THE BROTHERHOOD

by Steve Jovanoski

  ‘You self-righteous bastard. I’ve seen your record so don’t play the pious one,’ Barry snarled.

  ‘You and I switched teams a long time ago. Where is Sam? I’m not asking you again.’

  ‘How the fuck should I know? I left him at the mosque. I don’t work for him, I control him. I control him, Bill.’

  ‘You dumb bastard. Do you really believe that?’

  ‘I know everything that goes on, everything. They can have their cell but no Australian citizen is to be targeted. We had to compromise, it’s in our interest.’

  ‘No, it’s in your interest, just like it was in Jakarta. You’ve given them absolute freedom to set up an entire financial system. They have endless funds to tap into across the globe and you think you have the power to control something that big? You think you’re controlling them because no bombs have exploded in Australia?’ Bill laughed blackly, anger tightening his body like a screw.

  ‘I have you to thank for this, Bill.’

  ‘What’re you talking about?’

  ‘The Brotherhood report you did a few years ago …’ Barry took small breaths and continued. ‘Oh, you remember. It nearly ended up in the trash before I read it.’

  ‘You made contact with Sam and the bombing in Jakarta was all your doing, wasn’t it?’ Bill’s body slumped in response to what he’d just figured out. He’d always suspected Barry had been withholding vital information on the Jakarta bombing but never to this extent. In some way he felt relieved. Finally it was in the open.

  ‘The Indonesian officer was crooked. An arms dealer selling weapons to Jemaah Islamiyah, for fuck’s sake. They killed eighty-eight Australians in Bali, remember? Sam wanted the competition eliminated and we got rid of a threat.’

  ‘You used ASIO illegally to glorify your success, advance your career and receive funds from a known terrorist.’ Cold sweat ran down Bill’s face, his eyes stony.

  ‘You have no evidence of that,’ Barry grunted.

  Bill took his foot off the big man’s chest and cocked the trigger.

  ‘Bill, take a look at this.’ Aazim was finished with the printout and hurried to the other side of the room, oblivious to what was about to happen. He handed Bill a page of the printout. ‘Look at this account right here and check the date,’ he said, pointing to a recent deposit.

  Bill moved slowly and read the dates. Without blinking he turned to Barry, knelt down on one knee and searched Barry’s pockets while still holding the gun to his forehead. He pulled out car keys and a spare magazine for his Beretta. ‘Let’s go, we’re done here.’

  ‘I knew you couldn’t do it,’ Barry mocked, knowing how close he’d come to being executed.

  ‘You have Janelle to answer for and I’ve got you now.’

  ‘You’ve got nothing,’ Barry moaned.

  ‘Sam kept a well-organised record of all his payoffs and it seems he made plenty to this account.’ Bill turned a page and showed Barry one of the printouts, tracing a section with his finger. ‘One here made on the same day as the Jakarta bombing.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘The account is in your name,’ Bill said, before motioning to Aazim and heading for the door.

  It was freezing out in the open but escaping the house was a relief. Bill raised his hand high in the air and repeatedly pressed the remote to Barry’s car. He waved it around in all directions until headlights flashed a few hundred yards down the street where the car was parked in the driveway of a house. Clever, he thought.

  They got in the car, and Bill reversed and drove away.

  Chapter 21

  Seconds later headlights lit up in a side street on the opposite end of the road and a dark van drove towards Lenni’s house. Sam’s men jumped out, looking around for signs of movement before taking out their guns and attaching silencers. They entered the unlocked house and into the obvious aftermath of a gunfight. One of its casualties lay in front of them. Barry had crawled halfway across the floor in a desperate attempt to reach the phone. At the sound of the men, he turned on his back and looked up in surprise. ‘What are you doing here? Don’t stand gawking – get me an ambulance!’

  ‘Where did the other two go?’ one of the men asked in a heavy accent.

