No Man's Land - A Russell Carter Thriller (26 page)

4

Carter strode down George Street in the early-morning sunshine, feeling rejuvenated and ready for what lay ahead.

After spending an hour in bed with Erina, it was like a missing piece of his soul had slotted back in place.

The lovemaking they shared was both tender and passionate, reconnecting their minds, bodies and spirits at the deepest level and bringing him to a place of inner stillness. Their union had left him with a sense of infinite possibility and rightness with the world, despite the craziness going on around him.

He weaved his way through a stream of human traffic, heading toward the cafe-lined foreshores of Sydney Harbour.

Most Australians were oblivious to the threat of a terrorist attack, thinking it could never happen on their own soil. It was in many ways a good thing, he supposed. Regular citizens didn’t need to know the danger hanging over them.

A quick glance at his watch told him it was 8.05 a.m. He was due to meet Watto at the Oyster Bar, an open-air cafe near the Opera House, in ten minutes.

He’d known Watto for twenty years and always found him to be a straight shooter, but getting him to provide backup without any hard evidence was going to be a hard sell.

He crossed George Street at the lights and approached Circular Quay. A green and yellow ferry tooted as it left the dock, causing a flock of seagulls to lift off the dappled water like a white wave.

Watto was a career man, married with two teenage daughters, and his default position was to play everything by the book. The AFP procedures were the Ten Commandments of the personal bible he lived by.

If Carter was up-front and honest with Watto, he’d most likely bring something positive to the table. Definitely worth a shot. But Carter would need to tread carefully. If he told Watto the specifics of Samudra’s proposed jihad, he’d feel compelled by his sense of duty to report the threat to his immediate superiors, triggering a series of events that would take the matter out of Carter’s hands.

He wasn’t prepared to let that happen, except as a last resort. He and Erina, operating off the grid, were the ones best equipped to stop the attack. Now they’d come together, part of him hated the thought of putting her in harm’s way and facing the risk of losing her. But he couldn’t afford to go there, even for a second.

Turning into the walkway that ran along the eastern side of the quay toward the Opera House, he checked his phone to see if there were any messages from Erina or Djoran.

Nothing.

He entered the cafe and stood a moment to look at the bridge towering over the harbor to his left. He sat at a corner table under an umbrella with his back to the water’s edge, giving him a clear view of the stream of pedestrian traffic.

A gentle breeze blew off the water that lapped against the wall of the concourse behind him.

He ordered a coffee and studied the crowd moving along the grey cobblestone promenade that ran between the harbor and the cafes and boutiques.

Two young children escaped from their parents and skipped toward the steel and concrete fence that ran along the edge of the harbor. They pointed in awe at a giant passenger liner docking on the western foreshore of the quay.

Carter’s gaze fell on a group of young women dressed stylishly in western clothes and traditional Muslim headscarfs, posing in front of the water as they took photographs of each other.

At the same time, two surfie-looking blokes in rubber thongs, matching board shorts and T-shirts walked past, carrying an esky between them. In their free hands they each held a longneck bottle of beer, most likely preparing for a big night in front of the fireworks.

Carter smiled to himself at their enthusiasm for the occasion. Nothing like getting an early start to a good time.

Behind them he spotted the tall, erect figure of Watto, power-walking through the crowd. He wore a buttoned-up charcoal suit, a crisp white shirt and dark tie.

Watto caught Carter’s eye, nodded and veered toward the cafe.

5

Watto walked toward Carter’s table and undid his middle coat button before dropping into the seat opposite.

“You’ve really stirred up a shit storm this time.”

“It’s good to see you too, Watto.”

Watto ran his fingers through his dark, close-cropped hair. “I checked the records. You’re not even supposed to be in the country, for Christ’s sake.”

Carter held up his hands, feigning surrender. “Where’s the trust? I had to take the odd short cut.”

A young waiter placed Carter’s coffee in front of him. Watto ordered a double-shot latte.

When they were alone, he leaned across the table and said in a hushed tone, “Seriously, mate, there’s a warrant out for your arrest.”

“Yeah?”

“A double murder and assault with intent to cause grievous bodily harm. Was that one of your short cuts?”

Carter glanced down at his coffee to gather his thoughts. Obviously, Samudra had told Woodforde to contact the police and accuse Carter and Erina of assaulting him and killing his two gate guards on his Boggabilla property.

