Gia Ferallo entered the small lecture theatre and found it already crowded. The Australian Defence Force chief, Air Marshal Ted Niven, had called her and her boss, the station director, to the meeting. Ferallo’s superior, however, was in the US, leaving her to carry the can. Ferallo didn’t mind. Responsibility – proving she was capable of handling the job – was good for the career. She took a seat beside the Director-General of ASIS, Graeme Griffin, as Peter Meyer, Director-General of ASIO, Australia’s internal intelligence organisation, walked in with Hugh Greenway, the defence minister. Obviously something serious had developed. Water cooler scuttlebutt said it had something to do with Kadar Al-Jahani. The gathering represented the top military and intelligence personnel in the country – enough brass in the room to cast a couple of cannons. The lights dimmed slightly as Captain Ali Mahisa came in and took a seat, followed by Felix Mortimer from the DIO. There weren’t a lot of pleasantries exchanged, on account of it wasn’t a particularly pleasant occasion.
‘Thank you all for coming.’ Niven stood in front of his seat and turned to face the gathering. ‘I believe you all know each other, with a couple of exceptions,’ he said with the slightest nod at Gia Ferallo. ‘This is Captain Ali Mahisa from Indonesian counter-terrorism. He has flown down from Jakarta at short notice to attend this meeting.’
Mahisa rose from his seat partially, then sat back down.
Ferallo smiled a hello at the Indonesian officer.
‘Also, the officer at the whiteboard is Colonel Hank Watson, NBC expert from the US Army Chemical Corps. He’ll be liaising with us for the foreseeable future.’
Ferallo was curious. Liaising? NBC – nuclear biological and chemical? She noticed the colonel for the first time off to the left, writing something on a whiteboard, his back to the room. From behind, he was not a particularly standout kind of character: short, pear-shaped, shiny bald head spattered with big brown sun freckles. The colonel stopped scribbling and turned to face the assembly. His face was lined and intelligent. He did not appear to be happy. Ferallo could see that the gathering was about to get some bad news. That, she would later recall, was the understatement of the year.
‘A couple of points to set what you’re about to hear in context,’ said Niven in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘As you all know, Kadar Al-Jahani was not killed in Ramallah, but was captured and taken to Guantanamo Bay for questioning. However, he died three days ago while being interrogated. Before he died, though, he cleared up a few questions for us, and left a few others unanswered. We now know, for example, that he and Babu Islam were indeed responsible for the US Embassy bombing.’ The former fighter pilot paused to look at his notes and took a deep breath before continuing.
Ferallo smiled faintly. The Australian had sugar-coated it. More accurately, Kadar had died under torture. But there was something else going on here…
‘There’s no way to soften this, so I’ll just out with it. Before he died, Kadar Al-Jahani revealed that Babu Islam also has in its possession around twenty litres of VX nerve gas, and the means to deliver it.’
Ferallo blinked in disbelief.
‘Jesus Christ,’ said someone. The effect of the air marshal’s statement was like a punch in the solar plexus.
‘Colonel?’ said Niven, motioning to the American officer to take over the briefing.
Watson underlined two very long words on the whiteboard, the squeaking of the felt-tipped pen making the flesh on Ferallo’s arms prickle. ‘S-2-(diisopropylamino)ethyl O-ethyl methylphosphonothioate,’ Watson began, ‘is otherwise known as VX gas. It’s not the most lethal substance known to man, but close enough not to quibble about it. VX is three hundred times more lethal than phosgene, the nerve agent most commonly used in World War I. It’s odourless, virtually colourless and, unlike some other agents, is an excellent adhesive. Once it lands on a surface, it’s almost impossible to remove.
‘The exposure limit for VX is one ten-thousandth of a milligram per cubic metre. Just getting it on your skin is bad enough. Ingest slightly less than you could fit on the head of a pin and, unless you get treatment immediately, you’re dead in a couple of minutes. VX works by binding itself to the enzyme responsible for transmitting signals to the nerves, blocking the signals. Basically, your whole system loses control, goes haywire.
‘The symptoms of VX exposure manifest themselves within minutes or hours, depending on the level of exposure. It’s not a nice way to leave the planet,’ he said, briefly smiling without humour. ‘The symptoms include visions, headaches, runny nose, pressure sensitive skin, nausea, vomiting, nightmares, muscle twitches, cramps, involuntary urination and defecation – all the good things – progressing to convulsions and, ultimately, respiratory failure.
