Idil must have read his stunned expression as
“Some would say—” Willem began.
Idil ran him off the road. “That climate affects prosperity, and prosperity helps me achieve my goals. Of course. But climate’s not getting better, is it? If some billionaire in Texas has a plan to make it less bad, fine.”
“All right, well, glad we got that out of the way!” Willem said.
“Now, did your niece—”
“Cousin, technically.”
“Did Beatrix talk to you about what she’s been working on with my firm?”
For where there were courts, there were lawyers; and where there was an international court of human rights, there were law firms that specialized in that. Idil wasn’t trained as a lawyer, but one such firm had set her up with a fellowship, endowed by a Bay Area tech zillionaire.
“No, she did not,” Willem said. “But it’s obvious. That branch of our family moved to Tuaba in the early days of the mine project and established a logistics business.”
“Import of mining-related equipment from Australia, Singapore, Taiwan,” Idil said, “as well as German equipment transshipped through Rotterdam.”
“You’ve done your homework.”
Sister Catherine was nodding sympathetically. “That is the way to survive, for people like the Kuoks. Become useful to a project that makes money for the powers that be.”
Willem nodded. “Pre-war, it was oil installations in Java. Now it’s the big mine in your homeland. The business has done well, but the political climate—well, I don’t have to tell you about that.”
Sister Catherine grimaced and nodded.
Willem continued, “Smart young people like Beatrix know that they have to get out before they get enmeshed in it.”
“Or worse,” Sister Catherine said. She was referring to the fact that people simply got murdered there, by Papuan freedom fighters, Indonesian secret police, or the latter pretending to be the former. “It speaks well of Beatrix that once she got out, and got a foothold in America, she’s chosen to do some work on behalf of the people back home.”
“I don’t know much about the nature of that work,” Willem admitted. “I know that the Papuans have been seeking independence for a long time. Which is complicated by the existence of the mine. By the wealth that it represents. Which is not something that the powers that be in Indonesia are in any hurry to relinquish.”
“Such things happen all the time in colonized countries that have resources, such as oil,” Idil said. “What makes Papua unusual is that it’s colonized by a country—Indonesia—that is itself a former colony. So your government—the former colonizer of Indonesia—has a special role that it could play.”
“Here’s where I issue the standard disclaimer that I work for the royal house—not the government,” Willem said.
“And yet one reason you were selected for that role was your family connection back to the colonial past,” Idil said. Calmly, without rancor.
“Fair enough,” Willem said. “Is there some way, Sister Catherine, that I might be of any assistance in the work that you and my cousin are pursuing?”
“We seek independence,” Sister Catherine said. “The Brazos RoDuSh mine has until now been a stumbling block. Like all mines, its fate is to become depleted over time. The less valuable it becomes, the lower the stumbling block. If what’s next is that the site becomes a geoengineering complex—why, that looks to us like an opportunity.”
Willem hadn’t seen that coming. “How so? I’d have thought the opposite would be true. As you said, if the mine peters out, Indonesia covets it less. Becomes more willing to let Papua out of its clutches. But I’d think that if the site gets a new lease on life, all the old problems stay with you.”
Sister Catherine was just looking at him. Not someone you’d want to play poker with. “It has to do with interests.
“Who benefits?” Willem translated.
“Nation-states—some of which might be quite far removed from my homeland—that would benefit from injection of stratospheric aerosols from a high mountain near the equator will weigh in on our behalf. Even if, until now, they would not have been able to find Papua on a map.”
