Redback

by Lindy Cameron

  Despite the tragedy that very day in Dallas, the American Celebration organisers had been informed by the US Army liaison officer that battle preparations could go ahead. According to Harlan, who’d been in charge in Micah’s absence, Fort Hood’s Installation Commander, some brigadier-general, had said, ‘if the homeland is under attack again, then an American celebration is needed more than ever’. Then he apparently ordered several units to head to Dallas to see if they could help out.

  ‘That would explain all them troop trucks we saw on the drive down here,’ Micah had said grinning.

  There was a companionable silence now, around their fire at least. Other camp noises drifted through the twilight, curling in the smoke that hung between the Carthage boys. They could hear singing and laughing, and from way over the other side of the lake, the music of a tin whistle and fiddle.

  Micah finally broke their reverie. ‘Okay boys, it’s time to get going. Harlan, you and yours go tend to the fireworks. Just remember they’re pretty damn dangerous, so don’t be too close when they go off. Jesse-Jay and me will go launch the birds. We’ll meet back here after the party. Go.’

  Rawalpindi, Pakistan

  Wednesday 5.30 am

  Jamal Zahkri entered the safe house and immediately began stripping off his clothes. In a moment the imposing and compelling Emissary was transformed into a rather ordinary-looking man. Samir was accustomed to the change but Arjuna, who sat beside him on the couch, was amazed.

  ‘You see my friend,’ Zahkri spoke to Arjuna in Indonesian, ‘the Emissary is all smoke and mirrors. I am nothing but a cipher. The turban gives me stature, the kohl adds mystery to my eyes, the footwear,’ Zahkri sat and yanked at the elevated boots that had been hidden by his galibeya, ‘the damn boots also make me taller. Then I speak very seriously so people think I am a serious man with serious things to impart.’

  ‘And now, oh serious-one,’ Samir said, pulling out a mobile phone and dialling a number, ‘it is time to talk to the Bringer of the Future. And remember to show respect, just in case the Americans have a satellite overhead.’

  Zahkri took the phone from Samir and held it to his ear. In a moment the ringing stopped and a familiar voice answered.

  ‘Dárayavaus, it is I,’ Zahkri said.

  ‘And right on time. I trust your journey went well.’

  ‘Indeed it did. Our friends seemed to find me quite charismatic.’

  ‘As they should, my Emissary. Did they like our gifts?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Zahkri said. ‘And the celebration preparations are well in hand. Uncle will be most surprised. I trust that all is well in your world.’

  ‘Things could not be better. The first two matches are already over and the audience, so far, is rather astonished by the state of play. Atlas is quite a team.’

  ‘It’s all down to the coach, as always,’ Zahkri said.

  ‘You are too kind, my friend, and sadly it’s already time to say

  goodbye, Emissary. Send our southern friend home with my blessing. Speak soon.’

  Zahkri threw the mobile back to Samir. ‘Kill that thing,’ he said.

  Samir pulled out his Glock and used the butt to smash the phone to pieces on the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  InterContinental, Wellington

  Wednesday 11.45 pm

  Only mildly interested in why Jana would not want to thank the man who’d set her rescue in motion, Gideon had followed her across the room to where a couple of her team were hanging around the oblivious object of their surveillance. It did occur to her that the Doc must really have something against the guy who’d hired the Redbacks - or maybe for him - to choose to stand near Alan and his human-vine instead.

  Jana greeted young Shane Cooper cheerily but had to ask the other soldier-agent-spy’s name.

  ‘They call me Triko, Dr Rossi.’

  ‘And why is that, Triko?’ she asked.

  ‘Because none of the bastards, excuse me, can be bothered with the whole surname.’

  Jana took in Triko’s features: dark hair, hirsute arms and probably chest, deep olive skin, hawkish nose. ‘Let me guess,’ she said, ‘it’s all Greek to them?’

  He grinned and lowered his voice so no one who shouldn’t could hear him. ‘It’s Trikopoulis,’ he said, the accent filtering through the Aussie, only when he pronounced his name. ‘Second-gen Australian born but tied to the old country by blood and strong language from a grandmother who still calls Thessaloniki home.’

  ‘And he has to listen to his Yaya,’ Coop volunteered, ‘because she is the world’s best cook.’

