Old Ming’s daughter and grandson would stay aboard and travel with the rest of the crew to Darwin.
It was just after Alex had made his farewells to Ling and Mui that his telephone vibrated. He checked the caller’s number, pressed the key and answered the Boss’s call. Listening carefully, he learned of the demise of SONIC. Numbed by the news, his first thoughts had been of Ling and Mui, who had only just stepped ashore, hoping for a new life.
“What about Ling and Mui?” Alex asked anxiously.
“Don’t worry all those matters are to be honoured and maintained albeit not by SONIC. Look at it this way Alex.” The Boss tried to sound encouraging. “With a pension provided by a grateful government, we can live without taking any more risks eh?”
“Does that mean the Syndicate are off the hook now then?” Alex enquired.
“Far from it. Let me tell you that within minutes of the news release the arms shipment had been lost and our sources detected a mass of angry transmissions; one in particular was intercepted with the details of a contract to kill the Syndicate leader. I’m pretty certain now that the two killed by your Chinese marines were Syndicate executives. By my reckoning that only leaves the top man and one other; so I am confident that thanks largely to your efforts we have finished with the Syndicate for good.”
“So what happens now?” Alex asked calmly.
“Well if I were you, with my mission successfully completed, I’d get back to my beautiful wife and family ASAP. But perhaps you could call into my office en — route. I need to go through lots of details with you.” The Boss sighed. “I’m so sorry it had to finish like this; it doesn’t seem like a just reward for all our efforts over the last few years but that’s the strange world of politics we live in.”
“I’ll certainly call in on you — by then perhaps I’ll have had a chance to understand what its really all about. Thanks for letting me know.” Alex put the telephone back into his pocket. He sat in the little cabin stunned by the news. It wasn’t the loss of employment that concerned him, but the all too familiar ring of irresponsible, pacifist-style political incompetence. He would have to call Hans. He pressed the abbreviated dial code.
“I was expecting your call,” Hans answered almost instantly.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news Hans,” Alex started diplomatically.
“Don’t worry old friend I monitored your call. It was to be expected I suppose.” Hans raised his voice. “Political Correctness rubbish. The fact is Alex, nobody has any balls any more.” He calmed a little. “There will be a price to pay my friend. What democracy needs more than ever now is a Churchill, before it’s too dammed late.”
“I’ve never given much thought to long term political strategy,” Alex replied.
“I’ll tell you what I think; you finish up your business out there, then we’ll have another discussion as soon as you get back, preferably before you see the Boss. You can buy the beers, OK?” Hans chuckled.
“I thought it was your turn you mean old dog,” Alex chided him.
“Careful I admit to, but mean, never! I look forward to seeing you, so take care of your wallet.” Hans rang off.
Alex smiled weakly as he thought of Hans surrounded with all his electronic equipment.
“Perhaps we should go private?” he muttered to the dead mobile phone.
Rather than pack his few possessions immediately, Alex felt the need for fresh air so he walked up to the deck and stood looking across the harbour. Several small vessels still moved busily about, their lights reflecting in the water. The noise of the evening traffic on the busy streets of Manila filled the air. He thought of his wife Rosie and his little son at home in Alaska. At least Rosie would be pleased that the risks he inevitably faced with each assignment would be over. He paced the deck, trying to unravel the mass of conflicting thoughts flashing around in his head. After an hour the only thing that was clear to him was that the “Bad Guys” were still out there. He needed a drink and more time to think.
“Is that you Alex?” Greg called from the shadows in the stern.
“Hi Greg, mission accomplished?” he answered.
“Yes — no problem at all. Our friend Moby Dick seems to know his way around OK. Good job he’s on our side if you ask me,” Greg replied good-humouredly.
Alex made his decision.
“Greg do you have a moment for a beer and a little chat?”
“Of course. You haven’t been ashore yet have you? I spotted a little wine bar just by the harbour gate, we could go there?”
“Great, lets do it,” Alex happily agreed.
They ordered two local beers and seated themselves in the corner of the almost empty wine bar.
“So what do we have to confess to today?” Greg invited Alex light-heartedly.
Alex paid for the beers and took a draught.
“Not bad,” he observed. “Well the situation is like this…”
He took the next half hour to tell Greg the dramatic change of events at SONIC. “Of course all this is top secret but you have been as close to SONIC as anyone so you understand the rules.” He looked at Greg for understanding.
“Yes of course.” Greg waved the question aside. “Listen Alex I haven’t thought it through, but why don’t you stay on here say as security chief or something — we are sure to have trouble once the locals see us out there. We did keep quite an arsenal from that cargo so we could put up a hell of a fight if we had to. It will only be for a few days so why don’t you stay? What do you say?”
Alex had secretly hoped for the invitation.
“I’ll be honest I was really hoping that you’d say that. So thanks, I’d be delighted to assist; my first freelance contract!” he observed, thrusting out his hand to seal the deal. “I have a few loose ends to clear with the Boss but that said, we have a deal.”
The Syndicate guard lay comfortably in the private clinic as he recovered from the operation to remove the bullet. He’d been extremely lucky, as no vital organs had been seriously damaged and he would make a full recovery quite soon, a delighted young surgeon confirmed to his patient after completing his first solo operation.
“Well thank you Doctor,” the man cooed, suitably grateful. “I wonder if I could make a call to my wife? She will be worrying about me,” he pleaded gently.
“I don’t suppose one call can cause much trouble do you?” the naive surgeon smiled keen to please his patient.
At an office many miles from the diving operation, a grey-haired man sat alone. He had just received the news that the partner he had sent to oversee the arms shipment had been killed; but worst of all, from his point of view, the cargo had been completely destroyed and the inconsolable client was looking for answers; answers that could not be satisfactorily provided.
The Syndicate leader was tired; years of unparalleled success had been a stimulating elixir. So sudden had been their reverse in fortunes that the unfamiliar pressures had taken a great toll on his normally iron confidence. He still had a vast fortune of course but the thrill of punishing his old enemies had suddenly lost its edge. He picked up the ivory cordless telephone and called his sole remaining partner.
“Bad news I’m afraid. Orwell is dead and the whole shipment lost.” There was a pause as if time had stopped.
“I’ll be round immediately.”
Finding the location of the submarine was proving to be somewhat tantalising. So far, they had made three significant contacts with sunken vessels in and about the location identified by Greg but each time they had been disappointed. Finally at dusk one evening, as they swept around in a wide circle to start another long trawl with their dual magnetometers and side scan sonar, the monitors suddenly sprang to life indicating a large metallic object. No specific shape could be discerned but its mass was significant. Everyone tensed in expectation. Had they found something at last? Sixty-five metres flashed on the depth gauge. The robot camera was lowered reverently into the water and directed to the target on the seabed. The tide was beginning to run hard from east to west; there was only a little time left before it would be too strong for the robot camera. The cable drum whirled as it smoothly released the cable and the robot plunged towards its target.