There was a sudden bang as a tyre blew and the car shook violently. The shock absorber on the damaged wheel shot out and harpooned through the bonnet, getting stuck halfway. The car wobbled as Bill fought to keep up. They watched helplessly as the van slipped away, and they saw the injured man suddenly lunge towards the open door. Dangling on the edge, and only half conscious, he held onto a seatbelt strap. A hard shove in the back flung him onto the asphalt, the door behind him closed and the van continued towards the off-ramp.
Aazim stared at the horrifying sight of the gunman hitting the road. He watched him tumble and scrape along the rough surface before eventually coming to a stop on the hot asphalt. Bill was concentrating on the car, which was rapidly falling apart. A mixture of smoke and steam spewed from the bonnet, and the engine was being stretched to its limits as it strained to respond to Bill’s demands.
The van was some distance in front now. It turned off the freeway and crossed the overpass heading towards the airport while they followed a few hundred metres behind. An airfield tower had just come into view when their front tyre completely tore off the buckled rim, skidded on the road and into oncoming traffic on the opposite side of the freeway. Bill struggled frantically with the steering wheel, like a beast refusing to yield to its master.
The van stopped in front of the terminal building, and Sam and his bodyguard got out and rushed inside. Apart from one or two vehicles, the car park was deserted, the scorching midday sun deterring anyone from venturing on a weekend joy flight.
Bill drove their wrecked vehicle up to the entry and they both jumped out before coming to a halt.
‘Stay in the car, Aazim,’ Bill ordered.
‘We haven’t got time for that. I’m coming with you.’
Bill was in no mind to argue and they both rushed in after Sam. Roughly the size of a medium Woolworth’s shopping centre, the terminal building was one of the oldest in Australia, its two runways servicing general planes and corporate jets. Within seconds of entering the drab building they were greeted by the sound of an AK47 firing numerous rounds. Taking cover behind a wide concrete pillar, they saw the two men at the opposite end of the terminal.
Sam was going through the only checkin when he decided to skip procedures and hurried through the gates. When the checkin clerks tried to stop him, his menacing bodyguard shot them both. An airport security guard ran out of his office and returned fire but his handgun was no match for the firepower he faced. A spray of bullets followed him as he retreated to his office, where he called for backup.
‘Here, take this.’ Bill gave Aazim a gun he’d taken from Rafique, the security guard from Aust Global Fund. ‘Have you used one before?’
‘No, but how hard can it be?’ Aazim said, trying to sound confident.
Bill fired at the gunman and looked around for cover. He knew they would have everything thrown at them until Sam was in the clear. ‘Stay behind me and keep your head down.’
Aazim realised their helpless position and followed Sam as he made his way out onto the tarmac. He noticed a small passenger jet taxi out of a hanger. ‘There he is, that’s the plane he’s heading for!’ he called out to Bill and pointed to the only aircraft moving.
Fragments of shattered concrete cut into their view. Bill fired back and ducked out of sight again. ‘This guy has us pinned but he has to come out if we separate,’ he said, replacing the empty magazine and cocking the trigger.
‘There’s another gate on the other end,’ Aazim said.
Bill contemplated for a moment. ‘Make a run for it when I say so.’ He shuffled to the other side of the pillar and swapped positions with Aazim, firing at the shooter as he moved. ‘Go!’
Aazim’s heart raced as he ran for the doors a hundred metres away on the opposite end of the building. The gunman turned and trained his AK47 on Aazim but before he could mow him down Bill fired three shots, one scraping the man’s leg. Aazim made it to the doors but found the sensors didn’t register. They were marked No Exit and he was dangerously exposed. He raised his gun clumsily and blasted away at the glass doors, half closing his eyes and turning his head. The glass shattered and he ran onto the tarmac after the jet.
With Aazim out of reach, Sam’s man edged his way out of cover towards the exit gate. His position was desperate, but he kept blasting away in an effort to fend off Bill, protect his boss and get to the plane himself. Bill took his chance while the gunman’s shooting was erratic and unfocused. He came out in the open and dropped to one knee, carefully taking aim as bullets whizzed passed and ricocheted off the floor. His first shot pierced the gunman’s shoulder and the second penetrated his forehead, making a small entry hole and a mess behind him as Bill emptied his clip.
