THE BROTHERHOOD

by Steve Jovanoski

  ‘What do you mean “we”?’ Barry snapped. ‘There is no “we”. If it comes to that you’re on your own.’

  Sam gave an exasperated sigh. ‘The large deposits I’ve made for your services, Mr Donovan, came from various donors and financiers. The transactions are recorded in the Oracle databases and lead directly to your accounts. So as you can see, you have as much vested interest in this as I have.’

  ‘You conniving –’

  ‘Just find them,’ Sam barked. ‘Another envelope will be waiting when you finish and this time it’ll be a lot thicker. And Barry, don’t forget who you work for.’

  When Sam hung up Barry picked up the phone and threw it against the wall, breaking it into pieces. All office noise ceased except for phones and fax machines. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him. He got up and drew his office blinds, slumping into his chair again and festering in anger. Finally he stood up like a man possessed, grabbed his jacket and walked out quickly, leaving his hat behind. There was too much at risk: if the job was to be done properly he had to do it himself.

  He called his agent while jogging to his car. ‘What have you got for me, Anderson?’

  ‘We’re monitoring all roads leading in and out of Ballarat, sir, but we suspect they’ve slipped through.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Barry snarled.

  ‘A roadside restaurant waitress recognised them and told us they left in an old Ford. We found an old XY Ford with Melbourne plates at the train station, our best and only lead so far, sir. I’m on my way there now and I’ve sent a team to dust for fingerprints.’

  ‘Why drive to Ballarat and then catch a train back to Melbourne? Meet me at Southern Cross train station and send men to the address that car’s registered to. Find out who’s helping them, you understand?’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  The train ride to Melbourne was relaxing, a short trip that gave them a much-needed reprieve. Since boarding in Ballarat both men had been immersed in their own thoughts. While Aazim fidgeted with the USB flash drives Bill’s mind was still on events that had unfolded at the Ballarat data centre. What he couldn’t figure out was how they’d been discovered so quickly. He’d been so careful to ensure they didn’t leave any traces that could lead to their discovery.

  ‘Az, where did you get those disks?’

  ‘I bought them at the internet cafe.’

  ‘Did you use your credit card?’

  ‘Yes, I … oh crap, I forgot.’

  ‘You’ve got to be careful, mate.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. I just got so involved in searching the web and then you came rushing in, I just … sorry Bill.’ Aazim was mortified at the danger he’d put them in.

  ‘I need to make a call. Do you still have your mobile?’ Bill knew that leaving the car at the train station had been a risk but they hadn’t had time to dispose of it.

  ‘Yes, but it’s nearly dead.’

  Bill took Aazim’s phone and dialled Jimmy’s number, telling him to disappear for a few weeks.

  His stubborn friend was hard to convince. ‘I’ll kick their fucking heads in,’ he said. ‘No one messes with Jimmy.’ But the mention of his unborn child hit a nerve.

  Finally they came to an agreement and Jimmy promised he’d take a trip up north to Queensland for a couple of weeks. The mobile phone died before they could wrap up their conversation but at least Bill had warned his friend of the impending danger. He sank back into his seat as the carriage gently rocked. The hum of the diesel engines soothed him, and his battered and exhausted body could no longer fight off sleep.

  ‘Bill, wake up,’ Aazim said, shaking Bill gently.

  Bill opened his eyes, taking in gasps of air. He remembered his dream – the same recurring nightmare about the bomb in Indonesia – and wondered whether he’d screamed out as he usually did. One look at Aazim confirmed his suspicions.

  ‘You must’ve been having a bad dream,’ Aazim said.

  ‘Yeah, but I’m okay.’ It took Bill a moment to get his bearings. He looked at his watch and got into gear. ‘Get ready, we should be nearing the train station soon.’

  High-rises speckled the horizon as the train slowed and neared Southern Cross train station, a modern construction with twenty-metre spine trusses holding a huge roof in wave form, like a sea of metal. As the train drew to a halt Aazim got up to walk out with the rest of the passengers, but Bill pulled him back.

