Rogue Element by David Rollins Read Free Book Online Page B

Air Vice Marshal to come in,’ said the PM. Blight stood and stretched his thick arms out behind his broad back. He felt and heard a couple of bones pop and crack. ‘Bloody hell, it’s going to be a god-awful day,’ he sighed as the Commander in Chief of the Australian Defence Forces walked in. ‘Take a seat, Spike,’ said the PM.
    Blight sucked in a breath. There were no pleasantries. ‘Okay, the Indonesians are doing everything they can. The question is, what can we do?’
    The phone rang in the adjoining room. Shirley answered it. A moment later, there was a tap on the door as it swung quietly open. With her small, sharp-featured face and pinched mouth, Shirley could easily have passed for a disciplinary officer in a correctional facility for girls. ‘Excuse me, Bill. Line two.’
    ‘Yes?’ he said into the receiver impatiently. What heheard made the PM’s face blench visibly. He hung up the phone slowly. ‘Andrew Harris and his whole family – wife and four kids – were on QF-1.’ Blight knew that Harry, the Minister for Industry and Workplace Relations, was taking his family to England on holiday, but he had refused to entertain the thought that his best mate and close colleague had chosen to fly Qantas, and was therefore probably on the missing flight. But there it was, the phone call he’d been dreading. The news gutted him and he needed to sit. Alone.
    ‘Jesus . . .’ he said.

Central Sulawesi, 0130 Zulu, Wednesday, 29 April
    Joe was caught in a tunnel. He knew there was an end to it but he couldn’t see it. He was falling and the tunnel was swirling. It felt like he was in the centre of a tornado. The forces in its centre were powerful, pulling the skin on his face and pushing it into rolls, as if he was an astronaut in a centrifuge.
    He found it hard to breathe. The pressure was sucking the air from his lungs. And then something changed. He found himself in the very centre of the tunnel. It was calm here and he began to float. The tugging stopped, remnants of it dragging lightly at his legs then at his toes and then, gone. Above, there was light.
    Joe’s eyes flickered. He was reluctant to open them. His head hurt. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been pummelled, beaten black and blue by an opponent a couple of weight divisions heavier than him. Something waspinning him down and he sensed that he should move with caution. He wondered why he should be feeling so sore, and then he remembered. Surely the crash had been a dream too? He reluctantly opened his eyes. The ground was fifteen to twenty metres below him. It hadn’t been a dream. The blood pounded behind his eyeballs. He moved his head to better take in his surroundings and he discovered that he was in a tree, still strapped into his seat, only upside down. The whole thing must have been ripped out of the plane. His mind was working, but only just. I’m alive. Jesus, I’m alive.
    Joe remained still for a time, pulse thumping in his head, and he marvelled at his astonishing good luck. He was suspended, secured by his lap restraint. If he unclipped it, he would fall to the ground and it was a long way down. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Survive the plane crash and get killed by my own stupidity. He did a mental check of his body. He didn’t think anything was broken, but the bruises were painful.
    Joe hooked an arm around the back of the seat and carefully unclipped the restraint. He slid forward. The shift in weight destroyed the balance of the seat. It fell several metres before being caught in another fork. The fall was fortunate, though, because it brought Joe’s feet into contact with a branch. His legs took his weight, but they were rubbery. He collapsed and fell the last five metres, landing on a canvas duffel bag full of air and clothes.
    There was a large, torn sheet of aluminium lying not far from the tree. The tail of the letter Q filled one corner. Joe recognised it as a section of the plane’s fuselage. He went over