Redback (42 page)

Lyall took out his cell phone. 'I'm sure my, ah, my good friend Teddy will be willing to pass on
your request on the quiet. This way it's two steps away from you as well, Arlen. And with any luck
we might be able to get them in place before you even get to Sydney.'

'That would be good, because the last thing I want to do is insult our own Secret Service by
implying they're not up to the task.'

Lyall smiled. 'The only thing I can't even guess at, let alone guarantee of course, is the
availability. And while Rashid may have other teams, as you pointed out, the Guards are the ones
with the reputation for saving the Australian Prime Minister. That fact alone should facilitate
their late inclusion into the overall security arrangements for you during SETSA.'

'I really appreciate this Adam. It just worries me that there's a higher than normal threat level
out there at the moment. I have a bad feeling whenever any of us leave the country.'

Lyall gave a dry laugh as he scrolled through his autodial and selected a name. 'I completely
understand Arlen. Mind you, it's also getting to the stage where we can't even go to Texas.'

The Ballymore, London
Monday 9am

Teddy Drake still had a good half hour before he was required for his Joint
Intelligence Committee briefing on the situation in Pakistan. It was bound to be a very long day so
he intended to make the most of the only meal he'd be able to take at his leisure. One more piece of
toast with marmalade and some fresh tea should do the trick. He waved for the waiter as his phone
rang. He apologised to his companions for being so rude as to even bring a phone to breakfast, let
alone respond to it.

'Edward Drake,' he answered.

'Teddy, it's Adam Lyall.'

'My, oh my, Adam, it must be the middle of the night over there.'

'Close enough, Teddy. And none of us have been to bed. I assume you will have heard the news
about Pakistan by now.'

'I have, I have. A terrible thing, Adam. Do pass on my condolences. Now what can I do for
you?'

'I have a delicate request on behalf of the Vice President.'

'Ah, as you know I am an expert at the delicate request,' Teddy smiled.

'Mr Conte will be attending the SETSA summit in Australia beginning this coming weekend. While he
will naturally be travelling with his usual Secret Service retinue he feels, given the state of
things abroad at the moment, that they may not be enough.'

'Do tell him not to go to Texas at the moment either then, Adam.'

'I've just done that very thing,' Lyall said and allowed himself a laugh. 'Anyway, we were
wondering if you could help us out, with an indirect appeal, by having a word to the Telamon people
regarding the services of their highly-motivated Titan Guards.'

'Certainly, Adam, it would be my pleasure.'

'One reason for asking this favour of you personally, is that I believe Rashid is still in
London.'

'Yes, he is,' Drake couldn't help chuckling. 'What's more, he is in fact sitting opposite me,
along with his colleague Michael Dawson, and Peter Ebrey.'

'It is a small world indeed, then,' Lyall said.

'Yes. Now Peter, as you may not know, is also a master of the well-kept secret so rest assured
what gets said over breakfast goes down with the kippers. Give me the barebones, Adam, and I shall
run them by young Darius. He's such an agreeable fellow, that I'm sure that if the Titan Guards are
available for such a job on short notice…'

Drake glanced at Rashid and said, 'Australia, this weekend?' Rashid and Dawson exchanged looks,
shrugged and nodded.

'It seems to be a likely possibility, Adam,' Drake said. 'We may even be able to get Jennifer
Leland, the Australian High Commissioner, on side to put in a good fast word for us. She and Darius
have been flirting over business all week.'

'Great, thank you, Teddy. I have another matter regarding Sydney that I will ring you about later
as it's not something that Peter can share.'

'I look forward to it, Adam. Now give me the details for Darius.'

The White House, Washington DC
Monday 4.15 am

Lyall and Conte returned to the Situation Room hot on the heels of a saviour with a
huge tray of refreshments. Lyall helped himself to a sandwich and fresh coffee; noticed that CIA
Director Joel Moody had finally turned up: then listened as Harry Corbin finished the update about
the French capture of three of the Paris train bombers, including the ringleader of Brigade d'Etoile
d'Euro, Ilia Dushenko.

The Secretary of State, sitting on the other side of the room next to Director Moody, suddenly
swore and slapped his hand on the long table.