  ‘Wait.’

  Three men in dark suits walked briskly down the escalators and towards their platform. There was Barry himself, checking each carriage towards the front of the train with the other men following behind.

  ‘Follow me,’ Bill said to Aazim as he led the way through the other carriages towards the back of the train.

  ‘This is the last stop, you can’t go through here,’ a train conductor said, blocking their way.

  Bill pushed him aside without a second thought.

  ‘Hey!’ the conductor protested indignantly.

  Barry and Anderson noticed the scuffle and followed close behind.

  Bill and Aazim got out at the last carriage, jumped off the platform and onto the dusty tracks. Once out in the open they ran as fast as they could but both sides of the tracks were fenced off with barbed wire. They could only go in two directions: one led to the underground subway and the other back to Ballarat.

  Aazim looked behind and saw two men jump on the tracks and police cars heading down the road beside the railway in an effort to cut them off. Moments later shots were fired and they dashed towards the tunnel subway a hundred metres ahead. The darkness inside gave them a safe cover but they were totally blind to oncoming trains. They headed for the closest subway station, guided by the faint light. Although they couldn’t hear their pursuers, they sensed they were closing in. They reached the first subway station, but instead of climbing onto the platform Bill told Aazim to continue ahead of him.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Aazim asked nervously.

  ‘I’ll be right behind you. Now go.’

  Aazim hesitated for a moment but then continued running. He turned around for a moment and saw Bill climb up the platform and disappear. He made his way deeper into the tunnel. Puzzled onlookers waiting for a train watched curiously as the two men went in separate directions. Some called out for the train inspectors.

  A fire alarm went off. Aazim turned to see if Bill was behind him but the darkness hid all signs of life. The tracks started vibrating and a gush of wind swept through the tunnel. Two distant lights ahead of him glimmered and then became brighter and brighter. Aazim jumped to one side of the tunnel, sticking to it like a fly on a wall. Only centimetres of space separated the tracks from his body and the roaring sound grew louder by the second. As the train’s lights illuminated the tunnel he noticed an opening for electrical equipment and jumped inside it just as the train whooshed past. The force of the wind pulled at him like a suction cup. The ordeal lasted only a few seconds but it was enough to sap him of energy and leave a deafening ringing in his ears. He hadn’t felt his heart beat so fast since he’d run from Aust Global Fund.

  Once he got his breathing back to normal, Aazim started walking. He heard footsteps but couldn’t tell where they were coming from. He was too afraid to call out Bill’s name. He listened as the sound neared and then suddenly went silent. His pupils were wide open and straining to capture any hint of light. His eyesight was bad enough in daylight but in the tunnel he was completely blind.

  A hand grabbed him by the elbow. ‘Az, where are you going?’

  Aazim felt his heart skip a beat and it took him a moment to catch his breath. ‘Bill, you scared the crap out of me. Where have you been? What did you do?’

  ‘I bought us some time.’

  ‘You had me worried for a while.’

  ‘Why? Did you think I’d left you on your own?’ Bill said, giving Aazim a gentle cuff on the ear.

  They walked a fair distance and started jogging when they saw light from the next subway station. Waiting com
muters stared at the two approaching figures, who resembled sweaty miners casually strolling out of the tunnel after a long day’s haul. They climbed onto the platform, caught the lift to the ground level and found themselves on a busy street. They soon melted into the crowd.

  ‘What now?’ Aazim asked.

  ‘In a few minutes the whole city will be surrounded by police so first we have to get out of here, then we’ll look for another internet cafe.’

  ‘That won’t do. This data can only run on the Oracle application. Even if we somehow get a copy and install it on their computers they won’t have enough power to run it.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll get in touch with Lenni while you hail a taxi. We don’t have enough time to find our own transport. Lenni will have the hardware and I’m sure he can get you the software.’ Bill found a phone booth and dialled Lenni’s number.