  ‘Did you follow me here? I don’t bloody know! Probably after your boss. Now do as I say or I’ll have your arses deported.’ Barry’s eyes searched the floor in vain for the gun; Bill had kicked it under a couch and well out of reach. The two exchanged glances and aimed their guns.

  ‘Fucking Arabs,’ Barry muttered in disgust before the bullets ripped into his chest.

  ‘What’s that?’ Bill indicated the yellow envelope Aazim had found on the passenger seat.

  ‘I’m not sure but I think it has something to do with The Brotherhood.’ Aazim looked through a file that included a list with dates and a number of photos. All the men looked to be Middle Eastern; some were dressed in traditional robes with long beards but most were clean-cut and wore business attire.

  ‘Show me.’ Bill took the file while at the same time keeping an eye on the road. ‘Jesus, these must be Brotherhood leaders,’ he exclaimed, turning the pages. ‘Sam’s the only one who could get this kind of information.’

  ‘How do you figure that?’ Aazim asked.

  ‘The Brotherhood operates in a cell-like system. Each cell’s independent of the other and members of one cell don’t know the identity of the others – much like how al-Qaeda operates but only tighter.’

  ‘So how would Sam know who they are?’

  ‘Think about it. Sam’s the treasurer and he distributes funds to The Brotherhood. He has to know at least one member from each cell he can authorise money to. And who’s the best person for that?’

  ‘The one in charge,’ Aazim replied.

  ‘Correct. But why is he willing to expose the leadership? What’s he up to?’

  ‘Have we got enough evidence to implicate them all?’ Aazim was unable to hide his excitement. He was close to getting his life back and all those responsible would be locked up. Thoughts of his father once again floated into his mind.

  ‘Sam controls the money, which gives him a lot of power. In all that chaos he’ll simply step in and take charge. This will make him more dangerous than ever.’

  Bill was thinking out loud and missed Aazim’s question. One of the men looked strangely familiar. He tried to read the name and swerved dangerously to the other side of the road. Fighting fatigue and trying to concentrate, he brought it under control. He removed the picture from the file and handed it to Aazim.

  ‘Can you explain this?’ he said.

  Aazim stared at the man in the photo. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said, blood draining from his face. ‘This is my father. What’s a photo of my father doing here, Bill?’ It must be some mistake, he thought. He couldn’t bear to think his father had some kind of involvement with these criminals. Even so, deep inside a feeling of dread stirred. There was much he didn’t know about his father’s past but he hardly expected anything on this level.

  Bill shrugged, as if indicating that he was about to give up trying to figure things out. ‘Do you know why he went to Lebanon?’

  Aazim’s face registered only confusion. He didn’t respond to Bill’s question; he seemed to be asking himself the very same thing.

  As pressing as matters were, they had to get some rest for a few hours. The comfortable government car was a nice change from the previous rough rides and piqued their longing for a hot shower, food and warm bed. Aazim sighed in relief when Bill pulled up at a small motel, its neon sign buzzing and flickering overhead. Inside a young clerk looked up lazily from his Wheels magazine and raised his eyebrow when the two guests requested a room.

  ‘Two single beds,’ Bill clarified.

  The clerk handed over the electronic card and gave directions to the room. ‘Enjoy your night, fellas,’ he added with a smirk.

  In the hallway one vending machine contained stale sandwiches and another cigarettes. Bill dug into
his pocket for change and bought a couple of each, one to quell their hunger pains and the other for his nerves. They entered the air-conditioned room and Aazim threw himself on the bed. Annoyed at the No Smoking sign, Bill opened a window and sat on the ledge. He lit a cigarette and turned to Aazim, who was already snoring, a sandwich in his hand.

  An unfamiliar mobile phone tune bleated in the silent room. Unaware where it was coming from, Bill soon realised it was Barry’s. At first he ignored the disturbance but the caller was persistent and kept trying to get in touch with the phone’s owner. Bill reached for it and saw the caller ID displayed: Blunt-Dir. Could it be? Startled and unprepared, he took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking to the director of ASIO. Morning light peered through the curtains and the bedside clock displayed six am. Only three hours of sleep. Not much but better than nothing.

