Rogue Element

Niven shook his head in dismay. Two passengers on QF-1 had survived a missile attack and a crash landing, only to be hunted down by trained killers. In all likelihood, they were probably now dead. He fought back a sneeze and just managed to get a tissue to his nose in time. ‘Anything turn up on this Cee Squared fellow, Griff?’

‘Not a lot,’ replied the ASIS chief, opening a folder on his Palm Pilot. ‘Twenty-seven years of age. A computer software engineer. A games expert. He’s well off. Not an active hacker. Lives alone in Paddington, Sydney. Father in Perth. Mother ran off when he was three. No brothers or sisters. The police are still investigating, but so far…’ Griffin shrugged.

‘Frankly, I think it’s time we pulled the bloody Indonesian government’s head out of its arse,’ said Blight.

Sharpe nodded. ‘But if we go charging up there with a lot of unsubstantiated accusations, we’ll get nowhere.’

‘We’ve got General Masri. He’s an ace in our hand,’ said Greenway.

‘Who’s absolutely no use to us unless he can talk.’ Niven shook his head. ‘But we also have the satellite intel, the photos, which is a hell of a lot more than anyone else seems to have at the moment.’

‘What about the survivors?’ asked Griffin.

‘It’s our job to protect them.’ Greenway was adamant.

Niven caught the Defence Minister’s eye and nodded. Damn right!

‘Even though they’ll be dead for sure by the time we get in there, if they aren’t already?’ countered Sharpe.

‘I don’t see how we can argue about it. There’s no choice now. We have to go in,’ said Niven, jaw set, the muscles in his face flexing.

‘And why’s that?’ Blight sat back in his chair, fingers interlocked under his chin, pondering the options.

‘For both emotional and strategic reasons, Bill,’ said Niven, the Flight 007/Sakhalin Island incident swimming in his head. ‘Because, as Hugh said, they’re probably Australian citizens and it’s our job to protect them. Because there’s a remote chance we might find out at the crash site what these bastards are so anxious to hide. Because if General Masri never comes round, he’ll be no use to us whatsoever. And because it’s just the right bloody thing to do.’

Blight nodded. Sound reasons.

‘The risks will be enormous,’ said Sharpe. ‘If you’re to get there in time to do any good, you’ll have to send troops now, with virtually no planning whatsoever. That’s a recipe for disaster. The political fallout will rebound and —’

‘But we also can’t afford to sit around on our arses and do nothing, Phil, so, quite frankly, fuck the political fallout.’ The Prime Minister’s tone had finality about it. Blight was tired of the indecision and the inaction. It was time to Do Something. It was not likely that they would get too much more information on this situation before things — whatever they might be — got worse.

‘We’ve already lost more than four hundred people. And that’s enough bodies for one day. So tell me, Spike, what do you need? Do we have the resources to do this?’

‘Bill, I won’t lie to you — it’s risky, and there are never any guarantees of success. Our Special Forces are amongst the best in the world. And, thanks to East Timor, Afghanistan, the War against Terror, they’re razor sharp. The insertion and extraction will be tricky. Despite all the tough talk in recent years, our military is still a defensive force and we’re not in the power projection business. We’ll need help.’

‘What kind of help?’ enquired the Prime Minister, who suspected Niven knew exactly what he wanted.

The ADF chief tried to breathe through his nose but couldn’t. He eyed the pack of paracetamols on the table in front of him and considered taking the lot.

US Embassy, Canberra, 0510 Zulu, Friday, 1 May

Blight again felt like a naughty schoolboy being interviewed by the headmaster. Herschel Zubinski always had that effect on him. That didn’t stop Blight from liking the man; it was the situation, coupled with the fact that the ambassador’s high, intelligent brow, deep voice and crinkled white hair made him look the part.

This was to be Zubinski’s last stop before retirement. The man had made millions on the US bond market in the mid-eighties before switching to politics. One stint in Congress where Zubinski’s integrity made things difficult for his own party was enough to convince the previous president that his own interests would be best served if Zubinski was kept far away from Washington. He had served as US envoy in France, the United Kingdom and now Australia. Zubinski liked his latest position but he missed the windy corridors of New York City. It was time to retire and spend some quality time with his grandchildren.