This new information changed the equation, pushing him and Erina further outside the law, making it extremely difficult for him to enlist the help of someone like Watto.

“There was a good reason,” he said.

“You’ve been in Indonesia too long. You’re not on some remote island where you can do whatever you like and get away with all sorts of dubious shit. I should be dragging your sorry arse into custody.”

“There’s something big that needs to be stopped.”

“Have you got any hard evidence?” Watto asked.

“Not exactly.”

“Just some information from a confidential source, I’ll bet.”

“Something along those lines, but it’s rock-solid.”

“What exactly do you want?”

Carter saw no point prevaricating. He looked Watto in the eye. “I need a squad of half-a-dozen men at the ready, should I need to call them. No questions asked.”

Watto shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but Carter didn’t give him a chance.

“I also need total freedom to move wherever I like in the city and authority to access all public venues around the harbor.”

Watto arched an eyebrow. “And when might you want all this?”

Carter took a slow sip of his coffee, let out a sigh and put it back on the saucer.

“Tonight.”

Watto shifted in his seat, clearly fighting to keep a lid on his growing irritation.

Though they respected each other, Watto came from a world with a different set of rules and values. He hated being asked to step outside the strict protocols he had followed all his working life.

He shook his head. “There’s no way on God’s earth I can help you unless you’re prepared to come downtown into the office, make an official statement and go through the proper channels.”

Carter understood where Watto was coming from, but it didn’t mean he liked it or accepted it.

“You’ve gotta think outside of that tight little box you live in,” Carter said, deliberately baiting him. “You can’t always cover your arse to protect your pension plan.”

“Hey, I’m doing you a favor. I should be arresting you. And the last time I rang you wanting help, you told me the surf was up.”

Watto had asked Carter to travel to Sumatra to interrogate a suspected member of a terrorist cell being held as an unofficial prisoner by Detachment 88. Watto desperately needed information about a rumored attack on the Australian embassy in Jakarta and saw this as a valid reason to circumvent official channels.

“Mate, I’d retired,” Carter said. “I was living in Lennox. That was an unreasonable request.”

“And this isn’t? You call me out of the blue on New Year’s Eve wanting me to stick my neck out on nothing more than your word. All the while playing your cards close to your chest for fear the department I work for might interfere with your precious plans and do our job. Not going to happen.”

Carter drained his cup and pushed it to one side. “I wouldn’t be asking if this wasn’t serious.”

Watto shifted in his seat. “Not everyone can run around like an outlaw, following their own rules or making them up as they go. I work within the law. That’s what separates me from the scumbags I bring in. That’s the basis of a just society, in case you were wondering.”

“Gee, Watto, you sound like you’re giving an orientation speech to new recruits at the police academy.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“And don’t patronize me. What I’m talking about is serious. We both know you’re prepared to circumvent the law when it suits you. And you know that I’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done. But it has to be my way.”

“Haven’t you heard a single word I’m saying? You’ve killed people, left the country and re-entered illegally. Now you’re asking me to break the law after you’ve taken it into your own—”

The waiter put Watto’s latte down in front of him, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Carter leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. He’d known it’d be tough to get Watto to stick his neck out, even when everything had been straightforward and above board. With a warrant out for his arrest – a warrant for murder – the odds approached zero.

Watto was basically telling him he’d have to hand over the operation to the AFP or work outside the law on his own.

He thought of Ned Kelly on his red horse, shotgun slung over his shoulder. Maybe the maverick bushranger had been trying to tell him something.

“You heard about the bombing in Kuta?” he asked.

Watto shook a packet of artificial sweetener into his coffee. “Of course. But a terrorist attack on a foreign tourist destination doesn’t mean Sydney is under threat, which I presume is what you’re insinuating.”

“Jacko was killed in the blast. It was meant for me and Erina as well.”

Watto looked straight at Carter.

“We were trying to rescue Thomas – he’d been abducted by an Indonesian clan, along with another of our operatives. Thomas is badly injured and the other guy was murdered.”

Watto placed his spoon into the saucer. “So some serious shit, huh?”

Carter nodded.

“Why haven’t you contacted Trident?” Watto asked. “They have far greater discretionary powers than we do and they’re who you’re supposed to report to.”

“We believe Callaghan’s been compromised. His daughter’s missing and we suspect she’s being held hostage.”

