The image on the wall changed. This time, it was video footage. The picture was moving fast and only a metre or so above the water, as if shot from the bow of a powerful speedboat. Towering cliffs raced towards the camera and, at the last possible moment, the camera climbed sickeningly, sweeping over the top of a spire of black basalt, clearing it by death-defying centimetres. And then the cargo ship came into view. Part of a helicopter skid appeared in the bottom left of the frame. Of course, Wilkes realised, the footage was filmed from the chopper that had appeared suddenly over the bay.
Wilkes watched as a man raced to the bow of the ship and threw back the cover on the machine gun. The picture froze and the image magnified ten times. The weapon was indeed an American M4 .50 calibre as Wilkes had suspected. The beard and the baseball cap. Apparently, the man with his finger on the trigger was of Middle Eastern origin, and he never would have guessed that.
‘This is Kadar Al-Jahani,’ said Mortimer. ‘The given name is more important than the family name in the part of the world this man hails from. It reflects the hopes of the people who bestow it. Kadar means “powerful one” in Arabic. Kadar’s family was poor, so the name “Kadar” was probably a bit of wishful thinking. Kadar grew up to be a demolitions expert in the Saudi army. And, most recently, terrorist for hire.
‘The rash of suicide bombers who blew potholes in the Israeli — Palestinian Roadmap to Peace are thought to have been his students. He favours a booster charge material known as RDX, otherwise known as cyclonite or hexogen — a white crystalline solid that’s the basic ingredient of other explosives such as Composition B. It’s very stable and extremely powerful. Half a kilo of RDX will peel the roof off a Mercedes bus and turn it inside out. Perfect for the terrorist travelling light.
‘The question we’re asking is why here? Why New Guinea? What’s he doing there, way out of his own fish tank? Has he given away terrorism to make a pile of money gun and drug smuggling? In short, we doubt it.’
The video footage rolled forward. Muzzle flashes burst silently from the heavy machine gun in Kadar’s hands. The video swept the ship’s deck, back towards the wheelhouse, and focused on another group of men firing Kalashnikovs disconcertingly out from the screen at the people in the lecture theatre. Again the frame froze and stepped forward, bringing one of the men sharply to the foreground.
‘This is Duat. No second name, just Duat — that’s an Indonesian thing, by the way. A nasty piece of work. Duat teaches people how to kill with swords, guns, ammonium nitrate bombs, whatever. He belongs to a little-known terrorist group called Babu Islam, which basically means ‘Servants of God’. Like a lot of groups in this part of the world, such as Jamaah Islamiah, they’re dedicated to awakening Indonesia to their view of its Islamic responsibilities — namely, to kill as many non-believers as possible.’
‘Love his dental work,’ said the CIA man, Atticus Monroe, to no one in particular. There was a quiet chuckle in the room. One of Duat’s front teeth was missing and the other was gold.
Wilkes recognised Duat. He was the leader of the party at the village, the man who demonstrated the hand gun by shooting the pig’s brains out.
‘Ordinarily, we just keep a loose eye on people like Duat through ASIS and the CIA,’ Mortimer continued, ‘but when he starts keeping company with the likes of Kadar Al-Jahani, we sit up and take notice. And, of course, there are other issues that are falling out of this unholy alliance. Jenny, you might want to leap in here.’
‘Jenny Tadzic, TCCC, Australian Federal Police,’ said the woman sitting directly behind Wilkes, introducing herself to the room. It occurred to Wilkes that occasions which brought all these people to the one place were rare, and they were probably strangers to each other as much as they were to him. He turned to look at her while she spoke. He guessed that she was around thirty-five, maybe a year or two older. She had an intelligent face with wavy dark hair pulled straight back, and a deep furrow between dark eyebrows that indicated she spent many hours of the day worrying.
‘There’s a lot of imported marijuana in circulation at the moment. It’s not the usual hydroponic stuff — it’s what’s known as “bush-buds”, grown naturally. Word of mouth says it’s from PNG and initial tests on samples are confirming this. Some say it’s a good thing when the market’s flooded with pot because the demand for harder drugs falls away. That’s true to some extent but it’s not the issue. We don’t know how the stuff’s getting into the country and that’s a big problem. Also, is this a new supply chain, or an existing one? We have a concern that when the pot runs out, the same supply chain could well be used for the distribution of harder drugs.’
‘Is that a certainty, Jenny?’ asked Niven during the pause. The Australian Defence Force chief was new to the world of drugs and smuggling.
‘No, but it has happened enough times in the past.’ The AFP woman shrugged. ‘I might also say that the Transnational Crime Coordination Centre was created for just this kind of event — tracking the connection between drugs and terrorism. That has been our focus for a while now — definitely since Bali.’
‘Thanks, Jenny,’ said Niven. ‘We’re not here to tread on anyone’s toes.’
‘Maybe I should say something, Spike,’ said Hugh Greenway, the Minister for Defence. Wilkes had seen him before at various squadron reviews. His nickname was Lurch because he was tall, grey and stooped, like the butler in the old Addams Family sitcom. The jury was still out on whether he was a friend or foe to the armed forces because he hadn’t been in the job long enough. ‘With respect to the AFP and the great work you’ve been doing, the feeling is that what’s going on in PNG could be bigger than any of us have a grip on. We’re all here so that we can hopefully make a useful contribution to the bigger picture.’
Tadzic put her hand up and nodded, a gesture indicating that the AFP didn’t have its nose out of joint.
‘So, Jenny, a question for you directly,’ said Greenway. ‘How much money can they make — selling marijuana?’
Tadzic frowned. ‘From dope? Lots. Of course, it depends how much they can bring in. An ounce of the stuff can sell on the street for hundreds of dollars. From what we can see here, I’d say these people are dealing in hundreds of kilos.’
Greenway whistled quietly.
‘Okay, all this is a little outside my area, so this might seem like a dumb question,’ said Niven, ‘but how easy is it to smuggle in?’
‘I’ll answer that, Jenny, if you like,’ said Hamish Cameron, the customs boss.
WO Wilkes detected a slight Irish accent. The customs chief was around fifty with salt-and-pepper hair and dark features. His knees were jammed hard up against the seat in front of him. Wilkes estimated that he’d probably be well over a hundred and ninety centimetres tall.
Tadzic nodded.
‘On the contrary, Spike, it’s not a dumb question at all. It’s the crux of the problem — to us at customs, anyway. You might not be aware that we have only enough resources to check three out of every hundred containers coming into the country.’
‘You’re kidding?’ asked Niven.
‘Christ!’ Greenway seemed just as surprised.
‘I wish I was,’ said Cameron.
‘I don’t think they’d be bringing the stuff in container loads though, do you, Hamish?’ said Jenny Tadzic. ‘More likely to be bringing it in bit by bit. Dope’s pretty bulky. Fishing boats, light aircraft. That way if some gets found, they don’t lose the lot.’
‘Fair point,’ said Cameron. ‘But if they wanted to make a big pile of cash fast, they’d be better off importing heroin or cocaine.’