by John Ling
Kendra clenched her jaw and inhaled. ‘Well, apparently not. The situation was mishandled.’
‘So it would seem.’ Hatami fixed his gaze on Kendra. ‘Khanoom-yeh Shaw, is it true that you have a personal stake in this matter?’
‘I do, Agha-yeh Hatami. I was there to witness the bombing on Queen Street. And Ryan Hosseini is an old friend of mine. Well, more than an old friend.’
‘I see.’
‘Will you help us?’
Hatami paused. He took another sip of his tea, then he slowly set the cup down. ‘I am not a man of violence. I am a man of reason. As I have said, I have always believed that dialogue and mutual understanding offers the best hope for the future.’ Hatami shook his head and sighed. ‘But what can one do when faced with unreasoning violence?’ Hatami paused again, his eyes narrowing. He cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I shall help you. All I ask in return is that once you acquire Onyx, you neutralise him without hesitation. There is no benefit to keeping such a mad dog alive. His actions have proven harmful to the relations between our two nations.’
Kendra leaned forward. ‘Rest assured, once I have him in my gunsights, I will put him down. No question about it.’
Hatami gave a small nod. ‘Very well. I shall provide you with a contact. The rest will be up to you. Inshallah.’
Jim gave a thin smile. ‘Inshallah. Thank you.’
33
Kumeu was an agricultural district marked by creeks and valleys and vineyards. It was evening now, and the sun was beginning to dip, blanketing the rolling countryside with a golden hue. The air smelled of fruity sweetness and pungent manure.
Kendra was lying on the rooftop of a barn.
In her hands, she cradled an Arctic Warfare rifle. It was loaded with ammunition specially chosen for the occasion – glass-capsuled rounds insulated with a sabot and filled with a radioactive isotope.
From her perch, she had good view of the entire farmyard. There were horses on one side, sheep on the other and strawberry fields directly behind.
It was peaceful, secluded.
With the breeze on her face, Kendra leaned into her rifle. She peered through the telescopic sight, scanning far and near.
Jim was positioned to the east.
Adam was positioned to the west.
They were so well concealed within the shrubbery that she couldn’t even spot them, which was good.
Between the three of them, she figured they had all the angles of approach covered.
This has to work.
That’s when Kendra heard the far-off purring of an engine, and stomach tightening, she swivelled and adjusted her aim. She zoomed in on the long dirt road that led into the farm.
A vehicle was approaching, trailing a plume of dust.
It was a dark-blue van.
Kendra spoke into her throat microphone, ‘This is Sierra One. It’s game time.’
‘Roger.’ Jim’s voice crackled in her earpiece. ‘Let’s keep it frosty.’
‘Copy that.’
Kendra watched as the van pulled up to the house at the edge of the farmyard. It coasted to a stop, its side door rolling open, and two men leapt out. One of them carried a duffel bag.
They jogged behind the house, disappearing from view.
The van’s driver waited and kept the engine idling.
Adam spoke, ‘This is Sierra Two. I have a visual. The tangos are inspecting the merchandise. They’re being cautious. Running scanner wands all over. Making sure everything’s clean.’
‘Roger,’ Jim said. ‘Stand by.’
Kendra waited. Her forefinger lingered just outside her rifle’s trigger guard, and her thumb rested on the safety catch. Right now, she was working out all the basic calculations in her head – range, wind speed, barometric pressure. Every possible variable that could throw off her aim.
She wanted to get this right.
She needed to get this right.
Adam spoke, ‘Okay. They’re satisfied that the hardware is clean. They’re finalising the transaction. And... yeah, they’re coming back out now.’
‘Stand by,’ Jim said.
The two men reappeared. The duffel bag was gone, and they were now pushing along two trolleys stacked with boxes. They loaded them into the van and climbed on, sliding the door shut.
Kendra steadied her breaths. She slowed her heartbeat. She flicked off her gun’s safety.
