ring.
‘Hey Freddi – Mac.’
‘What up?’
‘What I wanted to know. How did yesterday pan out in your fi rm?’
‘Just hear back from Australian side – saying no to in-country cooperation on Hassan. So I cleaning up the untidy ends up here, yeah, but no pursuing into Australia.’
‘Any ends you can tell me about Fred? I’m still on this.’
‘Nothing to interest you. I showed you the latents, from Galaxy Hotel pad, yeah?’
‘Um, there was more than one?’
‘Yeah, there was other one, but it bad quality. Techs say only sixty per cent. I’ll send it if you want.’
Reading the apartment company’s fax number from the footer on the writing pad, Mac asked him to address it to Brandon Collier and spelled it for him. ‘Can you let me know when it’s coming, Freddi?’
‘I’ll do it now.’
‘Thanks, Fred. By the way,’ he said as an afterthought, ‘any updates on the plane they were using?’
‘Yeah, POLRI talk to local in Idi and they say white plane with two engine come in from Peninsula at daybreak.’
‘What size?’
‘Five or six circle window down side.’
‘Sounds like a King Air 200.’
‘Think you’re right, McQueen. The local say plane then went back same way twenty minute later.’
‘Back to Malaysia?’ asked Mac.
‘Sure.’
‘What did Malaysian intel or police have to say?’
‘Still waiting to hear. Asked them to check KL and Penang airports too. Especially freight interchanges.’
Mac tried to understand Freddi’s thinking. ‘Airports?’
‘Well it airplane, McQueen. And it got cargo. So it has to land sometime. And if it going onto a truck or into a van or into shipping container, then it go into the freight interchange.’
‘Confi dent?’
‘Yeah, the Malaysians are good. May take a day, but they should tell us something. They know it a device, so they motivated.’
Breathing out, Mac reached for his beer, looked out over the gentle waves hissing on the beach. Whenever Jenny got upset about some of the human-traffi cking intercepts she was trying to effect, it was always the myriad transport options that the traffi ckers and the slavers could use that drove her nuts. Mac had known her to work three days with a total of four hours’ sleep. It was maddening and he was getting a headache just thinking about how many different ways a device the size of a backpack could be brought into Australia, if Australia was even where it was coming.
‘Freddi,’ said Mac, watching a woman with a bathing cap try to bodysurf, ‘looking forward to that latent, and you’ve got my number now, mate, so please keep me in the loop?’
‘Always do, mite, always do.’
The air went quiet between them and Mac broke the awkwardness.
‘Mate, about what you said?’
‘Yeah?’
‘You’re right, it’s not for me to judge you. I’m sorry.’
‘Thanks, Mac,’ said Freddi, putting the harsh Javanese vowel sound into it.
‘Thanks, mate.’
Mac’s last call rang-out and he was about to hang up when a male voice picked up. ‘Yes?’
‘Ari! Fancy a quick polka, you old tart?’
‘McQueen – such nice surprise!’ said Ari.
They talked and Mac fi lled him in as much as he could. Over the past twenty-four hours Mac’s natural reluctance to spill to rival fi rms had ebbed away as his own mob indicated they didn’t want to know.
If the Israelis and Indons were the only ones interested, then Mac wasn’t going to cut them out just to boost his ego. Besides, he needed to stay close to them and that meant showing he had information they needed.
‘Ari, all those years ago I showed you those papers I rescued from the burning building, remember?’
‘Sure,’ said Ari.
‘Well I held one piece of paper back – it had some handwritten scrawls on it. Yesterday I realised the scrawl was shorthand for Mantiqi Four, which is -‘
‘The JI cell for Australia, yes, McQueen? This Fourth Brigade?’
‘That’s it, mate. We think they lifted the device yesterday morning from Idi in Sumatra and fl ew it into Malaysia. If you have any lines into -‘
‘We do, yes. Let me -‘ said Ari, and Mac heard him ask for a pen.
Mac told Ari all he could.
‘You got my number now, Ari, so please let me know what’s going on. I’m down here in Australia and if you hear anything, let me know so I can catch this end, huh?’
‘Sure, and you do same for us, yes?’
Mac agreed and they signed off. Mac fi nished the VB in one slug.
It was time to fi nd Davidson.
CHAPTER 50
Mac had a fairly strong picture of who could help him. He would be a retired spy – one of the many around Noosa – and he’d be a part of the broader fabric of the Noosa intelligence community. When spies retired they often found it hard to relax with civvies and inevitably they’d be drawn into the networks of old cops, diplomats, soldiers and spooks.
He found what he was looking for at a sidewalk cafe called the Sierra. The menu board looked okay and, stopping, Mac looked over it and cased his man: he was in his late-fi fties or early sixties, with calm but alert eyes and wearing clean leisure clothes. He was sitting along the side wall of the cafe, where his view of proceedings was panoramic while giving no one a view of himself. He had eyes that didn’t miss a thing and a face trained not to show it.
Taking the table next to his mark, Mac saw the man’s Business Review Weekly magazine dip slightly.
Ordering a Perrier and a seafood salad, Mac looked around casually and caught the bloke’s eye.
‘G’day, gee, you guys turned on the weather,’ said Mac, like a mug but with enough confi dence to get Mr ex-Spook interested.
‘Yes, it’s nice right about now,’ drawled the man through his nose, too Anglo for Jo’burg and not posh enough for Cape Town. Mac had him as Durban. ‘You’re up from Sydney?’
‘Brissie, actually,’ said Mac cheerily. ‘On a bit of a mission.’
‘Oh yes, um -‘
‘Alan. Alan McQueen.’
‘So what’s the mission?’
‘Well, actually, ah…’
‘Ted,’ said the South African, leaning across to shake.
‘I’m looking for a controller.’
Ted froze momentarily, his eyes sweeping the cafe and the street in an instinctive search for backup. Just as quickly, he regained his humour. ‘Well, PlayStation fan are we?’ said Ted, smiling.
They both laughed falsely, Ted sliding his hands slowly off the table. He looked like an auditor but with hands that could hurt.
‘I’m not armed, Ted,’ said Mac. ‘And I just told you my real name.’
Ted stared at him.
