wandering out alone.’
‘Gotcha,’ said Mac.
Johnno left as Mac readied to talk with Jim. The call was as simple as a cell-phone conversation in a major city. The sat phone supplied by DIA operated via the Pentagon’s own satellite network. No communication that travelled through the atmosphere was one hundred per cent secure, but the Pentagon’s satellites were what they called ‘five nines’ – that was, 99.999 per cent secure. Virtually impossible to hack.
‘In place?’ asked Jim, a small sucking sound telling Mac that the American was smoking with his morning coffee.
‘Yeah, sweet as,’ yawned Mac. ‘Could have done without the swim, though.’
‘You can catch my Learjet home.’
‘Tell ’em I like my beer cold and chicks hot.’
‘Can do,’ laughed Jim. ‘Got Tony here – he’d like a word later. But first, we’re both getting heat about soldiers and spooks in-country for the start of the referendum on Monday. Tony and I have tossed it around, and your DIO guys have been up here too – sorry to put the bite on you, McQueen, but we want the lot of you out of there before sunrise on Sunday, copy?’
‘Fuck’s sake, Jim!’ spat Mac, latent fear rising in him. ‘It’s fucking Friday morning! Jesus! ’
He knew if he didn’t calm down he’d get a visit from Johnno, so Mac deepened his breaths and attempted to quell the overreaction.
‘Sorry about that, McQueen,’ said Jim into the silence. ‘It’d be nice to do these things under perfect conditions, but there’s too much riding on this ballot. Washington and Canberra want to be cleanskins, you know, in case it turns to shit.’
Mac didn’t like doing anything to a politician’s timetable, but rushing something as dangerous as the Blackbird snatch was crazy. The way Jim was talking, they’d have to grab Blackbird by Saturday evening at the latest – regardless of the risk factors.
‘Here’s Tony,’ said the American, and Davidson came on the line.
‘You okay, Macca?’
‘Fine, mate,’ Mac lied.
‘Got back from Dili last night,’ said Davidson. ‘Made some progress.’
‘Speak with Moerpati?’ asked Mac.
‘Sure did – the guy’s like a rabbit in the headlights. Totally paranoid.’
‘What’s the story?’ asked Mac.
‘He and Rahmid were trying to get information on Operasi Boa, and getting nowhere. The President’s office is being undermined and the Habibie loyalists are worried that the generals are pushing Wiranto for a coup.’
‘Shit,’ said Mac.
‘The military wants a big display of power, and it looks like East Timor will be the unlucky recipient. There’s a lot of fear in Jakarta right now – just knowing about Boa can get you shot, which is why Rahmid was trying to connect with us. I guess it puts the disappearance of Blackbird and the Canadian into perspective.’
‘So, Tony, Jim was saying that Canberra and Washington want to be cleanskins on this, hence the new timetable.’
‘Sure, Macca.’
‘So what about my exfil?’ asked Mac. It had occurred to him that governments might not want their helicopters and reinforcements landing in foreign territory so close to a politically sensitive event like East Timor’s ballot.
‘Yeah, well – Jim hasn’t told you?’
‘No,’ snapped Mac, tired, hungry and sick of being dicked.
‘Well, Macca, there’s army infantry, Kopassus and Brimob flooding into Bobonaro right now and the military is massing undeclared forces just over the border.’
‘And?’ barked Mac, knowing what was coming.
‘So, the helo exfil is in the too-hard basket for now,’ said Davidson.
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, so it’s a navy pick-up, okay?’
‘Navy?’
‘Yep – you got radio comms, you got the call signs?’
‘Yeah, Tony – got all that,’ said Mac, rubbing his temples with his fingers. ‘We’ll do what we can, but with any luck we’ll be travelling with a nineteen-year-old girl. Understand?’
‘I know, Macca,’ said Davidson. ‘And getting her out has never been more crucial.’
‘Shit, Tony – anything else? Perhaps a double-axel with pike?’
Davidson’s laugh boomed down the line. ‘Like my old cricket coach used to say when I was about to bowl my first over…’
‘What?’ asked Mac.
‘Don’t fuck it up.’
CHAPTER 41
Sweat ran down Mac’s back like a river by the time they’d trekked two hours north of the OP through the overwhelming humidity of the tropical montane forest. When Robbo called for a smoko under a rocky overhang, they all drank deeply from their water bottles. Sitting in the shade, Mac noticed the rest of the troop avoiding eye contact and sitting away from him. Though he appreciated that soldiers entered their own zone on an op, he sensed trouble and knew that none of them wanted to be fed to a compound full of Kopassus.
Digging in his rucksack, he pulled out the Hershey bars Jim had packed.
‘Well, well, well,’ said Mac. ‘What ’ave we ’ere?’
Johnno dug Toolie in the ribs as Mac tore the bag open with his teeth. Next thing, they were all staring at Mac, and when he threw the whole bag to Johnno, the rest of the troop converged like hyenas. One of the first things you missed when you went bush in the army was sugar, and soldiers on operations always feasted on it when the opportunity arose.
Taking a bite from his bar, Robbo walked past Mac and gestured with his head. ‘Let’s talk.’
They found a place around the corner that looked down the savannah river valley they’d be tabbing along for the rest of the morning. Like many river valleys in Timor, you could plot the water course by the snaking stands of corypha palms contrasting with the brown grasslands. Putting his green rubber-covered field-glasses to his eyes, Robbo touched the buttons on the top of the glasses and fixed on a spot.
‘The boys don’t like it,’ said Robbo, not taking his eyes from the glasses. ‘A Kopassus depot, secured inside an infantry base? Going in hot, with only six troopers? Lads aren’t happy.’
He passed the binos to Mac. ‘That stand of palms and bush at the end of the valley, just to the left,’ he said, pointing.
Mac picked up the airfield with the field-glasses. It was smallish and didn’t look busy.
‘I’m not happy with the mission either, Robbo,’ said Mac, passing the field-glasses back and drinking his water. ‘I’m the one going in there, remember that.’
‘I remember,’ said Robbo, pocketing the chocolate wrapper. ‘But I should warn you, I’ve told the boys that if there’s no exit strategy, I’m not going to make them do it.’
‘Go in?’
‘At Maliana,’ nodded Robbo, munching on the chocolate.
‘They can still cover me?’ asked Mac, aware he was treading on dangerous ground.
A pause opened between them. ‘Watch it, mate,’ said Robbo, very slow.
‘This girl – she’s important, okay?’ said Mac, not liking the way Robbo was looking at him. In threatening to enter the Kopassus compound alone, Mac was getting close to calling the commandos chicken.
Pouring a small handful of water, Mac removed his cap and ran the cool liquid over his face and through his hair. It felt good and calmed him before dropping the bombshell.
