As the four of them recovered, Mac patted his pockets out of hope more than anything. Empty. The USB key, and access to the North Korean missile launch, was gone.
Looking in Scotty’s window, he saw two dark yellow canisters, each the size of a soup tin. He already knew what they were, but in case he was confused the black lettering on the aerosols said Fentanyl — a psychoactive agent that messed with the brain’s function. An overuse of Fentanyl canisters had killed scores of hostages during the cinema standoff with Chechnyan terrorists in Moscow.
Holding on to the vehicle for balance, Mac gulped at a water bottle as the Singapore police pulled up.
The safe house was a large bungalow, with a frontage to the road and its backyard facing the Island Golf Course. They drove fifty metres past it and parked.
There were three of them now, with Scotty having volunteered the car, the guns and even the Fentanyl canisters as being his. The cops took Scotty, leaving the other three with the Escalade.
‘Circle round the back,’ said Mac to Jon. ‘Through the golf club. Give us three minutes exactly.’
They synchronised their G-Shocks and Mac and Tranh checked their guns and stowed them under their shirts as they made the walk down Island Club Road.
Turning left, Mac walked straight up the well-lit driveway which contained two cars — a Toyota Corolla and Nissan Maxima from Hertz — and walked up the stairs to the front door.
Light flashed through the gap in the curtains at the living room window and Mac kicked the door off its locks, storming in with the SIG held cup-and-saucer.
Turning left into the living room, Mac swept the area and saw a middle-aged man and woman sitting on the couch in front of the TV, and two women in their thirties at the dining table.
They stared at him and Mac froze momentarily: he was looking at Liesl Hu, which was expected. Sitting across the table from her was Geraldine McHugh.
‘Liesl,’ said Mac.
‘McQueen,’ came the Filipino monotone. ‘Drop it.’
Dropping the SIG as he felt steel behind his ear, Mac turned and faced Bongo Morales.
Tranh, too, had dropped his weapon and turned, allowing Didge to cuff him with the plastic wrist-ties.
‘What’s up, McQueen?’ said Bongo, pointing the shotgun between his eyes.
‘Came to talk to Liesl,’ said Mac. ‘Making sure she’s okay after seeing her house.’
‘What happened?’ said Liesl, standing and coming to Mac.
‘Keep away, please,’ said Bongo. ‘You don’t know him like I know him.’
‘The place is trashed, Liesl,’ said Mac. ‘I knew this was Ray’s safe house, so I thought you might be here.’
‘It’s been a nightmare, Macca,’ said Liesl. Her light brown hair had grown lank where usually it was styled every day. ‘I called Jen,’ she said, tears forming. ‘She didn’t come.’
‘I did, about ten days ago,’ said Mac. ‘No one was at the house. Benny turned up too — the place was deserted.’
She fell into his arms, the tears pooling in the fabric on his right shoulder. ‘Ray,’ she said, sobbing. ‘They killed Ray.’
‘I know,’ said Mac.
‘They killed him.’
Pushing her back slightly, he looked at Bongo. ‘Can we talk?’
Bongo led them into the kitchen and Mac opened the window.
‘Jon, come in — no guns, okay, mate?’ Mac yelled across the backyard.
Jon came in from the darkness and up to the back door, where Bongo took his handgun and pointed him to Didge.
Mac leaned against the counter. ‘Liesl, I have to ask some questions.’
She looked at Mac. ‘So, you don’t sell books?’
‘I work for the government.’
She looked at her hands. ‘What do you want to know, Macca?’
‘I’m trying to find something,’ said Mac. ‘Ray tried to hide it, stop it from falling into the wrong hands, but he failed. I need some answers.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘Do you know a man called Joel Dozsa?’
‘No, but Ray said his name, and spoke with him on the phone. And I’ve heard Geraldine mention him in the past couple of days.’
‘So you know Geraldine McHugh?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We were at ANU together.’
‘Why is she here?’
‘She rang me, said she was on the run from Aussie intel and could she hide out with me?’
‘Those her parents?’
Liesl nodded.
‘So you never met Dozsa?’
‘No, but I saw him at Ray’s offices once — tanned and bald. Very muscular Jewish man.’
Bongo blinked long — sign language for I’ll tell you later.
‘Liesl, this is important: the night that Vincent Loh Han came to your house, do you remember what Ray said he’d do with a certain manifest of information that one of his funds owned?’
‘He told Vincent he’d wipe the whole file — no one would be able to use it.’
‘And?’
‘And… he said he would keep one copy of the file for him and Vincent, but he’d hide it.’
‘What did Mr Loh Han say about it?’
‘He said, Good riddance to it — let’s hope the Jew drops the whole subject.’
‘Did you tell Dozsa about this conversation?’
‘No, Macca,’ she said, eyes growing big like a child’s.
‘You tell one of Dozsa’s associates?’
Her voice raised an octave. ‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Who did you tell, Liesl?’
Liesl tried to project dignity. ‘I told Dennis.’
Mac looked at Bongo and mouthed the word ‘Dennis?!’
‘Don’t laugh at me, Macca,’ said Liesl, tears forming again. ‘He was from Aussie intelligence, and I was helping Ray — Ray was out of his depth.’
‘Dennis?’ said Mac. ‘You get a business card?’
‘I said don’t laugh at me,’ said Liesl. ‘I was doing my bit.’
Liesl collapsed in tears again, and Bongo grabbed Mac by the arm.
‘Let’s go see Dennis,’ said Bongo.
Chapter 66
At the bottom of the stairs, Mac found himself in an airy basement with a fridge and several sets of skis, removal boxes and a Laser-class sailboat on a trailer.
Flexi-cuffed to the plumbing was a dark-haired Anglo called Dennis, although Mac knew him better as Lance Kendrick.
‘Oh, shit,’ said Lance.
‘Nice place you got here, Lance.’
‘It isn’t what it looks like, McQueen,’ said Lance. ‘I swear.’
‘What does it look like?’ said Mac, opening the fridge and grabbing three bottles of water.
Handing them out, he pulled a dusty deckchair close to Lance and sat down, slurping the water.
Lance stammered slightly. ‘I mean, I thought Liesl might be hiding here, so I flew down.’
‘Greeted by Bongo and Didge — that must have been nice.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, indicating the flexi-cuffs.
‘You got off that ship, and came directly to where Geraldine McHugh was being kept?’
‘I didn’t know McHugh would be here,’ said Lance. ‘I didn’t know they knew one another.’
‘But you know Liesl?’
‘Yes,’ said Lance.
‘You know what happened to me twenty minutes ago?’
Lance shrugged.
‘Joel Dozsa threw a couple of Fentanyl canisters into our car, stole the secret copy of the Harbour Pacific files. Right out of my pocket, while I was vomiting.’
‘You had those files?’ said Lance. ‘Shit — how?’
‘What’s important is what happens now, Lance. I have to find Dozsa before he uses that information. The Koreans start their missile tests tomorrow morning, usually at about four-thirty.’