia, and America, where they could acquire residency through investments made in those countries.

      Mary Jo found the lifestyle exciting, and the travel even more rewarding than she had expected. Her assignments took her to the most exotic, and sometimes dangerous, destinations throughout Asia. She visited Beijing more than a dozen times before finally prevailing on an associate to accompany her to the Great Wall, fulfilling one of her childhood dreams which, at the time, had sadly revived distant and blurred memories of her father.

      Mary Jo visited the warrior tombs in China, stood looking across the heavily fortified embattlements separating the two Koreas, and on one occasion, scrambled across slippery, moss-lined rocks to avoid Khymer Rouge soldiers who had appeared, while she was photographing children playing around land mines at Angkor Wat. In her first year she traveled extensively, her reporting and photographic coverage of Asia widely acclaimed by both readers and her peers.

      It was towards the end of her two year assignment that she had requested the Jakarta posting, and was delighted when this was granted.

      Mary Jo had packed up her collections and clothes, posted a sign in the Foreign Correspondents Club just up from Central wishing those she was leaving behind, well, then left Hong Kong to its new Chinese masters.

      She had arrived in the Indonesian capital as the economy had commenced its meltdown, engaging her assistant, Anne, on recommendations from a friend in Reuters. Mary Jo then went about learning as much as she could about the shaky Republic, and its multi-faceted society.

      * * * *

      Mary Jo was jolted from her reflections as the driver dropped down a gear and accelerated. She looked up again, sighting a soldier for them to pass, and she acknowledged this with a smile, pleased that they would not be stuck behind the convoy any longer. Returning to her laptop, she concentrated on her account relating to the Bandung riots, relieved that her assistant continued to sleep.

      The convoy had not delayed their return to any great extent, and by the time their vehicle had arrived at Mary Jo’s small villa in the southern suburb of Cilandak, she had completed her story and was ready to have it filed with New York. Annie accompanied her employer into the villa, where the American had turned one of the bedrooms into an office and communications centre. There, Mary Jo downloaded the information from her laptop and camera, and examined the results of their day’s handiwork. Although the shots she had taken had been hurried, she was pleased with the results.

      They waited for several minutes before their Internet connection had accessed her agency address, then sent the story, complete with colored photographs, electronically to New York. Finished for the day, Mary Jo sent her assistant home, then climbed into a warm spa-bath and rested, thankful for the bubbling water’s therapeutic effects which managed to expel the remorse which had troubled her earlier.

      Chapter Five

      Jakarta

       Hamish McLoughlin

       Hamish checked his watch impatiently, wondering where the hell his friend Harry Goldstein, had disappeared to. He caught the bartender’s eye, nodded, signaling for another whisky, then turned to observe the other guests sitting in the magnificently appointed bar. Located on the fourth level, O’Reiley’s Pub was patronized by Jakarta-based expatriates and locals who enjoyed the lively evening atmosphere.

      He grimaced as the band’s sound check got under way, noting that less than an hour remained before the American band commenced playing. Then, he remembered, conversation would become impossible. He glanced over at the giant screen which was so popular with the lunch trade, as regulars filled the pub to catch the live CNN news and sports broadcasts. As he waited, Hamish McLoughlin observed how quickly O’Reiley’s had filled, single guests occupying most of the seats around the island-shaped bar.

      The financier sighed. There was a time when one could have recognized most of their faces. Numerous waves of foreign investors inundating Indonesian cities had established pockets of Western communities across the expansive country, and it was now possible to meet other foreigners for the first time who had lived in-country for years without having once crossed paths. The booming resources and energy sectors had attracted multi-nationals, and Indonesia’s rapidly growing consumer market continued to escalate, or had, until the local currency suddenly came under pressure.

      * * * *

      Hamish McLoughlin was completely au fait with how precarious the monetary system had become. It had been his business to understand the mechanics of money, and how funds flowed, for more than twenty years.

      Having graduated with honors from Cambridge University in England, Hamish was recruited by Morgan & Morgan as part of their British team.

      Encouraged to continue his studies whilst in their employ, he forwent the many leisure opportunities and relationships which came his way, dedicating his time instead to furthering his career. Four demanding years passed and, armed with his Masters in Business Administration, Hamish McLoughlin was delighted to accept a newly created position with the international fund management group, as their Hong Kong based representative.

      It was there, during his three years dealing with the financial wizards of Asia that the relatively young financier attracted the attention of the International Monetary Fund. Two years later he moved to Washington where he consolidated his position and reputation, amongst some of the world’s most powerful financiers as a skillful negotiator and lateral thinker.

      It was during this time that he had met and married, the daughter of a prominent Boston banker. Unfortunately, his expertise could in no way have prepared him for the bitterness which would then occupy his life.

      Eight months into their marriage, during one of Washington’s typically bleak winter mornings, black ice sent his inexperienced wife’s car skidding sideways through an intersection and to her death, when her vehicle lost control. Desolated by his loss, Hamish had struggled to recover emotionally, but found this impossible surrounded by constant reminders of his brief happiness and, quite out of character, packed his clothes one morning and left his world behind.

      Eighteen months flashed by quickly. He started in Mexico, consuming excessive amounts of alcohol, his days spent sitting alone in dark bars, his nights lost wandering through an alcoholic mist. He continued in drunken stupor, often awakening in accommodations with no recollection of where he might be. Awash with tequila, he dragged himself and his self-indulgences through Panama, down to South America and through the tourist traps until copious amounts of alcohol necessitated a stint drying out in a Brazilian clinic. When he resumed his travels, Hamish found himself in Africa where again he was hospitalized with suspected alcoholic poisoning, still drowning in his own self-pity, still looking for closure over his past.

      In hospital, while recovering from the abuse his liver and other vital organs had endured through two years of punishing drinking bouts, he finally accepted that he must live with his loss, recognizing that failure to come to terms with what had happened might cost him his own life. Recalling how he had enjoyed earlier years in Hong Kong, Hamish McLoughlin decided to return there and re-establish himself as a financial adviser, offering his expertise to the growing financial markets found amongst the emerging tigers of South East Asia. Emaciated by prolonged abuse, Hamish set about restoring his health, undertaking a rigorous fitness campaign. Slowly