turned again to Harry. “Anything you can tell me about your meeting with Ho?”
“It was interesting,” he answered carefully. “He brought up what he interprets as resurgent Japanese militarism. I’m afraid Tanner gave him a serve over human rights. That cooled the discussion as usual.” He laughed bitterly. “So you might have more credibility than I do at the moment. You could use that to smooth his feathers over the defence pact you signed with Japan. He’s genuinely worried there’s a threat there and you need to address that.”
Pender, of the old school of manners, finished chewing before answering. “I don’t know. Unfortunately, our defence pact with Japan was never matched by one with China. Th at still makes any mention of Japan, at least by me, a bit problematical.”
Harry had no qualms about talking with his mouth full and concurred. “OK, but in the long run, your Japanese pact may prove to be a good investment. As much as I like Ho, he does lead a basically racist people who would prefer the whole world had oriental eyes!” He glanced at Mae as she looked down to hide her smile. “I don’t know that he’s prepared to wait for the genes to mix naturally. A bit like old Mao, he might like to see China dominate the world within his lifetime.”
Pender was wrestling with the comparison of Ho and Mao. “What, invade? Who would he invade?”
To divert him, Harry moved to safer waters. “I mean economically; an economic invasion,” he laughed. “I’m not talking war!”
Pender stared at Harry. “Really? I got the impression you were hinting at military domination!”
“No, no!” Harry objected. “Economic.”
Pender considered that as he buttered another scone and applied jam liberally. He was not convinced, but took a bite and swallowed before he spoke. “You might think so, Harry, but I don’t agree. I think he’d put his hand up for a shot at ethnic cleansing if he was sure it’d work.”
Harry smiled at his image of Ho but Pender interpreted it as derision.
“I mean it. It’s really about space and resources. The Chinese need both.”
Mae joined in. “I agree. They’re becoming more belligerent. They may be…” Harry cut her off, worried she might mention Duk.
“Overpopulation and shrinking resources. They have to do something, but so far, they make their adjustments internally.”
“I agree,” Pender said. “But things have changed and it worries me.”
Harry smiled at him and leaned forward, preparing to stand. “Well, whatever we say here will have precious little effect on what the madmen do.”
Now standing, he continued as Mae finished the last of her coffee, “And that won’t be decided here.” Pender remained seated until Mae had finished, then stood. Pender had taken the straps of Mae’s bag, but loosened his hold as he asked, “Could you spare some time later… after you’ve talked to Charles?”
“Of course, in your office?”
“No,” he answered slowly. “I feel it might be better if we have an informal talk here before you leave, if that’s OK with you?”
Harry nodded as Pender again hefted Mae’s bag. “Hyatt Hotel?” He turned toward the exit.
“That’s fine,” Harry answered as they followed him through the door to the waiting BMW, engine ticking over, heater on and a plume of white vapour from its exhaust being blown to invisibility by the biting southerly.
The car moved off. Harry was worried. Intrigue was bad for diplomacy and here, it was palpable.
He left the diplomatic car at the Hyatt. His bag was carried in as he waved goodbye to Pender and Mae, who carried on to arrange a borrowed car from the Commonwealth pool.
He asked that his bags be taken to his room and strode to the taxi rank. “CSIRO laboratories please.”
15. MEKONG
Another burst of gunfire bounced from gantries and wire cables, killing the steaming light and knocking the radar sweep from its support bracket.
A loud hailer cut through the gloom, as the gunboat stopped parallel and fifty metres away.
“What is he saying? Do you understand that?” the captain shouted.
“It’s Bahasa, Indonesian. He says bring out your guns or they sink us.”
“Tell him we’re refugees, no guns.”
He did.
“You are pirates. Bring out your guns!”
The captain called to the women and children cowering behind the gunwales. “All stand up. Let them see you. Move slowly. Don’t alarm them. Slowly, slowly!”
Loi grabbed the captain’s arm. “No! They’ll shoot!”
“If they sink us we drown anyway,” he whispered. “We need to show them we’re refugees. Stay calm.”
The spotlight outlined the silhouette of an inflatable leaving the gunboat and moving slowly towards them, half a dozen armed men sitting along the sides and one efficient-looking machine gun manned at its bow, covering the men at the trawler stern.
“Come aboard and see for yourself!” the interpreter called. “We have nothing.”
Silence broken only by sobbing of children held while the inflatable came alongside and the armed men jumped aboard.
The captain breathed a sigh of relief when he saw they wore uniforms. “On your knees!” There was no need for the interpreter to speak.
“Do as he says!” the captain called. “They’re customs officers. Don’t be afraid.”
Armed men had spread along either side to also cover the women and children while the officer came past the wheelhouse to the stern.
“We find guns, we shoot children. OK?”
“No guns. Look for yourself.”
He pointed to the engine room hatch.
The officer called one of the men over and spoke rapidly. A man lifted the hatch and a cloud of fumes ballooned out.
“Turn it off!”
The captain hit the kill button and the old diesel sighed and died.
Silence held while the man climbed down and could be heard moving about.
Locker doors were opened. The man threw aside wet weather gear, life jackets and food cans. Suddenly he stopped.
The officer interpreted his pause as a gun discovery and covered the captain with his side arm.
The last bottle of Scotch appeared in his hand and the captain laughed.
“Not
