Counter Attack

by Mark Abernethy

  ‘Pao Peng provides the technology gurus from the PLA; Dozsa has been the deniable contractor, putting it together. This was his thing in the Mossad – putting together managed funds that bought intellectual property the IDF may have wanted. He was under the wing of a Mossad banker called Bernie Radoff.’

  ‘Has Dozsa done it?’ said Mac.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Scotty. ‘What Sandy was looking at tonight – from what I’ve overheard – is the hardest part.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘A list of specifications from a company called Ormond Technik, a Dutch firm.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Ormond supplies a tiny component used in the routers that run the Milstar program – the Pentagon’s military satellite network.’

  ‘How did Dozsa get the specs?’

  ‘A system of front companies, held in a managed fund, bought Ormond Technik,’ said Scotty.

  ‘So?’ said Mac.

  ‘So, with those specs, the Chinese can listen in to everything going through the Milstar system – everything from a general’s warning order, to a Christmas Day call from a marines private to his child.’

  ‘Listen in?’ said Mac. ‘What, like hacking?’

  ‘No,’ said Scotty, moustache dipping in his beer. ‘The way it was explained to me is this: the tiny transceiver in the router is like the reed in a clarinet. It creates a signal. If you have good listening posts, and you have the algorithms for the transceiver, then you can monitor every piece of data and you can do it either by compromising the system or you can listen to the frequencies, pick them up like a radio tuner.’

  ‘If this is just the crowning glory, what else have they been assembling?’

  ‘It’s hush-hush and the guys at Defence are paranoid about it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Too many questions, Macca.’

  ‘Tell me,’ said Mac.

  ‘I’m not supposed to know this,’ said Scotty, ‘but the Ormond sale was okayed by us.’

  ‘Us?’

  ‘A section of Aussie intel called the BLU – the Business Liaison Unit.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Mac, who had done surveillance and written reports in the past for the BLU. ‘What’s it got to do with us?’

  ‘Because it’s an Aussie-managed fund that bought Ormond Technik,’ said Scotty. ‘It’s called Highland Pacific and all the intellectual property transferred across a week ago, a day after our guy signed off on it.’

  ‘Signed off?’

  ‘Yeah, there were suspicions that Highland Pacific is controlled by the Loh Han Tong, in Saigon,’ said Scotty. ‘But he cleared it.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘James Quirk,’ said Scotty.

  Mac’s face froze: he thought of a computer terminal in the Mekong Saloon, the fear in Quirk’s eyes and the execution by Dozsa. And then a memory card falling off the table.

  The implications were terrible. ‘This was about Quirk all along?’

  ‘Looks like it,’ said Scotty.

  ‘Why didn’t I know?’

  ‘Why didn’t I know?’ said Scotty. ‘I thought Jim was off the rails; there was talk about his marriage problems and I wanted you to spend a couple of weeks and clear him. I had no idea – I thought he was drinking, maybe hitting the brothels.’

  ‘So first we have Lance and Urquhart up here, claiming to work for the PM?’

  ‘I think they do,’ said Scotty. ‘McHugh’s involvement in that counterfeiting was really embarrassing and they wanted it hushed up – certainly didn’t want Washington catching wind of it via our leaky intel guys in Canberra.’

  ‘And then we get Sandy?’

  ‘There was nothing to be done about that, sorry, mate,’ said Scotty. ‘Tobin called and stood us down.’

  ‘So you’re sitting in the car and he tells you that if I come back with the SD card, he’s taking over?’

  ‘Almost word for word.’ Scotty chuckled. ‘Except he asked to be backed up if you wanted to fight.’

  Looking into his drink, Mac pondered his options: there were two Aussies being held hostage, Jim Quirk was dead and Tranh Loh Han was missing, presumed dead.

  He had several ways forwards, but he needed to get Scotty onside.

  ‘I have a confession,’ said Mac.

  ‘You’re not walking away from Lance or Urquhart?’

  Mac nodded. ‘Can you look the other way? Let me stay here on holiday?’

  ‘I can do better than that,’ said Scotty. ‘Tobin was very clear – he said we were being stood down, not recalled.’

