Rogue Element

The music fell abruptly to silence, the wall of sound seeming to echo through the aircraft. The soldiers, who had, until a moment ago, been drifting in and out of their own thoughts, were sitting forward in their seats, puzzled, their senses assaulted by the thrash coming through their headphones and the speakers. McBride put his head round the corner and apologised for the one hundred decibels of heavy-metal rock and roll. ‘Sorry, guys,’ he said almost comically.

The American made his way back to Wilkes, Suryei and Joe. He handed the disk to Wilkes. ‘Just a bit of audio streaming. Nothing else on it.’

Joe held his hand out for the disk. Wilkes intercepted it and turned it over, examining it again.

‘I was listening to that track in the plane before… you know…’ Joe stumbled over his words. He tried to remember the hour before the 747 began its dive. Where had he saved those files to? It was possible that they were indeed captured on the disk in his hand, but saved as background, a little trick he’d learned from the games fraternity for concealing cheat codes. A battle raged in his conscience. The side of certainty ultimately won. Joe had to know.

‘Paper and a pen…’ he grunted.

McBride provided him with a notebook and pencil. With obvious discomfort, Joe scribbled a DOS command on it and handed it back. ‘Try that.’

Joe stared at the empty square of projected white space on the bulkhead and hoped it would stay that way.

Something flashed up and then disappeared, a ghost image. Floaters again drifted slowly from top to bottom. And then, suddenly, there it was. The map.

It depicted South-East Asia and northern Australia. Rough arrows drawn in black squeaker pen flashed dramatically here and there. Darwin and Townsville were obvious areas of interest, for that’s where many of the arrows ended. Notes were hurriedly scribbled in the margin in Indonesian, none of which Joe understood. Australia was called Selatan Irian Jaya, Southern High Victory. He knew that much. Joe swallowed, drily. Suryei was transfixed. Wilkes, McBride and the rest found it hard to believe their eyes.

Ellis caught Wilkes’s attention, gesturing at him to put his headphones on. Wilkes briefly put his ear in one of the cups.

‘Suryei,’ he said, tapping her gently on the shoulder, breaking into her amazement, ‘I’ve just been told we’re out of Indonesian airspace. But I’m afraid I can’t allow you to call anyone.’

Suryei nodded. There was no point arguing. She had the biggest story of her life, but it wasn’t hers to tell. There was plainly much at stake for both Australia and Indonesia. The implications of spreading her knowledge vicariously through the media would profoundly affect events in ways she did not want to be responsible for. Truth, black and white. Grey. How would the papers deal with the astonishing revelations? Besides, she had done her bit. She had survived against impossible odds, and so had Joe. They had somehow managed to escape death many times; perhaps, the fates had ruled, just so they could bring the facts out of the jungle.

Now Wilkes and McBride had those facts. She was absolved of further responsibility. They could be the messengers now.

The realisation that she was no longer responsible for protecting the truth had a profound effect on Suryei. Suddenly, she felt bone-weary. She understood that expression for the first time in her life, because she was exhausted right to her core. It was almost impossible to move. The chair was warm and comfortable and she felt safe. Joe was next to her, eyes squeezed tightly shut, a grimace distorting his mouth. She wanted to put her arm around him and comfort him, only she knew doing so would probably make him scream. Every muscle in her body ached. Her eyes were hot and dry. She allowed herself to close them and was instantly asleep.

Parliament House, Canberra, 1100 Zulu, Friday, 1 May

When the news of the rescue came through, a feeling of triumph swept the room. Something positive, at last. But the handshaking and the smiling had subsided quickly. Too many people had died over the past few days for overt expressions of joy. And two more Australians had lost their lives, members of the SAS. Apparently, the butcher’s bill on the Indonesian side was far worse.

The survivors had been found and both were reasonably healthy. Remarkable, considering their ordeal. More astonishing was the twist that one of those survivors was the young man who had started this deadly snowball rolling, one Cee Squared, Joe Light. What were the chances of that? Somehow, one in around four hundred didn’t seem to do the unlikely event justice. That was a bonus. He was a fact of life the non-believers within the DPRD wouldn’t be able to deny. Not only that, there was apparently an overview of the invasion captured on disk, the very thing the 747 was shot down to keep secret. It was an incredible stroke of luck.