Salil Tripathi, Jakarta – When it comes to cronyism, few can match Indonesia's first family. The six children of President Suharto seem to have a finger in every corporate pie, thanks to the myriad contracts, equity stakes and exclusive licences handed them over the years.

But as the Suharto era enters its twilight, many – not least the children themselves – are wondering what will happen to their gravy trains once father finally departs. They recently got a hint: Rumours that the 76-year-old president was ill or dead sent the Jakarta stock exchange's main index plunging 20% in mid-December. Significantly, two companies owned by Suharto children fared even worse: Toll-road operator Citra Marga Nusaphala Persada plunged 39%; infrastructure company Bimantara Citra 54%. The main index later recovered most of its lost ground, but the two Suharto-family shares stayed put.

This does not bode well for the gravy train. Suharto, unchallenged for 30 years but increasingly feeble, has no clear successor. Most Jakarta brokerages are uncomfortable with Suharto-related companies, believing they will suffer more than others when the president leaves the scene. Few first-family businesses are listed; most thrive largely on government contracts that a future president could easily revoke. What's more, without their father the children would lose much of the power by which they force themselves into various companies. Where they have only meagre investments in ventures already past the approvals stage, they could be easy prey.

"The toll roads are already built, the maintenance costs are low, and such projects would be extremely attractive to foreign investors," says a research director with a foreign securities house in Jakarta. "Replacing the Suharto children won't be difficult."

For the moment, however, it's business as usual at Suharto Inc. First-family companies have resisted the strictures of a financial crisis that has forced Indonesia into the arms of the International Monetary Fund and brought many firms close to default on foreign debt. The IMF wants Indonesia to scale back big infrastructure projects. Slashing capital imports would help narrow the trade deficit and take pressure off the rupiah, which has plunged more than 50% against the U.S. dollar since the crisis began in mid-August.

But austerity doesn't always suit Suharto business interests. On December 26, for instance, state-run electricity company Perusahaan Listrik Negara, or PLN, signed a 20-year deal to buy power from Consolidated Electric Power Asia, a subsidiary of Hong Kong's Hopewell group. The agreement covers the $1.8 billion Tanjung Jati C power station backed by Suharto's eldest daughter Siti Hardijanti Rukmana (or "Tutut"). Middle daughter Siti Hedijanti Herijadi ("Titiek"), meanwhile, got her own power project, Tanjung Jati A, removed from a list of projects earmarked for postponement.

The two units are going ahead despite World Bank reservations that they will leave Indonesia with more power than it needs or can afford. (Indonesia pays for the electricity in dollars.) Hopewell Chairman Gordon Wu says he has secured financing, but more debt is the last thing Indonesia needs right now.

Other Suharto children are equally willing to defy inconvenient policy. A month ago, the Finance Ministry enraged second son Bambang Trihatmodjo by closing Bank Andromeda, in which he had a 25% stake. The ministry said Bank Andromeda, like 15 other banks, was undercapitalized and overburdened by bad loans. Bambang first threatened to sue the ministry, then settled for reincarnating the lender as Bank Alfa. "Everything at the bank is the same except for stationery," says a Jakarta-based broker. As a former member of parliament laments: "This is so embarrassing, and there is no one surrounding the president who can tell that to Suharto."

Yet the Suharto children's free ride may be slowing, partly because of the financial crisis, partly because long-simmering resentments are starting to surface. Jakarta-based businessmen say that while having the Suhartos aboard can guarantee smooth sailing through Indonesia's bureaucracy, their role is often minimal. Says a consultant: "All they invest is their namecard."

A namecard may no longer be enough. The financial crisis is already making it easier for bureaucrats, business partners, credit-rating agencies and analysts to rebuff Suharto-family interests. Under the terms of its $33 billion IMF bailout, Indonesia must open public-works projects to competitive bidding, depriving the Suhartos of their inside track. In another sign of the times, a local credit-rating agency has downgraded Sempati Air, a private carrier run by youngest son Hutomo Mandala Putra ("Tommy").

Local opinion-makers are also speaking out. Economist and opposition figure Kwik Kian Gee has publicly criticized the existence of BPPC, a clove-trading monopoly started by son Tommy. Even some state-run companies are fed up, and saying so. National oil company Pertamina disclosed in November that Tommy's Sempati Air owes it $3.5 million. (Sempati officials declined to be interviewed.)

Some bureaucrats too have become bolder. Djiteng Marsudi, president-director of PLN, the power utility, complained to parliament in December of constant intervention by "outsiders" – an apparent euphemism for the first family – who are forcing more power projects on the country than it can handle.

Quietly, Jakarta's technocrats have put some Suharto-affiliated toll-road projects in Java on hold, and they have scrapped an ambitious plan by daughter Titiek to build a bridge between Sumatra and Malaysia. State banks are also in revolt. Most have signed on for Tommy's $690 million national-car loan, but are dragging their feet about coughing up cash. Likewise with Tutut's unfinished triple-deck road and monorail project in Jakarta. The banks' reluctance is partly because there's little money to lend.

The Suharto children may be getting the message. Analysts say some of them realize that they need to consolidate and professionalize their businesses. Bambang's Bimantara group has progressed furthest, say analysts, who rate the group's Satelindo mobile-phone operator highly.

Still, when Suharto finally goes will the knives come out for his pampered children? At least one economist says Suharto's fear of a Korea-type reprisal is what keeps him from relinquishing power. Others say revenge is not part of the Indonesian character (although the bloody purge of suspected communists that brought Suharto to power gives pause for thought). The children themselves seem to be counting on the views of people like political scientist Dewi Fortuna Anwar, who says: "We need reforms, not revenge."

Even when their father is gone, the Suharto children won't be entirely without leverage. They have formed an intricate web of business alliances with virtually every major player in Indonesia – chiefly the Salim, Barito, Napan and Mulia groups. Bambang and Tommy have business ties with the armed forces, for which one of daughter Tutut's ventures procures equipment. And the president's half-brother Probosutedjo, a critic of "Chinese dominance" in Indonesia's economy, has nonetheless formed alliances with Chinese businesses.

For all that, their best protection may be the very culture of corporate Indonesia. Says a Western research director: "This is such a corrupt country that no pot can call the other kettle black."