Sam ran frantically to catch the plane’s lowered door, nearly losing his balance as he stumbled on the small steps. It was a laboured climb and once safe inside he ordered the flight attendant to instruct the pilot to take off. He turned to reel in the door but to his frustration the steps wouldn’t budge. He peered outside and saw Aazim climbing in, scrambling on the string railing with one hand and holding a gun with the other.
‘Stop the plane!’ Aazim yelled.
‘You don’t give me orders, Aazim,’ Sam barked.
The engines roared louder and the plane picked up speed, the whole fuselage vibrating.
‘Stop it or I’ll shoot you!’
‘Get off my plane!’
‘I’m not letting you take off.’
‘How dare you!’ Sam was seething with anger. ‘Go home to your computers and be satisfied you’re alive, unlike your father.’
Aazim held on clumsily. The plane’s vibration shook him off balance but he maintained his grip. ‘No, I don’t believe you.’
‘I wasn’t the only one after him, Aazim.’
‘I don’t believe you, Sam.’
‘Get off my plane, I don’t care what you believe,’ Sam screamed.
Aazim pulled the trigger. He looked at the gun and pulled the trigger again and again, but it failed to fire. The chamber was empty; he’d used up all his bullets breaking the glass doors. Sam responded by striking out, but his fist only grazed Aazim’s jaw as he moved in time to avoid full contact. Aazim dropped the gun and it bounced away on the tarmac. He fell back to the last step of the ladder while the plane accelerated further. Sam lashed out. His foot slammed into Aazim’s chest, causing him to stumble and slip off the ladder, his body half over the edge and feet scraping along the tarmac. Sam stamped on Aazim’s hands as he struggled to hold on, releasing his grip from one hand and reaching underneath the ladder for a hold. Aazim’s legs were on fire as he was dragged along the hot surface while his bloodied hands fought for a grip.
‘Don’t you see what’s happening?’ A transforming rage had taken hold of Sam, his eyes darting wildly. ‘Islam made a hudna with infidels. Our enemy has lived with a false assurance of peace for centuries, a meaningless treaty meant to be broken, and our time has come.’
‘You’re insane,’ Aazim screamed, his words lost in the wind.
‘It’s our duty as Muslims to restore Islam’s glory,’ Sam yelled, ‘and no one will stop the caliphate.’
‘You don’t care about Islam, you’re just mad for power. You’re a terrorist, Sam.’
‘And you are a fool.’ Sam positioned himself for a final blow to Aazim’s knuckles.
‘I changed your account codes!’ Aazim yelled with the remaining bit of strength left in his body.
‘What?’
‘You won’t see a cent of that money,’ Aazim shouted before releasing his grip and hitting the surface hard, protecting his head from the impact. He rolled along the tarmac, a gust of hot engine air propelling him backwards. When he finally came to a halt, he couldn’t remember the actual fall. He just lay dazed and disorientated, his head spinning. Rolling onto his back, he watched the plane ascend with an open door. Agonising pain exploded through his muscles and lacerated skin and new injuries announced themselves with every movement he
made. He was a complete wreck but he was grateful to be alive.
Chapter 24
‘Turn back! Turn back, I said!’ Sam yelled.
‘But sir, we’re in the air.’ The panicking flight attendant fought with Sam to close the door.
‘This is my plane and I order you to land immediately!’
‘Please, sir, we must close the door and pressurise the cabin.’
Sam made for the cockpit. Realising his intention, and at great risk to himself, the flight attendant blocked Sam’s way, further infuriating the determined man. Sam broke the man’s nose with a head butt and grabbed him, putting his neck in a vice-like headlock.
‘Our take-off was illegal, sir,’ the flight attendant struggled to say, his eyes about to pop out of their sockets. ‘The police will be waiting for us.’
