Cull. Stafford Ray
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He stared for a few moments at the screen. “I don’t like the idea of all these people arriving in Australian waters together,” he grumbled. “It could get nasty!”
With that, he went forward, shaking the sleeping men and leading them aft until all were assembled. He then called Loi from his station to join them.
“You too, Loi,” he called softly. “We have at least half an hour of clear sea, so come here. We need to decide a few things.”
With a following breeze, smoke hung around the aft deck, stinging eyes and insulting noses. The men gathered around the captain, hunkering down as they all sought to avoid the fumes.
“We’re about halfway to Java,” he pointed off the port bow. “Those lights are on Anambas Island.” He looked around the ghostly faces, lit only by reflections from the steaming light and red from the wheelhouse night light. “Those pyramids of light are Indonesian gas wells and that’s my worry.”
“I don’t expect any trouble from the land, but as you probably noticed from the GPS plotter, we are closer to Malaysia than we are to Indonesia.” He pointed to a chandelier of lights ahead. “Those guys are likely to be on the lookout for Malaysian pirates and they’re armed.” He looked ahead as if he could see the guns.
“They have radar and they’ll be aware we are here, so whoever’s on watch, stay on course until we’re about five miles out, then steer away so they can see we’re not a threat.” He paused to think. The others waited.
“And the authorities will know we’re here and they’ll want to know why, right?”
He sounded concerned. “With so many boats on the water they’re sure to do something.”
“What are you suggesting?” came a voice from the dark.
“Haven’t decided,” he answered. “But if we’re boarded, is there anyone here who speaks Bahasa?”
“Yes,” replied a small bearded man. “I’ve lived in Indonesia.”
“OK then; you’re the spokesman. You say we’re just passing through to Australia, we have no guns and no plans to stop. OK?”
“OK, but won’t they take us in? When I was there they did.”
“Hey,” laughed the captain. “Who needs this many people clogging up the system, and I bet we weren’t the first boats Thang got away!”
“Right,” he laughed. “And they just love sticking it up the Australians!”
They all laughed softly, not wanting to wake the women and children sleeping on whatever they could find about the steamy deck, fitting in, curled up on old nets and tarpaulins between winches, gear boxes and hatches.
“We’ve been making about a hundred and sixty miles a day, so we could be near Java in about three days and that’s where we’re sure to get some attention. But it could happen any time,” he warned. “So watch the radar. As soon as you see a blip heading our way, get the women and children below, hove-to, look friendly and talk.”
The bearded man nodded and shifted his position. He wasn’t confident he could pull it off. He knew what they were like. The captain noted his discomfort and spoke directly to him. “We’ll time it to pass through the strait at night, so that helps our chances.” He turned to include the others. “But that’s not what I wanted to ask you.”
They waited.
“I’m worried that the Australians might start shooting; too many boats. What do you think? Anyone been there or know anything?”
“Lin Poi said that,” Loi offered. “She said that before we started and I agree. They might, but what can we do?”
“We had planned to go to Christmas Island; most boats do, right?”
Th
ey nodded, red ghosts with no eyes.
“So let’s check the fuel and see where else we could go; but not Ashmore Island either, I bet half of them will head there.”
“So what is there?”
“OK,” he replied, pointing to the chart he held rolled up in his left hand. “With so many boats to intercept, I reckon we could make it to the mainland. The question is; where?”
Loi spoke first. “We’re planning on Sydney. There are people I know…”
They laughed.
He clarified. “I know, I know, it’s too far, but that’s where we’ll go eventually.”
“OK,” the captain said. “You’re saying we need to land near transport.” He looked around the group. “But if we go into a town together, police will round us up in minutes, but on the other hand, if we come in at night and disperse we’re more likely to avoid detection until we can get transport out.”
He tapped the map again. “There aren’t many big towns in range with transport, so it’s Darwin, Broome or Dampier. What about Darwin?” Suddenly a powerful search light flooded the boat, waking the sleeping women and children and shocking the men to a standing position. The captain stumbled towards the controls.
A burst of machine gun fire swept above them, pinging off the rig as the captain pulled the lever to stop and stepped back into the light, hands in the air.
14. CANBERRA
Canberra was unseasonably cold. The big jet wobbled as it banked over the hills surrounding the airport. Approach was always bumpy in windy conditions and it seemed to be windy whenever Harry came to town. Snow was clearly visible to the south in the early morning sunshine as Qantas flight QF803 settled into its approach. Foreign Minister Thomas Pender would be there to meet them.
He looked towards the door and noted they hadn’t been treated to a tunnel. Shivering in anticipation, he dragged out his travelling bag and removed the old duffle coat. It fell well short of current fashion and a glance in Mae’s direction confirmed her agreement.
“That coat has to go Harry,” she smiled. “You’re supposed to be selling America!”
He ignored her and shrugged into his coat in preparation for a blast of cold air off the Brindabellas. Cold wind had already begun to displace the warm air of the cabin. Eventually he shuffled to the doorway and squeezed past Mae to lead her down the steps onto the Canberra tarmac.
Thomas Pender was waiting on the apron and waved in recognition. ‘The poor bastard always looks cold even in warm weather,’ he thought, but today, Canberra had really turned on the freezer.
With a dusting of snow around his feet, he looked positively miserable. Harry chuckled to himself as he compared Pender’s formal suit with his faithful old coat and compounded the difference by pulling the fur lined hood over his balding head. As Harry reached the last step, Pender moved forward and grasped his outstretched hand in a double-handed grasp. “Welcome to Canberra, Harry, I trust you had a pleasant flight.”
Harry suspected Pender was holding his hand a little longer than necessary. He almost chuckled at the fleeting thought of Pender as gay but laughed as he returned Pender’s handclasp.
“Let’s get to somewhere warm before you freeze my damned fingers off!”
Harry withdrew his hand and gestured towards Mae. “This is my assistant and linguist, Ling Mae.” Then turning from Pender, he said. “Mae, meet Foreign Minister Pender.”
Pender took her hand and held it as Harry continued, “Mr Pender is Foreign Minister and a personal friend.”
He held Mae’s hand as Harry talked. With the introduction concluded, he shook her hand again briefly but then continued to hold it as she acknowledged him with the standard “Pleased to meet you.” He then resumed the shake as he completed his welcome. “Welcome to Australia Ms Ling. I apologise for the weather.”