  ‘So we’re in business?’

  ‘What did you have in mind?’ said Scotty.

  ‘Talk to Sammy and follow up on a technology question of my own.’

  ‘Count me in,’ said Scotty. ‘Just go easy on the violent stuff, okay?’

  Keying the phone, Mac got himself in character. The call was answered on the second ring and Grimshaw snapped his greeting, a man under pressure.

  ‘Charles – nice night.’

  ‘What’s up?’ said the American. ‘Dozsa shifted all that currency from his compound.’

  ‘Not much I could do about it,’ said Mac. ‘We need to talk.’

  Grimshaw paused. ‘You’re back with the Aussies, aren’t you?’

  ‘I was,’ said Mac. ‘That’s what I have to talk about.’

  Chapter 55

  Leaving Scotty in the hallway with his gun drawn, Mac walked through Grimshaw’s door as it was opened.

  ‘Charles,’ said Mac.

  ‘Who’s the goon?’ said the American, making a quick scan of the corridor, but keeping his gun hand inside.

  ‘My friend,’ said Mac, taking a seat in one of the cane armchairs.

  Moving across the living area to the kitchen, Grimshaw returned with two cans of beer and gave one to Mac.

  Mac noted the drawn face and blank eyes, the look of a man getting no sleep but plenty to worry about. ‘I need your help, Charles – I have a deal.’

  ‘No promises,’ said Grimshaw. ‘But I can listen.’

  ‘I can point you to the SD card – the one with the Ormond Technik code on it.’

  ‘Really?’ said Grimshaw, his eyes focusing.

  ‘It’s not on me but I can tell you where it is.’

  ‘And?’ said the American.

  ‘And I get your help with Joel Dozsa. He has two Aussie hostages and I want them back.’

  Silence made the room seem small. No doubt Grimshaw had already found out about the Aussie hostages from Sammy, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Mac.

  ‘I may not want Joel Dozsa dead – have you thought about that?’ said Grimshaw.

  It stood to reason. If you had the chance to keep a Joel Dozsa in a military prison for a couple of years, get him talking about who else had been turned and how far the damage spread, then that’s what you did.

  ‘I thought about it,’ said Mac. ‘And I’m prepared to let Dozsa live if I can get your cooperation right now.’

  ‘That depends on the cooperation,’ said Grimshaw, the beer now abandoned on the coffee table between them.

  Mac nodded. ‘I don’t expect a blank cheque.’

  ‘What do you expect?’

  What he was about to propose went against his professional habits. ‘I can give you the location of that memory card and you’ll help me locate the Aussie hostages.’

  ‘If you know where the chip is, why don’t you have it?’ said Grimshaw, eyes darting to Mac’s.

  ‘Because it’s being carried by an agent of the Australian government,’ said Mac, exhaling.

  Issuing a low whistle, Grimshaw rubbed his bottom lip and turned sideways to look out the kitchen windows. ‘If you’re suggesting what
I think you’re suggesting, then I guess some people in Canberra don’t care too much for those hostages?’

  ‘That’s not your fight,’ said Mac. ‘I can give you a lock on a mobile phone that takes you to the SD card.’

  ‘Right now?’ said Grimshaw, sitting on the edge of the seat. ‘We’re talking about immediate?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Mac.

  ‘And what do you need?’

  Surprised that the conversation had come so far so quickly, Mac simply came out with it. ‘The Israelis put a micro-transmitter on my shirt. I pulled it off and put it in a piece of orange I was feeding to Lance – an Aussie operator.’

  ‘That guy who looks like a drummer?’

  ‘He’d prefer lead singer, but that’s him. It’s a long shot, but if we can get your signals people to find that transmitter, I get a chance at a rescue.’

  Grimshaw managed a quick smile. ‘You didn’t need to trade for that, Alan. I’d have given you that if I wasn’t busy.’

  ‘I know,’ said Mac, sitting back. ‘Which is why I need a different kind of favour before I give you the chip.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as telling me what’s going on.’

  Looking away, the American shook his head. ‘Don’t ask for much, do you?’