Gritting his teeth in fury, Sam accepted his predicament but squeezed a final time before dropping the unconscious man onto the floor. He looked down at the airstrip through the small windows at the sea of strobe lights flashing from various vehicles and scores of people rushing about like ants.
‘I’m fine, I just want to go home.’
‘Let them clean you up, Aazim,’ Bill said gently. ‘You took a pretty hard fall.’
Paramedics were attending to their wounds in the back of an ambulance. A tall, middle-aged man with a chiselled chin and intelligent face approached. Dressed like a politician, he projected an air of authority.
‘Mr McKane and Mr Elkhoury, I am Rodney Blunt,’ he introduced himself in a deep voice.
‘Sir,’ Bill greeted him, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
Aazim was focused on his grazes, preoccupied and distant.
‘You two have been involved in a mess that will take us a long time to clean up,’ the director stated, putting his hands in his pockets. ‘However, the information you uncovered is remarkable and invaluable to national security – it remains confidential.’ The hint was not lost.
‘Aren’t you going to chase after him?’ Aazim cut in.
‘Sam will be out of Australian airspace by the time fighter jets are scrambled,’ Bill explained.
‘Bill’s right, but don’t worry about Saeed. He’s made dangerous enemies and if he’s lucky we’ll get him first.’
‘Mr Blunt, you might be interested in these too,’ Bill said, handing him the yellow envelope.
The director pulled out the file and raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘Now what?’
‘I can’t get you recognition for this, Bill, but I’ll make sure your record is cleared,’ Blunt said. ‘I looked into your file and I found Barry’s fingerprints all over it.’
‘What I want, sir, is a royal commission, done properly this time.’
‘A public inquiry will devastate the agency, Bill. This is classified information and we have huge amounts of work still ahead of us.’ Blunt looked away momentarily, gesturing towards Aazim. ‘Let’s talk about this another time.’
‘You read my record and you know what I want. I understand how the agency operates and I won’t let this mess get swept under the carpet. Too much has happened and things will have to change. Furthermore, since I’m no longer an ASIO employee I’m not bound by your directives.’ Bill felt like a mouse standing up to a bull but he had a chance to get it right this time.
‘Yes, I know what you want.’ The director sighed. ‘I’ll bring the matter of the deputy director into the open and sift through every case he worked on. I want the rats in the agency exposed as much as you do, but this and Aust Global Fund stays classified.’ He pointed to the file. ‘Should the information on that fax of yours ever come out it has the potential to turn global financial markets upside down. And if that happens, they win.’
‘Thank you, sir, that’s all I ask,’ Bill replied.
‘Gentlemen, I will need you for extensive debriefing on this whole fiasco, but in your current state I doubt I’ll get much out of you. You have one day to get some rest now, and we’ll talk later. My men will take you home and bring you back in the morning. Consider this a favour. They’ll be stationed outside your homes by the way, just in case you decide to go on with your covert operations.’
‘House arrest, sir?’ Bill replied.
But the director didn’t answer and walked away briskly, handing the file to his assistant.
The paramedic finished dressing Aazim’s wounds and left them alone.
‘I pulled the trigger,’ Aazim said, his face forlorn. ‘He said he’d killed my father. There were no bullets in the gun but I didn’t know that – I just wanted him dead. He brought me down to his level, Bill.’
Bill reached into his pocket and pulled out a page from the file he’d given to the director. ‘You’ll never be on his level. Here, I thought you might want to hold onto this.’
Aazim looked at the picture of his father and was overwhelmed with grief. ‘I hope he’s safe.’
‘Let’s go home,’ Bill said, indicating the waiting car.
Cautiously Aazim opened the door to his apartment, immediately feeling comforted and safe. But something seemed to be missing: it wasn’t the same as before. Or perhaps it wasn’t his home that was different. He heard rattling in the kitchen and he stiffened with anger at the thought of intruders. He was tired of running and tired of being chased. Whoever was in there had better be prepared because he wasn’t running anymore. Grabbing a vase, he walked quietly to the kitchen. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man before him.
‘Aba?’
‘Hello son.’
