Sword of Allah

by David Rollins

  Ten minutes later, Wilkes found himself outside the designated office. A familiar face appeared around the corner. ‘Thanks for coming down so quickly, Tom,’ said Graeme Griffin, shaking his hand. ‘Flight okay?’

  ‘Fine, thank you, sir,’ said Wilkes.

  ‘Good. Come on in.’ The Director-General of the Australian Secret Intelligence Service was tall and lean. The handshake felt like holding five steel bolts. Long before ASIS, Griffin had been an academic, an associate professor in the political science faculty at Melbourne University. Rumour had it he’d also had a military background, something in black ops, but no one knew too much more than that. But these days, just about everyone claimed some kind of Special Forces background and Wilkes would have been far more impressed if he’d been something unusual, say, a palaeoanthropologist. Aside from that, the man was shrouded in mystery, appropriate for Australia’s top spy.

  Griffin led the way through the door. The room was darkened, but there was enough light for Wilkes to recognise some increasingly familiar faces. Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Hardcastle, standing, winked. What’s he doing here? Atticus Monroe gave him a nod, and so did Gia Ferallo. Wilkes returned the gestures. There was someone seated at the large black oval table he didn’t know.

  ‘I believe you’re familiar with everyone here except for Captain Ali Mahisa from Indonesian counter-terrorism. He’s currently attached to Indonesian special forces – Kopassus.’

  That caught Wilkes by surprise. Mahisa stood and shook Wilkes’s hand, and accompanied it with a slight bow. ‘Warrant Officer Wilkes. Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ he said formally.

  Wilkes was not so sure he was all that pleased about it.

  ‘The captain was here on a familiarising tour with the Australian Federal Police, learning our investigation methods. After the weekend’s atrocity, his mission has hardened up considerably. A larger task force is being put together combining the captain’s unit, the AFP, CIA, ASIO and ASIS to target and dismantle terrorist groups in the region. Captain Mahisa has some knowledge of the Babu Islam group, the people currently under our microscope. He’s the nearest thing we’ve got to an expert on these people.’

  Mahisa gave a smile, projecting it around the table. Wilkes ran an eye over him. He was part Malay, part Indian, with an open, friendly face. He was also quite short and thin, with a vascular neck that became more so when he talked. He looked fragile, but appearances, Wilkes knew, could be deceptive, especially if the guy was special forces. Wilkes found it strange – a little uncomfortable – having a friendly chitchat with someone from the Indonesian Kopassus. Not so long ago, he’d been shooting holes in the captain’s buddies. What the hell. Wilkes decided that the discomfort was something he’d better get over fast if he had to work with this man. And besides, the problems Australia had had with Indonesia recently were because of a few rotten apples within their military. The Kopassus were still Indonesia’s bad boys but the country was supposed to be an ally, not an enemy. Wilkes took a seat beside the captain.

  A face flashed up on the screen. The Indon with the gold tooth. Then, beside it, the photo of the man behind the machine gun.

  ‘Duat and Kadar Al-Jahani,’ said Griffin, taking a seat. Hardcastle also sat. ‘We’ve talked about these two already. Just to recap: Kadar Al-Jahani, Middle Eastern terrorist of note, explosives expert, a vicious character. Duat, another pea in the same pod. Suspected of bombing churches, leader of Babu Islam, a rabble with a cause – the cause being the transformation of Indonesia into a fundamentalist Islamic state with Sharia law imposed. We’ve known for a little while that these two have joined forces. Why? Aside from gunrunning and drug smuggling, we weren’t sure. Now, well, we’re getting a few clues.

  ‘Babu Islam were like many similar groups – plotting grand schemes but with no serious member base and not enough funding to pull them off. The best they could manage was the odd homemade device capable of killing and wounding a few unfortunates who happened to be worshipping God at the wrong venue.

  ‘Kadar Al-Jahani’s arrival has changed everything. He’s given BI credibility and that, combined with adequate funding, makes them particularly dangerous. Now, the forensic reports from last week’s attack in Jakarta are still preliminary, but we’ve got something to go on with. Atticus?’