  ‘What’s Operation Lampoon? What’s HARPAC? And why is Sammy tied up in a chair next door?’

  Reaching for his beer, Grimshaw eyeballed Mac with a look that blended casual interest with homicidal intent. ‘Classified, classified, and . . . it’s not your fight.’

  ‘I’m serious,’ said Mac. ‘I joined your team in good faith and I’ve been played for a patsy all along. If we do this together maybe we both end up with what we want.’

  ‘What can you tell me about the transmitter?’ said Grimshaw, reaching behind the back of his chair and grabbing a satellite phone.

  ‘Small, black – size of a silver ball you find on a cake, with Velcro hooks,’ said Mac.

  ‘Is it a TWR?’ said Grimshaw, dialling.

  ‘Don’t know the brand but they’re the ones used by the Agency.’

  Holding up a finger, Grimshaw changed tone. ‘Mike – long time, huh?’

  He made small talk then got to the point. ‘Mike, wondering if we have any AWACs in the air, west Pacific, South China Sea? . . . That’s handy,’ said Grimshaw, giving Mac the thumbs-up. ‘I have a long shot that you guys might enjoy as a challenge.’

  The response was obviously not positive.

  ‘Come on, man,’ said Grimshaw. ‘That Taiwanese cryptogram made you look like a fucking genius, as I recall . . . Okay, okay,’ he chuckled. ‘We’re looking for a signal from a TWR micro-transmitter – probably US-issue, but not sure . . . Yeah,’ said Grimshaw. ‘Private use.’

  Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, Grimshaw looked at Mac. ‘They’re coming up with hundreds – they need a name. These transmitters are all allocated frequency, and private ones have to be registered before being allocated.’

  Mac shrugged, fatigue and the effects of painkillers starting to mess with him. ‘Try Dozsa? Or Radoff, or Beyer or . . . Shit, I don’t know, mate.’

  Grimshaw gave the names to the person on the other end and, after some waiting, looked at Mac and shook his head. ‘They need a company name – what was Radoff’s company?’

  ‘He has hundreds,’ said Mac. ‘His investment fund buys companies.’

  ‘What’s the fund called?’ said Grimshaw.

  Mac rubbed his temples, his mind blank.

  ‘What about Dozsa?’ said Grimshaw. ‘He have a company?’

  ‘No,’ said Mac, deciding he should avoid consuming painkillers and beer at the same time. ‘I . . . actually, wait a minute.’

  Thinking back, Mac remembered doing a vehicle ownership search on the green Toyota Prado that Dozsa had used in Saigon the night Quirk was killed. As he clicked his fingers for inspiration, his mind went in and out of focus like the shape of a trout swimming in a river.

  ‘Shit,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘Okay, Mike, thanks for the try,’ said Grimshaw, about to sign off.

  ‘Highland.’ Mac blurted it out. ‘Try Highland Surveying – registered Kuala Lumpur.’

  Grimshaw relayed the company name and as they waited, Mac could feel his eyelids drooping.

  ‘It is?’ said Grimshaw, sitting up and reaching for a pencil and pad. ‘Go ahead.’ He wrote quickly. ‘Okay, thanks, Mike – I owe ya.’

  Picking up his pad, Grimshaw read out the information. Micro-transmitters registered to Highland Surveying were transmitting signals from Kratie, Stung Treng and Prek Chamlak – a village on the Mekong, about thirty miles south of Kratie.

  ‘On the river?’ said Mac, surprised.

  ‘He’ll get back to me in ten minutes and tell us if they’re moving.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Mac. ‘So tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘You tell me where the card is,’ said Grimshaw, smiling.

  Reaching for the sat phone, Mac wandered into the kitchen area and gave his security and safety codes to the night person at SIS in Canberra.

  ‘Mate, I’ve lost track of an agent I’m working with. Name’s Sandy Beech, working with Defence Intelligence.’

  ‘Can’t you call him?’ said the clerk, a softly spoken man called Jonathan.

  ‘I have reason to believe he’s under electronic surveillance – he answers a call from me and he’ll be pinpointed or we’ll be eavesdropped. Either way, it’s dangerous.’

