Mark Abernethy - Double Back

The Royal Australian Navy Seahawk landed on the rear decks of HMAS Sydney in light seas, and Mac took the arm of the loadmaster, who was lit up by the aft-deck floodlights.

Welcome back, sir, said the loadmaster, as Mac landed beside him with some pain in his left calf muscle, the soldiers disembarking around him and heading for the hatchway.

Standing back, Mac allowed the ships medic team to remove his quarry from the hold of the helo, strap him in a rescue sled and carry him down to the medical centre.

Going below himself, Mac let himself in to his private cabin, grabbed a cold VB that hed saved from a buy-up at the ships canteen, and swigged on it as he slowly disrobed. Going over the snatch in his mind, he broke it down into pieces: the approach into Kota Baru barracks, the lack of serious security for the prison, the fast work that Robbos 4RAR Commandos made of grabbing the Canadian and getting him out without anyone getting hurt.

Snatches were so dangerous that whenever he did a smooth one, Mac said a little prayer.

Down the companionway, he could hear Robbos lads pulling the lids of a few beers and settling in for a drink. After ten minutes, the sounds of an improvised didge echoed, along with soldiers giggling. It made Mac feel good to be an Australian.

Looking at the clock, he saw it was 2.48 am, and lay on the bed. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

As they finished lunch at the Victoria Hotel in central Darwin, Davidson ran through the afternoon with Mac.

Technically, the Commonwealth offered Yarrow a resident visa and a fine-only penalty for the excise crimes, said Davidson, sipping at a beer. But Im thinking that we should throw in a deal with the Canadians, eh? I mean, the files Ive seen suggest Ottawa wants Yarrow in the can for at least ten years.

I saw that too, said Mac. But lets be fair, Tony. Yarrow was pulling some major frauds through Vancouver it wasnt a dodgy bottle of whisky at the bottom of the suitcase.

Okay point taken, said Davidson, standing. Lets see how the debrief goes and well go from there. No promises yet, but Id just like your support if we decide to throw him a line not a good reputation to go around, that your intelligence assets are left to burn.

By the way, said Mac, as Davidson turned to leave. Just want to say thanks for making this whole operation happen. It means a lot to me.

No worries, Macca, said Davidson. In the end it worked the way it had to work Indonesians holding other Indonesians accountable. Making the Indon Army move on its own corrupt elements was genius.

You can thank a Filipino hit man for that, said Mac, smiling. Hes hell when hes well.

Well debrief with Yarrow, find some of these supply networks, said Davidson. It was a good call, mate and the most important thing was stopping that Operation Boa before it started.

The Larrakeyah Army Base hospital was bathed in light and Bill Yarrows bed caught most of it. Unfortunately, his injuries were so severe that he was still sedated while he was transferred to and from Darwin Hospital for facial reconstructions and chest surgery, and he was in no shape to speak when Mac and Davidson arrived.

After two days, and still no chat with Yarrow, Davidson left for Tokyo, asking Mac to conduct the debrief.

Using the balmy days to get fit in the pool and the gym, Mac recovered quickly and linked up with a regular rugby game between the army and navy. He ended up substituting for both at fullback and centre, mainly, but also a glory stint at first five-eighth which featured a field goal from forty-six metres while some of the navy girls were watching.

One morning a nurse found Mac lying beside the Larrakeyah swimming pool.

Mr Davis? Patient Yarrow is conscious, sir.

Standing, Mac detoured through his room to get dressed and grab his tape recorders and notebooks. Walking into Yarrows enclosure Mac was immediately aware that something was different. Sniffing, he realised it was the smell. Where did he know that from?

Standing at the end of Yarrows bed, the bandages taken from his face but the bandages and splints still in place for his broken fingers, Mac could tell that this had been a good-looking man, accustomed to being smiled at.

Bill Yarrow? said Mac. Richard Davis, Foreign Affairs wondering if we can have a chat?

Sure, Mr Davis, Yarrow mumbled, sucking something off the inside of his mouth. But I have a guest can we make it fast?

Yes, itll be quick or I can wait till we have a good piece of time.

Looking away and seeming confused, Yarrow looked back. You got me, didnt you?

Well, I started Mac.

You came for me, whispered Bill Yarrow, and then he was crying; big heaving child-like sobs, his bottom lip quivering and tears bouncing off it.

Look, it was more the army boys...

I thought I was in hell, he whimpered, dabbing his eyes with his cotton blanket. Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.

Look, said Mac, not expecting this. Hed spent so much time thinking about this chap as The Canadian, as the criminal, the informer and the procurer of bio-weapons feedstock, that to suddenly accept him as fully human was difficult. I was just doing my job.

No, said Yarrow, shaking his head. You didnt need to come for me Im a pariah who procures supplies to make the weapons of evil. Im a leper.

Look... said Mac, unable to go on with it. Yarrow was telling the truth: he was all those things, plus a customs-and-excise cheat who had cost the Australian taxpayer millions of dollars, quite aside from making the Ethno-Bomb possible. Mac had fought ASIS and DFAT and the Commonwealth for the right to retrieve this man, hed gone into a Kopassus base to do it, and hed done it for reasons that he hadnt properly articulated. The value of a bio-weapons procurement expert to Western intelligence was how Mac had sold it to Davidson. But those werent Macs personal motivations.

You have to tell me, Mr Davis why did you come for me? asked Yarrow.

Yes, Mr Davis, came a voice behind him. Why come back for my dad?

Turning, Mac took her in. Still cheeky and beautiful, Jessica was looking better in a white T-shirt and jeans than most women looked in a five-thousand-dollar ballgown.

Hugging Mac and giving him a kiss, she dragged him closer to Bill Yarrow. Why do it? she asked with a big smile. Why risk your life for an embarrassment?

Maybe I had to square it up with Bongo? said Mac, not entirely sure of his reasoning.

Bongo? smiled Jessica fondly.

He woke me up to myself, said Mac. Reminded me of a few things.

What? asked Jessica, moving to him and holding her fathers hand.

Remember what Bongo said in the jungle? asked Mac.

Which one? she asked.

When I didnt want to help the women, and he did?

I remember, she said, putting her arms around his neck, the tears welling again. Youre a wonderful man, you know that?

What did this Bongo say? asked Yarrow, confused.

Either we all matter, said Jessica.

Or none of us do, said Mac.

West Papua, August 1999

Forty-seven minutes after flying out of Tembagapura, Alan McQueen looked across at the second military helicopter as they descended through the pre-dawn to the vast Lok Kok copper mine. A blond mercenary to his left unbuckled his seatbelt, stood up and aimed a ceiling-mounted machine-gun out the helos open door at the lunar despoliation that stretched five kilometres to the rainforest.

Pik Bergers voice crackled in Macs headset. As we planned it, boys, came his clipped South African accent. Red team in the front door blue team takes the back. I want to be home for breakfast.

The other five soldiers chuckled and gave the thumbs-up.

And you, Mr Jeffries, said the muscular Saffa with a wink. Youre with me.