HOLSWORTHY BARRACKS, AUSTRALIA
‘Hey, boss, there’s a visitor for you coming up the stairs just now.’
Lieutenant Colonel Mark Hoff, the Commanding Officer of the 2nd Commando Regiment, looked up from his desk. The young curly-haired adjutant had just run into his office and was now standing inside the doorway with a confused look on his face.
‘I’ve got no appointments this afternoon, mate.’ Mark glanced casually out the large tinted windows. The strong wind outside made the Australian flag and the 2nd Commando Regiment flag stand to attention. Looking out from his office on the second storey he could see out past the flagpoles, past the Commando Memorial Rock that seemed to shine after this morning’s winter shower, all the way down towards the guardroom.
‘Actually, I don’t think this guy needs an appointment, boss – it’s SOCAUST.’ No sooner had the words left Joel’s lips than the man himself appeared in the doorway. In his mid-forties, with thick salt-and-pepper hair and the exemplary level of fitness that often accompanies a severe case of short-man syndrome, the commander of the Australian Special Forces looked every inch the formidable leader he was.
‘G’day, Mark – bet you didn’t expect to see me today.’ The commander strolled into the office with his hand outstretched. The understated greeting was typical; the commander wore his authority lightly.
Mark leaped up from behind his desk. ‘Sir, I thought you were in Canberra today. I mean, I received an email from you not thirty minutes ago.’ Mark reached over to shake the commander’s hand.
‘Secure BlackBerry, Mark – how did we ever operate without them?’ The commander settled himself down on the leather sofa opposite Hoff’s stately mahogany desk.
‘Can I offer you a tea or coffee, sir?’
‘Nope, I’m fine, thanks.’
‘Something stronger perhaps, sir? It’s past five and therefore past the Queen’s time.’
‘No thanks, I’m not staying that long. Let’s just have a quick chat, shall we?’
‘Right. Okay then. Joel, can you close the door behind you, please, mate?’ Mark asked.
‘Certainly, sir.’ The adjutant left the room and stepped back into the open foyer. ‘What the fuck?’ he mouthed at Eric, the 2nd Commando Regiment RSM who had half stood up from his desk to get a better view. SOCAUST, the commander of all the Australian Special Forces units, never just arrived like this. The last time he had arrived without notice, the unit deployed to Timor the next day to hunt for Alfredo Reinado in the Timorese highlands.
Inside the office, the commander was characteristically blunt. ‘Let me get straight to the point, Mark: I have a job for you, a sensitive job, and I need you to leave tonight.’
‘I see, of course. Where to then?’ Mark was used to going away at short notice from his days as a troop commander in the SAS, but a lieutenant colonel just disappearing on a mission, especially a regimental commander? That was unusual.
‘I want you to go to Dubai and wait at Al Minhad air base. You will receive further instructions once you get there. Your point of contact is Major Paul Dewalt, an ADFIS investigator. Deployable light, Mark, but take your SORD Body Armour too; you may need it and that’s the best stuff on the market.’ The commander crossed one leg over the other. ‘Any questions?’
‘What about 2 Commando, boss?’ Mark was thinking aloud rather than looking for any real answers.
‘I’m sure the XO can handle it, mate. After all, that’s why we have a succession plan.’ The commander focused intently on Mark to ensure he was taking it all in. ‘Use the unit Visa card, Mark, not the travel company or defence travel card. I want to keep this on the down low. The Special Forces liaison officer has already been warned that you are coming. He will meet you at Dubai International and get you set up in the office at Al Minhad.’ With that the commander slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up. ‘Right then, I’m off to Kirribilli for dinner with the PM.’
‘Really, sir? Is that related to what I’ll be doing in the Middle East?’ Mark was fishing.
‘No, just dinner, Mark.’ The commander gave him a bland smile that revealed nothing. He placed his hand against the door and then turned around. ‘Oh, and Mark? A word of advice for while you’re away . . .’
‘What’s that, sir?’
‘Don’t ever forget where you came from. I find this whole SAS versus commando thing rather tiring – but you were an SAS troop commander, Mark.’
‘I know where I’ve come from, sir; neither organisation would let me forget it in a hurry.’
‘This task is sensitive, Mark, and you have a foot in each camp. Good luck with it and don’t let me down.’ With a last nod, the commander walked out the door and strode quickly through the commando headquarters to his staff car.
What in heaven’s name was going on? Mark wondered.
‘Joel!’ he yelled out.
The adjutant appeared in the doorway. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘Cancel all my meetings, mate.’
‘For how long, boss?’
‘I’m not really sure – make it indefinitely, I suppose. Oh, and Joel – call in the executive officer, give him a quick heads-up, mate; he’s in command.’