Читать книгу Redback - Lindy Cameron - Страница 11

Somewhere in the Pacific

Tuesday 11 pm

At just under 78 metres long and not quite eight wide, the high-tech Collins Class submarine designated HMAS Harris, was running at a depth of 40 metres on a south-west bearing to New Zealand.

Gideon's team and the conference delegates had more than doubled the number of people on board, but in three hours not one of the ex-hostages had complained about their close confines. In fact, as far as Jana Rossi and her companions were concerned, HMAS Harris was paradise below the high seas. Best of all, it was packed with Australians, although that sentiment had more to do with the circulating rumours, than a collective enthusiasm for being sealed in a large metal tube with 42 Aussie sailors.

Despite their rescuers' best efforts to keep the finer points of the operation quiet, most delegates had figured out that blowing things up had not been part of the plan. This deduction was reinforced by talk, overheard on the Harris, that it had in fact been uninvited US Navy SEALS who'd caused most of the noise, destruction and mayhem on Laui Island.

Divided into two groups, but not confined to them, the delegates had been assigned space in two of the boat's three mess areas. While free to move about, most were far more interested in eating a hearty meal and comparing notes on their incarceration and liberation.

Despite guessing just how close to disaster their rescue had come, their morale was understandably high, although they had been warned that 'high' in their case had a double meaning and therefore a double edge. The Chief of the Boat had already explained that the sheer elation at being free could be followed by an emotional and physical crash of equal intensity. He'd said counselling was promised but not until after their official debriefing.

Jana, while as elated and talkative as the rest, had not told anyone about being attacked by the rebel; nor, obviously, about how the man had been stopped.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat each time she was assailed by a mental flash of being so near damage and death; but she nonetheless hoped her expression remained neutral. Given their own preoccupations, it was unlikely the other delegates would even notice hers, which was good, because hers were strangely disjointed. The repetitive recall of the assault was violence itself. It had its own particular sense and smell: cold hard sand, and damp vegetation with a metallic tang. Oddly however, while the attack was vivid with detail, being saved in so timely and definitive a manner kept playing more like a movie cut-away.

There was no question that Commander Gideon had killed a man to protect her, to save her. And while Jana didn't doubt she could do likewise, to save herself or another, there was still no escaping the fact that just over three hours ago a man had died so that she wouldn't.

But, as her eyes had been shut at the moment of his death, she couldn't reconcile the man who'd been attacking her, with the corpse that was probably still lying exactly where they'd left it. Though not quite sure why - and before being debriefed by anyone official - Jana wanted to talk the moment over with Commander Gideon, whom she hadn't sighted since boarding the Harris.

In the meantime, it was evident she wasn't the only ex-hostage trying to avoid the delegate they'd been forced to spend the last four days with. For example the leggy Kiwi Shirley Moore, who'd driven Sally Tan to distraction with unrelenting hysteria, was now enjoying the manly ministrations of Alan Wagner. Their location, on the other side of the mess, pleased Jana and Sally no end as they'd already agreed that the handsome yobbo and the gorgeous bimbo were a blonde joke waiting to happen.

'Pity we can't shut them up as well,' Sally observed, as everyone in the mess had to endure Alan's insightful opinion of women in uniform.

'I'm all for it,' he was saying, 'especially if they're half out of it, and in a Playboy centrefold.'

'Careful, Alan,' one of the two American delegates advised. 'I'd wager Dr Smith - you know, that woman in the uniform with the nice guns who helped rescue us - would eat you for breakfast.'

'Colin mate,' Alan sneered, 'I'll wager - and you can fire me from a torpedo tube if I'm wrong - but I bet you that that chick was nothing more than a medic.'

'I thought her name was Jones. Captain Jones,' said Hilary Bennet from Tourism Victoria.

'Alan,' Jana said, 'I think you'll find that the Commander was in charge of our rescue.'

'I don't think she's a soldier at all,' the Queensland tourism rep pronounced. 'I reckon she's a spy. I think they were all spies.'

'I'm with you John,' said Mary Copes, the Hawaiian. 'I heard one of the officers on this vessel call her Agent-something.'

An attention drawing tap-tap on the hatchway had the desired effect. Jana was delighted to see one of the so-called Redbacks - the young one who'd been in her boat; but he wasn't exactly smiling.

'In order to kybosh any further rumour and slander, I will confirm that the ungrateful prick with the naked soldier fetish,' Coop said, staring at Alan, 'is kinda right with his 'doctor' comment.'

'I knew it,' Alan stated, completely missing the insult.

'Yeah,' Cooper nodded. 'Smith - or Jones - is not even a medic. She's a Doctor of History.'

'Oh man, Alan,' Colin Davies observed. 'You are in for it.'

'Too right,' Cooper agreed. 'I recommend a forward tube, mate, and I bloody hope you can swim.'

Everyone in the mess, except Alan and Kiwi Shirley, laughed, or tried not to.

'And right now, our squad leader and mission commander,' Cooper enunciated, 'needs to speak to all of you in turn before we reach Wellington. She, and Agent Brand from ASIS, have asked that you present yourselves in pairs; that is, with the same person you were locked up with on Laui. And if someone could make a list of how that was, it'd make the process faster.'

'I can do that,' Jana offered.

'Actually, you're up first Dr Rossi,' Cooper said, leaning down. 'Who were you with?'

'The ungrateful prick,' Jana smiled.

'Oh.'

'He says his name is Alan Wagner.' She raised an eyebrow. 'And he claims he 'knows' people.'

Cooper grinned. 'You'd be wanting to help me and the boss load that tube later then.'

'Oh yes, please,' Jana said.

'I can make the list for you,' Sally Tan offered.

'Thank you,' Cooper said, then straightened up. 'Hey, Shark Bait! Front and centre.'

After leading them through several hatchways, Cooper opened a door to a space furnished with a table, chairs and bookshelves, but he ushered only Alan inside.

'Agent Brand will be right here Mr Wagner. Or whoever you are,' he said, closing the door on the journalist just as he began demanding 'what the hell' the soldier meant by that.

'I totally approve, but what's going on?' Jana began.

'You obviously do know people, Dr Rossi. You get a private pre-debriefing debrief.' Cooper led the way to the cabin marked Commanding Officer. He knocked, opened the door and then left her to it.

Jana stepped into the relative spaciousness of the skipper's cabin but was surprised to find that the submarine's stocky, balding and white-uniformed Commander McClure, who had welcomed them all on board just off Laui Island, was not there.

Instead she was confronted with the blue-jeaned backside of an obviously tall person in the midst of tying a shoelace, while talking to someone else.

Except there was no one else. Jana cleared her throat.

The lithe but well-muscled person snapped to attention and blinked. 'Sorry, didn't hear you come in.'

Jana was so completely taken aback that she just stood there. She was almost sure she knew who this stunning individual was, but, but…

'You okay, Doc?'

Jana nodded, even though this was not her usual reaction to meeting anyone, especially for the second time.

'You sure? You want to sit down?'

Jana shook her head at the raven-haired, blue-eyed soldier who'd rescued her from captivity, saved her from a fate worse than death, and then from death itself.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to work out why she'd just fallen, in a bizarre kind of cerebral way, for her rescuer. She was savvy enough to realise her reaction was obviously a variation on the Stockholm Syndrome. But real or not, right here, right now Jana Isobel Rossi knew she was ready to swear that oath of allegiance she'd rain-checked earlier.

'Commander Gideon,' she managed to say.

'Dr Rossi,' Gideon said, with the raise of an eyebrow to acknowledge the obvious.