Snakehead

and he told me he was going to look after you and it was obvious you didn’t need me. In fact, if truth be told, you were probably better off without me. I hadn’t been much help, had I!”
    “You shouldn’t blame yourself,” Alex said. “I don’t.”
    “Anyway, I saw you again one more time. I was in London, working with the Australian embassy. You were still in elementary school—and Jack was looking after you.”
    “You went out with her.”
    “A couple of times. We had a laugh together.”
    Ash glanced briefly at Alex as if searching for something. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard that MI6 had recruited you,” he muttered. “Alan Blunt doesn’t miss a trick. And then, when you wound up in Australia! But I still wish you hadn’t come on this mission, Alex. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
    “A bit late now, Ash.”
    The lights in the cabin came back on. The stewardesses began to move up the aisle. At the same time, Alex felt his stomach lurch as they began to come down.
    They had arrived in Jakarta, the next step on their way. The end of the pipeline was in sight.

13
    UNWIN TOYS
    S OMETIMES A LEX WONDERED IF all the airports in the world hadn’t been designed by the same architect: someone with a love of shops and corridors, plate-glass windows and potted plants. Here he was at Soekarno-Hatta, the international airport of Jakarta, but it might just as well have been Perth or Bangkok. The floors might be more polished and the ceilings higher. And every other shop seemed to be selling rattan furniture or the colorful printed cloth known as batik. But otherwise he could have been right back where he started.
    They came through passport control quickly. The official in his glass-fronted booth barely glanced at the forged documents before stamping them, and without a word being spoken, they were in. Nor did they have to wait at baggage claim. They had just one suitcase between them, and Ash had carried it on and off the plane.
    Alex was tired. It was as if the events of the last five days in Bangkok had finally caught up with him, and all he wanted to do was sleep—although somehow he doubted he would spend what was left of the night in a comfortable bed. Most of all, he wanted time on his own to reflect over what Ash had told him. He had learned more about his past in the last hour than he had in his entire life, but there were still questions he wanted to ask. Had his father blamed Ash for the mistakes that had been made in Mdina? Why had his parents decided to go to France, and why had Ash been with them at the airport? What had he seen that he was so unwilling to talk about?
    They passed into the arrivals area, and once again they were surrounded by a crowd of touts and taxi drivers. This time there were two men waiting for them, both Indonesian, slim and slightly effeminate in jeans and short-sleeved shirts. One of them was holding a placard that read: Karim Hassan. Alex stared at it for a few seconds before the name registered, and he was annoyed with himself. He had completely forgotten that it was the name under which Ash was traveling. Ash was Karim. He was Abdul. It didn’t matter how tired he was. A mistake like that could get them both killed.
    Ash went over to them and introduced himself using a mixture of Dari and sign language. The two men didn’t even try to be friendly. They simply turned and walked away, expecting Ash and Alex to follow.
    It was ten o’clock, and outside, away from the artificial climate of the air-conditioning, the heat was thick and unwelcoming. Nobody spoke as they crossed the main concourse to the curbside where a dirty white van was parked with a third man in the driving seat. The van had sliding doors and, at the back, no windows. Alex glanced nervously at Ash. He felt as if he was about to be swallowed up, and he remembered the last time he had gotten into a car with members of the snakehead. But Ash didn’t look worried. Alex followed him in.
    The door slammed shut. The two men got in front with the driver, and they moved off. Alex and Ash sat on a metal bench that had been welded to the floor. Their only view was out the front window, and that was so filthy, Alex wondered how even the driver could see where they were going. The van was at least ten years old and had no suspension at all. Alex felt every bump, every pothole. And there were plenty of both.
    The airport was about twelve miles from the city, connected by a highway that was clogged