The Scottish Banker of Surabaya

( 47 )

They left the barracks in single file. Aries and six of the men climbed into the Daihatsu; the remainder, Poirier, and Ava got into a Nissan Grand Livina that was the same size and also had tinted windows. She put her bag at her feet. No one seemed to think it strange that she had brought it with her.

It was a ten-minute drive to the airport, the Nissan following the Daihatsu. They drove past the main terminal, took an exit that was signed only in Indonesian, and then followed a two-lane road flanked by small office buildings festooned with airline logos, hangars, and what looked like warehouses. Everything was surrounded by uniform wooden fences, two and a half metres high and topped by razor wire. Poirier sat next to Ava in the back of the vehicle, his head turned away, his attention on their surroundings. The men in front chatted quietly among themselves in Indonesian, occasionally chuckling. She knew from her own experience that it was their way of keeping their nerves under control, not a sign that they were taking things for granted.

The road ended at a guardhouse that sat about ten metres in front of a steel gate. The driver’s-side window of the Daihatsu slid down, a head emerged briefly, and the gate swung open. “One of Aries’ men is in the gatehouse with the regular attendant,” Poirier said.

The cars drove onto airport property. The main commercial terminal was in the distance, separated from them by an expanse of runway and swaths of grass, and framed by the hangars and warehouses. The Daihatsu took a left turn and drove towards a line of four hangars. The Nissan followed but then veered right, directly to a small office building that was signed in Indonesian and, in smaller script, English: FREIGHT OFFICE. The Nissan driver backed the vehicle into a parking spot in front. They had a head-on view of the hangars.

Through the front window, Ava saw that the Daihatsu had taken up a position along the far side of the hangar closest to the main terminal.

“Which hangar will the plane go to?” she asked.

“The second one,” Poirier said.

“Won’t the plane see the Daihatsu sitting there?”

“Maybe, but Aries doesn’t care about the pilots. He’s more concerned that the white panel van doesn’t see them.”

“Yeah, they’ll be far more cautious.”

“Especially now, wouldn’t you think?”

“Yes, especially now.”

“You never told me, do they have any idea what your client is up to?”

“He hasn’t handed in a letter of resignation.”

“Just taken a flyer?”

“That’s it.”

“They must be bouncing off the walls.”

“I would imagine.”

One of the soldiers in front put his hand to an earpiece and then spoke to his colleagues. “The plane has landed,” Poirier said.

“Do we know what kind it is?” Ava asked.

“Do you know a bit about planes as well as rifles?”

“No, I’m simply curious.”

“It’s a Global Express 5000. It can seat about eighteen people if you want seats, and it can fly at more than five hundred kilometres an hour for more than five thousand nautical miles without refuelling. It’s the perfect plane for a nonstop flight from Europe to Indonesia.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. I knew absolutely nothing about it until Aries briefed us.”

Ava looked down the runway. In the distance she could see commercial planes moving to and from the terminal; three of them, lined up for takeoff, were partially blocking their view. A Boeing 747 that had just landed obscured more of it. The jumbo jet lumbered towards them and then slowly ground to a halt, did a slow right turn, and left the runway for the apron that would take it to the terminal. As it moved out of their line of vision, a small white jet, like a gosling swimming in its mother’s wake, popped into view.

The man with the earpiece began to speak again. This time Poirier didn’t translate.

The jet rolled slowly across the tarmac until it was almost exactly centred between the two vehicles. It was about fifty metres from the Nissan, and Ava could see the pilot, headset on, sitting in the cockpit. He began to turn the jet to the right. Ava saw that two ground crew had taken up positions at the doors of the second hangar. They reached for the handles and slowly pushed the doors to each side until they were completely open, exposing a large, empty space.

The pilot guided the aircraft towards the hangar, stopped in front, and then gradually inched forward until the plane was completely inside, turning it slightly to the left so that the passenger door faced out. Ava stared at the plane but it was too far away to see what was going on inside the cockpit. The passenger door remained shut.

Now they waited, every eye in the car flickering left towards the gate and then back to the plane.

The two ground crew reached for the doors and pulled them closed. They spoke to each other and then left, walking back in the direction of the main terminal.

Ava glanced sideways at Poirier. His full attention was on the gate. Ava looked down at his hands and saw that they were resting on his knees, palms down and fingers spread. He seemed completely relaxed. He’s done this kind of thing more than a few times, she thought. The marines were just as calm.

“I’m impressed with the composure of these men,” she said softly to Poirier.

“These men have fought urban terrorists and jungle guerrillas. Two Italians in a plane hangar don’t faze them.”

She saw the soldier with the earpiece nod, then raise his right hand in the air with the thumb extended.

“Here we go,” Poirier said.

A white panel van appeared at the end of the road and turned in at the guardhouse. It barely came to a full stop before moving through the swinging gate, then drove straight towards the hangars. It stopped short of the first hangar in the row as if the van’s occupants, invisible through tinted glass, were sniffing the air. There wasn’t a person in view. The only other vehicles in the area were parked in front of the freight office.

For a full minute the van sat in that one spot. “They might be talking to the pilot,” Poirier finally said.

As if on cue, the front doors of the second hangar slid apart and the pilot and co-pilot stood framed by the opening. Then they stepped back and stood to either side.

The van turned left and slowly crossed the tarmac. It paused briefly when it got to the doors but then crawled into the hangar, the doors immediately closing behind it.

The soldiers reached for their balaclavas and pulled them on. Poirier and Ava followed suit. It seemed to Ava that no one in their vehicle was breathing.

She counted under her breath. At one hundred and twenty, the Daihatsu stuck its nose out beyond the front of the farthest hangar. It turned left and began to inch towards the Italians’ hangar. It stopped parallel to but just short of the front doors.

“Our turn,” Poirier said.

The Nissan drove more quickly, but to the left side of the first hangar in line. It went past it and then turned hard to the right and parked at the rear of the second hangar, next to a small door. The soldiers and Poirier left the Nissan and took up positions on either side of the door. Ava saw that the Canadian had a pistol in his hand — she had no idea where it had come from. The back door of the Nissan was still open. Ava slid out, hugging the side of the car. She began to count again.

At twenty, a gunshot rang out.

At twenty-one, all hell broke loose.