by Ian Hamilton
“Hello, I’m in the terminal,” she said.
“What?”
The voice sounded familiar, though she couldn’t put a name to it. “Who is this?”
“It’s John Masterson.”
“Oh, hi.”
“Is this Ava Lee?”
“Yes, John, this is me.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m back in Hong Kong.”
“Do you have time to talk?”
“Yes.”
“Ava, have you heard from Andy Cameron?”
“No, why would I?”
“No special reason.”
“Then why do you ask?”
“Because I received a very strange phone call earlier today from a man who claims to be his associate.”
“What was his name?”
“Foti, Emilio Foti.”
“What did this Emilio Foti want?”
“He was looking for Cameron and thought I might know where he was.”
“Why should he think you would know?”
“He said Cameron left the bank on Friday and they haven’t heard from him since. His calendar showed that he was having dinner with us that night.”
“Didn’t he have a golf tournament on the weekend?”
“Yes, but evidently he played on Saturday and then didn’t show up for the Sunday match.”
“Foti told you that?”
“Yes.”
“What else did he say?”
“He asked me if Andy had mentioned going to Singapore on business. I told him Andy never discussed his business plans — or his personal plans, for that matter — with me.”
“Why would he think Andy went to Singapore?”
“That’s where Andy’s housekeeper said he had gone.”
“Well, she would know more than anyone, don’t you think? Maybe Andy flew there for a dirty weekend and decided to stay for a few extra days.”
“That’s unlikely, knowing Singapore, and knowing that Andy can get all the dirt he needs here.”
“Well, it isn’t our problem, is it.”
“No, not at all. But I have to say this Foti guy was quite persistent. He asked me all kinds of questions about what I do, and then he grilled me about you.”
“How did he know about me?”
“You were in the calendar.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing, other than that you were a Hong Kong accountant looking for a bank for a client.”
“John, I’m sure you’ve heard from Fay that my after-dinner drink with Andy didn’t turn out so well.”
“She did hint that he was typically boorish.”
“Yes, he was, and I was quite firm in my rejection. He left the hotel in a huff. I never want to speak to him again. In fact, I never want to hear his name mentioned again.”
“I get the picture,” Masterson said.
“Good. Now I’m sure you’ve heard the last of Foti, but in case he does call again, I would appreciate it if you kept my name entirely out of the conversation.”
“There’s really no reason for me to hear from him.”
“Of course not,” Ava said. “John, I have to go now. Please pass along my warmest wishes to Fay.”
“Will do, and make sure you call us next time you’re here.”
Ava ended the call and glanced around the terminal. No one seemed to be paying her undue attention. Don’t start getting paranoid, she told herself.
She tried Poirier’s phone again. This time it went directly to voicemail. Where the hell was he?
She was standing in the middle of the floor, and suddenly she felt very visible. There was a row of benches along a wall and she headed for them. She sat down with her phone face-up on her lap. There was nothing she could do but wait. She was certain Poirier would call. And after that talk with John Masterson, she was equally certain that coming back to Surabaya was the best thing she could possibly have done.
The Italians were on the hunt for Andy Cameron, and she knew they wouldn’t stop at one chat with Masterson. It sounded to her as if they were focused on Surabaya, or at least as focused on it as they were on Singapore. One thing would not lead inevitably to another unless the pursuers were suspicious, smart, and totally committed to finding him. And she had no doubt these men were. It was all about time; her sense that events needed to be propelled as quickly as possible was proving right. Every day that went by added to the risk that the Italians would stumble onto something or someone. Taking them out of play this way and this quickly had been a correct call. That alone would be worth the return trip.
But what if Foti and Chorico had called in outside help? If Ava were in their place, she wouldn’t have done that immediately. They were Cameron’s caretakers, and for six years the relationship had worked. They had no real reason to suspect that things had suddenly disintegrated. Cameron was missing, not locked up in a police cell, not dead. They would spend at least a day or two — and that’s all it had been — trying to sort out the disappearance themselves before reaching out for help. He had been lost on their watch. Why would they make themselves look stupid or incompetent? They would want to exhaust all the local possibilities before panicking. Or so Ava thought. So Ava hoped.
Her phone rang, startling her. The incoming number was blocked. “Yes,” she said.
“This is Ryan Poirier. I got your message. Sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier.”
“Where are you?”
“Five minutes from the airport. I’m on my way to meet you.”
“I’m sitting inside the terminal on a bench. Obviously I’m Chinese, and I’m wearing black linen slacks with a white shirt and my hair is tied back.”
“I have red hair. I don’t think you need to know anything else.”
“No,” Ava said, laughing. “I’ll see you.”
“You’re ready to go, right?”
“Of course.”
