Mark Abernethy - Double back

‘Here’s Tony,’ said the American, and Davidson came on the line.

‘You okay, Macca?’

‘Fine, mate,’ Mac lied.

‘Got back from Dili last night,’ said Davidson. ‘Made some progress.’

‘Speak with Moerpati?’ asked Mac.

‘Sure did – the guy’s like a rabbit in the headlights. Totally paranoid.’

‘What’s the story?’ asked Mac.

‘He and Rahmid were trying to get information on Operasi Boa, and getting nowhere. The President’s office is being undermined and the Habibie loyalists are worried that the generals are pushing Wiranto for a coup.’

‘Shit,’ said Mac.

‘The military wants a big display of power, and it looks like East Timor will be the unlucky recipient. There’s a lot of fear in Jakarta right now – just knowing about Boa can get you shot, which is why Rahmid was trying to connect with us. I guess it puts the disappearance of Blackbird and the Canadian into perspective.’

‘So, Tony, Jim was saying that Canberra and Washington want to be cleanskins on this, hence the new timetable.’

‘Sure, Macca.’

‘So what about my exfil?’ asked Mac. It had occurred to him that governments might not want their helicopters and reinforcements landing in foreign territory so close to a politically sensitive event like East Timor’s ballot.

‘Yeah, well – Jim hasn’t told you?’

‘No,’ snapped Mac, tired, hungry and sick of being dicked.

‘Well, Macca, there’s army infantry, Kopassus and Brimob flooding into Bobonaro right now and the military is massing undeclared forces just over the border.’

‘And?’ barked Mac, knowing what was coming.

‘So, the helo exfil is in the too-hard basket for now,’ said Davidson.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, so it’s a navy pick-up, okay?’

‘Navy?’

‘Yep – you got radio comms, you got the call signs?’

‘Yeah, Tony – got all that,’ said Mac, rubbing his temples with his fingers. ‘We’ll do what we can, but with any luck we’ll be travelling with a nineteen-year-old girl. Understand?’

‘I know, Macca,’ said Davidson. ‘And getting her out has never been more crucial.’

‘Shit, Tony – anything else? Perhaps a double-axel with pike?’

Davidson’s laugh boomed down the line. ‘Like my old cricket coach used to say when I was about to bowl my first over…’

‘What?’ asked Mac.

‘Don’t fuck it up.’

Sweat ran down Mac’s back like a river by the time they’d trekked two hours north of the OP through the overwhelming humidity of the tropical montane forest. When Robbo called for a smoko under a rocky overhang, they all drank deeply from their water bottles. Sitting in the shade, Mac noticed the rest of the troop avoiding eye contact and sitting away from him. Though he appreciated that soldiers entered their own zone on an op, he sensed trouble and knew that none of them wanted to be fed to a compound full of Kopassus.

Digging in his rucksack, he pulled out the Hershey bars Jim had packed.

‘Well, well, well,’ said Mac. ‘What ’ave we ’ere?’

Johnno dug Toolie in the ribs as Mac tore the bag open with his teeth. Next thing, they were all staring at Mac, and when he threw the whole bag to Johnno, the rest of the troop converged like hyenas. One of the first things you missed when you went bush in the army was sugar, and soldiers on operations always feasted on it when the opportunity arose.

Taking a bite from his bar, Robbo walked past Mac and gestured with his head. ‘Let’s talk.’

They found a place around the corner that looked down the savannah river valley they’d be tabbing along for the rest of the morning. Like many river valleys in Timor, you could plot the water course by the snaking stands of corypha palms contrasting with the brown grasslands. Putting his green rubber-covered field-glasses to his eyes, Robbo touched the buttons on the top of the glasses and fixed on a spot.

‘The boys don’t like it,’ said Robbo, not taking his eyes from the glasses. ‘A Kopassus depot, secured inside an infantry base? Going in hot, with only six troopers? Lads aren’t happy.’

He passed the binos to Mac. ‘That stand of palms and bush at the end of the valley, just to the left,’ he said, pointing.

Mac picked up the airfield with the field-glasses. It was smallish and didn’t look busy.

‘I’m not happy with the mission either, Robbo,’ said Mac, passing the field-glasses back and drinking his water. ‘I’m the one going in there, remember that.’

‘I remember,’ said Robbo, pocketing the chocolate wrapper. ‘But I should warn you, I’ve told the boys that if there’s no exit strategy, I’m not going to make them do it.’

‘Go in?’

‘At Maliana,’ nodded Robbo, munching on the chocolate.

‘They can still cover me?’ asked Mac, aware he was treading on dangerous ground.

A pause opened between them. ‘Watch it, mate,’ said Robbo, very slow.

‘This girl – she’s important, okay?’ said Mac, not liking the way Robbo was looking at him. In threatening to enter the Kopassus compound alone, Mac was getting close to calling the commandos chicken.

Pouring a small handful of water, Mac removed his cap and ran the cool liquid over his face and through his hair. It felt good and calmed him before dropping the bombshell.

‘Let’s do our recon and see how Maliana looks when we get there, okay?’ said Mac, his tone reasonable. ‘If we’re fast on the recon, we give ourselves more time for the snatch.’

‘Agreed,’ said Robbo, chewing.

‘And by then we might have worked out a good alternative exfil strategy -’

‘ Alternative? ’ said Robbo, no longer chewing. ‘Thought the exfil was helo? Right, McQueen?’

‘No helo. Sorry, mate,’ said Mac.

‘If there’s no helo then there’s no QRF element,’ said Robbo, referring to the Australian Quick Reaction Force – the cavalry poised to support an exfiltration should things get hairy.

Nodding ruefully, Mac kicked at a stone.

‘So it’s just us?!’ continued Robbo. ‘Six diggers and a spook? And we have to break into a Kopassus compound, snatch a girl and then escape across country to -’

‘Navy pick-up – it’s all they offered me.’

His expression furious, Robbo finished his chocolate bar, shaking his head. ‘Can’t wait for the next surprise,’ he snapped, before stomping back to his troop.

Mac had wanted to talk about another surprise, but the moment was gone.

The security fence around the airfield was a single layer without sensors on it. Standing in the lee of the southernmost hangar, out of the sight line of the guard posted at the gate, Mac watched Toolie strain at the wire-cutters while Beast pulled the cyclone fencing backwards to create a door.

‘Bastards in Townie switched my fucking cutters,’ snarled Toolie as another strand gave way. ‘Left me with the blunt ones – pricks!’

The radio crackled and Robbo sit-repped from his position on the ridge opposite the airfield gates, reporting two Indonesian soldiers leaving the two-storey admin and barracks block and walking across the main courtyard. Mac could tell he was worried but trying to remain calm.

‘They’re doing a perimeter check, boys,’ said Robbo. ‘Fix your handiwork and stand off – you’ve got thirty seconds.’

Straining his large forearms, Toolie swore softly as he puffed his cheeks and twisted the loose fence wires together with the reverse side of the wire-cutters. He was amazingly quick, and as Robbo fired another warning over the radio, Mac, Toolie and Beast made it into the bush line and blended with the shade.

Crouching behind a tree, catching his breath, Mac watched the soldiers do their rounds, relieved when they passed the patched-up fence without a second look.