LITMIR.BIZ

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pounding a keyboard. A bottle of Beefeater gin sat next to him.

      ‘Hello,’ said Breanna.

      The man put his hand out to shush them, then continued typing.

      ‘You’re Cheese?’ asked Mack.

      The man picked up the Beefeater, took a swig, then held it out to them without looking away from his laptop.

      ‘No thanks,’ said Breanna.

      ‘I’ll pass,’ said Mack.

      The man took another swig, still typing with one hand. In his thirties or early forties, he was obviously American, wearing a light blue T-shirt and a pair of cut-off jeans.

      ‘Stoner’s people, right?’ he asked, still tapping his keys.

      ‘Yes,’ said Breanna.

      ‘I want to know about some airplanes,’ said Mack.

      ‘I don’t want to know anything. Nothing. Zero.’

      ‘Mark told me to come here,’ said Breanna.

      ‘Yeah, but I don’t know anything about it, okay? I have a Web link for you to look at in the other room,’ he said. ‘I typed it in already. All you have to do is hit enter.’

      The man typed one more thing on his laptop, then put it down and got up.

      ‘James Milach. They call me Cheese because I made a killing in the stock market involving Kraft. No shit,’ said the American. He shook Mack’s hand – then bent over and kissed Breanna’s. ‘Beefeater makes me formal,’ he said, sweeping away into the next room.

      Mack thought for sure he’d stepped into an insane asylum. Stoner was a spook, and spooks knew weird people, but this character was – a character.

      But then this had been a particularly perplexing day all around. The sultan had expressed some concern about the Sukhois, but discounted Mack’s theory that they had been responsible for the attack on the merchant ship. The spy network, meanwhile, reported that there had been no activity at any of the airports on Borneo or even nearby Indonesia or Malaysia.

      The Brunei navy’s pet theory was that the ship had been sabotaged by Islamic terrorists, who had placed a bomb aboard. While Mack wouldn’t rule that out, it was a convenient theory in that it kept the navy from having any responsibility. The investigation was continuing; thus far, no survivors had been found.

      ‘You hit the button, and then you can take it from there,’ said Cheese, standing over a Sun Workstation. ‘You got it?’

      ‘Sure,’ said Breanna. ‘This is the Web?’

      Cheese smiled at her. ‘Not exactly. But you don’t want to know too much, do you?’

      Mack rolled his eyes, then hit the key and bent toward the screen. Brown and black shades slowly filled the screen. It took a few moments for Mack to realize he was looking at a satellite photo of the northern part of the island, which was Malaysian territory.

      ‘Some sort of Russian satellite,’ said Breanna, pointing at the characters on the side of the screen. ‘You think he’s tapped into their network?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ he told her, leaning down to squint at the screen. ‘But that looks like the outline of a Sukhoi on what looks like a highway in the middle of nowhere. I’m going to have to look at a map but I think that’s Darvel Bay, on the eastern side of Sabah province. That whole area is just jungle. Or at least it used to be.’

       Dreamland 8 October 1997, (local) 1800

      Dog hustled from the Dolphin shuttle helicopter that had dropped him off at Dreamland toward the black SUV waiting to ferry him over to his quarters. He was surprised to find Danny Freah behind the wheel.

      ‘Personnel shortage?’ Dog asked as he got into the passenger seat beside him.

      ‘Wanted to have a chat.’

      ‘Fire away,’ said Dog, bracing himself.

      ‘We had a problem with the demonstration this morning,’ started Danny.

      Dog listened as the captain detailed what had happened. ‘I’m sorry, Colonel,’ said Danny as they arrived in front of the small bungalow that served as Dog’s quarters here. ‘I’m truly sorry.’

      ‘Well, the outcome wasn’t what we’d hoped, I agree,’ said Dog. He wanted to sound philosophical without sounding as if he were making light of the situation – a tough balance. ‘But actually it doesn’t sound that bad. If the technical people explained about the smoke grenades, I’m sure it’ll be kept in perspective.’

      ‘We screwed up in front of a bunch of people who would like to chop off our heads,’ said Danny.

      ‘Congress doesn’t want to chop off our heads. Just our budget,’ said Dog.

      ‘Yeah.’

      ‘It’s all right, Captain.’ Dog opened the door. ‘I’m going to just put this stuff inside and then head back over to my office. Can you stay a minute and give me a lift?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      Danny’s mood was even more somber than before. Dog pulled his bag out of the truck, searching his mind for a better pep talk as he walked up the path to his quarters.

      When Jennifer saw Dog finally coming up the walk, she leaned against the wall, knowing she’d be just out of sight when he came in. She listened to him fumbling with the key; as the door creaked open she heard her heart thumping loudly. She hesitated a second, suddenly feeling foolish for sneaking into his apartment to surprise him.

      Dog, oblivious, closed the door behind him and took a few steps into the dimly lit cottage.

      ‘Hey,’ she said, staying back by the wall rather than going to him as she’d planned.

      ‘Jen!’

      He sounded surprised, not shocked but taken off-guard, as if she were the last person in the world he’d expect here, the last person he wanted to find here.

      ‘What are you doing?’ Dog flipped on the light.

      ‘I was surprising you,’ she said.

      ‘Great,’ he said, but it sounded unconvincing to her.

      ‘Do you want some wine?’ she tried, struggling against her growing anxiety.

      ‘I would but I have to get over to my office and then look after the congressional delegation. Maybe later, okay?’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘You all right?’ He put his arms around her but somehow it felt forced and unnatural.

      ‘I’m okay,’ she said.

      ‘I do have to go. I’m sorry,’ he said.

      Kiss me, she thought. Kiss me. But even when he did, she thought he was distracted, and she felt worse than before.

      ‘Later?’ he said, letting go of her.

      She forced herself to nod. But then she added, ‘I may have to work.’

      ‘Oh. Well. Try to come over.’

      ‘I will.’

      Then he turned and, without bothering to change, went back out the door.

       Sandakan, Malaysia (northern Borneo) 9 October 1997, 1053

      The long ride across the island left Dazhou stiff and impatient, though he knew better than to show emotion, let alone physical discomfort, as he waited outside the general’s office. General Udara was inside, speaking on the telephone

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