The van made a three-point turn and returned to the dirt road, rocking from side to side as it accelerated.
‘Sierra One, do you have the solution?’ Jim asked.
Kendra planted her cross hairs on just the right spot. ‘I have the solution.’
‘Scorpio.’
Kendra synchronised her exhale with the squeezing of her trigger, and she felt her rifle buck against her shoulder, and she saw the glass bullet shatter against the van’s rear bumper, fragments scintillating in the dying light.
The shot itself was suppressed, and the sound of the impact would have been miniscule, drowned out by the vehicle’s engine and the tyres riding on rough terrain. The occupants inside would have been none the wiser.
Kendra immediately pulled back on her rifle’s bolt. She sent a spent shell clinking against the rooftop, and she locked the bolt back into place.
She chambered a fresh round. She recalibrated the distance, preparing herself for a second shot in case the first wasn’t successful—
But Jim stopped her. ‘I’m getting a positive signal. Very strong. You did good.’
Nodding, Kendra relaxed her grip on her rifle.
She watched the van melt into the horizon.
34
The radioactive isotope that had been sprayed against the van acted as a tracer.
It left an invisible trail of breadcrumbs for Adam to follow as he drove, the sensor on his dashboard chirping in a steady tone.
They were leaving Kumeu now, heading back towards the city.
Kendra turned to look at Jim. His seat was reclined, and his eyes were closed. He lay absolutely still. Only his lips were moving, stringing together a Tibetan mantra under his breath. It sounded monotone, throaty.
Kendra turned to look at Adam. He was focused on the task before him. His shoulders were square, and his hands gripped the steering wheel at the ten o’clock and two o’clock positions. His gaze was steely.
The contrast between the two men was sharp.
Serenity versus resolve.
The silence of the moment hung heavy in the space between them, peppered with a blend of anxiety and anticipation.
Sighing, Kendra turned and looked out the window. She stared at the traffic and scenery flying past. All she could do was think about how everything had led to this point.
Ambassador Hatami had tipped them off to the fact that Onyx planned to purchase high-spec computers from a black-marketer named Julius Rowe.
So they had paid Rowe a visit at his hideout in the Henderson Valley. He was a criminal, yeah, but he wasn’t without a conscience. When they told him that the computers were going to be used to create a cyberweapon that would harm the country, he immediately did his patriotic duty – he told them about the exchange happening in the farmyard.
Rowe consented to them crashing the party, but he had a caveat – he didn’t want it leading back to him. This was why they couldn’t install tracking devices on the computers themselves. Because Rowe was nervous about possible blowback.
But Jim had proposed an alternative. By tagging the van with an isotope, they would bypass any counter-surveillance. There was no electronic signature to speak of, and it would allow them to hang back a kilometre or so, avoiding any chance of being spotted.
It was a conceit that was working well so far, like magic. But now Kendra was starting to feel her doubts festering.
Would the van actually lead them to where the Hosseinis were being held? Would the Iranians actually put all their eggs in one basket? What if there was a secondary site?
There was also the added unce
rtainty of how far Kendra, Jim and Adam could go in this situation. After all, they were performing an unsanctioned op, trying to clean up a mess caused by Trevor Walsh, the GCSB director.
So there would be no support. No backup. No rules of engagement.
Bad. Very bad.
Jaw pinched, face hot, Kendra forced herself to breathe.
In through the nose.
One, two, three.
Out through the mouth.
One, two, three.
She shook her head and reined in her misgivings. Because – hell – she needed to make things right and bring the situation full circle. Put an end to all the regrets.
Kendra thought back to 9/11. The global aftershock of the Towers coming down. How it had driven a poisonous wedge between Ryan and her. How it suddenly made it difficult to love a Muslim. All the doubt and hostility and calls for revenge.
Ryan had tried to console her back then. He reassured her that it didn’t matter.
But she grew bitter; angry. She felt like she had to choose. And, in the end, she chose the military.