  ‘I’ll bet.’ Jana caught sight of a wedge of photographers sidling in their direction, clicking away at a VIP she couldn’t see. On the off-chance it was him, she excused herself for a moment and turned her back on the approaching media. She faced instead the man who was now only the second-most irritating human in the room.

  ‘Yo Alan,’ she said softly.

  Alan leant reluctantly towards her. ‘You do know, Jana, we don’t ever have to speak to each other again.’

  Jana narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Just giving you the heads up. When the cameras get here, do you really think your long-suffering needs to see you tentacled by Miz Clingy there?’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake woman, mind your own…’

  Jana threw up her hands but continued to whisper, ‘Hey, my only concern is for her, for Mrs Wagner. Although my friend Sally here, did tell me that Shirley’s Maori husband is a South Island trucker.’

  ‘That true?’ Gideon asked, as they watched Alan whisper a sweet-something in Shirley’s ear as he untangled from her clutches.

  ‘No idea,’ Jana replied.

  ‘Ah and here, I believe, is the conference chairperson, Dr Rossi.’

  Oh bugger. The too-familiar voice crawled up Jana’s spine like a giant stick insect. She turned and feigned surprise, ‘Oh. Mr Danby. Hello.’

  ‘I am so pleased that you,’ the Foreign Minister offered his hand, ‘and your fellow delegates came through this terrible ordeal unscathed.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Danby,’ Jana acknowledged, letting go of the handshake.

  Alan took the prime ingratiating opportunity to thrust his arm forward, between Jana and Gideon. ‘It’s good to see you again, Aaron.’ Danby’s face registered a nanosecond of uncertainty, caught by Jana, before Mick Fleming filled in the blank.

  ‘Alan mate, what the hell were you doing on Laui?’ Mick asked, then threw a question at Danby, while retaining Alan’s attention by offering his own hand. ‘When was the last time we saw Alan, Minister? No, I know, it was dinner at Bilson’s after his This Week, The World interview about South Korea.’

  Oh yes. Jana certainly had to hand it to Mick. He was still the Vile Idiot Prevaricator’s saviour in all professional, social or public spots of bother. He’d given the Minister the subject’s name, occupation and context - past and present - and all in a little male-bonding handshake.

  ‘Yes,’ a now clued-up Danby agreed. ‘What were you doing there, Alan?’

  ‘It was a freebie, Aaron. A five-star, pamper-fest thank you package for, you know, work done - until those mangy terrorists turned up and…’

  ‘They were rebels.’ Jana and Mick’s identical response amused Mick and Gideon, but seemed to annoy Jana and Alan.

  ‘Whatever,’ Alan continued, pressing forward but still trapped behind Jana. ‘Finally after nine days locked up with a…with no respite, we’re just being nicely rescued when the American cavalry turns up and starts blowing the whole island to Baghdad and back.’

  Jana mentally shook her head. Alan was trying it on; seeing how far he could get with a wild, unsubstantiated possibility. He was looking for a reaction, a clue, a hint from the powers-that-be that there was truth in it. Stupid clod wouldn’t recognise a nuance if it lobbed like a grenade at his feet.

  Gideon meanwhile double-tapped her left leg to get Triko or Coop’s attention, then cast a glance at Fleming. It seemed, however, that t
he Minister was now recalling all by himself just how irritating this TV guy was. He tried his own deflection from the subject by addressing Gideon.

  And trying not to drool, Jana thought.

  ‘And are you one of the other Australian delegates?’ Danby asked.

  ‘Are you kidding Aaron? She’s one of our resc - erg’ Alan began, foolishly assuming that his contract of silence did not apply to a chat with the Australian Foreign Minister.

  Gideon found Jana’s hand already there, when she reached back quickly to grab the idiot’s balls. She stayed to help.

  ‘Hush Alan,’ Jana threw back over her shoulder, ‘we don’t want the press to hear.’ To save Alan from himself, and on the assumption that the Minister knew about the Redbacks, even if he didn’t know Gideon herself, she added, ‘Mr Danby, this is my cousin, Elizabeth Hellier. She runs a B&B on the South Island. Liz has offered recovery R&R to any delegates who don’t want to rush home. We don’t want the press bothering them.’