  Bill had triggered an alarm, causing passengers to rush out through the exit in panic. The police had set up a cordon around the station and struggled to identify their two suspects, but there was no sign of Bill or Aazim. A train station full of football fans making their way home from the stadium was a nightmare situation for Barry as he frantically directed his men to search the crowd while firefighters went looking for a nonexistent blaze.

  ‘Sir, the director wants to speak to you.’

  ‘I told you to take messages, Karen.’

  ‘I know, sir, but he insisted.’

  ‘Tell him I’ll call back.’ Barry waved to his men, indicating to clear the area.

  ‘He’s on the line right now, sir. This is the third time he’s called and he won’t hang up until he talks to you.’

  ‘Shit. Put him through.’ Rodney Blunt was the last person he wanted to deal with but even his secretary couldn’t hide him now.

  ‘Hello, Rodney, what can I do for you?’

  ‘Just what the hell are you up to, Barry?’

  He was taken aback. Conversations with the director were tense and at times heated but never openly hostile. He began to explain. ‘We’re conducting a search of two dangerous suspects on the run and –’

  ‘What’s my deputy director doing firing his weapon in the middle of Melbourne? Why aren’t the police handling it?’

  ‘It’s a delicate situation and we’ve taken control of the case to ensure the suspects are apprehended.’

  ‘You authorised this operation without notifying me? I’ve had the chief commissioner and the premier of Victoria asking me what the hell ASIO agents are doing running around in their city. They think terrorists are on the loose and we’re keeping them in the dark. I had no explanation because I have no idea what my staff are doing there!’

  Barry sighed. ‘We’re on the trail of a rogue ex-ASIO agent and his accomplice who are responsible for Janelle Hanley’s death. They’re armed, dangerous and have already escaped police twice. The accomplice has stolen vital financial information from a city firm that could leave our banking system exposed and we believe it may end up in the hands of terrorist groups unless we get to them first.’

  There was a moment of silence before the director replied in a composed tone. ‘I want a full report on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Yes sir,’ Barry replied with a tinge of sarcasm.

  ‘It’s a thin red line you’re walking on, Barry. You disregard protocol, ignore formality and abuse your privileges. Stop the media prancing and do your job or the spotlight will quickly fade. And I’ll make sure of it.’ With that, the director hung up.

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ Barry mumbled into the dead line. He searched through his mobile for Sam’s number, fat fingers fumbling through the contact list while his mind replayed the conversation.

  ‘Anderson!’ he yelled. ‘Cover the rest of the underground stations in the city loop and find out if they’ve been sighted. Ask for extra patrols if you have to and send orders to be on the lookout for the suspects.’

  ‘Yes sir. By the way, sir, we found out who owns the car – a small-time peddler by the name of Giovanni O’Reilly. Lives in Fitzroy and has a long record of convictions. We found his residence vacant but placed it under surveillance in case the suspects appear.’

  ‘Make sure you call me the minute you find anything,’ Barry said, heading to an unmarked car left by one of the agents.

  Sam was getting weary and time was running out; he was impatient to move things forward. Accompanied by his bodyguards, he arrived for a late meeting at the Masjid Saad Mosque and walked quickly, entering from the rear of the building where his assistant Hanif greeted him.

  ‘They are ready, brother Saeed.’

  As Sam entered the back room of the mosque the occupants fell silent. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him were well-groomed young men in traditional Islamic robes, patiently awaiting his address.

  He greeted them in Arabic. ‘Assalamu alaikum.’ He then launched into his speech. ‘It’s been a long journey to this day brothers. When I first met you a few years ago you came to me like stray lambs, lost, godless and on a path to destruction. But look at you now,’ he said, eyes scanning the room.

  ‘We have you to thank, brother Saeed,’ a young man called out from the middle row and the others murmured in agreement.

  ‘Oh, but you’re wrong, brother. Allah brought you to me and I’m merely his bidding servant.’

