‘Okay, okay,’ sighed Mac.
‘Stay in your box for once, mate, and leave the office shenanigans to me.’
Staring at Davidson, Mac felt some pieces come together. ‘Box? Did you say box?’
Going back to his nasi goreng, Davidson looked puzzled. ‘That’s what I said, mate.’
‘Okay,’ said Mac, his mind buzzing.
‘What’s up?’ asked Davidson, wiping his mouth with a napkin and looking around the room.
‘There was no reason for Blackbird to know about the drop boxes at Santa Cruz cemetery, right?’ asked Mac, grabbing at his beer as he looked out onto the streets of Denpasar, where the street vendors were starting to pack up.
‘None that I can think of.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Mac. ‘So we can check with Atkins and Tobin about this, but those drop boxes at the cemetery were for the cut-out we used – that lawyer in Dili. They weren’t used by Blackbird, right?’
‘Of course not,’ said Davidson. ‘Otherwise, what’s the point of a cut-out?’
‘Precisely,’ said Mac, leaning in. ‘So I’m out in the bush with Blackbird and she’s losing it at me about being caught between Aussie and Indon intelligence, and she’s telling me that she’s done everything asked of her, she’s taken the files and done the drop box.’
‘Why would she do a drop?’ asked Davidson, confused. ‘She’s meeting direct with the Canadian.’
‘What I thought,’ smiled Mac.
‘So she was using a drop box in Dili…’ said Davidson.
‘Maybe for emergencies, maybe for files that were too hot to carry around Dili…’
‘Files about post-ballot contingencies…’
‘Files like Operasi Boa…’
‘Especially if you’re under surveillance by the Indonesians, by Kopassus,’ said Davidson.
‘By a person who’s threatened to kill your family,’ said Mac.
‘Maybe,’ said Davidson, slugging at his beer. ‘And maybe not.’
‘It’s worth a look, right, boss?’ said Mac. ‘I mean, Blackbird and this damn Boa file were important enough that we went into Bobonaro, invaded a Kopassus compound and then exfiltrated the girl to Darwin, but what if the file is sitting somewhere in Dili? There could a hundred reasons why she would try to park a dangerous document until the heat is off.’
Davidson looked out into the crowded street. ‘I know what you’re thinking, mate, but it’s too risky. I’m not sure I want you back in Dili – I’m not sure I can go back in there either.’
‘Why don’t we confirm the drop box first?’ asked Mac, not wanting to be left out. ‘Atkins told me about two – there could be more.’
‘I know where it is,’ sighed Davidson, reading the label on the beer bottle. ‘But that’s not the point.’
‘No, boss,’ smiled Mac. ‘The point is whether you’d rather send Atkins or Garvey.’
‘Okay, Macca,’ said Davidson, staring him in the eye. ‘For the purposes of discussion, you’re in, but -’
‘I’ll be okay,’ winked Mac, wondering where lost sleep went to.
‘Don’t be cocky,’ said Davidson.
‘You know me,’ laughed Mac. ‘By the way – this drop box, which one is it if it’s not at the cemetery?’
‘It’s the Hotel Resende,’ whispered Davidson, casing the room.
‘The Resende?!’ squawked Mac. ‘I thought that was a joke!’
‘No, mate, it’s real,’ said Davidson. ‘But just be careful, okay? This girl is with the Indonesians and she’s confused. I don’t want a hunch turning into a trap.’
CHAPTER 52
Cutting through the Pasar Badung markets in downtown, Mac made his way to the meeting with Jim.
He thought about his hunch that Blackbird had dumped her copy of Boa in the ASIS drop box in the Resende. It was a location known to Mac, but only as a joke. The Resende was owned by a syndicate of generals and during the occupation years had been a home-away-from-home for the Indonesian Army officers and their families. One of the distinctive features of the Resende – aside from the listening devices – was the karaoke machines in the ballroom of the hotel. One of the generals in the owners’ syndicate reputedly loved singing ‘Da Doo Ron Ron’ and had equipped the Resende with the best karaoke technology.
Just to show that Australians had a sense of humour, the original ASIS operative in Dili – back in the late 1970s – had created a drop box in the back of the largest karaoke machine, up on the small stage that the machines occupied. If this was the box that Blackbird had been talking about, then Mac was hoping the Operasi Boa documents were in there.
The Bar Barwong was half full, rocking with locals and backpackers. Mac found Jim at one end of the bar and they ordered beers after greeting each other and checking the room for eyes. A TV screen on the wall was running a CNN bulletin featuring a coiffured woman standing in front of what looked like the Texas statehouse. Across the bottom of the screen ran the banner George W. Bush avoids questions on whether he ever used illegal drugs, and above it ran a small box saying, Viewer polclass="underline" is the media too hard on George W. Bush’s past personal life?
They couldn’t hear what she was saying because ‘Living La Vida Loca ’ was blasting out over the speaker system.
‘Never trust a man who can’t hold his drink,’ said Jim, pointing his bottle of Tiger at the footage of George W. Bush on the screen.
‘Never trust a man who stands behind you at the urinal,’ said Mac, and they clinked bottles.
‘So,’ said Jim. ‘You want to know about Lombok AgriCorp?’
‘It would be nice,’ said Mac. ‘Since on the two occasions I’ve been up there someone’s tried to kill me.’
‘Might be simpler to start with Lee Wa Dae.’
‘The Korean drug guy,’ said Mac, wanting Jim to get on with it.
‘Not entirely,’ said Jim.
‘That’s what the file -’
‘That file came from us, McQueen,’ said Jim, looking exhausted. ‘We wanted him running, to be confident, so we washed his file.’
‘You mean, you fabricated intelligence that was shared with your allies?’
‘Okay,’ nodded Jim. ‘That’s what we did – after the snafu in Iraq, we became a little isolated, a bit paranoid perhaps. We didn’t want another situation where we were drawn into a joint operation like UNSCOM, only to have the bad guys reading our secret briefings word for word.’
‘That bad?’
‘Worse,’ said Jim, sipping his beer. ‘When I was tapped to join UNSCOM Four as the head of operations, Saddam’s goons vetoed me, went around UNSCOM to the UN Secretary-General’s office, which then won the support of my President. They knew everything about me and a whole lot of stuff I’d forgotten – I was deep-sixed.’
‘You punched out a guy from the State Department?’
‘It was a push that went too far,’ said Jim. ‘The jungle telegraph did the rest.’
‘So, Lee Wa Dae,’ said Mac.
‘He is a drug lord of sorts, but he’s also a master procurer of matériel and feedstock for chemical, biological and nuclear programs,’ said Jim. ‘Lee Wa Dae was always the bag man for the North Korean generals; he arranged joint-venture bio-weapons projects, which were essentially Korean R &D conducted in another country.’
‘How did he get in touch with Haryono?’ asked Mac.
‘Haryono had always run these highly profitable but bogus medical research projects, under the auspices of the Indonesian Army. As Soeharto’s power waned, and oversight was minimal, Lee Wa Dae approached him with a pay-to-play deal and Lombok AgriCorp was born. Haryono was a scammer, rather than a bio-weapons nutcase.’
‘No one thought to tell the Aussies?’
‘What was there to say?’ asked Jim. ‘There’s a SARS vaccine program in the East Timor hills and it’s registered with WHO. You know how warm and fuzzy that makes journalists and UN-types feel?’