Using a satellite phone, Sam desperately attempted to reach his couriers. The money should have been transferred by now, but he was already halfway through his phone list and he hadn’t received an answer from any of them.
The flight attendant came through with a tray of drinks, his nose covered in band-aids and both eye sockets bearing deep bruises. ‘A refreshment, sir?’
Sam took a glass of water and skulled it down, dismissing the man contemptuously.
The flight itinerary was meant to fool authorities by scheduling to land in Dubai, but instead the plane would divert to a small airfield in Syria, close to the Iraqi border from where they would drive to the northern Iraqi town of Mosul. Sam had chosen this staging point to unite the many fragmented Islamic groups and create an army of their own, one that would march to Baghdad and drive out the occupying forces. From there a caliphate would take shape and embolden the rest of the Islamic world to follow.
Sam’s eyesight became hazy. He was finding it difficult to concentrate and a feeling of overwhelming drowsiness was taking hold. Reduced to seeing shadows and outlines of objects, his muscles refused to cooperate and the glass slipped from his hand. He could just make out the figure of the flight attendant standing in front of him.
‘What did you …’ He slumped in his seat as the drugs took hold.
Aazim hugged his father as though they hadn’t seen each other in years. Tears ran down his cheeks and he squeezed the man’s arms as if to make sure it was really him. In turn his father fussed over Aazim’s wounds and checked that he was in one piece.
‘Let’s sit down and eat, son, we have much to talk about.’
But Aazim had no appetite. He needed answers. He needed to understand the madness that had gripped his family. Pushing his plate aside, he looked at his father and said, ‘Explain this to me, Dad.’ He slid across the table the piece of paper and photo showing Ilias Elkhoury’s involvement in The Brotherhood.
Ilias set down his fork and knife and wiped his mouth. ‘Son, there are a lot of things you don’t know about, but yes, I am, or was, a member of The Brotherhood.’
‘And Mum? Was she one too?’
‘Yes, she was.’
‘You kept all of this from me? Have you got any idea what I’ve been through over the last few days?’
Aazim had never raised his voice at his father before but he couldn’t contain himself and let loose. He told him everything, from the discovery he’d made at Aust
Global fund to the horrific fate of Mrs Sparrow, the death and destruction at the hands of Sam and Barry and finally, the most shocking moment of all, the file on his own father linked to terrorists.
‘Son, the past few days have been traumatic for you, but please understand, everything I did was for the right reasons.’
Aazim shook his head in disbelief.
‘Please let me explain,’ Ilias said, his sincere eyes pleading for understanding.
‘You went away to Lebanon and I haven’t heard from you in God knows how long. I thought Sam’s men had killed you!’
‘I know, Aazim, but it’s all right now. We’ll be okay,’ his father soothed. Sitting back in his chair, he began.
‘Your mother and I did a lot of charity work for The Brotherhood. She did the books at Aust Global Fund because of her accounting skills and I went out in the community to help with charity funding. In a way, we oversaw the company for a sheik based in Egypt.’
‘You two were the Australian partners?’
‘Yes. We oversaw the distribution of donations from the company. We go way back to our days in Lebanon with the sheik and it was he who helped us come to Australia when our lives were in danger. We owed him a dept and gladly helped when he asked us to do charity work for the Muslim community here. When a business-savvy fellow called Saeed came from The Brotherhood we took him in with open arms. He promised the company would run as normal and explained he was there to oversee the operational side.’
‘The technology infrastructure?’
‘Yes, that’s right. Over time your mother discovered that odd things were going on. I didn’t take note at first; I was hardly there. Books were unbalanced, there were hidden funds and money either disappeared or came in from nowhere.’
Ilias paused and sighed before continuing. ‘She convinced me to take a closer look but I had to be careful. Sam had brought some odd-looking men with him. I asked one of the server technicians to do an audit on equipment and data in the server room, but something happened to him soon after and he disappeared without a trace. Sam picked up on my activities and warned me to back off. I discussed it with your mother and we both agreed to inform the sheik but first we needed evidence.’
THE BROTHERHOOD Page 20