Rogue Element

Jakarta, 0600 Zulu, Friday, 1 May

Elizabeth surveyed the room, looking for errant belongings. The disturbing satellite photo was on the bed. She placed it in the envelope and reread the instructions on her laptop. The people back home were convinced the general was somehow responsible for the crash, and that seriously pissed her off.

It was Elizabeth’s job to get close to high-placed military figures, but she’d never expected to land one of the biggest fishes of all. The restaurant she waited at was known to Australian intelligence as one of the haunts of TNI officers. It was also known that the owner was closely related to General Suluang. It had been surprisingly easy to gain employment there, and to catch the general’s eye, and that worried her. Perhaps she’d been the person who’d been set up. No, that was unlikely, she thought, dismissing her suspicions. Very few restaurateurs would turn away such an attractive potential employee. And Suluang was a known ladies’ man. She hadn’t slept with him that first night, or the second or third — he would have thought her a slut. But she’d tantalised him enough to be certain he’d come back.

Elizabeth checked through the room once more, satisfying herself that nothing had been left behind. She then made her way to the lift. Suluang had turned out to be a difficult customer. On military matters, he was a model of discretion. She was angry that her efforts had gone unrewarded, gleaning precisely nothing of interest from Suluang. When the news came through that he was possibly responsible for the disappearance of the Qantas plane, Elizabeth felt she’d been ripped off. Suluang could have been a motor mechanic or an usher at the local cinema for all the worthwhile intelligence he’d divulged.

Elizabeth walked past a couple of hotel guests, a Japanese couple. She didn’t notice the man’s eyes grow large as they devoured her.

Suluang was a good fuck, but not a good talker. For him, women were either sex objects or servants. The assignment was beginning to frustrate her. And then yesterday, she’d received a drop in her etray. Up till now, interest in him back home had been routine. But now he was suddenly big news.

She replayed the previous twelve hours in her mind. He’d been distracted in their lovemaking and he hadn’t slept much, leaving for the barracks early in the morning. As usual, he’d deflected her questions, preferring to talk about the quality of her skin or the shine of her hair. Bloody annoying.

Elizabeth swept past the front desk in the foyer, the morning light making her thin cotton dress vaguely transparent. She had to hurry. She fingered the A4-size envelope, reassuring herself that she hadn’t left it back in the room. The concierge watched her walk through the revolving glass door out into the hot grit of another Jakarta morning and noted that she had no luggage. Whore, he thought, and unconsciously licked his lips as the sun outlined her long straight legs.