Snakehead

minutes were going to be vital. If he was captured by the port authorities, there was always a chance that he might be handed back to Major Yu. Or if he was locked up, Yu would know where to find him. Either way, Alex knew what the result would be. He would end up dead. He had to stay out of sight until he had reached the mainland itself. So long as he was on the East Arm Wharf, he would never be safe.

But once again luck was on his side. As he came around the corner of the last container tower, a pickup truck drew up in front of him, the back filled with old cartons and empty gas cans. The driver rolled down the window and yelled something at another dockworker.

The man replied and the two of them laughed. By the time the truck rumbled forward again, Alex was in the back, lying on his stomach, concealed among the cartons.

The truck followed a railroad line, curving around on the edge of the water, and stopped at a barrier, as Alex had expected. But the security guards knew the driver and waved him through. The truck picked up speed. Alex lay there, feeling the warm Australian breeze on his shoulders as they drove away.

He had done it! He had achieved everything that Ethan Brooke and ASIS had demanded. He had been smuggled 258

S N A K E H E A D

illegally into Australia, and on the way he had uncovered much of Major Yu’s network: the Chada Trading Agency in Bangkok, Unwin Toys, the Liberian Star. For that matter, he had also located Royal Blue for Mrs. Jones. If he could just get to Darwin in one piece and find Ash, his mission would be over and he could finally go home. All he had to do was find a phone.

Twenty minutes later, the truck stopped. The engine cut out and Alex heard the driver door open and shut again. Cautiously, he looked out. The port was out of sight. They had parked outside a cafe, a brightly colored wooden shack on an empty road. It was called Jake’s, and it had a hand-painted sign reading: The Best Pies in Darwin. Alex was desperate for food. He had barely eaten anything for two days. But it was what he saw next to the cafe that mattered more to him right now. It was a public telephone.

He waited until the driver had disappeared into the building, then climbed out and ran over to the phone.

Apart from the last coin that Smithers had given him, he had no money, but according to Ash, he wouldn’t need any to make the call. Now, what was the number he had been given? For a horrible moment, the separate digits danced in his head, refusing to come together. He forced himself to concentrate. 795 . . . No, 759 . . . Somehow the full number took shape. He punched it in and waited.

He’d gotten it right. Somehow the numbers were able to override the system, and Alex heard the connection H i d e - a n d - S e e k

259

being made. The phone rang three times before it was answered.

“Yes?”

Alex felt a wave of relief. It was Ash’s voice. “Ash . . .

it’s me. Alex.”

“Alex . . . thank God! Where are you?”

“I’m in Darwin, I think. Or somewhere near it.

There’s a cafe called Jake’s. About fifteen minutes from the port.”

“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

“Are you here too? How did you get here?” A pause, then Ash replied, “I’ll tell you when I see you.

Just watch out for yourself.” There was another silence.

Alex listened for background noise, anything that might tell him where Ash was. But there was nothing. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can,” Ash said, and hung up.

Alex knew that something was wrong. It had definitely been Ash on the phone but he hadn’t sounded like himself. His voice had been strained, and there had been something in that last pause. It was almost as if he had been waiting to be told what to say.

Alex made a decision. He had contacted Ash first as he had promised. But that might not be enough. He turned his wrist and looked at the watch that Smithers had given him, then deliberately moved the hands to eleven o’clock.

According to Smithers, the watch would send out a signal every ten minutes. Ash might not be happy about it, but Alex didn’t care. He wasn’t going to take any more 260

S N A K E H E A D

chances. He just wanted to know that MI6 were on their way.

After that, he waited for Ash to arrive. Alex couldn’t think what else to do. He was exhausted after three nights with almost no sleep and weak from lack of food. He crept around the side of the cafe and sat in the shade, keeping himself out of sight. It was likely that Major Yu’s men were still looking for him, and apart from the knife concealed in his belt, he had no way of defending himself.

He had left the gun behind on the bridge. He wished he had it with him now.

Ten minutes later, the door of the cafe opened and the driver who had brought him here came out carrying a brown paper bag. He got into the pickup truck and drove off again, leaving a plume of dust behind him.

More time passed. There were flies buzzing around Alex’s face, but he ignored them. The cafe seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by scrubland and on the edge of a road with little traffic. Alex had to struggle not to doze off. But then he saw a car heading toward him, a black four-wheel drive with tinted windows. It pulled in outside the cafe. Ash got out.

But he wasn’t alone. He hadn’t been driving. His hands were chained in front of him. His black hair was in disarray, and his shirt was torn. A streak of blood ran down the side of his face. He hadn’t seen Alex yet. He looked