If Urquhart was telling the truth, the legal paperwork for this operation was from the Attorney-General’s office — the legal enabler of Australia’s domestic spy agency, ASIO.
Urquhart eyed him. ‘But there’s a string attached.’
‘That’s a shock,’ said Mac, sipping his beer.
‘We have an asset in Phnom — code-named Calhoun.’
‘Yes,’ said Mac, checking the other diners.
‘He manages a bar called the Taberna. Your first job under me is to meet him, debrief and take the photos he gives you. Bring them back and we’ll talk.’
‘Debrief on what?’
Urquhart sneered slightly. ‘He’ll tell you, Macca.’
Mac focused on his lunch. ‘I’ll leave this arvo.’
‘You want to take Lance?’ said Urquhart, too casual.
Sensing a snitch being foisted upon him, Mac could think of nine excuses for not taking Lance, but he let it go. He was never going to change Urquhart’s infighting instincts and besides, a short road trip with the newcomer might be a chance to gain some insights.
‘Sure, he’s welcome,’ said Mac.
Clicking his fingers at the restaurant manager, Urquhart called her over. ‘I’ll have what he’s having.’
Opening his second bottle of water, Mac tried to stay hydrated as the Toyota van laboured to keep the air-con running against the heat.
‘This evening?’ said Mac, pointing at the thickening clouds over Cambodia in the distance.
‘Think so,’ said Tranh, nodding. ‘We’ll stay at Hawaii, if you want.’
Fiddling with the radio, Mac looked for an English-language station. ‘Okay, mate — Hawaii it is. You want to book?’
Picking up his phone, Tranh went to work.
‘Hawaii?’ said Lance, leaning between the front seats. ‘Did he say Hawaii?’
‘Yeah, it’s a hotel in Phnom,’ said Mac. ‘It has an elevated lobby, which is what you want when the monsoon strikes in Phnom Penh.’
‘Why?’
‘Because everything floods,’ said Mac.
Tranh rang off. ‘We got best rooms.’
‘For half the price,’ said Mac, knowing that locals never paid the tourist rate.
‘Yeah, but maybe extra guests?’ said Tranh.
Easing around in his seat, hiding his face behind the head rest, Mac scanned through the rear window. A steady stream of trucks, vans, cars and motorbikes were flowing north along the Trans-Asian Highway to the Cambodian border crossing of Moc Bai.
‘Which one?’ said Mac.
‘Red Patrol,’ said Tranh. ‘Just went past.’
Turning to face forwards, Mac saw the red Nissan 4x4 slipping in front of them thirty metres ahead. ‘Get a look?’
‘Two men — Chinese.’ Tranh cracked his window two inches and lit a smoke. ‘They photographed us.’
‘Camera?’ said Lance.
‘Phone, I think. Held it down here,’ said Tranh, putting his forearm on the windowsill.
‘Phone, you say?’ said Lance. ‘Modern one?’
Tranh sucked on his smoke. ‘Yes, Mr Lance — a slider.’
‘That could be convenient,’ said Lance, rummaging in his backpack. He drew out a black box and flipped an aerial on it.
‘Hold that,’ he said to Mac. Pulling an Apple laptop from the pack, he passed forwards a power lead. ‘Can we get some juice?’
Pushing the power plug into the cigarette lighter, Tranh swapped a look with Mac.
‘So, technology’s your thing?’ said Mac, looking back at Lance.
‘It’s my training,’ said Lance. ‘They graded me as an intelligence officer, but I specialise in ICT — counter-measures, surveillance, infiltrations.’
‘What ICT?’ said Tranh.
‘It’s a wank,’ said Lance, connecting the black box to the laptop. ‘It just means anything that transmits or receives electronic signals.’
‘So what’s this?’ Mac nodded at the black box.
Lance turned the laptop screen for Mac to see. There was a small graphic box with a listing of two items. The first line said Saigon Services, and the second line said Nokia 6250i.
‘What is it?’ asked Mac.
‘Watch.’ Lance clicked the cursor on Saigon Services. ‘Let’s see the address book.’
The screen showed a bigger box with a listing of about seventy names, mostly in Vietnamese. Glancing down the list, Mac saw ‘Richard’ and, looking further, he saw something else.
‘So, Chanthe, is it?’ he said to Tranh. ‘Pretty cosy, mate.’
‘What are you looking at?’ said Tranh.
‘I think it’s your address book,’ said Mac.
Going back to the original box, Lance clicked on something else and Tranh’s picture files came up.
‘What is there?’ asked Tranh, trying to twist around.
‘Nothing, mate,’ said Mac. ‘Just those pics of you, the monkey and the Cool Whip. Try that one,’ Mac said to Lance.
A picture came up: Lance clicked forwards. It was a series of the same two people on the step-through motorbike who had followed Mac when he first landed in Saigon.
‘You knew those Cong An on the bike were following me?’ said Mac.
‘Yep,’ said Tranh.
‘And you didn’t tell me?’
‘Told Captain Loan,’ said Tranh. ‘Told her if she want to talk with the Uc, just go talk — he won’t bite.’
Mac let it drop. ‘So what are we doing here, Lance?’
‘I’m using the Bluetooth transceivers in your phones to clone them.’
‘Clone?’
‘It means I stream all the data on your phone with a Bluetooth connection, then re-create your phone’s operating system on my laptop. Every file stored in the phone can be accessed here, and if I wanted to, I could make a call, send a text, change the address book, even change your wallpaper.’
Mac thought about it: how much surveillance had Lance and Urquhart already done on Mac and Tranh? He and Tranh swapped a quick look.
Lance tapped his secret device. ‘This box tricks Bluetooth into thinking the acceptance and password has been given.’
‘So why can’t we tap into Mr Nosey-Poke’s phone?’ said Mac, gesturing to the red Patrol.
‘We could be too far away — Bluetooth is optimum to ten metres, then it fades.’
‘Okay, then,’ said Mac. ‘You want to do this?’
‘Sure,’ said Lance. ‘But turn off your phones first. They could have the same technology.’
Moving up alongside the red Patrol, Mac and Tranh kept their eyes straight ahead as Lance tapped away in the back seat, adjusting his black box. After thirty seconds, Lance told Tranh to move on.
Settling into the space in front of the Nissan, Tranh set a course for Moc Bai as Lance fiddled.
‘So, what did we get?’ asked Mac.
‘We got nothing and something,’ said Lance.
‘Sounds like Marxist economics,’ said Mac.
‘There’re no devices to pick up in that four-wheel drive,’ said Lance. ‘Yet the phone Tranh saw was the latest — and they all have Bluetooth.’
‘Which means?’ said Mac.
‘It means they’ve switched their phones off, or, more likely…’
‘Yeah?’
‘They have naked phones — which is not particularly good news.’
‘Why not?’ asked Tranh, trying to see Lance in his mirror.
‘Because naked phones are used by intelligence services,’ said Lance.
‘Like the MSS?’ said Mac, turning slightly to look over his shoulder.
‘The MSS invented these boxes,’ said Lance. ‘They wrote the book.’
Chapter 21
The cold feeling that had been lurking at the bottom of Mac’s stomach since Singapore was turning into an iceberg as they closed on the border crossing of Moc Bai. Realising Lance had been quiet since the sighting of the tail, Mac turned back and saw someone who looked very uncomfortable.