From the bench she could see two of the three entrances to the terminal. He walked through the middle one. Poirier was not only instantly recognizable to her but drew stares from most of the Asians nearby, people whose only concept of natural hair colour was shades of black. He was smaller than she had expected — about five foot nine, she guessed — with a slim build. Too small to be a Mountie, Ava thought as she eyed his designer jeans and bright green short-sleeved silk shirt. And too hip.
She stood and waved in his direction. He saw her, nodded, and walked towards her, his eyes flickering around the terminal. His hair was indeed red, parted down the middle and grazing the tops of his ears. He looked young from a distance, but as he drew closer she saw that the skin around his eyes and mouth was etched with lines. He was fifty, she guessed, maybe even older.
“You’re obviously Jennie,” he said, holding out his hand.
She looked into a pair of the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. “Hello, Ryan.”
“Can I see your passport?”
Ava hesitated and then realized he was serious. She took it from her bag and handed it to him.
He held the page with her picture up to an overhead light and then twisted the passport so he could examine the seams. “It seems fine,” he said.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
He held out the passport. As she took it, he held on and pulled her gently towards him. “We need to go. Things are moving much faster than we expected.”
“What —”
“I’ll explain as we walk,” he said briskly, though he didn’t say a word until they exited the terminal. “That’s our vehicle,” he said, pointing to a grey Daihatsu van with tinted windows that was parked at the curb.
The back door opened as they drew near. Poirier stood aside to let her climb in. There were two soldiers sitting in the front, staring straight ahead. “We’re going to the barracks,” he said to her.
“What’s going on?”
“The plane will be landing in about an hour and a half.”
“You finally got a flight plan?”
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“They radioed for permission to land only twenty minutes ago.”
“How did you find out?”
“You sound suspicious.”
“I’m just concerned about leaks.”
“So are we. The captain stationed two men in the control tower as soon as he got here. No one has been allowed to leave. Every single communication has been monitored.”
“Now what?”
“That depends on what you want.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can wait at the barracks until the plane lands and we seize it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to be at the hangar with Captain Aries.”
“Then that’s where I want to be.”
“It isn’t necessary. You’ve already played your part just by being here in Surabaya.”
“I want to be at the hangar.”
( 46 )
Captain Aries was about the same height as Poirier, but larger and barrel-chested. He met them at the door to the barracks. The other men sat behind him, occupying half the beds in the sixteen-bed unit. They were all dressed in olive T-shirts, khaki pants, and brown running shoes.
“So you’re the young woman who’s bringing us all this excitement,” he said, looking Ava and down. Then he smiled. “My friend Poirier is not so happy to see you; he would have preferred your client. But me, I prefer pretty women.”
“She wants to go to the hangar with us,” Poirier said.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Aries said.
“You brought me here. The least you can do is let me see how things conclude.”
“I have no objections,” Poirier said.
Aries shrugged. “Ryan will be staying in the background, a safe distance away. I would expect you to do the same.”
“Okay.”
“Even so, not dressed like that.”
“I have some black training pants, running shoes, and a black T-shirt in my bag,” Ava said.
“Ryan will be wearing a bulletproof jacket and a balaclava, as will the rest of us. Do you object to those?”
“Not at all.”
Aries turned. “Do we have a spare bulletproof jacket and balaclava?” he asked.
“No jacket small like her,” the nearest man said.
“I’ll tie it tight,” Ava said.
“There is a washroom at the other end of the barracks. You can change there,” Aries said.
The soldier reached under the bed and pulled out a box. He extracted a jacket and a balaclava and tossed them to Ava. “Do not lose,” he said.
“I won’t,” Ava said.
The washroom was built for men, with a main door that didn’t lock and cubicles that had no doors. She opened her bag first, took out her clothes, and then stripped. She slipped the T-shirt over her head and then quickly pulled on the pants. She had put on some mascara and lipstick in the morning. She imagined how hot it would be under the balaclava, and didn’t fancy the thought of runny makeup. She wiped it off with a damp towel, put her shirt and slacks in the bag and her phone in her pants pocket, and walked out into the barracks.
Aries’ men were standing in a semicircle facing him and Poirier. Ava could hear the captain talking and hurried to catch what was being said. When his words became distinct, she realized he was speaking in Indonesian. Poirier glanced at her and put his index finger to his lips.
The men, Ava noticed, each had a balaclava stuck in their belt and held rifles, muzzle down, loosely at their sides. There were ten of them, all in their twenties or maybe thirties, and all of them were similarly fit. They listened intently to their captain, eyes focused tightly on him, heads nodding. They gave off an overwhelming sense of competence, not to mention firepower. Ava could not imagine the Italians trying to resist such a force.
When Aries finished, the men dispersed into small groups.
“We leave in ten minutes,” Poirier said to her.
“Who are these men?” Ava asked.
“They’re a specialized rapid-response unit attached to KorMar, the Marine Corps.”
“I’ve never seen rifles like those.”
“You know rifles?”
“Some.”
“Those are Pindad SS2 assault rifles. They’re Indonesian-made, and very effective.”