‘Fortunately, there is an antidote of sorts: a mixture of atropine and diazepam, and another chemical called pralidoxime chloride – all of which are pretty nasty things in themselves. Decontamination wipes and powders are also available.’
‘Can I ask a question?’
‘Please, er, Ms…’
‘Gia Ferallo, CIA. Who invented this stuff?’
‘The Brits, Ms Ferallo, in 1953. Rumour has it they exchanged the technology with us, the United States, for thermonuclear secrets.’
‘Oh,’said Ferallo. She realised that her mouth was open, in shock. It had finally sunk in. They were being given this information for a reason, and it wasn’t to further their general knowledge. This was it, the scenario western governments all over the world had feared for a long time. Niven’s frightening words came back to her: terrorist organisation…twenty litres of VX nerve gas…the means to deliver it.
‘A while ago, Hollywood made a film starring VX called The Rock, with Nicolas Cage in the supporting role. You might like to get it out. A lot of the facts were wrong, but the movie got the point across about the toxicity of VX, and it’s quite entertaining,’ he said, smiling that brief smile of his before the frown returned.
‘Jesus, Spike. How reliable is the source for this?’ asked Greenway.
‘Very,’ said Niven, the muscles in his jaw bunching as he ground his molars.
‘Do we know where they got the VX from?’ Mortimer asked in a voice devoid of fear – ever the academic.
‘There are several likely sources. Exactly where is unknown. Possibly the missing Iraqi cache – a fraction of the stuff that supposedly didn’t exist. And that’s the most frightening option. It means that somewhere out there could be a thousand litres of this agent, and it opens up the feasibility of there being hidden stores of anthrax and botulism – and that it’s all accessible to terrorists. There’s also the possibility that it has come from some other source entirely – Iran’s the most likely suspect given the situation at the moment. But it could have come from Syria. Or from somewhere else in the region. While most countries don’t manufacture these weapons, many countries have small stocks of chemical and biological agents just for study purposes: Egypt, Saudi Arabia…We can’t just point the finger at Iraq. The reality is, we’ll probably never know.’
‘What about the delivery mechanism you mentioned? Would that give us an indication of the target?’ asked Meyer, who was still trying to get his head around the implications of this news.
‘Not really,’ said Niven. ‘If anything, it makes the possible scenarios worse.’ He touched a remote button and a screen filled with a picture of some kind of strangelooking aircraft. ‘They’ve got one of these. It’s a UAV, an acronym for “unmanned aerial vehicle”. A drone, basically. It’s one of ours, or rather, America’s.’
‘Great. And where the hell did they get one of those?’ asked Meyer, huffing irritably.
‘That we do know,’ said Niven. ‘Kadar told us it came from Israel. We’ve checked on that. One did go missing late last year. Shot down and not recovered. The Americans and Israelis believe it was purposely targeted for acquisition.’
‘Hang on,’ Ferallo said. ‘You mean the strike in this part of the world has been planned in the Middle East?’
‘My area is NBC, not intel,’ said Watson.
Ferallo frowned. Thanks.
‘Somehow, Kadar Al-Jahani managed to have it packaged and delivered to Babu Islam, somewhere in Indonesia,’ Niven said. ‘We have to assume the UAV is airworthy.’
‘And when it’s airworthy, what are the UAV’s capabilities?’ asked Meyer.
‘That would depend on what kind of damage it sustained when it crashed in Israel, and what sort of expertise is available to the terrorists to repair it. But, in standard trim, it can cruise for twelve hours at seventy-five miles per hour with a payload of around fifty kilos.’
‘With a tail wind, it could conceivably have a range in excess of a thousand miles,’ said Mortimer, quickly doing the sums.
‘Yes,’ Niven agreed.
‘Is the location of the terrorists’ base known?’ asked Mortimer.
‘No.’ Niven looked down at his notes, hoping that the answer might have miraculously appeared amongst them.
‘Beautiful,’ Meyer said, rolling his eyes. ‘Were the Americans perhaps a bit too heavy-handed with their interrogation of Al-Jahani?’
‘According to the report, Kadar Al-Jahani died from a pulmonary embolism,’ said Niven. ‘He developed a deep vein thrombosis that travelled to his lungs. Basically, he died from suffocation.’
‘Tremendous,’ Meyer said.
‘Look, Peter, getting pissed off is not going to help,’ said Niven. ‘What we need is your brain. For that matter, we need everyone’s brain here. The bottom line is, we’ve got to find BI’s base before they launch their drone.’
‘If they haven’t already done so,’ the ASIO boss muttered.