'It seems that the Peshawar airport has also between attacked,' he explained, when all heads
turned. 'And Joel has just informed me that we have a team on an undercover mission, somewhere in
that area.'

Moody nodded. 'We have Agency representation supporting a Special Forces group on a surveillance
operation in Peshawar,' he confirmed. 'Operation Northern Arrow has been running under the radar up
there for about three months. They are headquartered near the airport; and we have been unable to
contact anyone there.'

'Was this operation general surveillance or something specific?' asked Admiral Parker, Head of
the Joint Chiefs.

'They were monitoring increased Taliban and al-Qaeda traffic at first.'

'Increased traffic?' van Louden laughed. 'Those mountains are the cradle of insurgency and the
nursery for wannabe terrorists. Wouldn't al-Qaeda have to decorate a float and take out full-page
ads to actually draw attention to a noticeable increase?'

A laughing rumble of agreement with the Def-Sec's statement rippled around the table, and
prompted a few finger-pointing comments. It seemed the CIA was already being nominated for probably
doing the 'something' that brought on this latest attack.

Director Moody chose to ignore the judgmental looks. 'As I said, we were keeping an eye on
things, waiting for some mid-level al-Qaeda operatives to turn up, as rumoured.

'Instead, our team found themselves eyeballing Ashraf Majid, allegedly one of Osama's top-level
recruits and, more than likely, the architect of last year's attacks on the US and UK embassies in
Turkey and Morocco, and a heap of other trouble in North Africa.'

'Why did you say 'allegedly' with such questionable emphasis, Joel?' asked Conte, always on the
ball.

'Because that was what we believed about him, Mr Vice President.'

'The CIA believes that about
every
terrorist these days,' Admiral Parker remarked.

'Now that's where you're wrong. The generic al-Qaeda connection is actually a misconception of
the Administration not the Agency,' Moody said.

'Are we to assume then that something happened to change even your opinion of this man?' Adam
Lyall asked.

'Yes indeed. Last week, under the watchful eye of our field officers, a strange combination of
men came together in a Peshawar café. Ashraf Majid was joined by Bashir Kali, his lifelong
friend and fellow terrorist. Kali, as leader of a new subcontinent group called Groh Sitaarah, was
the man who prematurely claimed responsibility for that foiled plot at the Commonwealth meeting in
India last June.

'We assumed then that this Groh Sitaarah, which is Urdu for 'Star Brigade' by the way, was yet
another offshoot, affiliate, whatever of - yes - al-Qaeda. However, the three other men who attended
last week's quite out in the open meeting in Peshawar put paid to that idea.

'Bashir Kali arrived with Jamal Zahkri al Khudri, his faithful sidekick Samir Krenar, and former
Jeemah Islamiyah bomber, Dumadi Arjuna.'

There was silence for a moment as everyone contemplated the significance of what Moody had
belatedly laid on the table. Then a dozen people at once began demanding why these terrorists had
not been taken out, arrested, dealt with, stopped then and there, or simply been blown to kingdom
come before they did what they had, so obviously, now done.

'Unbelievable,' Conte declared. 'What the hell is wrong with you guys? You have Jamal Zahkri and
four other of the world's Most Wanted men in your sights and you do nothing?'

'Mr Vice President, sometimes nothing is all we can do. We have no jurisdiction in Pakistan. Our
'freedom versus extremism' argument does not wash in that country. The mistakes NATO and the US
military have made in the whole region, in the last too many years, means we barely get co-operation
any more. And when I say 'we', I'm not talking about the CIA. I'm talking about the USA.

'Our hands were tied. Even with this tragedy,' Moody waved at the screen that was replaying the
satellite camera footage from Peshawar, 'we are hamstrung. We'll be lucky if we can even get in to
look for our colleagues - the ones that weren't supposed to be there, I mean.'

'Question,' Lyall raised his hand. 'Isn't that murdering sonofabitch Jamal Zahkri now the grand
wazir
of Atarsa Kára.'

'Yes, precisely,' Moody exclaimed. 'That's what I was about to say. If Atarsa Kára is
responsible for this attack, then Jamal Zahkri's little band of already-known terrorists is
growing.'

'And his particular brand of terror also attracts a different kind of enemy recruit,' Aiden
Bonney said. 'The soldiers of Atarsa Kára aren't required to die in order to destroy us.
There are no suicide bombers in his club. Zahkri only recruits fighters who want to live forever, so
they can keep on killing us forever.'

