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‘You forgot blowing it out of the sky with missiles,’ added Griffin, interested in seeing where this would go. He knew Niven rarely went on wild goose chases.

‘I’ll get to that.’ Niven consulted his notes. ‘On May 2, 1988, a United Airlines Boeing 747 with 258 people on board landed safely at New Tokyo International Airport after three of its four engines failed. There were no deaths or injuries.’

Griffin nodded and tilted his head. Landing on just one engine! He had to admit that was impressive.

Niven continued reading aloud. ‘The 747 has four separate hydraulic systems. Knock three of them out and the plane will keep flying.’

‘And if you take all of them out?’

‘Yeah, it’ll crash, but get this.’ Niven wagged his finger, almost in triumph, and rifled through a sheaf of notes. Eventually he found the scrap of paper he was searching for. ‘August 12, 1985: a Japan Air Lines 747 suffered massive structural failure destroying all of its hydraulics systems. For more than thirty minutes, the pilots controlled the plane’s stability with engine power alone!’

‘Then what happened?’

‘Well, it eventually flew into a mountain killing 520 out of 524 passengers and crew — the worst single plane accident in history.’

‘Uh-huh. Do you mind if I ask a question?’ Griffin interjected.

‘Go right ahead.’

‘Where’s this leading?’

‘I’m not sure yet, but it scares the hell out of me.’

‘I’m listening,’ said Griffin, who now had his professional hat well and truly on.

‘From what I can discover, backed up by what the people at Boeing say, it takes a hell of a lot to knock down a 747. They just want to keep flying. So, conclusion one — there was a bomb on board QF-1. Conclusion two — the plane was shot down.’

Griffin scoffed. ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Spike, who would want to do that? Don’t you think that’s a bit of a massive leap into the unknown?’

‘Who do you think the prime suspect would be, Griff?’ said Niven, ignoring the questions.

‘Now let’s stop right there. What possible reason, what motive, would Indonesia have for doing that? Relations have been, well, a bit jumpy for a while, but… shooting down a 747? They’re not exactly the Soviets, you know. For that matter not even the Soviets are the Soviets any more.’

The Commander in Chief leaned back in his chair with a vaguely triumphant smile. ‘It’s interesting, and telling, don’t you think, that the Indonesians spring so quickly to your mind?’

Griffin was flustered. ‘Look, Spikey, we have a plane that’s gone missing for twenty-four hours. No doubt in my mind — or anyone else’s in this building, for that matter — it has crashed somewhere on the island of Sulawesi, in Indonesia. That explains why Indonesia is my natural context for speculation. I think the hypothesis you’re pushing is just a bit off the wall.’

‘I agree it’s a chilling thought, but the facts, what facts we have, do lead in a certain direction.’

‘Yeah, and my problem is, we don’t have any facts and therefore any direction, just a lot of unanswered questions,’ said Griffin.

‘Okay, but we also have history. A 747 is a very large object. It weighs over a quarter of a million kilos or half a million pounds. If it did blow up at 35 000 feet, how large an area do you think the wreckage would be scattered over?’

‘Very,’ Griffin was drawn in despite himself.

Niven sifted through his notes again. ‘On November 27, 1987, a South African Airways 747 crashed in the Indian Ocean near the island of Mauritius. Debris was scattered over 230 square kilometres! If that Qantas plane blew apart at altitude over Sulawesi, it would be raining aeroplane from one end of the island to the other. Indonesia would know about it.’

‘Hang on. Now you’re arguing that the plane wasn’t shot down?’

‘No, I’m arguing that the Indonesians are playing dumb.’

‘Okay, I see your point… I think,’ Griffin added, cautiously piecing together the logic. ‘You think QF-1 met with violence over Indonesia, because violence is the only thing that’ll stop a 747 short of a mid-air or a mountain.’

‘Correct.’

‘You think the plane didn’t blow up, but nevertheless eventually crashed.’

‘Correct.’

‘You also think that the Indonesians have found the wreckage already, but aren’t admitting to that for some sinister reason.’

‘Correct again.’

‘It’s the whole sinister bit I just can’t buy. Sorry, Spike.’

Niven began shuffling papers, obviously annoyed at his friend’s reluctance to see what he believed was readily apparent.

‘Look,’ said Griffin, ‘there’s another alternative, the one no one’s taking seriously, that the plane flew on crippled by some massive systems malfunction and has crashed well outside the search area, which is why they haven’t found it.’

‘The line the Indons are pushing.’

‘Is it really that ridiculous?’