‘Which brings us to the next question: at what?’ Greenway asked, almost afraid to voice it. ‘What are they going to launch the thing at?’
‘We don’t know that either, but we have to think the worst,’ Niven said.
‘And that is?’
‘Darwin.’
There was a sudden intake of breath within the room.
‘Jesus,’ said Greenway, speaking for everyone.
‘How much Indonesian territory is within a radius of a thousand miles of Darwin?’ asked Meyer, thinking perhaps that they could work backwards from the target.
‘A lot,’ Mortimer said.
‘After the embassy bombing, the Indonesian army, in conjunction with the police, raided Babu Islam’s known encampment on Java,’ said Mahisa in clipped, heavily accented English, repeating the fact for those who weren’t aware of it. ‘But they had recently moved. Whether they were tipped off, or whether it was part of their plan to move after the bombing, we don’t know. We believe that they moved east – perhaps to Sumbawa or Flores, or maybe even West Papua. All are more remote and, of course, closer to Darwin than their Java base, and most certainly within the drone’s range.’
‘Well, that should narrow the search somewhat,’ Meyer said.
‘Yes, you would think so,’ said Mahisa, not picking up on Meyer’s sarcasm, ‘but these islands are rugged. It would take months to search them. And, of course, they might be somewhere else entirely.’
‘The captain is right,’ said Niven. ‘And we don’t know for sure that Darwin’s the target.’
‘Christ…so what do we do then?’ For the first time in his life, Peter Meyer felt at a loss, helpless.
Colonel Watson cut in. ‘While I believe it’s prudent not to sit on our hands, I also believe we have some time up our sleeve.’
‘Why is that, Colonel?’ Meyer asked.
‘The weather, sir,’ he said, putting the lid on his pen and setting it on the rail of the whiteboard. ‘VX has never been used to its full potential in war for a number of reasons, treaties banning its use notwithstanding. While it’s often called VX gas it is, in fact, a liquid at room temperature. It needs to be atomised so it can be spread over a maximum area. It’s carried on the wind, and if the wind changes, the droplets go with it. Basically, if you’re not real careful, you can end up killing your own people. At the moment, it’s cyclone season up there. If the terrorists know what they’re doing, and all indications are that they do, there’s no way they’ll launch their bird into those conditions. Even if they aren’t worried about the stuff blowing back on them, they will be careful to get their targeting – wherever it is – right. We do know they’ve only got one shot at it. Now, I’ve talked to a few of your meteorological people, and they say there’s perhaps another two to three weeks of cyclone activity before things calm down. I’d say we’ve got a window there.’
‘You a hundred percent sure about that, Colonel?’ asked Niven.
The man shrugged. ‘There are never absolute certainties in life, sir, but I can tell you – as much as I can be certain – that these terrorists won’t launch their weapon until the weather is clear. Unless, of course, they’re pushed.’
‘Thanks, Colonel. A little good news, maybe?’ Niven said.
The American managed to combine a shrug and a nod in the one movement.
‘What about Babu Islam – the group itself? Did Kadar Al-Jahani reveal anything new? Their aims, that sort of thing?’ Griffin asked.
‘According to the statements taken from him, their ultimate goal is the establishment of an Islamic super state in South East Asia. They are opposed to the Americans, the Australians – any and all infidels. Various Middle Eastern interests funded them initially. Now they are financing themselves through the sale of drugs in Australia. We’re talking millions.’
‘Then given their aim of creating this Islamic super state, Jakarta has to be considered a possible target too,’ said Griffin.
‘Yes,’ said Mortimer. ‘At last, something I agree with.’
‘Why Jakarta?’ Mahisa asked.
‘Your government is a secular one, Captain,’ Griffin said. ‘It’s also considered to be Java-centric, and there are quite a few ethnic, religious and tribal minorities within Indonesia that would cheer loudly if the Javanese city was taught a lesson. Particularly if the spin was that the lesson came from God.’
Mahisa stared blankly. The Australian intelligence man had a good point, and his family was in Jakarta – the possible epicentre for the weapon.
‘Do you honestly think they would kill their own people?’ asked Meyer, aghast.
‘The fact is, we don’t know enough about BI to make the call either way,’ Mortimer said. ‘God knows there are plenty of precedents for it. But we do know that they are fanatics and killers. Who knows what they’re ultimately capable of? I think we’d be irresponsible to ignore it as a target. Darwin, however…I don’t know. I’m not sold on that one.’
‘Care to enlighten us as to why not, Mr Mortimer?’ asked Meyer dryly.