  ‘That’s very generous of her - of you - Ms Hellier.’

  ‘What else could I do?’ Gideon said, suitably impressed by Jana’s quick thinking. She offered her what she hoped was a familial-type smile.

  Mick Fleming meanwhile decided to take control of the misfit in the group. ‘Alan, why don’t you take a stroll with me and I’ll introduce you to the Prime Minister.’

  Alan did not need to be asked twice, while Shirley, uncertain what to do so suddenly on her own, dithered away towards the food table. That left Jana alone with Danby and three Redbacks.

  Oh, make that one Redback, Jana amended as Triko and Coop trailed casually after Alan.

  ‘So, Jana, you are okay?’

  ‘I’m fine thanks Aaron.’

  What? Gideon resisted the physical double-take, but even her curiosity was stirred by this sudden familiarity. She wondered if the Doc would want her to piss off now.

  ‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard you were one of the hostages,’ Danby continued.

  Gideon made as if to move off but Jana’s hand, suddenly on her forearm, held her in firmly in place. ‘It wasn’t exactly on my to-do list, Aaron,’ she was saying. ‘But tell me, would you have sent our rescuers if I hadn’t been there?’

  Danby leant in as close as publicly possible. ‘I didn’t send them.’ It was obvious she didn’t buy that, for he added, ‘Seriously, babe, not responsible.’

  Babe? Gideon didn’t quite know where not to look.

  Jana still didn’t believe him. If she really was Gideon’s so-called ‘PO’ then that fact alone should put her on Aaron’s need-to-know list; he should be able to admit his involvement to her. But if he couldn’t tell her, then what the hell would Gideon’s boys do to bigmouth Alan? She searched the room. Oh. They are going to introduce him to the PM.

  She turned back as Aaron leant down to catch what a short Kiwi official was trying to whisper to him.

  ‘Right, no worries, I’ll be right there,’ Danby said. ‘Sorry Jana, Ms Hellier. Duty calls. I’m, truly Jana, I’m relieved you’re okay.’

  Jana nodded as graciously as she could. She let go of her last-held breath as he walked away.

  ‘Can I have my arm now?’ Gideon said.

  ‘Oh sorry,’ Jana said turning towards Gideon, then away, then back again. ‘You know, I was so hoping it had been my uncle who’d organised your deployment; and that of the submarine; and the helicopters that flew us into Wellington Harbour; and now all of this brouhaha.’

  ‘You must have amazing connections to have more than one Spielberg to call on.’

  ‘I didn’t call anyone, remember?’

  ‘Yeah right. So who the hell’s your uncle? What kind of clout does he have?’

  ‘Francis Rossi. He has no influence whatsoever anywhere; other than what he can muster with his nine iron as President of the Sandy Grove Golf Club. But, I thought he might have rallied the other Senior Cits at Dalkeith Park and got the government off its fat arse to come and get us.’

  Gideon wondered if Jana was suffering post-traumatic stress. Or maybe she’s just deranged.

  ‘Anyone other than Aaron Danby being responsible, is what I’m getting at Bryn.’

  ‘Oh,’ Gideon nodded. ‘But he really didn’t send us.’

  ‘He didn’t?’

  ‘No. It was the other guy. Fleming.’

  Jana blew a raspberry. ‘Same bloody thing. They’re conjoined twins, those two. It’s just that you can’t see the umbilical between them.’

  ‘Well, all I can say is that Fleming approached Back Door personally five days ago; and that Aaron Danby knew nothing of our mission until last night.’

  Jana’s expression, and then her voice said, ‘Yeah right, and turtles fly in formation.’

  ‘The point is,’ Gideon shrugged, ‘none of you would be here now if it wasn’t for Fleming requesting our services to retrieve you. At the time he didn’t even tell me who he was.’

  ‘Well,’ Jana said, somewhat flummoxed, ‘thank God for me then.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Gideon agreed. ‘Or, as your dickhead mate put it, you might all have been blown to Baghdad and back.’

  Jana laughed, and then looked up at Gideon. ‘Back door? Whose back door did he go to?’

  Gideon frowned, amazed she’d given Jana an opening like that. ‘The question should not be ‘whose back door’, but ‘what is Back Door’. And, before you do ask, it’s the name of my agency.’