  Jesus, forensics? That was quick, thought Wilkes, but he guessed it was to be expected. The chances of nailing the perpetrators of these kinds of crimes – the who – depended on knowing as much as possible about the what and the how, as quickly as possible. The fact that Griffin put Kadar Al-Jahani and the forensics report from the shattered US Embassy in the same preamble told Wilkes a lot already.

  Monroe tapped the manila folder in front of him a couple of times before speaking, either getting his thoughts in order or attracting attention – Wilkes wasn’t sure which. He said, ‘The explosive materials used in the embassy bombing were beyond those normally associated with your backyard terrorist. The device was complex and sophisticated. It wasn’t a fertiliser bomb. That’s to be expected, anyway. Those sort of devices are bulky and wouldn’t get within a hundred metres of the embassy.

  ‘The bomb used was a two-stage boosted variety. A compound called lead styphnate was the primer material. That detonated around two kilograms of tetrytol. Over the top of that was around seven kilos of HBX – a combination of RDX, TNT, powdered aluminium and D-2 wax.’

  Ferallo interrupted. ‘What does all that mean?’ She beat Wilkes to it. He wasn’t up on these Gucci explosives.

  ‘A small bang turns into a bigger bang and ends with a very big bang,’ said Monroe, realising he’d confused things rather than made them clearer. ‘Okay, look. This device was a work of art, put together by someone who knew their shit. All up, the bomb weighed around fifteen kilos. Not a lot of bulk. That’s how they managed to get it inside the embassy. But it gets better than that.

  ‘The HBX? That’s the real mother explosive here. It has a lot of RDX in it. We think it had been moulded, shaped to look like camera bodies. The same stuff was used as the camera’s case. It’s stable and can be made to look like metal, the giveaway being a waxy feel.

  ‘The tetrytol, a kind of pre-explosive explosive used to set off the HBX, lined the case. The detonator, we think, was a camera flash, but we’re still not sure.’

  ‘How did it get in the embassy?’ asked Mahisa.

  The memory of Sergeant Hennert, the marine with two amputated legs, came into Monroe’s mind, complete with the sounds and smells of the makeshift hospital. He took a deep breath to expunge them. ‘A surviving witness believes a man posing as a photographer, with a British passport and press card, carried the device into the visa department. The witness, a sergeant on duty at the time, was vaguely suspicious about it but too late to stop the bomber from doing his thing.’

  ‘What about detection? Didn’t they have scanners?’ Ferallo asked.

  ‘Yep. There were some other weird chemicals involved. The bomb experts believe complex masking agents they’re yet to identify were used,’ said Monroe.

  ‘The point is,’ said Griffin, ‘this has Kadar Al-Jahani written all over it. The RDX, the sophistication of the device…’

  Tom Wilkes was no explosives expert, but he’d handled enough of the various types to agree that whoever built the bomb had had extensive military training and experience. ‘Is the identity of the British suicide bomber known?’ Wilkes asked.

  ‘No,’ said Monroe. ‘Whoever the so-called photographer was, there was nothing but atoms left of that sucker. He’d have been almost on top of the device when it blew. And it goes without saying that we doubt he was British, by the way.’

  There were a dozen photos of the embassy before and after the explosion on the table. Wilkes sifted through them. The building was destroyed from within, the two remaining wings either side of the centre of the explosion teetering inwards. Various people, both western and Indonesian, were picking through the rubble, risking their lives in a further colla
pse to hunt for clues. Just fifteen kilos of explosives…! ‘Shit,’ said Wilkes as he looked at the devastation. ‘How did they get the explosives into the country? Or did they buy them in Indonesia?’

  Mahisa jumped in. ‘We don’t know. Obviously, these are military explosives. I would like to guarantee that they didn’t purchase these things from someone in our army, but unfortunately I can’t.’

  Mahisa’s candour was disarming. Once, not so long ago, a question like that would have been met with instant denial no matter what the facts, but the world had changed and maybe Indonesia had changed with it.

  Griffin leaned back in his chair. ‘As the captain says, Tom, that’s a mystery, but we suspect it came in the same way those guns are getting into Papua New Guinea.’