But now? Now Kendra understood that she never should have left. She never should have delivered that foolish ultimatum all those years ago.
And – oh God – she remembered that day of days.
...She was standing on the train platform, eyes darting, hands trembling, hoping against hope that he would come, if only to say goodbye, but as the minutes ticked down to zero, grief clawed at her soul, and she couldn’t breathe, and when the last boarding call came, she had no choice but to stagger on to the train, and as it pulled away from the station, she pressed her face against the window, her wheezy breaths fogging up the glass, and her eyes were still searching, hoping to catch a glimpse, hoping to find respite, but there was nothing, no hope, and she broke down in a haze of tears, realising that he hadn’t come...
Jim’s voice dashed her memory. ‘You still with us, little girl?’
Kendra blinked hard and looked at Jim. His eyes were still closed, but he now wore a grave expression on his face.
‘Still here, old man.’
‘You’re giving out bad energy. I can feel it.’
‘Just...’ Kendra swallowed. ‘Just remembering.’
‘Have you ever heard of the concept of samsara?’
‘No. Can’t say I have.’
‘It’s the cycle of karma. Cause and effect. We’re destined to keep making mistake after mistake until we reach spiritual maturity. Only then are we able to start redeeming ourselves. And it all starts with acceptance. Letting go. Because, hey, beating yourself up over what could have – what should have been – is absolutely the wrong way to look at your journey. In fact, everything that’s happened has led you here. Geared you up for this moment. And that’s why you find yourself at the precipice of change.’
Kendra nodded slowly. ‘I think I get what you’re trying to say.’
‘Do you?’
‘We have to keep fucking up until we learn how to do what’s right.’
‘In a nutshell. Now, listen, when we get there, regardless of what we find ourselves up against, I want you to take point on this op.’
Kendra frowned. ‘Me? You want me to take charge?’
Jim nodded. ‘This is personal for you. Ryan is personal. And after all that’s happened today, you deserve to be the tip of the spear.’ He opened his eyes and tilted his head towards Adam. ‘Do you concur, Wonder Boy?’
‘Oh, I do concur.’ Adam thumbed his nose and grinned. ‘And, yeah, I forecast that the odds are strongly tipped in our favour. A New Age geezer, a washout and a mental patient. VAJA will never know what hit them.’
Despite herself, Kendra smiled. ‘Thank you. Thank you both for being here for me.’
‘That’s what friends are for. Remember – ours is not to question why. Ours is to do or die.’
35
About ten klicks out from Kumeu, the van’s trail suddenly deviated from the North-Western Motorway. It swung towards Massey, then looped around the Henderson Valley, then angled back towards New Lynn before rejoining the motorway once more.
It was a meandering route; circuitous.
But Kendra knew the VAJA operators weren’t just enjoying a sightseeing tour. They were executing a surveillance-detection run. They were alternating between a densely populated area and a lightly populated one, using the difference in rhythm to flush out any shadows.
Kendra wondered how much of it had to do with the way she had hurt them this afternoon. She wondered if it had forced them to be more self-aware, more cautious.
But, ultimately, it didn’t really matter. The radioactive isotope would allow Adam to hang back and patiently track them from a distance.
At Western Springs, just shy of the city centre, the van deviated once more. It entered Grey Lynn and crisscrossed side streets, then orbited back out.
There seemed to be an increase in urgency here; an uptick in tempo.
The van now raced towards Sandringham, then Epsom, then it descended the Greenlane off-ramp and entered the Southern Motorway.
Kendra felt her anticipation rising, like fire in her blood.
She could see the pattern now.
Ever since the van left Kumeu, it had been consistently moving in a single direction. Sure, there were diversions, but they were always momentary. And the van always swung back towards the south, towards Manukau, as if that was the centre of gravity, the intended destination.
Why would they be taking so many damn countermeasures unless the endpoint is their base of operations? This has to be it.