Moody threw his hands up. 'We know from French Intelligence that Dushenko's Brigade d'Etoile
d'Euro is an AK unit. If Bashir Kali's group, Groh Sitaarah, has also aligned with Atarsa
Kára then my friends we are in deep trouble.

'It means we have a serious new player on the world stage organising itself against us. Atarsa
Kára is not aligned to, but may well turn out to be worse than al-Qaeda.'

'Al-Qaeda is just a name we give things, mostly so we can blow them up.' The President had spoken
- for the first time in half an hour.

'I beg your pardon, sir?' Janeway asked him.

'Sorry, it's just that we were talking about this very thing in London last week. Remember Adam?
It was you, me, that Rashid fellow and his surfer buddy, and the British PM's wife.' Brock looked
thoughtful. 'And their spy chief.'

Lyall, like everyone else, was unable or unwilling to respond or even react.

My God,
the man is a veritable sponge, with no capacity for discrimination whatsoever.
He couldn't be more perfect.

And perfectly awful.

Chiang Mai, Thailand
Tuesday 9.30 am

Ruth Jardine, still elated that Jana Rossi had agreed to the 'extra duties' of her
now official position with the Helix Foundation, took a moment to gather herself at the bottom of
the stairs inside the Picot Bar. A mildly-annoying hangover from dinner the previous night, one full
of conversation, laughter and total over-indulgence, did not dampen her ever-present enthusiasm for
the wonderful things she got to do in life.

Bringing people home was one of her most favourite things. Bringing them together was
another.

The detail that pleased her most about bringing Jana into the Helix-Redback fold, however, was
that it had not in fact been her idea; but, rather, that of the Redback commander.

Bryn Gideon, though always astonishing, rarely surprised Ruth. The extraordinary young woman
could do anything she put her mind to; usually did it well the first time - particularly if it was
physical, tactical or logical; and always persevered if that first time wasn't good enough. She was
also as clever as paint. But she rarely did anything that was personally surprising.

So for Bryn to recommend a gentle, funny and peaceful soul, like Jana Rossi, for membership in
her private club - where action, bravado, and adorable but boof-headed boys were the norm
- told Ruth something new about her friend and protégé. And although Ruth wasn't
entirely sure what it meant yet - and doubted Bryn realised she'd done anything out of the
ordinary - the fact was, Bryn Gideon had stepped out her comfort zone. And this was satisfying
indeed. That the other Redbacks seemed to like Jana a great deal as well, was a bonus.

Ruth began yoo-hooing as she neared the top of the stairs only to find everyone standing around
the kitchen staring at a mobile phone, and looking as serious as prawns on a plate.

'We're expecting a call,' Coop explained.

'What? All of you?' Ruth asked joining the circle.

'Oliver has been in touch again this morning,' Gideon explained tapping her ear. 'It turns out
Triko's brother is not in Afghanistan at all. He was in Peshawar in Pakistan in the middle of all
that strife and ruckus yesterday.'

'Oh my goodness, is he all right?'

'Yes Ruth, that's how we know he was there and not in Kandahar,' Triko said. 'But apparently he's
stuck there; in northern Pakistan I mean. He would've been undercover. The Pakistani government
hasn't exactly been all that friendly towards any Coalition activity within its borders lately. In
fact ever, really.'

Ruth put her arm around Triko's shoulder. Although it was her natural tendency to do so, she also
thought of it as her job; especially as it was not something his Commander would ever think to do.
Bryn would slap him on the back like a mate, she'd tend his wounds, she'd kill or die for him, for
any of them, but she wouldn't think to comfort him with a gentle hug. Ruth glanced at Jana and
realised it probably wouldn't be long before she'd be doing the very same thing.

The mobile rang and span on the counter. Triko grabbed it and put it on speaker.

'Christos? That you, bro?'

'Jason, you okay?' Triko asked.

'Well actually I've got a bit of sore head this morning. I was in a car that got blown up
yesterday. I mean the whole thing got blown up in the air
-
with me in it, spun round a
bazillion times with me in it, and landed all cack-arse on a bunch of other cars with me still in
it. What?