Christine Rendino’s voice was a soft and urgent intrusion. Amanda and MacIntyre both started and turned away from the rail as the Intel hurried up to them.
“I’m really sorry but something kind of strange has come up.”
“What is it, Chris?” Amanda inquired, more than a little annoyed.
“We’ve just had a call down from the stern section radio room. A call is coming in
on the ship’s commercial service satellite phone. The guy on the other end is asking to
speak with Captain Garrett, in person.”
“Well, who is it?” Amanda asked.
“We can’t be absolutely certain yet, but he says he’s Makara Harconan.”
*
The Shenandoah’s civilian radio shack was exceptionally well equipped but cramped. Amanda sat beside the duty sparks at the main console, MacIntyre and Christine squeezed in behind them in an environment stuffy with electronics waste heat. Both the Intel and the Admiral wore headsets that had been tapped into the satphone circuit, while Christine’s also served as a live link to Signal Intelligence.
The radio operator nodded to her and, much to her own anger, Amanda found her
throat dry. She forced herself to swallow before lifting the receiver to her
ear. “This is Captain Garrett.”
“Hello, Amanda, this is Makara Harconan.” There could be no question; the voice was unmistakable and inescapable. “It’s good to speak with you again.”
How to react? What mask to don? What to say? “I wish I could say the same, Makara,” she replied, keeping her voice steady.
“That’s not a very warm greeting between old shipmates.” The taipan sounded faintly amused and there was just a hair’s weight of emphasis on the “shipmates.”
In spite of herself, she felt herself flushing. “What do you want me to say, Makara? You’ve ruined a nation and you’ve ruined me. What more do you want?”
Christine Rendino leaned down and whispered into Amanda’s free ear, “An Iridium II sat phone, in the archipelago but somewhere at sea.”
Amanda nodded, staying with the voice on the phone.
“I want from you only what I have ever wanted from you, Amanda. The truth. We
worked together to save the refugees at Singaraja. Now I want to work with you
again.”
“Singaraja? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do,” he replied equitably, “although I understand the sophistry in play. Top Security and all of that. I’m well acquainted with the mechanisms. But I still need your help.”
“My help?” she probed back. “To do what?”
“To save all of Indonesia.”
“Makara, the entire goal of your life has been the destruction of Indonesia, and
apparently you’ve succeeded. It seems a little late for a change of heart.”
His voice hardened. “Possibly, but I want to try. I’m quite aware that I started this disaster. Now I want to stop it. I have my
reasons and I’m more than willing explain them to you – but only in person. We must talk, Amanda, and we must do it quickly, while
there is still a chance.”
She injected a hint of scorn into her voice. “A chance for what? What have we to talk about any more, and what do I have to do
with any of this? I’m nothing but a freighter captain now, thanks to you.”
Annoyance tinged Harconan’s voice. “Damn it, Amanda. Will you please stop this preposterous play-acting? We don’t have the time for it! We both have a far greater problem to deal with. I want
to offer an alliance against our common enemy. The same enemy we were fighting
at Singaraja. The enemy trying to set the peoples of Indonesian at each other’s throats!”
Amanda gave herself the duration of a single breath to think. Logic said this
must be some kind of ploy. Instinct said he was telling the truth. “What are you proposing, Makara?”
“I’d like to discuss an alliance, an alliance between the Bugi sea clans and your
command against the true common enemy. You and I, Amanda, we have to do this
thing! We don’t have the time to muddle about with diplomats, potentates and the powers that
be. We must talk!”
She made her call. “Where?”
“My island, Pulau Piri. Our beach. Tomorrow at sundown. I will come alone. You
may bring whomever you wish. I ask only that you give me your word that the two
of us can have a chance to talk.”
Could this be some kind of incredible trap targeted against her? Either this made perfect sense or it made no sense at all. It was a lie or it was truth. And there was no one else in the world who could judge it.
“What guarantees are you offering, Makara? Because I’m asking for them.”
“The best I can possibly offer. The Raja Samudra as your hostage. It is my intent
to surrender to you.”
The Hangar Deck, USS Shenandoah
Off the Northwestern Coast of Bali
1832 Hours; Zone Time, December 2, 2008
Christine Rendino trotted at Amanda’s heels, protesting every inch of the way down the length of the hangar deck. “I don’t know about this, Boss Ma’am. Fa’sure this could be a stupendously, catastrophically bad idea!”
“Come on, Chris, tell me what you real opinion is?” Amanda replied, ponytailing her hair with a rubber band.
Christine considered ripping out a couple of handfuls of that hair, or possibly
her own. “This has got to be some kind of trick on Harconan’s part. One he’s using to get his hands on you.”
“Makara doesn’t build his universe around me, Chris. He has far more important concerns at the
moment than a former lover. Admiral MacIntyre agrees that it’s worth investigating.”
The Intel frowned and shook her head. “It just doesn’t seem logical that he’d be willing to just hand himself over like this.”
“Logic comes in a number of different flavors, Chris.”