The van continued on for two klicks, then it detoured by mounting the Ellerslie-Panmure on-ramp. It circumnavigated the roundabout, then it rejoined the motorway once more.
Another five klicks.
The van branched off into Sylvia Park, and after a quick loop, it returned to the motorway once again.
Kendra shifted in her seat, chewing on her lip.
She was certain now.
This is it.
The van travelled for another seven klicks, then it pulled off the motorway for the final time.
It entered Highbrook Drive, and an industrial park loomed. A swathe of factories and warehouses were nestled amidst landscaped fields and gleaming waterways.
This was where the signal ended.
Kendra straightened, her eyes big. ‘We’re here, aren’t we?’
Adam inhaled and nodded. ‘We’re here.’
36
Twilight had given way to darkness.
Kendra, Jim and Adam were crouched behind a line of trees, studying the warehouse that lay in the gully below. There was no perimeter fence. Just a ring of grassland that stretched out for a hundred metres in every direction.
Directly behind the warehouse lay the waters of Curlew Bay, its waves lapping gently in the breeze, and the humming of insects was interspersed with the droning from the motorway in the distance.
With her monocular pressed against her eye, Kendra scanned the terrain over and over. She memorised the sight lines and calculated all the angles of approach. And she could feel that electric buzz in her muscles. That combination of anxiety and exhilaration.
This has to be ground zero.
Lowering her monocular, Kendra sucked in a breath. ‘There are only three tangos patrolling the grounds. That’s very light security for such a big area. But I have a feeling that’s done on purpose.’
‘Mm-hm.’ Adam scanned the place through a pair of binoculars, smirking. ‘It’s way more subtle than you would usually expect from VAJA.’
Jim peered through the scope of his Arctic Warfare rifle. ‘It’s a practical choice. They don’t want anything showy or overt. And by leasing a warehouse in an industrial district, they get to move personnel and equipment in and out without drawing any attention.’
‘Yep. And the fact that they’re deviating from their usual modus operandi means that something different is happening here. Something big.’
‘So how did
they manage to keep this place off the GCSB’s radar?’ Kendra asked.
Jim tilted his head. ‘My guess is that the warehouse is completely off the grid. No active internet connection. No uncontrolled phone calls. No stray signals. But, at the same time, they’re careful to maintain the guise of legitimacy. They’ve registered it as a packaging company, complete with a functional skeleton staff. But for the real meat and potatoes? They rely on old-fashioned tradecraft.’
‘Meaning couriers.’
‘Correct. Whenever something needs to be coordinated, they do it through passive communication. And whenever they need to secure something – software or hardware – they just send the couriers out to get them.’
‘Makes sense,’ Adam said. ‘It would be painstakingly slow, especially in this age of instant gratification, but it’s the best way to maintain operational security.’
Kendra considered that for a moment, and she thought back to the VAJA operators she had encountered in Remuera and Newmarket. She recalled the way they had behaved – the lack of agility, the reckless improvisation. It made sense now.
Kendra nodded. ‘If they have to resort to wireless communication, it’s going to be limited to a small radius. And from what I’ve seen, I think they’re using two-way radios. FRS models with a range of under ten klicks.’
Jim turned away from his rifle’s scope and looked at Kendra. ‘That sounds about right. Which means their command-and-control structure is going to be isolated. Onyx is pretty much running the show on his own with minimal input from his handlers.’
Adam lowered his binoculars and wobbled his head. ‘Well, whoopee. We won’t have to worry about a quick-reaction force coming down on our asses when we make the breach.’
‘So this is it,’ Kendra said. ‘All their eggs in one basket.’
‘It has to be. It wouldn’t make sense to have multiple black sites. Not with such limited communication. That’s why they fucked up their attempts on you in Remuera and Newmarket to begin with – it’s impossible for Onyx to issue orders to operators in the field. So, yeah, right now, he’s going to play his cards close to the vest.’