  ‘Hello?’ Bill sensed the defensive shift on the other end.

  ‘Who is this?’ The director demanded.

  Bill had met the director on a couple of occasions. Blunt was a tough man, and was highly respected by those who worked for him. Known as a legend in the organisation, he took care of his people: he was either a powerful ally or a fierce opponent; there was no middle ground. Bill had no idea how much the director knew about what was happening so the situation called for delicate diplomacy. This was an opportunity to either turn things around or sink even further into trouble.

  ‘Mr Blunt, this is William McKane.’

  ‘Mr McKane?’ There was a shuffling sound and the background noise was muffled by a hand covering the receiver. ‘Where is Mr Donovan? I urge you and your companion to hand yourselves in.’

  Bill knew they only had a few minutes before the tracking device in the mobile phone was activated.

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible right now, sir.’ Bill clicked his fingers at Aazim, gesturing for him to prepare for a hasty departure.

  ‘And why is that, Mr McKane? Where is Barry? I’d like to speak to him.’

  ‘He’s wounded but alive. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. Mr Blunt, Barry was behind the Jakarta incident, Janelle’s death and a number of other cases we don’t yet know about. He’s been taking bribes from the Islamic fundamentalist organisation The Brotherhood and safeguarding their operation in Australia.’ Bill looked at his watch and marked the time.

  ‘Are you accusing the deputy director of treason, Mr McKane? These are grave allegations from a man on the run. Why don’t you come in and we’ll talk about it? I will personally guarantee your safety.’

  Bill realised the director was stalling and agents were probably fixing their location at that very moment.

  ‘I have evidence, sir. Give me a fax number for your eyes only and I promise you both of us will come in. Otherwise you’ll read about it in tomorrow’s paper.’

  Blunt resented threats but settled for a compromise and gave Bill his office fax number. True or not, that sort of information in the hands of the press would make his job extremely uncomfortable.

  Bill hung up, dismantled the mobile and threw the pieces in the bathroom toilet. He explained the conversation to Aazim and the need to leave immediately.

  ‘If he can guarantee our safety then why not take up the offer?’ Aazim protested.

  ‘We won’t make it to the front door if I tell them where we are. We don’t know how many agents Barry has working for him.’

  On the way out Bill spent the rest of his change on the sandwich machine: they would need all the energy they could get for another long day. They handed in the room keys and headed for the car park. Barry’s car was hot property but they needed transport.

  Blunt turned to one of his agents tracking the mobile signal. ‘Did you get it?’

  ‘We lost the signal, sir, but we’ve narrowed it down to this location.’ The agent pointed to a map of north Melbourne in the vicinity of the motel.

  ‘Send out a task force, cordon off the area and find them. I want the files on William McKane and all we have on The Brotherhood organisation on my desk.’

  Discovering the deputy director’s body that morning in a suburban house had blown the roof at ASIO, prompting Rodney Blunt to order an immediate halt to all operations in Barry’s department. He expected point-scoring accusations from political opportunists in Canberra and he prepared the usual response to the media, which was ‘No comment on matters of national security’. Blunt cursed himself for failing to clamp down on his subordinate and reel him in when he’d had the chance. Internal investigators were sent in to interview staff members, databases and files were seized, and a thorough review conducted on all field operations approved by the deputy director going back years.

  The conversation with William McKane was a further complication Blunt did not need. What worried him was Bill’s response when asked about Barry. It wasn’t what he expected from someone suspected of executing a top ASIO figure. And the revelation of Barry’s involvement with a terrorist organisation meant Blunt had to keep a tight lid on things for as long as possible.