  Sam’s tone became serious. ‘This is the last time we gather and sit together like this. A lot of blood will be spilt but, God willing, we will prevail. We shall be rid of secular governments and their Western conspirators from our Muslim lands forever. They impose their values and a way of life we neither want nor believe in. Sharia law is the only way. The code of our holy book is our true law and protector of Islam. One and a half billion Muslims are crying out to be heard, my brothers, and united we shall answer their prayers.’

  He raised an open hand and slowly clenched his fist, his voice reaching a crescendo. ‘The golden age of Islam is upon us!’

  Attentive eyes lit in excitement and the room exploded in uproar. ‘Allahu akbar!’ Allah is greatest!

  Sam looked at his men – over two hundred of them gathered together for the first time – like a proud father. Until now he’d never brought them together in one place, preferring to address them in small groups, but the time for unity had come and he could see that their loyalty was unquestionable. He held out a yellow envelope and the room fell silent again.

  ‘In my hand I hold the key to a new beginning, my brothers. We have fought each other long enough. The infidels have kept us weak and divided while they suck wealth from our people. But you, with Allah’s blessing, have the power to change the future. Your training is now complete. Tomorrow you will depart on a journey to our Muslim lands where you will meet freedom fighters. You will be my voice when I call upon our brothers in arms and you will drive away the infidels.’

  The room erupted once again. ‘Allahu akbar!’

  Sam’s elderly assistant Hanif spoke next. ‘Remember what your mission is. You are not to discuss any of your contacts with anyone but brother Saeed and myself, not even with your brothers in this room. You will be greeted by jihad warriors in each location and taken to a safe house. You will meet with local leaders and provide them with funds for arms and any other supplies they need for the uprising.’

  Three young assistants made their way through the crowd, handing out yellow envelopes to each man while Hanif continued talking.

  ‘These documents contain your airfare and, most importantly, the account details in various locations of each country. You will be escorted by our contacts to each bank where you will withdraw the money from each location. Once you have done so you will contact brother Saeed. Resist temptation, my brothers. The leaders know how much to expect and will inflict severe punishment should they receive anything less.’

  Sam rose to his feet and his audience followed. As they made their exit each one kissed his hand and placed it on their forehead as a sign of subservience and
loyalty. Sending his envoys was stage one; stage two was getting the envelope to Barry. The elders had to be eliminated by the hand of the imperialist West. Stage three was the caliphate and beyond.

  ‘Where are you?’ Barry demanded.

  ‘I’m at the mosque, what’s this about?’

  ‘Stay there, I’m on my way. Make sure you have the envelope ready for me, I want all of them.’

  ‘Have you lost your mind?’ Sam shrieked. ‘I will not have you come here! Why are we having this conversation on the phone?’

  ‘I’m tired of cleaning your dirt,’ Barry yelled. ‘My neck’s on the line and I’m not in the mood for bargaining.’

  Sam paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘You may come, but I don’t want you coming inside. Don’t even get out of your car, is that clear?’

  ‘Just make sure you have what we fucking agreed on.’ Barry disconnected and threw his mobile onto the passenger seat. Just then it beeped with an incoming text message. Annoyed, he picked it up, but then a smile formed on his lips as he read the text. ‘Well, well, what have we got here?’

  Sam instructed Hanif to ensure that everyone had left and excused himself. Twenty minutes later he heard a strained engine roaring down the street as it approached the mosque. Barry brought his car to a screeching stop when he saw Sam moving out of the shadows, lowered the window and greeted him with a raised hand. Sam passed him the yellow envelope without a word; neither was in the mood for a chat. Satisfied to find it twice as thick as the last one, Barry sped off as fast as he’d arrived.

  Out of the shadows a dark van with tinted windows cruised up to Sam and stopped; his bodyguards awaited instructions.

  ‘If he fails, you know what to do,’ Sam told them. ‘In time The Brotherhood’s entire global donations will be consolidated and distributed directly to jihad fighters. Once The Brotherhood elders are removed the funds will be dispensed in twenty-four hours, but if we move too early we risk their intervention. I cannot have that.’

  They nodded in silence and drove off.