Sensitive New Age Spy (24 page)

That thing make calls off the island?’ I said, pointing to the phone on Sheehan’s desk.

‘No. It’s just for round the settlement. We use satellite phones to call the mainland.’ He indicated his desk drawer and I nodded. The phone he pulled out was a small Samsung with a built-in camera.

I walked across to the mirrored window and used the phone to take a quick shot of Pergo leaning over the cruise missile.

There were two doors at the back of the office, one marked EXIT and the other ABSOLUTELY NO ADMITTANCE – PROJECT HEAD ONLY. That door had some serious-looking locks on it.

‘What’s in there?’ I said.

Sheehan looked a bit embarrassed. ‘Electronic stuff, and plans and junk. Nothing interesting.’

I’m always intrigued by doors that are triple-locked to keep nothing secure. ‘Open it.’

He stood up and pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket. I kept well back as he crossed the room but I was pretty sure Sheehan wasn’t going to give me any trouble. I think he was still reeling from what I’d just told him.

He undid the locks and I ushered him into the storeroom. ‘I hope you’re not claustrophobic.’

The walls were solid enough to contain any yelling, and there was no sign of a phone. Shelving reached right up to the ceiling, stacked with electronic junk and rolls of plans and drawings, just like he’d said. A piece of brown hessian was covering something on one of the top shelves and I reached up and pulled it off. Underneath was a neat pile of familiar-looking rectangular metal containers.

‘You bastard!’ I said.

He shrugged. ‘A bloke can only eat so much bloody tofu.’

Francis Aloysius Sheehan’s storeroom was stacked to the rafters with cans of Spam.

With Sheehan and the guard secured, I only had everybody else on the island to worry about as I headed up towards the lighthouse. The sun was hot, the path was steep, and I was breathing heavily by the time I reached the cliff top. I moved around until I got a signal on the satellite phone, then I sent the image of Pergo and the missile to Julie, along with the text,
Adamek Island
. I started to punch in her number again to fill her in but the handset beeped once, the battery light flashed, and it died.

Typical. Sheehan could build a homemade cruise missile but he couldn’t remember to charge his damn phone. Now my only way of getting in touch with the outside world was the radio on Ed’s boat.

Twenty-two metres tall and painted white, the lighthouse was on the highest point of the island, and even from ground level you could see the ocean on all sides. Ed would be waiting somewhere over the horizon for my signal, and I should have just enough time to make my way to the tiny beach for the pick-up. All I needed to do was climb the tower, send the signal, disable the radar, then try not to irritate any sunning tiger snakes on my cross-island jaunt.

The lighthouse door was unlocked and I started up the cast-iron spiral stairway. I was wheezing like old Dougal
when I finally reached the observation deck, but the view was spectacular, the horizon visible in every direction. The steel walkway around the top of the lighthouse had the original, ornate, wrought-iron balustrade, and the glass-walled lamp chamber housed the multifaceted prism reflectors that sent a powerful beam of light out into the blackness of night.

My breathing was just getting back to normal when I realised I wasn’t the only person on top of the tower.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Priday,’ I said. ‘Watching out for our friends the whales?’

Wearing shorts, hiking boots and a hooded sweatshirt, her hair tossed by the wind, Christobel was as spectacular as the 360 degree view. Maybe more so. She lowered her binoculars and gave me that wonderful smile.

‘A pod passed us earlier this morning, Mr Murdoch. They had a pair of calves with them, which was an amazing thing to behold.’

‘I saw them on my way out here,’ I said. ‘And I agree with you – a sight to behold.’

‘So you understand now why Miss Gaarg has to put such a strong argument to the people of Japan on the whales’ behalf?’

‘Smiting your enemy’s coastline with a forty-metre wall of water does present a powerful argument.’

Cristobel looked confused. ‘What forty-metre wall of water?’

‘The tidal wave that will result from the detonation of that cruise missile’s nuclear warhead in a geological fault off the coast of Japan.’

Cristobel shook her head. ‘Miss Gaarg is intending to release leaflets over the Emperor’s palace to persuade the Japanese people that whales have a right to their place in the world like every other creature.’

‘There
are
no leaflets, Cristobel.’