  ‘Your retrieval agency?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Jana looked Bryn Gideon over from head to toe again. Her perfect skin, blue eyes and neat hair, plus the oh-so-casual jeans and T-shirt, were so far removed from the first-impression war-painted action figure in jungle fatigues and helmet - complete with ammunition belt and several guns - that it was almost impossible to believe they were one and the same.

  ‘What?’ Gideon asked.

  ‘You make it sound like a side alley private-eye operation.’

  ‘I do?’ Gideon said.

  ‘Yes. But it can’t be can it, not given all of this,’ Jana waved her arm at the room.

  ‘Not responsible for any of this. All we did was retrieve you.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you can tell me anything else about your agency. Or do I need special clearance for that?’

  Gideon was saved from having to reply by another of Doc Rossi’s admirers.

  ‘Excuse me.’

  Jana turned from Gideon to find Mick Fleming grinning at her. ‘Michael Sean Fleming, fancy meeting you here.’ She smiled back at him.

  ‘Well I’m very glad I’m meeting you here,’ Mick said. ‘I, we were all a bit worried there for a while.’

  Jana waved her hand between Mick and Gideon. ‘I believe real introductions are not necessary?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Mick said. ‘And thank you again, Commander.’ Gideon gave a slight nod, knowing anything else was unnecessary. ‘I’m sorry to have to do this to you Jana,’ Mick said, ‘but the pollies want a photo or ten. Would you mind?’

  ‘I guess not,’ Jana sighed. She briefly touched Gideon’s arm, ‘Thanks for the extra duty, I’ll be fine now.’

  ‘No worries,’ Gideon said. A couple of minutes later, as the delegates and VIPs were herded into ranks by ‘bug Jum Funch’, she smiled in amusement as she saw Jana being placed between two of her favourite men: Alan Wagner and Aaron Danby.

  Checking to make sure there was no one standing nearby, Gideon squeezed her left earlobe. ‘Link?’

  ‘Yes Gideon.’ It was a woman’s voice in her head this time. ‘Please let the boss know that I may have found a bunny for that new assignment but may need a tempting bone to keep someone distracted.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Fort Hood, Killeen, Texas

  Tuesday 6.45 pm

  Jesse-Jay Bagget and Micah O’Brien had no trouble locating the birds their comrades had placed strategically in the lakeside undergrowth. Just like the rest of their equipment, they’d been brought in piece by piece over the las
t week and assembled near the spot where they now waited.

  On their walk around the water’s edge Micah, for want of anything better to talk about, had been re-explaining everything.

  ‘I get what we’re doing Micah, but I gotta say this seems an odd way to protect our guys.’ Jesse-Jay moved the first bird into optimum take-off position, running his hands attentively across the 71-inch span of the elliptical wing. He just loved these warbirds.

  ‘Well, first, it’s only their equipment we’re targeting,’ Micah said. ‘Second, the way the Colonel explains it, they aren’t really our guys anymore. We’re like saving them from theirselves - and us from them.’

  ‘What do you mean they’re not ours? This is a US Army base.’ Jesse-Jay opened his satchel, removed the laptop and the quad-port surveillance system, and laid the gear on the grass. Micah meanwhile checked his compass readings and the topographical map to ensure the birds and the guidance gizmo would be in-sync.

  ‘Come on Jess, you know full well that any citizen conned into a permit for like driving or fishing, and specially a gun licence, has entered into an invalid contract,’ Micah said. ‘It results in that individual’s loss of liberty because none of them federal organisations that require our signature on whatever shit they feel like, have any rightful jurisdiction over us.

  ‘That loss of freedom applies big time to any man or woman what signs-up for the armed forces of the US of A. They’ve like excommunicated themselves from the sovereign citizenship to which they are otherwise entitled. They can’t have it both ways. If they’re going ‘yes sir, no sir, whatever you say sir,’ to the military arm of a tyrannical government well, then shit, they’re asking for it.

  ‘And, as you’ve heard him vouch, the Colonel says regular folks have the power and the responsibility to take back the government, by force of arms if necessary. The minute he accepted us into his Texas Star Brigade, we Thunder Militia boys became honour bound to do just that.’