what Scorpia were planning, and even if everyone on Reef Island were killed in a freak wave, nobody would now think it was an accident. Alex assumed that the island would be evacuated anyway, just to be on the safe side.
There was no longer any need for Major Yu to press the button. If he was sensible, he’d already be looking for somewhere to hide.
There was a knock on the door. Alex straightened up as Ben Daniels entered. He was looking grim.
“They want you,” he said.
“Who?”
“The cavalry’s just arrived. They’re in the mess hall . . .”
Alex walked across the compound with Daniels, wondering what had gone wrong. But at least he was grateful he was still being included. MI6 had always treated him as a spy one minute, a schoolboy the next, dumping him out of the way whenever it suited them.
The mess hall was a low wooden building running the full length of the square. With Daniels right behind him, Alex opened the door and went in.
Most of the officers he had spoken to earlier that day were still there, poring over maps and sea charts that had been spread out over the dining tables. They had been joined by two men that Alex recognized at once. This was the cavalry that Ben had referred to. Ethan Brooke was sitting at a table, with Marc Damon standing just behind him. Presumably they had been flown up from Sydney.
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Garth—the guide dog—saw Alex come in and thumped his tail. At least someone was pleased to see him.
“Alex!” The blind man had become aware of his presence. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.” Alex wasn’t sure he was too happy to see the head of ASIS—Covert Action. Ethan Brooke had ma- nipulated him as cold-bloodedly as Alan Blunt would have in London. It seemed to him that all these people were of a type.
“I know what you’ve been through. I can’t believe the way things played out. But you did a fantastic job.”
“Major Yu knew about me all the time,” Alex said.
Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were true. The fight in Bangkok had been designed to cripple him. And on the
“Yes. We have a security leak, and it’s worse than we thought.” Brooke glanced in the direction of his deputy, who looked away, as if he didn’t want to make any comment.
“What’s happened to Ash?” Alex asked.
“We don’t know. We only know what you told us.” Brooke fell silent, and Alex could see he was preparing himself for what he had to say.
“So what are you going to do?” Alex asked.
“We have a problem, Alex,” Brooke explained. “Here’s the situation . . . I’ll give it to you straight. The first thing is, the Reef Island conference is still going ahead.”
“Why?” Alex was shocked.
“We told them they were in danger. Obviously, we couldn’t give them all the details, but we suggested they pack their bags and get out of there in the strongest-possible terms. They refused. They said that if they left, they’d look like cowards. Tomorrow’s their main press conference, and how’s it going to look if they’ve all skulked away overnight? We’re still arguing with them, but in a way, I suppose they’ve got a point. Scorpia wanted them out of the picture. If they simply disappeared, they’d be doing the job for them.” Alex took this in. It was bad news—but Reef Encounter was only part of the picture. After the tsunami hit the island, it would continue on its way toward Western Australia.
“Have you found Major Yu?” he asked.
“Yes.” Brooke smiled briefly. “He told you he was on an oil platform in the Timor Sea, and we’ve gone through all the records, including the latest satellite images.
There’s an oil rig licensed to the Chada Trading Agency in Bangkok. It’s a semi-submersible platform moored in four thousand feet of water a hundred miles north of Reef Island.”
“Right in the subduction zone,” Damon muttered. It
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was the first time he had spoken since Alex came into the room. “It’s called Dragon Nine.”
“So that’s it,” Alex said. It seemed obvious to him.
“You bomb it. Blow it out of the water. Kill Major Yu and everyone who works for him.”
“I’d love to do just that,” Brooke replied. “But first of all, Dragon Nine is just outside Australian waters. It’s in Indonesian territory. If I send a strike against it, I might accidentally start a war. It seems I can’t even send one man in a boat without written authority, and that could take days. Officially, we’re stuck . . .”
“Why can’t you ask the Indonesians for help?”
“They don’t trust us. By the time we’ve persuaded them we’re telling the truth, it’ll be too late.”
