‘What did you have in mind?’ said Scotty.
‘Talk to Sammy and follow up on a technology question of my own.’
‘Count me in,’ said Scotty. ‘Just go easy on the violent stuff, okay?’
Keying the phone, Mac got himself in character. The call was answered on the second ring and Grimshaw snapped his greeting, a man under pressure.
‘Charles — nice night.’
‘What’s up?’ said the American. ‘Dozsa shifted all that currency from his compound.’
‘Not much I could do about it,’ said Mac. ‘We need to talk.’
Grimshaw paused. ‘You’re back with the Aussies, aren’t you?’
‘I was,’ said Mac. ‘That’s what I have to talk about.’
Chapter 55
Leaving Scotty in the hallway with his gun drawn, Mac walked through Grimshaw’s door as it was opened.
‘Charles,’ said Mac.
‘Who’s the goon?’ said the American, making a quick scan of the corridor, but keeping his gun hand inside.
‘My friend,’ said Mac, taking a seat in one of the cane armchairs.
Moving across the living area to the kitchen, Grimshaw returned with two cans of beer and gave one to Mac.
Mac noted the drawn face and blank eyes, the look of a man getting no sleep but plenty to worry about. ‘I need your help, Charles — I have a deal.’
‘No promises,’ said Grimshaw. ‘But I can listen.’
‘I can point you to the SD card — the one with the Ormond Technik code on it.’
‘Really?’ said Grimshaw, his eyes focusing.
‘It’s not on me but I can tell you where it is.’
‘And?’ said the American.
‘And I get your help with Joel Dozsa. He has two Aussie hostages and I want them back.’
Silence made the room seem small. No doubt Grimshaw had already found out about the Aussie hostages from Sammy, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Mac.
‘I may not want Joel Dozsa dead — have you thought about that?’ said Grimshaw.
It stood to reason. If you had the chance to keep a Joel Dozsa in a military prison for a couple of years, get him talking about who else had been turned and how far the damage spread, then that’s what you did.
‘I thought about it,’ said Mac. ‘And I’m prepared to let Dozsa live if I can get your cooperation right now.’
‘That depends on the cooperation,’ said Grimshaw, the beer now abandoned on the coffee table between them.
Mac nodded. ‘I don’t expect a blank cheque.’
‘What do you expect?’
What he was about to propose went against his professional habits. ‘I can give you the location of that memory card and you’ll help me locate the Aussie hostages.’
‘If you know where the chip is, why don’t you have it?’ said Grimshaw, eyes darting to Mac’s.
‘Because it’s being carried by an agent of the Australian government,’ said Mac, exhaling.
Issuing a low whistle, Grimshaw rubbed his bottom lip and turned sideways to look out the kitchen windows. ‘If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, then I guess some people in Canberra don’t care too much for those hostages?’
‘That’s not your fight,’ said Mac. ‘I can give you a lock on a mobile phone that takes you to the SD card.’
‘Right now?’ said Grimshaw, sitting on the edge of the seat. ‘We’re talking about immediate?’
‘Sure,’ said Mac.
‘And what do you need?’
Surprised that the conversation had come so far so quickly, Mac simply came out with it. ‘The Israelis put a micro-transmitter on my shirt. I pulled it off and put it in a piece of orange I was feeding to Lance — an Aussie operator.’
‘That guy who looks like a drummer?’
‘He’d prefer lead singer, but that’s him. It’s a long shot, but if we can get your signals people to find that transmitter, I get a chance at a rescue.’
Grimshaw managed a quick smile. ‘You didn’t need to trade for that, Alan. I’d have given you that if I wasn’t busy.’
‘I know,’ said Mac, sitting back. ‘Which is why I need a different kind of favour before I give you the chip.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as telling me what’s going on.’
Looking away, the American shook his head. ‘Don’t ask for much, do you?’
‘What’s Operation Lampoon? What’s HARPAC? And why is Sammy tied up in a chair next door?’
Reaching for his beer, Grimshaw eyeballed Mac with a look that blended casual interest with homicidal intent. ‘Classified, classified, and… it’s not your fight.’
‘I’m serious,’ said Mac. ‘I joined your team in good faith and I’ve been played for a patsy all along. If we do this together maybe we both end up with what we want.’
‘What can you tell me about the transmitter?’ said Grimshaw, reaching behind the back of his chair and grabbing a satellite phone.
‘Small, black — size of a silver ball you find on a cake, with Velcro hooks,’ said Mac.
‘Is it a TWR?’ said Grimshaw, dialling.
‘Don’t know the brand but they’re the ones used by the Agency.’
Holding up a finger, Grimshaw changed tone. ‘Mike — long time, huh?’
He made small talk then got to the point. ‘Mike, wondering if we have any AWACs in the air, west Pacific, South China Sea?… That’s handy,’ said Grimshaw, giving Mac the thumbs-up. ‘I have a long shot that you guys might enjoy as a challenge.’
The response was obviously not positive.
‘Come on, man,’ said Grimshaw. ‘That Taiwanese cryptogram made you look like a fucking genius, as I recall… Okay, okay,’ he chuckled. ‘We’re looking for a signal from a TWR micro-transmitter — probably US-issue, but not sure… Yeah,’ said Grimshaw. ‘Private use.’
Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, Grimshaw looked at Mac. ‘They’re coming up with hundreds — they need a name. These transmitters are all allocated frequency, and private ones have to be registered before being allocated.’
Mac shrugged, fatigue and the effects of painkillers starting to mess with him. ‘Try Dozsa? Or Radoff, or Beyer or… Shit, I don’t know, mate.’
Grimshaw gave the names to the person on the other end and, after some waiting, looked at Mac and shook his head. ‘They need a company name — what was Radoff’s company?’
‘He has hundreds,’ said Mac. ‘His investment fund buys companies.’
‘What’s the fund called?’ said Grimshaw.
Mac rubbed his temples, his mind blank.
‘What about Dozsa?’ said Grimshaw. ‘He have a company?’
‘No,’ said Mac, deciding he should avoid consuming painkillers and beer at the same time. ‘I… actually, wait a minute.’
Thinking back, Mac remembered doing a vehicle ownership search on the green Toyota Prado that Dozsa had used in Saigon the night Quirk was killed. As he clicked his fingers for inspiration, his mind went in and out of focus like the shape of a trout swimming in a river.
‘Shit,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘Okay, Mike, thanks for the try,’ said Grimshaw, about to sign off.
‘Highland.’ Mac blurted it out. ‘Try Highland Surveying — registered Kuala Lumpur.’
Grimshaw relayed the company name and as they waited, Mac could feel his eyelids drooping.
‘It is?’ said Grimshaw, sitting up and reaching for a pencil and pad. ‘Go ahead.’ He wrote quickly. ‘Okay, thanks, Mike — I owe ya.’
Picking up his pad, Grimshaw read out the information. Micro-transmitters registered to Highland Surveying were transmitting signals from Kratie, Stung Treng and Prek Chamlak — a village on the Mekong, about thirty miles south of Kratie.
‘On the river?’ said Mac, surprised.
‘He’ll get back to me in ten minutes and tell us if they’re moving.’