“They look it.”
“We’re in very good hands.”
“So what’s the plan that the captain was outlining?”
Poirier raised an eyebrow.
“I know we’re only along for the ride,” Ava said. “I just think I would be more comfortable if I knew what to expect.”
“We’re going to wait at the hangar.”
“In the hangar?”
“No. To be more accurate, near the hangar. And that’s all I think you need to know,” Poirier said, his eyes darting over to Aries, who was now standing by himself in a corner talking into a microphone.
Aries shouted to his men. They laid their rifles on the beds and began to put on their jackets. Poirier followed suit. Ava was already wearing hers but hadn’t been able to tighten it properly. She waited until Poirier was finished and then turned her back to him. “Could you finish this off for me, please?”
“The plane is forty-five minutes out,” Poirier said.
“I assumed as much.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Of course I am,” she said.
( 47 )
They left the barracks in single file. Aries and six of the men climbed into the Daihatsu; the remainder, Poirier, and Ava got into a Nissan Grand Livina that was the same size and also had tinted windows. She put her bag at her feet. No one seemed to think it strange that she had brought it with her.
It was a ten-minute drive to the airport, the Nissan following the Daihatsu. They drove past the main terminal, took an exit that was signed only in Indonesian, and then followed a two-lane road flanked by small office buildings festooned with airline logos, hangars, and what looked like warehouses. Everything was surrounded by uniform wooden fences, two and a half metres high and topped by razor wire. Poirier sat next to Ava in the back of the vehicle, his head turned away, his attention on their surroundings. The men in front chatted quietly among themselves in Indonesian, occasionally chuckling. She knew from her own experience that it was their way of keeping their nerves under control, not a sign that they were taking things for granted.
The road ended at a guardhouse that sat about ten metres in front of a steel gate. The driver’s-side window of the Daihatsu slid down, a head emerged briefly, and the gate swung open. “One of Aries’ men is in the gatehouse with the regular attendant,” Poirier said.
The cars drove onto airport property. The main commercial terminal was in the distance, separated from them by an expanse of runway and swaths of grass, and framed by the hangars and warehouses. The Daihatsu took a left turn and drove towards a line of four hangars. The Nissan followed but then veered right, directly to a small office building that was signed in Indonesian and, in smaller script, English: FREIGHT OFFICE. The Nissan driver backed the vehicle into a parking spot in front. They had a head-on view of the hangars.
Through the front window, Ava saw that the Daihatsu had taken up a position along the far side of the hangar closest to the main terminal.
“Which hangar will the plane go to?” she asked.
“The second one,” Poirier said.
“Won’t the plane see the Daihatsu sitting there?”
“Maybe, but Aries doesn’t care about the pilots. He’s more concerned that the white panel van doesn’t see them.”
“Yeah, they’ll be far more cautious.”
“Especially now, wouldn’t you think?”
“Yes, especially now.”
“You never told me, do they have any idea what your client is up to?”
“He hasn’t handed in a letter of resignation.”
“Just taken a flyer?”
“That’s it.”
&
nbsp; “They must be bouncing off the walls.”
“I would imagine.”
One of the soldiers in front put his hand to an earpiece and then spoke to his colleagues. “The plane has landed,” Poirier said.
“Do we know what kind it is?” Ava asked.
“Do you know a bit about planes as well as rifles?”
“No, I’m simply curious.”
“It’s a Global Express 5000. It can seat about eighteen people if you want seats, and it can fly at more than five hundred kilometres an hour for more than five thousand nautical miles without refuelling. It’s the perfect plane for a nonstop flight from Europe to Indonesia.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. I knew absolutely nothing about it until Aries briefed us.”
Ava looked down the runway. In the distance she could see commercial planes moving to and from the terminal; three of them, lined up for takeoff, were partially blocking their view. A Boeing 747 that had just landed obscured more of it. The jumbo jet lumbered towards them and then slowly ground to a halt, did a slow right turn, and left the runway for the apron that would take it to the terminal. As it moved out of their line of vision, a small white jet, like a gosling swimming in its mother’s wake, popped into view.
The man with the earpiece began to speak again. This time Poirier didn’t translate.
The jet rolled slowly across the tarmac until it was almost exactly centred between the two vehicles. It was about fifty metres from the Nissan, and Ava could see the pilot, headset on, sitting in the cockpit. He began to turn the jet to the right. Ava saw that two ground crew had taken up positions at the doors of the second hangar. They reached for the handles and slowly pushed the doors to each side until they were completely open, exposing a large, empty space.
The pilot guided the aircraft towards the hangar, stopped in front, and then gradually inched forward until the plane was completely inside, turning it slightly to the left so that the passenger door faced out. Ava stared at the plane but it was too far away to see what was going on inside the cockpit. The passenger door remained shut.
Now they waited, every eye in the car flickering left towards the gate and then back to the plane.