  Mahisa frowned, the smile long gone. ‘More than seventeen thousand islands make up Indonesia and we don’t have the resources to patrol all of them. There are many ways to bring contraband into the country. Smuggling has long been a problem.’

  ‘Frankly, Jakarta is worried,’ said Griffin. ‘And so are we, along with the US, of course. We believe the embassy bombing is the entree.’

  ‘Has anyone claimed responsibility for it?’ Hardcastle asked.

  ‘No, and that concerns us greatly, Colonel,’ said Griffin, resting his chin on his knuckles. ‘Usually, when a bunch of lunatics does something this crazy, they put their hands up to claim it. Gives them publicity and credibility amongst all the other crazies. But not this time. We believe this is all just some kind of demonstration – a private signal. But to whom? And why?’

  ‘We were aware that Babu Islam had a training camp up in central Java,’ said Mahisa. ‘We raided it and those of several other groups as a matter of course after the bombing, but BI’s camp had been vacated. We are investigating internally to see if there was a tip-off from someone in the TNI, the army, but we don’t think that will lead us anywhere positive. Now, unfortunately, we have no idea where these people have gone. Their sudden disappearance is a further indication of their guilt, we believe.’

  ‘Was any evidence of bomb-making found there, in the camp?’ Monroe asked. ‘They’d need some reasonably sophisticated equipment to make the sort of device used at the embassy.’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘Does that surprise you?’ Monroe asked. It surprised him.

  ‘Not really. The bomb could have been made anywhere.’

  The CIA field agent shrugged. Okay, good point.

  ‘How many members does this group have?’ asked Ferallo.

  ‘We don’t know,’ said Mahisa, opening his hands out to emphasise the point. ‘There are many sympathisers scattered around, but they don’t wear badges of membership. We doubt they even know they belong to a group called Servants of God. This is the nature of what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘Sand,’ said Ferallo.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Sand, through your fingers?’

  ‘Yes, exactly,’ the captain said.

  ‘So Duat has vanished?’ Hardcastle got in before Wilkes.

  Mahisa nodded.

  ‘And what about Kadar Al-Jahani?’ asked Hardcastle.

  Ferallo received a nod from Griffin. ‘Kadar has been positively identified at El Arish airport. We got a report in yesterday.’

  ‘Where’s that?’ asked Mahisa.

  ‘Egypt, Captain, just south of the border with Israel. It’s a holiday town. He apparently got into a Mercedes with Gaza plates,’ Ferallo said. ‘Shin Bet believes he’ll probably head to Ramallah in the West Bank. When he does, we’re going to catch up with him.’

  ‘Catch up?’ enquired Wilkes.

  ‘Kidnap,’ Monroe replied, putting Wilkes in the picture.

  ‘Everyone wants Kadar Al-Jahani. Washington and the Israelis have green-lighted the operation.’ The ASIS chief cleared his throat. ‘The CIA director called me just prior to this meeting. This is top priority.’ Privately, the ASIS D-G didn’t particularly like the maverick American bull-in-a-china-shop approach, but he recognised that terrorism was impossible to combat if the game was played by Marquis of Queensbury rules. The gloves had to come off. These people were street fighters and the new rules were no rules.

  ‘Sir, so this is to be a joint US–Israeli op?’ asked Monroe.

  ‘No, it’s an Israeli operation with USCENTCOM oversight. That’s you, Atticus, and one of our people. That’s why Colonel Hardcastle and Warrant Officer Wilkes are here.’ He turned to Hardcastle. ‘Andrew? What do you think?’

  Ramallah, the West Bank, Israel? Wilkes hadn’t seen that coming.

  ‘I’ll be honest with you, sir,’ Hardcastle said, massaging his chin, ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘Andrew, I know it’s not ideal. My people now carry weapons and can use them in self-defence, but our charter won’t allow us to launch offensive ops. The ball’s in your court. If you’re not prepared to write Tom’s orders, I can always ask the AFP or ASIO…’

  ‘I can see you have a problem, sir, but, with respect, the SAS aren’t in the kidnap business,’ said Hardcastle, who thought he caught more than a whiff of bureaucratic buck-passing in all of this.

