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When Polk flew away from the factory near Nhulunbuy, his helicopter was carrying ten gallons of Enervum antidote, enough for nine thousand people. The containers were now sitting on his jet, ready to fly to Sydney for rapid deployment after the gas attack. The city’s rich and famous would pay anything to reverse the effects, and Polk figured they could sell the doses for at least fifty thousand dollars apiece on the dark web, netting them close to half a billion dollars.
Whether Lu delivered or not, they would come out of this with enough money to change their identities and build a new life.
“Where are you going now?” Polk asked.
“We’re on our way back to Marwood,” Jin said. “I don’t think repairs will take more than a couple of days. Then we’ll head down to Sydney to rendezvous with you.”
“You be careful, too. The location of our base wasn’t in any of the records at the factory, but we’ve been surprised before.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the guards are on full alert. Hope your raid goes well.”
“Thanks. One more stop after this and then I’ll head to Marwood. See you soon, luv.”
Polk hung up. He could see their target up ahead. It was a giant manufacturing plant owned by Blovex pharmaceuticals.
The drug company was the only place outside of Christmas Island with a supply of nuts from the Rand’s palm tree. They’d been experimenting with them trying to make high-priced health supplements. Polk and Jin had attempted to buy out their inventory, but they’d refused to sell. Jin had convinced Polk to leave them alone and not raise any further suspicions about their interest in the nuts, but now that storehouse was a threat.
The nut supply had to be destroyed.
Although Blovex security was decent, it wasn’t a military base. Polk had anticipated this day and toured the facility as a prospective business partner months ago to get the layout and location of the nut storage units.
He drove forward and took the lead, pulling a balaclava over his head to prevent his face from appearing on any security camera footage and putting a suppressed Glock pistol on his lap.
When he reached the guardhouse at the front gate, he didn’t wait for the two guards to leave their shack. He shot each in the head while they were still trying to figure out why they could only see his eyes.
He got out and punched the button that opened the gate. He checked his watch to note the time. They had a good five minutes before they could expect any kind of police response.
The storage unit was contained in the third building past the guardhouse. While one team waited outside the building for any Blovex security guards who might show up, Polk took the other men inside, all four of them rolling hand trucks behind them.
They found the storage unit marked “Rand’s palm.” Inside were forty canvas sacks filled with nuts harvested from a wild grove on Christmas Island.
“Load them up,” Polk said.
It took several trips to transfer all the bags to the SUVs with the carts.
By the time they were leaving the facility, they could hear sirens in the distance. Polk led them to a vacant lot on the shore of the Citarum River. The toxic waterway was considered one of the most polluted rivers on earth, so choked with garbage and human waste that you couldn’t see the water. His balaclava kept the worst of the stench at bay.
One by one, Polk sliced open each bag of nuts with a knife and had his men pour the contents into the river. He was sure no one would find them in that noxious stew.
When they were done, Polk said, “Back to the airport.”
They’d get some sleep and fly out first thing in the morning.
It wouldn’t be so easy to dispose of the trees that bore the nuts. Polk made a mental note to call ahead and make sure they could transport the amount of petrol they needed once they landed on Christmas Island.
FIFTY
THE CORAL SEA
After a week in Fiji, Gary Bonner wasn’t eager to get back to his dentistry practice in Cairns, but he wished the five-knot wind would pick up a little. They’d already been delayed by the storm that had blown through a couple of days before, and he had to go over the accounting books before the new year.
Still, the bright morning sun and calm seas made for a pleasant cruise on his new fifteen-meter sailing yacht, Tooth Ferry. His wife, Vivian, was lounging on the deck in her bikini with a coffee and a romance novel, while their twelve-year-old son, Cameron, sat astride the bow, where he liked to dangle his feet above the rushing water.
Something seemed to have drawn Cameron’s attention away from his phone, which Gary thought was a triumph. Maybe he’d spotted a pod of dolphins.
Gary called out to him. “See something interesting?”
Cameron stood as if to get a better look. “I don’t know. What is that?”
