the back seat of the black LandCruiser, mulling over his career as they sped for the military air base behind Bali International.
Freddi and his driver, Purni, were silent in front and were probably knackered too.
Mac felt like writing a memo to someone saying it wasn’t fair, that he’d already planned Operation Handmaiden and successfully executed the fi rst and most diffi cult stage: acquiring Ahmed al Akbar without signs of a struggle and exfi ltrating him covertly. That was the Australian end, a daring and dangerous snatch that had been carried out almost perfectly by Team 4 and ASIS. It wasn’t right that the Indons had lost the bloke and were now calling him back to fi nd him again. Mac would love to see how Maddo and his boys at Team 4 would react if they were copied in on this latest development. Mac was also annoyed with himself that he hadn’t followed up on the face he’d seen in the pantry when he was doing the snatch. It now looked as though the person had been Samir. And if Samir was working with Hassan, it would explain why Akbar had been sprung so fast.
Freddi turned in his seat. ‘Okay for food, McQueen? Water?’
Mac shrugged, petulant. Couldn’t help it.
‘If I was you, McQueen, I’d be annoyed too.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said Mac.
‘Yeah. I’d be thinking that I went out, caught that little bomber, now the army gone and lost him.’ Freddi shook his head, like it was the most serious thing in the world.
‘Freddi, I’m here so I’m already enlisted, okay?’ said Mac, annoyed.
‘You can stop with the charm offensive.’
Freddi turned back to the windscreen. ‘Breakfast at the base, then we’ll move. Gonna be a long day, okay?’
Mac rubbed his hands down the legs of his overalls, turning it into a stretch. ‘Sure, Freddi - let’s roll.’
They pulled in behind the commercial airport buildings six minutes later, drove down a cleared driveway lined with weeds, and slowed for the base police checkpoint. Purni snapped something at Freddi while looking in his side mirror and they stopped thirty metres short of the pillbox.
‘Your boyfriend’s here,’ said Freddi, leaning down to look at his own side mirror, his hand reaching for the black SIG Sauer on his right hip.
Ari walked along the passenger side of the LandCruiser, hands up, keeping a good distance from Freddi’s door. The Russian lifted his trop shirt to show a bare belly and no holster-bag. Smart guy, thought Mac. Been in South-East Asia long enough to learn some manners.
Freddi released his gun and smiled out of his open window. ‘Ari!
What can I do for you?’
‘I am needing to speak with McQueen, please,’ he said, pointing at Mac’s door.
Freddi turned to Mac. ‘Want to speak? Don’t have to.’
Mac lifted the door latch and joined Ari. They shook and the Russian moved further from the Cruiser.
‘You ever sleep, Ari?’ asked Mac.
‘Only when I am with woman,’ Ari chuckled. ‘Timing no good.’
‘Heard anything on Hassan?’
Ari did the Russian shrug, a less dramatic version than the Javanese but more dismissive. ‘I am leaving tonight, but I feel we must stay
- how you say it - in the touch.’
‘I told you, Ari, I’ve never been on Hassan - not my end.’
‘Yes, but still you were with Atomic Energy Agency when this Khan was stopped, yes?’ said Ari. ‘And the Indonesians are using you, so this is now Samir as well, yes?’
Mac gave him the look and raised his eyebrow.
‘Okay, okay,’ said Ari, knowing he was pushing the friendship too far. ‘But too many of the secrets when we are working for same thing?
Not so good, yes?’
‘Where are you headed, Ari?’
The Russian shrugged.
‘Come on, mate, too many secrets, yes ?’
Ari put his hands on his hips, looked over Mac’s shoulder, nodded slightly, and then looked back. ‘Okay. Sumatra.’
‘Not Java?’
‘No, McQueen. Sumatra.’
‘Where in Sumatra? It’s a big place.’
‘I can’t say this, you know
Freddi and his driver, Purni, were silent in front and were probably knackered too.
Mac felt like writing a memo to someone saying it wasn’t fair, that he’d already planned Operation Handmaiden and successfully executed the fi rst and most diffi cult stage: acquiring Ahmed al Akbar without signs of a struggle and exfi ltrating him covertly. That was the Australian end, a daring and dangerous snatch that had been carried out almost perfectly by Team 4 and ASIS. It wasn’t right that the Indons had lost the bloke and were now calling him back to fi nd him again. Mac would love to see how Maddo and his boys at Team 4 would react if they were copied in on this latest development. Mac was also annoyed with himself that he hadn’t followed up on the face he’d seen in the pantry when he was doing the snatch. It now looked as though the person had been Samir. And if Samir was working with Hassan, it would explain why Akbar had been sprung so fast.
Freddi turned in his seat. ‘Okay for food, McQueen? Water?’
Mac shrugged, petulant. Couldn’t help it.
‘If I was you, McQueen, I’d be annoyed too.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said Mac.
‘Yeah. I’d be thinking that I went out, caught that little bomber, now the army gone and lost him.’ Freddi shook his head, like it was the most serious thing in the world.
‘Freddi, I’m here so I’m already enlisted, okay?’ said Mac, annoyed.
‘You can stop with the charm offensive.’
Freddi turned back to the windscreen. ‘Breakfast at the base, then we’ll move. Gonna be a long day, okay?’
Mac rubbed his hands down the legs of his overalls, turning it into a stretch. ‘Sure, Freddi - let’s roll.’
They pulled in behind the commercial airport buildings six minutes later, drove down a cleared driveway lined with weeds, and slowed for the base police checkpoint. Purni snapped something at Freddi while looking in his side mirror and they stopped thirty metres short of the pillbox.
‘Your boyfriend’s here,’ said Freddi, leaning down to look at his own side mirror, his hand reaching for the black SIG Sauer on his right hip.
Ari walked along the passenger side of the LandCruiser, hands up, keeping a good distance from Freddi’s door. The Russian lifted his trop shirt to show a bare belly and no holster-bag. Smart guy, thought Mac. Been in South-East Asia long enough to learn some manners.
Freddi released his gun and smiled out of his open window. ‘Ari!
What can I do for you?’
‘I am needing to speak with McQueen, please,’ he said, pointing at Mac’s door.
Freddi turned to Mac. ‘Want to speak? Don’t have to.’
Mac lifted the door latch and joined Ari. They shook and the Russian moved further from the Cruiser.
‘You ever sleep, Ari?’ asked Mac.
‘Only when I am with woman,’ Ari chuckled. ‘Timing no good.’
‘Heard anything on Hassan?’
Ari did the Russian shrug, a less dramatic version than the Javanese but more dismissive. ‘I am leaving tonight, but I feel we must stay
- how you say it - in the touch.’
‘I told you, Ari, I’ve never been on Hassan - not my end.’
‘Yes, but still you were with Atomic Energy Agency when this Khan was stopped, yes?’ said Ari. ‘And the Indonesians are using you, so this is now Samir as well, yes?’
Mac gave him the look and raised his eyebrow.
‘Okay, okay,’ said Ari, knowing he was pushing the friendship too far. ‘But too many of the secrets when we are working for same thing?
Not so good, yes?’
‘Where are you headed, Ari?’
The Russian shrugged.
‘Come on, mate, too many secrets, yes ?’
Ari put his hands on his hips, looked over Mac’s shoulder, nodded slightly, and then looked back. ‘Okay. Sumatra.’
‘Not Java?’
‘No, McQueen. Sumatra.’
‘Where in Sumatra? It’s a big place.’
‘I can’t say this, you know
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