“Shit.”

Carter leaned toward him. “Look, all I need is until 11.15 p.m. and then I’ll give you everything I’ve got. Promise. For now, all I need is some backup.”

Watto folded his arms. “Mate, I’m telling you this as a friend. The smart thing for you to do here is to come down to headquarters, make a full statement and go through the proper channels. There are people trained and equipped to deal with situations like this, and if you do things by the book, we can call them in and use their full resources. I’ll back you every step of the way.”

“You know as well as I do that the first thing they’ll do is throw me in a cell and ask questions later. When the truth comes out about this, there’ll be winners and losers in the official ranks. You need to decide what’s right and who you’re going to back.”

“You’re confident you can get the job done?”

“Absolutely. I’m just asking for free rein until 11.15 p.m. and then it’s all yours.”

Watto took a long sip of coffee and looked across the harbor toward the overseas passenger terminal, thinking over what he’d heard. When the federal officer turned back to face him, Carter knew what he was going to say.

“You’re a clever bastard. You’ve painted me into a corner.”

Carter remained silent.

“All right,” Watto said, finishing his coffee and standing up. “Here’s what I can do.”

He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a white card, wrote a number on it and pushed it across the table toward Carter.

“This is my new direct line. I’ll put myself on duty until midnight. The moment you produce some rock-solid evidence I can act on, call me. I’ll be ready with a squad of men. And I’ll get you Callaghan’s address and phone number. You should pay him a visit. That’s the best I can do.”

Carter picked up the card and put it in his pocket. “Thanks, mate.”

Watto walked toward the cashier.

“Watto.”

He turned and faced him.

“Coffee’s on me.”

6

Carter sat on the leather couch in the living room of their apartment and watched Erina make tea in the kitchenette with the same reverence Thomas reserved for the task. He’d just told her about his meeting with Watto and was waiting for her response.

She walked into the room carrying two steaming cups of fresh green tea.

“Having backup is good,” she said, “but you’re right, handing this over to the Federal Police isn’t an option. Even if they manage to stop Samudra blowing up the bridge, we both know that’s not enough. If he survives New Year’s, he’ll strike another day.”

“Exactly. We need to cut the threat off at the head. That means taking down Samudra tonight.”

She handed him a cup and sat down. “Tracking down ruthless arseholes like him is what we do better than anyone else.”

Carter took a sip of hot tea and nodded, waiting. He knew she wasn’t finished.

“But there is one thing that concerns me,” she said. “It only takes one person with a vest packed with explosives to walk into a crowd of people and do untold damage. He might have more than one target.”

“True.”

“And what if he’s counting on us thinking the bridge is the target while he’s actually plotting something else?”

Carter, who had thought through the same possibilities himself, put his cup down on the table. “You can never be sure of anything,” he said. “But we need to be prepared and ready for the most likely scenario.”

She leaned back in her chair, cradling her cup of tea. “I’m listening.”

“There’re a lot of ifs and maybes,” he said. “And we’re relying heavily on Djoran’s intel. But I trust the guy – he’s putting his life on the line. We have to make sure we’re prepared when he delivers and also be ready for when Samudra makes a mistake.”

“Guys like him always do. And I have to admit I was wrong about Djoran.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

She smiled but didn’t respond. “Have you figured out the best way of getting onto the bridge undetected?”

Carter looked out the window. The bridge seemed to be looking over his shoulder, beckoning him, wherever he went in the city.

He leaned back into the soft lounge. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

“And they are?”

“I reckon we need to mount our assault via the water. It’ll give us the best shot at reaching the pylon without being spotted and we won’t have to deal with any of the security or crowds around the foreshore—”

The phone started vibrating in his thigh pocket. He took it out and checked the screen. The number was blocked. He put the phone on speaker and held it out.

“Carter here.”

“It’s Watto. Got a pen?”

Erina got up from the lounge and grabbed a pen and notepad from the writing desk.

“Fire away,” Carter said.

Watto read out Callaghan’s address and cell-phone number and Erina wrote them down.

“Thanks, mate,” Carter said.

“One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“We didn’t have this conversation.”

The line went dead.

“What now?” Erina asked.

“I need to pay Callaghan a visit.”

“You want me to come?”

He shook his head. “You need to go shopping. We’ll discuss the details of the plan later.”