  ‘I know what I’m asking here, Andrew,’ said Griffin, an edge of anger in his voice. ‘I don’t like to muck around like this but I’m not given any choice.’

  ‘Can’t the CIA handle this on their own, sir?’ the SAS officer asked.

  ‘Yes, of course, but we’re not happy about leaving it totally up to the US. If we abdicate all responsibility here, we’re concerned that we might get stuck with an unpleasant fait accompli by the Americans down the track. We need to continue to play a lead role in this. We found Kadar Al-Jahani in the first place. And it is our own backyard we’re trying to protect, after all. Call it participation insurance.’

  ‘So would we be the second division team on this, sir?’ asked Hardcastle.

  ‘No. Nailing Kadar Al-Jahani is our job.’

  Wilkes found the discussion more than a little interesting. Here was Hardcastle giving the ASIS boss a difficult time of it. It was obvious the SAS lieutenant colonel didn’t want his men shat on by bureaucrats – not Griffin himself but the people behind the D-G – and Wilkes’s respect for the man soared.

  ‘And you think Tom’s the right man for the job?’ Hardcastle was not entirely convinced – not least because Wilkes had no experience in that part of the world – but he could see that people a lot further up the food chain had already made up their minds.

  ‘I’ve asked for Wilkes because he did a good job for us in the past. I guess it’s just bad luck that I can put a name to a face – his.’

  The conversation had taken a turn that Wilkes found a little unsettling. He felt a bit like the runner-up in a beauty contest being discussed by the judges. But Hardcastle was correct, he probably wasn’t the right man for the job.

  ‘Personally, and with all due respect to the warrant officer, I think there are better qualified assets for this job,’ said the colonel, taking the words out of Wilkes’s mouth. ‘I won’t order Tom to do it.’

  Okay, thought Wilkes, back to the beach. That’s not a bad outcome, is it? At the same time, he was a touch concerned that the CO didn’t have unconditional faith in his abilities.

  ‘He’ll have to volunteer.’

  Shit! thought Wilkes.

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Griffin.

  ‘And what about those legal issues?’ said Hardcastle. ‘If they’re real, we can’t just ignore them. Whose uniform’s he going to wear?’

  ‘Sir,’ said Ferallo, ‘if I can suggest…a way round might be to consider putting the warrant officer on temporary secondment to the CIA.’

  That option had already occurred to Griffin. It was a good idea, but he was nonetheless uncomfortable. Send an Australian to Israel to help America abduct a Middle Eastern terrorist? The whole idea was something no one would seriously have considered even eighteen months ago. Now, well, it almost seemed, if not exactly normal, then not entirely unrea
sonable either. Next question? Would Langley approve the secondment? They might. The Australian intelligence services had managed to present an early suspect for the bombing, and that gave ASIS some short-term clout with the American agency. And the CIA was under intense pressure to deliver. With all the terrorist warnings about, the US Congress was demanding to know how the agency had managed to let yet another attack slip through the cracks. The bottom line? Langley wanted a quick resolution, whatever it took.

  Then there was the Indonesian consideration. Of course, Jakarta was anxious to have the bombers nailed asap. Their country’s image had taken another severe dent in the wake of the attack: that the place was a haven for terrorists and Jakarta wasn’t doing enough to stamp it out. Furthermore, the country was in an uproar with increasingly violent anti-US and -Australian demonstrations. Finding the people responsible for the attack and dealing with them quickly would quieten Indonesia…Griffin was getting off the track.

  ‘Sir?’ asked Ferallo.

  ‘Sorry, I was just thinking,’said Griffin. ‘Tom, if you volunteer for this op, it’s to go as an observer up until the point of capture. I don’t want you participating in the operation itself. Colonel?’

  ‘I’m more comfortable with that, sir,’ said Hardcastle.

  ‘And if the Israelis manage to bag Kadar Al-Jahani, you and Atticus will accompany him out of the country,’ said Griffin.