‘Yes there are, Mr Murdoch. Miss Gaarg says that the breaching of the air-security cordon over Honshu and Tokyo by Mr Sheehan’s rocket will cause confusion and anger amongst the populace, who, after reading our leaflets, will turn against their government.’

‘Don’t you think they might be a bit more confused and angry if a tidal wave obliterated their coast?’

‘I’m afraid you’re wrong. Miss Gaarg would never do anything as terrible as that. And besides, where would she get a nuclear warhead?’

‘Have you ever heard of someone named Chapman Pergo?’

‘Miss Gaarg met with Mr Pergo in Canberra this week. Mr Pergo has been helping us make our case to the government for a whale sanctuary encompassing the entire coast of the Antarctic. That was the night I… came to your room.’

And then, God love her, she blushed scarlet right down to her roots.

‘Was that Miss Gaarg’s idea?’

Cristobel nodded. ‘I overheard her talking to Mr Pergo about you being a spy, and I asked her what was going on. She said you were a spy for the government and asked me to try to find out if you knew anything about our plans to drop leaflets on Tokyo.’ She blushed again. ‘I wasn’t very good at it, though, was I?’

It wasn’t the perfect moment to undo my belt but the homing device was located under the buckle and it was time to activate it. ‘I don’t think your heart was in it, Cristobel.’

‘No.’
She looked at the ground.

‘Don’t be embarrassed. That’s a compliment. You’re not cut out for a life of deception and lies. Unfortunately a lot of people around you are. The truth is, Chapman Pergo is Special Assistant to the Defence Minister. He has nothing to do with whale sanctuaries or the Antarctic. He’s a traitor and a liar who arranged to steal two nuclear warheads from the American Navy, and they’re somewhere on this island right now, along with a kidnapped weapons officer who knows how to arm them. Tomorrow morning around breakfast time, Miss Gaarg intends to launch one of the warheads in a cruise missile aimed at Japan, in the hope of causing a tidal wave.’

Cristobel was staring intently out over the ocean but not really seeing anything. Her eyes were filled with tears and she looked like the bottom had dropped out of her world.

Somewhere down in the village a klaxon started
sounding. Bugger. They’d discovered either Sheehan or the trussed-up guard and now the shit was hitting the fan.

I walked around the observation deck until I found a thick electrical cable running down from the radar unit on top of the lighthouse. One decent tug and the cable ripped away from a junction box above me, and I could see the rotating dish beginning to slow down. At least Ed would be off their radar when he motored in to pick me up.

I had to shake Cristobel by the shoulders to get her to focus.
‘Do
you have a phone or any way of making calls off this island?’

‘I have a satellite phone in my room so I can speak to Daddy,’ she said.

I gave her a card with Julie’s mobile number on it. ‘Call this number and tell the person who answers that tomorrow morning 7.30 is game time. And tell them not to dick about.’

Cristobel looked at me defiantly. ‘You have to be wrong about Miss Gaarg, Mr Murdoch. She could never do anything that awful.’

‘Look, kiddie-wink,’ I said, ‘I really don’t have time to argue. If I don’t get where I’m going then your phone call might be the only thing that can prevent the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people.’

I could see the security guards spreading out from the village, forming up into search parties. It was at least a couple of k’s to the inlet where Ed would be waiting, and most of
it was across open ground, so I had to hustle. I grabbed Cristobel’s binoculars before leaving her on the lighthouse.

Getting down the stairs was a lot quicker than getting up, and once back on solid earth I started moving briskly north-east. Running over unfamiliar ground is a great way to break an ankle, plus there were all those friggin’ snakes to contend with.

I was hot and totally knackered by the time I made the inlet. I used the binoculars to scan the water for Ed. There was no sign of him or his boat, but I could see something bobbing in the waves close to shore. I adjusted the focus and just as I got a sharp image my view was obscured by a helicopter rising up from under the cliff and filling my whole field of vision. I didn’t need binoculars to make out the bloke in the rear cabin pointing an M16 in my direction.

I was outgunned and I knew it. I put the Browning on the ground and my hands in the air. The chopper landed on the cliff top and I was frisked, disarmed, handcuffed, and given a clip over the ears for good measure, all in the space of thirty seconds. They tossed me into the helicopter, and five minutes later I was dumped out onto the helipad and back into the presence of Artemesia Gaarg.

