Even after eight months on staff as the general’s driver, Hassan still relished the looks of awe on the stunned faces of members of the Indonesian military as the chief of staff’s car approached. Khaki-uniformed gate guards jumped to attention, saluting as if someone had just lit their behinds with a blowtorch.

“Atten-CHUN!”

“Atten-CHUN!”

Taplus could not suppress the smile.

“Morning, General!”

“Morning, General!”

The Mercedes cruised slowly past the guard gate and onto the premises of the air base.

Taplus glanced in his rearview mirror.

The general, in full uniform replete with his dozens of shining service medals, greeted his starstruck subordinates with a dismissive hand gesture, somewhat pompous, really, as if he were the pope. Colonel Erman Croon, Perkasa’s chief of staff, an idiot whom Taplus did not care for, simply returned their salutes.

Taplus drove on past the guards toward the terminal. The Malacca Plan was entering its next phase, and this drive to the air base was the beginning of it. The general’s mission had to succeed, and the three men in the staff car knew it.

Taplus had decided not to mention the security breach. The only person who could have seen the file was Madina. The possibility that she was a double agent continued to nag at him.

“Is my plane ready, Captain?”

“Yes, sir, General,” Taplus said, as more stiff-saluting guards waved the Mercedes through chain-link fences and onto the rain-soaked runway. The general’s 737 was already waiting on the tarmac.

Taplus drove the Mercedes onto the tarmac and stopped about twenty feet from the front of the parked aircraft. Several military officers approached the car, standing ready to assist as soon as the general got out.

“Very well, Captain, let’s review my itinerary.”

“Yes, General. Your plane is fueled and ready for takeoff. Distance to Karachi is just over thirty-four hundred miles, sir. Because of the distance, we’ve arranged for you to land and refuel at Colombo, Sri Lanka, and then straight on to Karachi. Your cruising speed will be just over five hundred miles per hour, and when we include the stop in Sri Lanka, total flight time, General, will be approximately seven-and-a-half hours. You should land at three-thirty in the afternoon, local time in Karachi.

“Our Strategic Alliance partners have arranged transportation for you and the colonel at the airport. From there, you will be taken to your hotel to rest, and then your meeting with your Pakistani contact is scheduled. For security reasons, it will take place at an undisclosed location just before sunset.

“Your contact is a high-ranking Pakistani military officer, whose objectives are like-minded to ours. He will not be in uniform but will be wearing civilian clothing.”

Taplus pulled out an envelope from the inside of his jacket pocket and handed it to the general. “Here’s an extra copy of your itinerary, sir, for your reference. I also have an extra copy for Colonel Croon.” He handed another envelope to the colonel.

“This envelope contains names of points of contact and security codes that will need to be verified by your contacts in Karachi before we can begin discussions. A code will need to match with the driver picking you up. Simply ask the driver for the code, and he will repeat it before you should go with him.

“Likewise, there is a separate code for the military officer that you will be meeting, along with a photograph of the officer and a brief bio on him.”

“And this officer has the authority to give us what we need?”

Taplus nodded. “According to our contacts in Saudi who arranged all this, he has ample authority, General.”

“Excellent,” General Perkasa said. “Colonel Croon, are you ready to fly to Pakistan?”

“Yes, General.”

“Very well,” the general said, checking his watch. “It’s almost nine o’clock. Let’s go.”

Captain Taplus stepped out of the car and motioned to one of the military aides standing at attention. “Help the general and the colonel with their bags.”

Taplus stood by the back right rear door, flashed a sharp salute, and bellowed, “Atten-CHUN!”

Perkasa stepped out of the car. The sound of clicking boots echoed across the tarmac, as once again, at least a dozen army and air force personnel jumped to attention.

Perkasa threw a salute at Taplus. “Thank you, Hassan,” he said, doing something he rarely did, calling Taplus by his first name. “Keep everything under control until I return.”

“With pleasure, General!”

Perkasa dropped the salute, and then turned and headed up the portable stairway into the 737, with Colonel Croon on his heels. The pilot stepped forward and closed the door.

Taplus got in the staff car and drove back just to the gate leading off the tarmac. From there, he watched the 737 quickly taxi to takeoff position. A moment later, the plane lifted off, and within minutes, had disappeared behind the spotty cloud cover.

He exhaled. Taplus had unfinished business, and he needed the general out of the country so that he could get on with what he needed to do.

He picked up his cell phone, and dialed the general’s residence. A familiar voice answered. “Chief of staff’s residence.”

“Hello, Madina?”

“Yes?”

“This is Hassan.”

“Who?”

“Captain Taplus.”

“Oh, Captain.” Instant glee lit her voice. “Perhaps you are ready for that second cup of coffee?”

“I have a better idea,” he said.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“And what might that be?” A sultry, suggestive tone.

“How does sunset at the beach sound?”

“That sounds like a great idea!”

“Great. Ever been to Pelangi Island?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to. I hear it’s beautiful. Clear beaches. No one around.”

“Exactly. The general’s out of town. So is the colonel. That means I’m in charge. So why don’t you leave about two o’clock and meet me at Ancol Marina at Jakarta Bay about three? We can take the general’s boat. The island is about forty-five miles out and will take an hour-and-a-half. I’ll pack dinner, complete with wine. We can ride out, watch the sunset, and return tonight. What do you say?”

Silence. Then, “I’d love to.”

“Great. Bring your swimsuit. See you at three.”

Residence of General Perkasa

Jakarta, Indonesia

11:05 a.m.

Madina checked her watch.

Scrubbing the toilet bowl in the downstairs bathroom had taken twice as long as usual. Thank goodness the general was out of town.

The telephone call from the handsome Captain Taplus had sent her concentration level into a tailspin. She checked her watch again. Four more hours. What to wear?

Perhaps a short, bright sundress for the boat ride to the island. She could hide behind a palm tree and change into her swimsuit once they arrived.

Or perhaps she could wear the swimsuit under a T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

But the sundress would be more feminine. And after all, he did say to “bring your swimsuit.” Not wear it, but bring it.

Now that she thought of it, it wouldn’t seem awkward for her to change behind a tree somewhere.

Yes, that was it.

He would like the sundress, she thought, and then hopefully he would like it more when she changed into the swimsuit.

What was this foolish feeling that felt like champagne bubbles floating inside her? She was like a silly teenager in love for the first time!

Perhaps they would have a military wedding. Yes, a military wedding, complete with swords and rifles. He would shine like a handsome prince in his dress uniform with all his shining medals. Her wedding gown would be long and flowing. Diamonds and rubies and precious jewels would adorn her ears and fingers.

Perhaps they would marry at sunset at Merdeka Square, with the general and other members of the Indonesian high command present.

Hassan would rise quickly in the ranks of the army. He was the best of the brightest, hand-selected to be on the general’s staff. Most likely, he himself would be a general one day. And she would be the loyal wife of a general. With elegance and grace, she would move among Indonesia’s ruling elite. Perhaps even dine with the wife of the president of the Republic. Being married to such a rising star would indeed have its advantages.