‘Then the fi rst contact they make is to a US Army general who hasn’t even arrived yet, a move guaranteed to cause confusion and dissent in the Singaporeans.’
‘Uh, yeah.’
‘You know, Paul, those two blokes made everything so much harder for the Singaporeans by fi rst making this a terrorism issue, and then compounding things by making it HAZMAT. Think you’ll also fi nd that Interpol have probably listed VX as a weapon of mass destruction. These guys down at the MPA are opening their ring binders at pages they never thought they’d be opening.’
Paul nodded.
‘But the third complicating strategy would have been surprise.
That would have sealed it. They could have berthed, been picked up by helo, by speedboat, frogged out of there, whatever. And then triggered the bomb with a Nokia as they fl ew off to their suite in the Maldives. Voomph! One hundred and eighty VX bombs aerosoling fi ve hundred metres into the air. Take about two hours for that vapour to descend all over Singapore.’
‘Okay. So they didn’t do that.’
‘No. They’ve been sitting there.’
Paul took a moment. ‘What about the Moro demand?’
‘If you were Sabaya, would you go to Singapore?’
‘Nah, just raid the prison. He’s done it before.’
‘Precisely. So what’s he doing in Singers fucking round with namby-pamby political demands? He’s some Brigadi Rossi uni student all of a sudden? That sound like the Abu Sabaya we know and love?’
Paul nodded, agreeing. If Sabaya wanted someone out of prison, he’d do it Filipino-style: bribe some guards, kidnap the governor’s daughter, show up with some fi repower and walk out of the joint with whoever he wanted.
‘Secondly,’ said Mac, ‘have you ever heard of Sabaya making a demand that didn’t have a dollar sign at the front and a handful of zeroes hanging off the back?’
Paul laughed. ‘Oh mate. You’re good.’
‘Well?’
‘No, you’re right. You’re right.’
Mac put the rest of the protein bar in his mouth and looked across at Golden Serpent. The Singaporeans would have to negotiate with Sabaya and Garrison, but Mac and Paul weren’t under those constraints. They had to get aboard that ship.
CHAPTER 35
They swam fast to Brani Island, both happy for the daylight. Mac led, keeping to a depth of fi ve metres. Though hard on the lungs, the rebreather wasn’t as bad as Mac remembered. He focused completely on where he was trying to go to make the fear go away.
They frogged to the south side of Brani Island where they were expecting no surveillance. The cars were already fl ooding off Brani, and the Singapore Coast Guard were on the water.
They were naked, dry clothes sealed in their backpacks.
Mac brought them up beside the stern washboard of a moored mid-sized roll-on/roll-off ship. To their right was the large slipway for ships, and further on was the Coast Guard depot. No cops. No boats against the quay.
They went up a galvanised iron ladder onto the wharf. To their left was the western extreme of the Brani container terminal. None of the rubber tyre gantries were moving, there was no one to be seen.
They kicked off the Turtle Fins, looped them over their elbows.
Shook off the waterproofed backpacks and made for an area where forty-gallon drums had been stored against the side of a wide, squat security building with a central roller door entry.
Pulling off their nose clips and small swimming goggles they tore the velcroed rebreather bladders from their chests, breathing shallow in the morning sun, not talking. Each man pulled the double seal-lock bags from his backpack and retrieved dry clothes. They wiped themselves dry with a chamois, pulled on undies, put on hip rigs then ovies over the top. Put watches back on, turned them inside their wrists.
Mac checked the Mark I injector kit: a nerve agent antidote that neither of them had any faith in.
Paul pulled the radios out of a seal-lock. Booted up.
Mac pulled the Heckler out, pulled on his Hi-Tecs and did a quick recce, looking for eyes.
There were several buildings on Brani but the only movement seemed to be the cars of the employees trying to get off the island and onto the Gateway bridge. He couldn’t see to the north side of Brani so he couldn’t see Golden Serpent across the channel.
Coming back along the southern quay, he looked up at the ro-ro ship. It was white with blue and green piping, no evidence of a shipping line and no name. It seemed out of place amidst the behemoths on the other side of the island.
He froze as something caught his eye. Thought he saw movement on the upper decks, but couldn’t catch it again. Must have been a bird.
He kept moving, saw that the ship’s rear tail gate was down on the quay. But no people.
‘Place is deserted,’ said Mac, returning. ‘Can’t believe this is what they wanted.’
Paul nodded. ‘I see your point. It seems like a whole lot of trouble to go to and not push the button.’
Mac had talked Paul into the minimal approach if the bomb was detonated: jump into the water with rebreathers. It might not be foolproof, but VX was water-soluble and if they stayed in the water with their closed- circuit rebreathers they at least wouldn’t be breathing the stuff.
Paul got through to Weenie, nodded, signed off. ‘Development.
Our terrorist mates are broadcasting on maritime frequencies. They’re telling other captains what they’ve got and what they’re gonna do with it. They’re giving them an hour to get out of Dodge.’
‘I guess they’re still on the bridge, trying to create confusion, huh?’ said Mac, not entirely convinced.
‘Weenie reckons the message started going out about fi ve minutes ago.’
They looked at each other, puzzled. It was the weirdest terrorist incident they’d ever heard of.
Putting their dive gear into their webbing backpacks, they stowed them and readied themselves to speed- march a route north that would take them through the small forest in the middle of Brani and across the huge city of containers on Brani’s north shore.
As they set off, Mac thought he heard movement in the security building. Couldn’t be sure because at the same time the still air started vibrating as helos came into view. Two dark Singapore Army Apaches swept low over their position and headed north for the tip of Brani Island. Boeing’s AH-64D was one of the most heavily armed helicopters ever built and their mushroom pod above the main rotor gave them a sinister appearance. But with all their rockets and air-to-air missile capability, Mac knew they’d be pulling up well south of Golden Serpent. There wasn’t much that air power could achieve in the current situation. It would boil down to a couple of men getting onto the ship and doing what they had to do. It would be close-range and Mac was already nervous.
He got his mind focused on what was ahead. Tried to blot out the fear.
CHAPTER 36
Mac and Paul jogged down the forested knoll in the centre of Brani and into the vast boulevards of the terminal, where container stacks took the place of buildings. Mac had lost the thread on Golden Serpent , wanted to get a closer look before he decided what to do.
‘Mate, Port Master is letting them go,’ Paul panted, putting his hand up to his ear.
‘Who?’ said Mac.
‘Ships, mate. Weenie says the Port Master just cleared a bunch of ships to leave, they’ve been threatening