‘You are a very annoying person, Mr Murdoch,’ she said, sounding a whole lot like Gwenda Felton.

It appeared that a couple of the guards were getting ready to demonstrate the level of her annoyance with me using their fists when I was saved by Cristobel. She must
have run all the way from the lighthouse.

‘Miss Gaarg,’ she gasped, ‘Mr Murdoch has been telling me a terrible tale about a nuclear bomb and a tidal wave.’

Artemesia gave me a disappointed look. ‘I’m sorry, dear,’ she said to Cristobel. ‘I had hoped to spare you any of this unpleasantness until after the event.’

‘But a tidal wave?’ Cristobel said.

‘I’m afraid you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs.’

I guess that made Artemesia an ovo-vegetarian. ‘If you do this, Miss Gaarg,’ I said, ‘you’ll be breaking a lot more than just eggs. This will be mass murder.’

‘Please, please reconsider,’ Cristobel begged her. ‘This is not God’s will, and I’m afraid you risk bringing down retribution from on high.’

‘You’re risking more than that,’ I said. ‘I don’t know if you remember all
your
high-school geography, but Japan’s nearest neighbours are China and North Korea, both of whom have nuclear weapons, nervous dispositions, and pretty shaky chains of command. If some low-level flunkey gets spooked by an unexpected atomic explosion in their sphere of operations, anything could happen.’

‘And then the Japanese would have even less reason to bother with the slaughter of whales,’ Artemesia said.

‘You can’t do this, Miss Gaarg,’ Cristobel pleaded.

‘I’m afraid it’s too late to stop me, dear. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to lock you in your room until this
is all over. I hope you can forgive me.’

She motioned to one of the guards, who led Cristobel away, while I was hustled in the direction of a stone building with barred windows. I just hoped my trousers wouldn’t fall down before we got there. When they frisked me on the cliff top one of the guards had taken my belt and spotted the homing device. He crushed it under his heel and tossed my belt over the cliff.

It really didn’t matter now, anyway. And pulling down the power cable to knock out the radar also seemed a futile gesture. I was pretty sure that the thing I’d seen floating in the waves at the inlet just before the helicopter turned up was a life preserver from the
Suzie-QC
. It was a wonder the bloody thing was still afloat, given the number of bullet holes in it.

I was hoping like hell that Ed hadn’t suffered the same fate.

Adamek Island had all the comforts any self-respecting, self-sustaining vegetarian colony could ask for, including a nice little jail. The building had a narrow corridor with a couple of cells on either side. Mine had barred windows, bunk beds, a sink, a toilet and a small table. It also featured a very damp and seriously pissed off Ed Wardell. Ed was wrapped in a blanket and he scowled when I walked in.

‘They sank the bloody
Suzie-QC,’
he said. ‘Chopper flew up and shot her full of holes at the waterline. I went over the side in my lifejacket, thought they were gonna plug me too. Bastards pulled me out of the drink on a cable and dumped me in here.’ He shook his head. ‘Gonna sue these pricks for every penny they’ve got, Alby.’

Ed’s saying my name got a reaction from the cell opposite. ‘Alby? That you?’

There was a small barred opening in the cell doors
and I looked across the corridor into the eyes of Lieutenant Clare Kingston.

‘I was hoping you’d show up,’ she said. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Well, in a nutshell, we’re the guests of a crazy woman with a couple of nukes, a homemade cruise missile, and a bone to pick with the Japanese about whaling.’

‘Holy heck!’

‘And unless I miss my guess, you’re here to arm one of the nukes.’

‘And why would I do that?’

‘I’m afraid that’s where I come in.’ If there was anyone I didn’t need to see right now it was Chapman F. Pergo.

When he stepped into view he wasn’t alone. He had Cristobel by the arm and she looked like she’d been crying. Pergo held up a satellite phone, dropped it on the rough stone floor and crushed it underfoot.

Cristobel looked at me. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Murdoch, but I did try.’

‘And Murdoch is right in his assessment of the situation regarding the warheads, Lieutenant Kingston,’ Pergo continued. ‘We have the manuals, of course, and the recently deceased weapons officer wrote out the procedure and codes, but we’d prefer someone with some expertise doing the job. We wouldn’t want any slip-ups, would we?’

He did have a point, especially when a slip-up might result in Adamek Island being vapourised, along with everyone on it.