  ‘What do you want?’ said Jonathan, suspicious.

  ‘Give me a location of his phone,’ said Mac. ‘It’s a Commonwealth device, it should have a beacon on it.’

  ‘Um,’ said Jonathan, ‘I don’t know if –’

  ‘It’s a time-critical request,’ said Mac. ‘You can log this call and I take all responsibility.’

  ‘I’d have to put you through to DIO.’

  ‘We could keep it simpler – I can call Karl Berquist during his family meal, tell him I’m in danger because a person who’s supposed to be helping me is giving me the run-around,’ said Mac. ‘What’s your surname?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Jonathan, obviously keen to avoid a fight with the deputy DG of the Firm. ‘Just give me a sec.’

  Turning, Mac smiled at Grimshaw in the other room.

  Jonathan came back on the air. ‘That phone is thirty-two kilometres south of Kratie, in Cambodia – on Highway Seven.’

  ‘Wait one minute and then tell me where they are,’ said Mac, knowing that the beacon was located every sixty seconds in a tiny blip of a signature.

  Jonathan broke the silence again. ‘Thirty-three kilometres south of Kratie, sir,’ he said. ‘They’re heading south on Highway Seven.’

  Reciting the coordinates as Jonathan read them out, Mac watched Grimshaw write them on his pad.

  ‘Thanks, Jonathan,’ said Mac, disconnecting and walking back to the American. ‘You’ve got it – so, time for an explanation.’

  ‘I have to go – can we make it fast?’ said Grimshaw, checking his G-Shock.

  ‘Be your guest,’ said Mac.

  ‘This whole currency scam has been a bit of a red herring,’ said Grimshaw. ‘It was an opportunity that Dozsa saw because of McHugh’s position.’

  ‘Position?’

  ‘She was inside the US Treasury, so she could be useful for money-making schemes. But Dozsa didn’t want her for the counterfeiting.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No – Dozsa knew McHugh was married to Jim Quirk, who had access and security override rights on the Australian security computers.’

  ‘He was signing off on a purchase of Ormond Technik, by an Aussie firm.’

  ‘Yes, Alan,’ said Grimshaw. ‘But I don’t think
that Ormond Technik was the only thing downloaded by Jim Quirk onto the chip that night.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ said Mac.

  ‘It means Ormond only made two components for the Milstar system – and besides, we’ve been keeping an eye on the Chinese satellite listening posts for a number of years. It isn’t the main issue.’

  ‘So what’s on the memory card?’ said Mac.

  ‘Been watching TV lately?’ said Grimshaw.

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘North Korea’s missile tests are beginning at five am tomorrow,’ said Grimshaw. ‘They traditionally fly over – but don’t land on – Japan.’

  ‘Yeah, but the Japs are on a hair trigger,’ said Mac. ‘They see it as a military provocation.’

  ‘Right – all of that chest-beating we love so much between the Japs and the Koreans,’ said Grimshaw. ‘But what would happen in North Asia if those rockets didn’t fall harmlessly into the Pacific, but landed in Okinawa or Tokyo?’

  Mac shifted in his seat. ‘I guess we’d find out pretty quickly if Japan’s space program is really a front for a ballistic missile capability.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ said the American. ‘And within a few hours we’d also find out if their reactors have been making plutonium all along.’

  ‘That wouldn’t suit anyone.’

  ‘No,’ said Grimshaw. ‘What would China do if the Japs started firing?’

  ‘They’d have an excuse to attack Japan,’ said Mac, barely crediting the words as they came out of his mouth. ‘And then the Russians and Americans would have to take sides.’

  ‘You’ve been reading your circulars,’ said Grimshaw.

  ‘So what are you saying? Where does Quirk fit into this?’

  Grimshaw looked at his watch again. ‘You asked about HARPAC and Lampoon?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Mac.

  ‘Lampoon is an NSA operation, authorised by the President,’ said Grimshaw. ‘My job is to find out what exactly a fund called Harbour Pacific – HARPAC – has been buying in the past six months, and who has ultimate control of those assets.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It’s a very large buy-up of router and switching assets – technology used in the North Korean command-and-control systems.’