It was a logical destination, but Nash had plenty of doubts. Douglas may have been able to stand up, but he looked like a living skeleton wobbling on his last legs, and there was still the question of how they were going to pull it off.

Mia gave Nash a worried look. ‘Is there any other way?’

‘The gorge is a dead end hemmed in by thousand-metre cliffs. Even if Frank was healthy, they’d catch up with us long before we reached the Sepik. But I don’t know how we’re going to steal a chopper without a firefight. You said these Kopassus soldiers are special forces.’

‘Trained killers,’ confirmed Douglas. ‘I counted twelve troopers and the gunship pilot. Then we’ve got Boerman, Sura, and Hartono and that scumbag Alatas.’

‘Seems like long odds.’ Mia shivered, wrapping her arms around her knees.

‘But a dark night will go a long way towards evening things up. What we need is a diversion. Look for explosives, a gun, even fuel to start a fire. I heard them say they think the salvage will take a couple of days, so keep your eyes open and take the opportunity when it presents itself. When the shit hits the fan, don’t hesitate. And if we can’t get a chopper, you run, and you keep running.’ Douglas looked steadily at Nash. ‘And don’t bloody worry about me – agreed?’

Taken at gunpoint to the sinkhole edge, Nash was amazed to see they had already constructed a scaffold of clamped steel props, which jutted out to support a heavy-duty block and tackle. A thin cable led down through the jumbled log pile. Sura was waiting with one hand on her hip and a walkie-talkie in the other.

‘You will assist Jaap with the survey,’ she instructed, as he was fitted with a head torch and harness, ‘and report to me on the logistics of removing the gold and the opium.’

He blinked at her. ‘Opium?’

‘According to the manifest, there were three tonnes bound for pharmaceutical plants in Germany.’ Impatiently, Sura indicated the end of the gorge, where dark clouds were massing over the escarpment. ‘Should you prefer working dry, I suggest you stop asking questions and get a move on.’

They lowered him through the precarious log pile where, swaying from side to side, he caught sight of a sweaty Boerman bulging out of too-tight shorts and a vest. The Afrikaner had been busy constructing a plywood gantry, stayed with half a dozen steel cables, which led like a gangway to the split in the submarine’s belly.