Rogue Element

US Embassy, Canberra, 0510 Zulu, Friday, 1 May

Blight again felt like a naughty schoolboy being interviewed by the headmaster. Herschel Zubinski always had that effect on him. That didn’t stop Blight from liking the man; it was the situation, coupled with the fact that the ambassador’s high, intelligent brow, deep voice and crinkled white hair made him look the part.

This was to be Zubinski’s last stop before retirement. The man had made millions on the US bond market in the mid-eighties before switching to politics. One stint in Congress where Zubinski’s integrity made things difficult for his own party was enough to convince the previous president that his own interests would be best served if Zubinski was kept far away from Washington. He had served as US envoy in France, the United Kingdom and now Australia. Zubinski liked his latest position but he missed the windy corridors of New York City. It was time to retire and spend some quality time with his grandchildren.

Herschel Zubinski drummed his fingers quietly on the tabletop. It was a habit he’d had all his life that displayed itself when he was concentrating. He listened to the Prime Minister. ‘I know, Bill, I’ve just finished reading the summary from the NSA. The President is outraged. He’s genuinely angry about this, and his anger is your best ally.’

‘We can’t do this without your help, Hersch,’ said Blight. ‘We’re impotent and they, whoever they are, know it.’

‘What about the Indonesian government? Forget the intel reports, what’s your gut tell you?’

‘To be frank, my gut’s arguing with itself on this. I can’t believe that a legitimate government would behave in this way, but at the same time I find it difficult to conceive that all this could be going on behind Jakarta’s back.’

‘It does seem unlikely, but Indonesia is that kind of country. And its armed forces have historically been a little on the maverick side.’

The phone rang.

‘Excuse me, Bill.’ The ambassador listened and nodded several times, saying, ‘Yes sir,’ and, ‘Thank you, sir, I’ll pass that on,’ before hanging up.

‘That was the President himself, Bill. The Joint Chiefs and the Sec Def have come round to the President’s thinking on this. They want to know what’s going on quickly. They have authorised me to let you know that our resources are to be put at your disposal during this crisis. When a Muslim nation, any Muslim nation, starts behaving erratically, it makes everyone nervous.’ Zubinski opened the sheet of writing paper on which the Prime Minister had listed his requests. ‘Are you sure this is all you want, Bill?’

‘Thanks, Hersch. Please pass on our gratitude to the President. Our Commander in Chief, Ted Niven, believes this can be done quietly. I have to go with his advice. So, yes, I believe what’s on the list will do nicely.’

Zubinski ran his eye down the paper again. He snorted to himself. ‘Since when was a Carrier Battle Group and an MLP, a marine landing platform, doing things quietly?’

The PM smiled and opened his hands as if to say, ‘beats me’.