‘At the risk of putting Darwin’s nose out of joint, in my view it’s not a worthy terrorist target. It has no significance politically. What sort of statement would Babu Islam make to the world if it struck Darwin? Other than, perhaps, that we should treat our indigenous population better?’
‘What, the deaths of thousands of people, white and black, wouldn’t count?’ asked Meyer, continuing the sarcasm theme.
‘Okay, Peter, I’ll give you that, but I think Jakarta would be the more likely target,’ said Mortimer, keeping the tone in his voice as neutral as possible.
‘Christ, we’re talking what, a population of…?’ Niven wasn’t exactly sure, but it had to be big.
‘Close enough to ten million people,’ said Griffin, writing the figure on a pad in front of him and seeing, as he wrote, the horrible consequences of being wrong. When the news was revealed to the people there, the panic in the crowded city would cause almost as much death and destruction as the arrival of the weapon itself.
‘Holy shit…’ said Meyer.
‘I hear what you’re saying about Darwin, Felix, but we can’t take the risk. We’ll have to evacuate the city,’ said Niven, the logistics of that within the time frame utterly daunting.
Mortimer nodded. If he was wrong, he wouldn’t want to be held responsible. And if he was right and Darwin wasn’t the target, well, that was the best outcome for Australia.
‘Spike, you realise you’re going to have to get the army in there,’ said Griffin. ‘There’ll be panic, riots.’
‘What army?’ he said, dropping his guard for a moment and sounding just a little despondent. Australia’s forces were committed elsewhere, a long way from home.
‘What about stockpiles of NBC protective suits. Are there any?’ Ferallo asked.
Niven sucked in his top lip and shook his head slowly. No, there weren’t.
‘Perhaps we can help with that,’ said Watson. ‘The US Army’s been pumping them out as a number one priority for several years, since 9/11. If we go through the right channels, we could get a heap brought down here pronto. The same goes for Indonesia.’
‘Darwin has a population of around ninety thousand people,’ said Mortimer. ‘And then there’s Jakarta’s millions. How many spare NBC suits do you think you’ve got lying around?’
‘Perhaps not that many, sir,’ the US Army colonel said quietly.
A picture flashed into Ferallo’s mind. It was the scene in the movie Titanic when the realisation comes that there are insufficient life rafts for the numbers of passengers as the ice-cold waters surge through the lower decks.
‘Felix, got anything you’d like to add, or ask?’ Niven said. The analyst was frowning at the pad on his knees.
‘Not really, no,’ he said, looking up and taking the pencil out of his mouth to answer. ‘But I’d like recordings from Kadar Al-Jahani’s interrogation sessions, if that’s possible. Is there anything that might give us even the slightest clue?’
‘No, not really. On several occasions he quoted a number sequence that was first thought to be code for latitude and longitude, but that theory didn’t hold up. Otherwise, nothing. He gave straight answers to straight questions, eventually. And as for recordings, it’s unlikely we’ll get them. But we have transcripts. I have them here for those of you who want them.’
‘That sequence could be interesting,’ said Griffin. Meyer nodded. Something in the analyst’s manner told Niven that Mortimer probably did have something to say, but not in present company.
‘We have two possible targets around fifteen hundred miles apart, and the drone has a range of anywhere between eight hundred and a thousand miles,’ said Niven. ‘If we can’t narrow the target we have no chance whatsoever of finding the terrorist camp. It could, theoretically, be anywhere in the Indonesian archipelago.’ To prove the point, he took a felt-tipped pen and drew a big circle around Jakarta and then Darwin. ‘This,’ he said, ‘is a thousand miles.’
‘Shit,’ said Meyer.
‘Captain Mahisa?’ Niven said.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Sumbawa and Flores are probably worth searching now. Even though Jakarta is a little outside the range of the drone if BI’s base is on either island, it’s only just outside the range and it’s not unfeasible that the terrorists could have modified the thing.’ He breathed heavily. ‘We could get lucky.’
‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Mahisa. ‘I can assure you the TNI will cooperate fully. Those islands are very large, and it would still take some time to cover them completely.’
‘Time we don’t have,’ Griffin said.
Niven stood. ‘Okay, people, we need leads. And fast. First and foremost, this battle will be won by brain power. On the surface of it, with Kadar Al-Jahani dead, the trail to BI’s camp would appear to have died with him. But somewhere out there is a scrap of information that will take us straight to Babu Islam’s launch site. There has to be. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.’
