.

Americans became more and more raucous and merry, he had to imitate them but he also had to dispose of the liquor he received without causing them to ask any questions. At the first port of call there was a potted plant near the bar, he hoped it would be able to stand up the next morning.

      The second bar, which was a strip club, had a placard advertising Coca-Cola almost against the end of the bar that abutted against the wall. At the end of this bar on the barman’s side was a small sink. Twice Wallace managed to slip his left hand holding the full glass behind the Coca-Cola sign and tip its contents down the sink without his companions being aware of it. The barman was, he caught him at it once, Wallace tipped the barman the wink and his expression of puzzlement was replaced by a conspiratorial smile.

      Wallace still had his two tails; they sat near the door and ordered orange juice. He emulated the behaviour of his companions, not only to try and merge in with them, but to also mislead the two followers. Better that they should think he was under the weather as well.

      Jack Durham, who was a Texan, was a big tall man, Wallace could almost visualise him wearing an outsize Stetson hat, wearing riding boots with spurs and striding down the main street of Tombstone or Dodge City with a brace of six guns. He had an extraordinary capacity for liquor, everyone else was streets behind him but he could carry it. In addition, despite the liquor haze he had eyes like a hawk. When they had trailed into the fourth bar he cast his eyes around the establishment and then looked at searchingly at Wallace.

      ‘Those bastards are still around, Harry, they’ve been with us the last two places for sure,’ he said, after a glance over his shoulder after Wallace had bought a round.

      ‘Yes, I know.’

      ‘They are following you, aren’t they, Harry?’

      ‘Yes, they are.’

      ‘Then why don’t we sort ’em out?’ growled Bill Rogers, another of the group. He was from the city of New York; he was no doubt used to taking care of himself on the city streets and in the New York subways.

      ‘No…um…no!’ Wallace said uneasily. ‘I…I…just want to lose them that’s all’

      ‘What gives, Harry?’ asked Jim Fredericks, the fourth member of the quartet.

      They were all looking at Wallace expectantly and he decided that there was only one way out of it, come clean. To hell with bloody Bramble and Major blasted Lincoln.

      ‘It is me they are after, I have something they want.’

      ‘You what?’ Jack Durham expostulated. ‘What the hell are you, MI5 or something?’

      Wallace forgave the inference that Australia was subject to MI5, and pondered how to answer it. He nearly said ‘Sort of’ but felt that was too melodramatic.

      ‘I have something that I came across by accident. I have to take it to the Australian Embassy. It’s something the CIA want as well.’

      Wallace wasn’t exaggerating this time, even to himself. There was no doubt he had dynamite in his sock and it was more than likely that if ASIO and the Indonesian Security forces wanted it so badly then the CIA would be equally interested, and may even, courtesy of ASIO or ASIS, know about its existence already.

      ‘Then why don’t we take you to the United States Embassy?’

      ‘Because…!’ he perceived that the desire to say something to involve them as assistants could have complicated matters; then he had an inspiration. ‘The information has to reach Washington through Australia. The US State Department doesn’t want it to be thought that they procured the information themselves because they aren’t too popular round here right now. That is why I have it now, and I must get it to the Australian Embassy and then it will be passed it onto Washington.’

      Whether that would have convinced them in normal circumstances was conjecture, as it was they were all three sails to the winds. They had been in company with Wallace for about three hours and, he thought, liked him and seemed to think he was a straight up and down guy, while there was no doubt these two men had been following the group and they looked anything but straight up and down, they looked to be ugly customers.

      Further, what Wallace had just told them may quite likely be right, the United States was very sensitive these days about their overt involvement in other countries’ affairs and may well resort to indirect tactics as described to avoid attracting attention. It was also possible the CIA may receive the information eventually.

      Maybe it was lucky that they were Americans, British companions would have probably gone into a committee meeting to resolve the matter and Australians would have started a brawl. The Americans saw that the aim was for Wallace to reach the embassy in one piece and set about solving the problem by deferring to a leader and utilising a plan.

      They gathered around the bar, in a manner reminiscent of a grid iron squad. Wallace half expected Jack Durham, the accepted leader, to say something on the lines of ‘Now listen, guys, this is what we’re gonna do!’ But he didn’t, he merely said: ‘Listen, I gotta plan!’

      He did have a plan, by the time he had explained it everybody was thoroughly confused. Jack Durham was not too coherent when excitement added itself to the liquor he had already consumed. After listening to Jack’s plan Wallace had a vague idea that they were to scream around Jakarta at a high rate of knots and then crash through the embassy gates. He wasn’t sure whether the information he possessed merited the cost of repairs to a cab and a new set of embassy gates; he did mention this but Jack Durham dismissed this out of hand.

      ‘Where is the Australian Embassy?’ asked Warren who also seemed to be sharing some of Wallace’s doubts about the plan.

      ‘We’ll find it…fuck…we’ll find it,’ snorted Jack. ‘Let’s go!’

      Wallace was mildly surprised that he didn’t add: ‘Yo-o-o-o-o-o!’ onto the end of the command, maybe he had watched too many John Wayne films about the US Cavalry. As it was, four glasses clumped down onto the bar and they made their exit like a squad of Marines. They ignored the cab parked outside the bar in case it was a plant by the ungodly and walked down the street. Warren was successful in hailing another, they all scrambled in and the driver asked: ‘Where to?’

      There was a brief silence as Jack had not progressed to thinking about that step.

      ‘Australian Embassy,’ Wallace said, whereupon the cab took off with a crash of gears.

      There was a confused hubbub. Wallace wondered for a second whether they had all been hi-jacked as the cab driver careered around all corners on two wheels. They all fell about in a heap; the cab swung around three corners in quick succession and finally almost stood on its bonnet in front of an imposing building that Wallace had seen before.

      ‘What the hell…?’

      ‘Australian Embassy,’ announced the driver.

      ‘Shit! We’re here!’

      They all piled out, feeling a sense of anti-climax, and went through the gates where they were accosted by an Australian soldier. Never had Wallace been so glad to see the familiar Australian Army headgear.

      ‘Where are you going? Who are you?’

      ‘We have to see Major Lincoln,’ Wallace snapped, after having reached the haven successfully he had not anticipated being held up at the entrance. Besides, the other car with two men in it, the two shadows, had just drawn up in the space vacated by their cab which had taken off, while another car had drawn up from the opposite direction; there was another just arriving on the other side of the street. They all seemed to be in concert with each other, which was very disconcerting. The vehicles sat outside like ugly toads, waiting.

      ‘What? All of you?’

      ‘Yes!’ Wallace said shortly. These Americans had helped him out of a fix, Wallace wasn’t going to abandon them now to those waiting outside, he didn’t like the look of them.

      Major Lincoln was far from pleased when Wallace