  Chapter 22

  ‘Never mind, just make sure we’re ready.’ Sam ordered his men to prepare for a departure after being told of their encounter with Barry. The yellow envelope he’d given him containing details of the Brotherhood leadership would serve its purpose equally in the hands of Bill and Aazim. By the time the two had managed to convince the authorities they had proof of Aust Global Fund’s underground business he would be long gone. It would no longer matter if the whole world knew about it; on the contrary, he would reveal himself as the new leader of the Muslim world.

  He was still at Masjid Saad Mosque with Hanif when he instructed his men to meet him at Aust Global Fund. It was time to release the initial billion dollars to the men he’d sent ahead of him. He had to do it in stages so as not to raise the suspicions of Aust Global Fund’s clients. The transaction was immediate but he altered the balance update for twenty-four hours later, which gave him plenty of time to disappear before his customers detected the missing funds. His position in Aust Global Fund would become untenable, not to mention dangerous, but his authority in the Middle East would be unquestionable. He who controls the money controls the power, as he liked to say.

  While driving, Bill retrieved the Beretta from his jacket and released the magazine to check on ammunition. It was almost full and he had another spare magazine in his pocket; he hoped it would be enough. He picked up on Aazim’s apprehension and realised just how much the young man had endured. Before nearing the city centre, he pulled over at a post office.

  ‘Fax the printouts to this number, Az,’ he said, handing him a piece of paper. ‘Once you’re done, call the director on the bottom number and confirm he’s received them.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Aust Global Fund. If Sam hasn’t already fled the country he’ll be there.’

  ‘By yourself? That’s crazy, Bill. What about Barry’s men?’

  ‘They’ll have the director to worry about now, and with any luck they’ll be staying away from the place. It’s what I would do.’

  ‘That still leaves Sam’s men. I’m coming with you. I’m not running from this yet.’

  ‘There’s no time, Az. If Sam gets out of the country we’ll have another Bin Laden on the loose and this is our chance to cripple The Brotherhood.’

  Aazim hesitated for a moment but he knew Bill was right: Sam had to be stopped before he disappeared.

  ‘The data centre’s on the lower ground floor,’ he told Bill. ‘Take the lift and just look for doors with CCT cameras above them. Once you’re inside you’ll see rows of server racks. What you’re looking for is on the very last row at the back of the server room. It’s bigger than the rest and the only one of its kind. That’s where you’ll find Sam if he’s still here.’

  Aazim closed the car door and rushed into the post office, the sound of screeching tyres behind him.

  Bill parked in front of Aust Global Fund. He expected police to locate the c
ar and come after him, but not before he was well inside. As he expected, there was no sign of Barry’s men, only in-house security patrolling the building perimeter. It was the weekend and apart from a dark van parked in front of the building there were no employees, with only the occasional car driving past. From the building next door he assessed the men he was up against. Two of them were covering two entry points; walking from either end of the building they would meet in the middle and lazily amble back again. They had their backs to each other until they reached their corner and turned around. He noted the young overweight security guard closest to him fondling a mobile phone. The other was older, strolling along as though through a park on a Sunday morning. Both were armed and carried receiver that occasionally crackled into life, indicating there were others he had to look out for. Bill figured they were part-time lackeys with a licence to carry a gun.

  There was no time for elaborate plans so he decided to improvise. Choosing the guard busy with his phone, he came out of hiding and casually strolled along the footpath, looking like a pedestrian in no particular hurry. He reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette, stopping right in front of the guard. Patting his clothes, he made as if looking for a lighter. The guard glanced up momentarily then continued typing his text messages, uninterested in the stranger.

  ‘Excuse me, mate, can I borrow a lighter?’

  ‘I don’t smoke,’ the guard replied before looking up and finding himself staring down the barrel of a Beretta.

  Bill reached for the man’s holster and unclipped his gun, shoving it in his pocket along with his access card. ‘Drop the phone,’ he commanded, grabbing him by the elbow and spinning him around so the guard’s back was to him.

  The startled guard dropped his phone and put up his hands.

  ‘Put your hands down,’ Bill ordered. He took out the guard’s receiver and placed it in front of the scared man’s mouth. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Rafique.’