Ferallo nodded as if Niven had been speaking to her personally. The information they now had could inject new meaning and relevance into intelligence they already possessed. Before she realised it, the meeting was over and Ferallo was standing. She felt light headed, as if she had vertigo standing at the edge of a precipice. The fact that Australia wasn’t her homeland didn’t lessen her fear or anxiety.
‘Can I see you and Graeme for a minute, Spike?’ asked Mortimer as Ferallo, Meyer, Mahisa and the US Army colonel all bundled up their notes and walked briskly from the room, each taking a sealed folder marked ‘First Level Secret’ and containing Kadar Al-Jahani’s interrogation transcripts.
‘Sure,’ said the defence forces chief. Thought so.
‘What’s up, mate?’ said Griffin, changing chairs for one closer to the DIO man.
‘Do you mind if I eat? Didn’t go home this morning, missed breakfast and I’m starving bloody hungry.’
‘Me too,’ said Griffin. ‘Might join you.’
Mortimer opened a briefcase and took out a wrinkled brown paper bag with oil stains on it. He removed two slices of stale, buttered bread and sprinkled potato crisps on them, emptied a sachet of tomato sauce onto one slice of bread, and then brought the two slices together.
‘On second thoughts…’ said Griffin.
‘Don’t expect too much from the Americans,’ Mortimer said with a mouth full of chips, butter, tomato sauce and stale bread, ignoring the look of horror on Griffin’s face.
‘I must say, Felix, you’ve been full of good cheer today,’ said Griffin, raising an eyebrow at Niven. Mortimer was known to be a bit of an eccentric. He was forty-seven and apparently still lived with his mum, who, if his lunch was anything to go by, had no positive influence over his diet.
‘Why not?’ asked Niven, not wanting to waste time. ‘What’s on your mind?’
‘They’ve got the world’s biggest Muslim nation under threat at the same time as one of its staunchest allies – us. The United States won’t be going eenie, meanie, miney, mo, wondering which country they’ll pitch in to help. It’ll be Indonesia first, Australia a distant second.’
‘Bullshit,’ Niven barked. ‘We’ve just supported America in Afghanistan, Iraq and West Africa. There has to be some quid pro quo in the relationship.’
‘Don’t count on it,’ Mortimer said.
‘And why not?’ Niven folded his arms tightly across his chest.
‘I think I know where you’re going with this, Felix,’ Griffin said.
‘Well then, can you please let me in on it?’ said Niven.
‘Look, I don’t want to be right about this, Air Marshal, but…we’ve just had two wars within a relatively short period of time perceived by many in the Islamic world to have been religious wars – crusades,’ said Mortimer. ‘All the while, America has been trying to get the message across that it is not anti-Muslim. This little situation of ours will give the US a tailor-made opportunity to make that point. You said it yourself, sir. We’re America’s staunchest ally. If they’re seen to put Indonesia’s welfare above ours, what message will that send to the Islamic world?’
Niven didn’t have to think about it too long. Mortimer was right. Bloody politics.
‘We shouldn’t count on too many NBC suits finding their way here either. And any protection they offer us will be token. The carrier battle group that just happens to be in Port Darwin at the moment? It’ll be gone tomorrow, steaming full speed towards Jakarta.’
‘What do you think the Americans would do if we invoked our treaty with them – ANZUS?’ Griffin asked.
‘If they think their national interest lies in offering Indonesia assistance over us, they’ll invoke the Nixon Doctrine.’
Niven snorted: the Nixon Doctrine. Richard Nixon’s administration came up with it when the president was trying to extricate the troops from the war in South Vietnam, and began courting the People’s Republic of China. It was a slippery caveat the Americans could fall back on if a particular treaty didn’t suit its interests of the day. The US had a vast number of defence treaties with nations around the world. The spirit if not the words of these agreements was that America would come to the defence of its allies in time of peril. The Nixon Doctrine allowed the US to send weapons instead of soldiers. Given that an attack on a country was more likely to come from a power with superior numbers of forces the doctrine potentially made a mockery of those treaty obligations. No wonder they called the guy Tricky Dickie.
‘The Yanks will give us all kinds of excuses about why they can’t come to our aid, to save themselves face but mostly so as not to destabilise treaty relations they have with other nations. I believe they’ll pull out the battle group currently in our waters. They’ll say their aim is to stop the weapon closer to the launch site so that they can rush in and secure any remaining weapons of mass destruction – assuming there are some left over – before they can be used on other targets.’
Niven knew Mortimer was right. ‘Shit,’ he said quietly.