‘The best source we found was this fifteen dollar tourist guide.’ Niven held up a thin, greeting card-sized publication. ‘Get this. It says here, “Look at the maps and our texts on the island’s central regions: you’ll notice there is very little information available for most of the mountainous areas. If you travel to any of these parts, let us know if you survive and what you found.” Great, huh?’ he said, flipping the booklet into the bin.
‘Yeah, I know. I’ve come up with pretty much the same from my people. But I do have something that’ll interest you,’ said Griffin. ‘We have an asset on Sulawesi.’
‘You’re joking,’ said Niven, suddenly focused.
‘No, seriously. At a place called Maros, around twenty-five klicks north of Makassar. Near Hasanuddin AFB.’
Niven leaned forward. He sensed that Griffin had some news. ‘C’mon, mate, you do drag things on. Spit it out.’
‘We got something from our asset this morning. Apparently, a couple of Super Pumas loaded with Special Forces — Kopassus — took off heading north. The helos came back three hours later. Empty. It’s all in the folder.’ Griffin nodded at the sheaf he’d put on Niven’s table.
The information didn’t appear to be ground-breaking, but it could be the key to something major. ‘What’s the significance?’ asked Niven.
‘Apparently they were in a big hurry to go somewhere,’ said Griffin.
‘Do you think our Indonesian friends are keeping something from us?’
‘No, but the asset there thought the behaviour unusual. The NSA also thinks there could be some significance in it. The question is, what?’
‘So we are getting some cooperation from the Americans at last?’
‘Spike, they’ve never been uncooperative. We’re getting lots of NSA stuff. They just can’t give us satellites. There’s nothing sinister in it.’
‘Hmm,’ said Niven, thinking. ‘Well, at least we’ve got someone up there on the ground. Can we get the asset more involved if we need to?’
‘She’s trained as an observer only, but she’s good — thorough.’
‘Got any ideas?’ asked Niven.
‘Not at the moment. What about the Kopassus? What do you think?’
‘Not much to go on, is it? Special Forces guys move around on training exercises every second week, just to keep sharp. As you said, could be significant, or not,’ Niven said, spinning a pencil around his thumb habitually, looking uncharacteristically lost. ‘I can’t believe we’re still in the dark, Griff. Bloody frustrating.’ He let the pencil fall to the desk with a clatter and wrung his hands. ‘I’m going to hang around here tonight and see what turns up. Just as a matter of interest, did you know there are three hundred and forty-seven individual sites on the Net dedicated to aircraft crashes?’
The intelligence chief said no, he didn’t know that. He stood to go. ‘Okay, Spikey, if you need me you know where to reach me. And get some sleep yourself, or you’ll be no use to anyone.’
‘Sure,’ said Niven, turning on his computer.
Yeah, sure, thought Griffin.
Central Sulawesi, 2200 Zulu, Wednesday, 29 April
Joe was free-falling. Worse, he was being dragged down, accelerating backwards, arms and feet flailing as he fell. He was breathing hard, the oxygen being sucked from his lungs. The air pressure pushed into his back so that he felt squeezed by the forces above and the forces below — pressed meat in a sandwich. He opened his eyes with a start. The ghost light of pre-dawn had replaced the dark. They had overslept. And there was something else. Silence. That troubling, localised, eerie void he’d experienced in the tunnel. Suryei was also frozen beside him, except for her eyes. They were making a comical sideways motion. Again and again. He followed Suryei’s exaggerated eye movements and then he saw it too. The peril of their immediate situation became clear. His heart stopped. Treading softly just on the other side of the bush was a soldier.
They were painfully cramped already, so Joe and Suryei didn’t need to freeze. They followed the man with their eyes. He wasn’t looking in their direction, but away from them. They had no idea whether he was alone, leading other soldiers, or bringing up the rear. By oversleeping, they had totally lost their position in relation to their pursuers. When they were in the tunnel, they knew not only that the soldiers were behind them, but also how much of a head start they had. Now, they had lost that perspective. The stress and strain of the crash and their subsequent flight had sapped their bodies of all reserves of strength. They’d only meant to sleep for an hour each, but the second they’d closed their eyes they fell not so much asleep as unconscious, their metabolisms working overtime to repair the mental and physical damage sustained.