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‘Bullshit! What can it hurt, Charles — Chuck — if that’s your real name?’ Wilkes knew he was right. The captain, if he was a captain, was more than likely some kind of agency spook. But whose? ‘Look,’ he said, holding his temper in check, ‘there are more than four hundred dead people back there. I’ve lost two men. I want to know why they had to die. I’ve got a feeling you have the answer to that. So tell me! What the hell’s going on here?’ It wasn’t often that Wilkes got angry, but he was working himself up to it.

What would it hurt? thought the captain. There wasn’t much he could or would divulge about the NSA, but there was nothing really preventing him from giving up his cover. And the sergeant had a point. He’d certainly earned the right to know more than he did. ‘Look, Sarge, there ain’t nothin’ sinister goin’ on here. The name really is Charles McBride. Once upon a time I was a Marine looey working in special ops. Now I’m National Security Agency.’

‘Well thank you, Chuck. Nice to meet the real you,’ said Wilkes sarcastically. ‘What’s the NSA’s interest in this shite?’

‘We unravelled this puzzle — one of our guys back in Maryland. I’m out of Canberra, keeping an eye on things for SIGINT, Stateside. We don’t usually get involved at this level, on the ground so to speak but, well, call it a reward for being on the ball. Fact is, all this caught everyone napping. The US has been building up its intel infrastructure throughout Asia over the last couple of years — since all those religious crackpots came out of the woodwork — but it seems we’ve still got a few gaping holes to fill. And a few lessons to learn. We should be able to put a country like Indonesia under the microscope and prevent this kind of thing from happening, but obviously we can’t. Yet.’ The captain shrugged.

‘A stable Indonesia is important not just to the region, but to the world. A Muslim nation that’s actually friendly to the West? No one wants that boat rocked. Now, if the wrong regime gets in power…’ he raised his eyes to the ceiling, ‘it could do a hell of a lot of damage throughout the rest of Asia, and the Muslim world. And that interests the hell out of us.’

Wilkes looked McBride over. He wasn’t sure what answer he was expecting, but at least his hunch was proved right.

‘He can tell you more than I can,’ said the captain, nodding at Joe.

‘I need to use that radio.’ Wilkes looked around: it was Suryei. He saw the determination on her face, the grit that had kept the woman alive and out of the rifle sights of the Indonesian soldiers.

‘I’m sorry, Miss, but there are no radio broadcasts, and especially not until we’re clear of Indonesian airspace,’ said McBride, weighing in.

‘No, I’m sorry but you don’t understand.’

‘Suryei, I know I said you could use the radio, but I have no clearance for that use.’ Wilkes’s tone suggested that argument was pointless. ‘There are obviously security issues involved here that go way beyond my mission parameters.’

Suryei’s temper flared. Jesus Christ! She hadn’t survived the last three days to be patted on the head and told to run along. But then she thought that maybe these guys had their reasons for doing things. They did this stuff for a living. She calmed herself down and thought things through. Suryei wasn’t sure about the American. But the Australian sergeant? She liked him. And she trusted him. Hadn’t he just risked his life for her? Suryei wanted to pass on her knowledge, unburden herself, make someone else responsible. What she knew was too much for one person to keep secret. And who, exactly, was she going to call anyway? She didn’t know anyone in power, except maybe her former editor. Jesus! She kicked herself. Of course, the paper!

‘There’s nothing stopping you from telling us,’ Wilkes said.

Fair enough, thought Suryei. She could tell the man who’d saved her life. She owed him that much at the very least. Images from the past three days swam before her eyes. ‘The plane crash. Surviving it was just luck. Then the Indonesian soldiers arrived. I thought they were there to rescue us. I told you — they shot an old couple in cold blood, survivors like Joe and me. I ran… Joe…’ It wasn’t coming out quite as controlled as Suryei had hoped. She took a deep breath and steadied herself.

‘Joe and I, we found one of the engines from the plane in the jungle. We saw remains of a missile inside it — an Indonesian missile. Joe freaked. It suddenly all made sense to him.’

‘What made sense to him?’ asked Wilkes.

‘Why the plane was shot down, the Indonesian soldiers hunting us. When Joe was back on the plane, he’d hacked into the Indonesian army’s computer and found something they obviously wanted to keep to themselves. Somehow, the Indonesians traced the call back to the Qantas plane.’

McBride didn’t know where to look. This conversation was getting dangerously close to US national security issues. He’d been briefed on COMPSTOMP. Its continued secrecy was imperative.

‘What did he find?’ Wilkes asked.