They worked for two hours until Nash was reasonably satisfied that they had a basic plan for the penetration, but he still couldn’t reconcile Sura’s lack of preparation. Beyond taking a whole bunch of footage and stringing a story together later, he figured they’d had no plan whatsoever.

‘Your problem is you think the rest of the world cares about details as much as you do,’ Douglas advised over a beer afterwards. ‘Don’t overthink it.’ He gave a low chuckle. ‘Tell me, do you think Sura prefers it on top with big ol’ Boerman? Because she sure as hell wears the pants.’

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Mia clutched her bags as the border settlement loomed into view. It had been a tense forty minute journey from Jayapura; the young Indonesian driver seemed hell-bent on pushing his decrepit minivan to the limit on the many hairpin bends, and although there was no tail to speak of, she was unable to shake the feeling of being watched.

They squealed to a halt at the border post complex, and Mia stepped out into simmering midday heat. Thankfully, it was busy; a large crowd of day trippers from PNG were eagerly buying up Indonesian goods at a road market – mostly cheap plastics – and Mia gratefully merged with the garrulous throng. Her long blond hair was hidden by a green bandana, a large pair of sunglasses and a wide-brimmed straw hat covered most of her face. Baggy grey hiking pants, heavy boots and a long khaki shirt helped disguise her figure.

Approaching the Kantor Immigrasi, her pulse was elevated, and her mouth bone-dry.

Calm down, she told herself. Even if they suspect where you’re going, they cant stop you.

When it was her turn, a bored-looking officer merely glanced at her passport and waved her through without even checking his computer screen. Feeling slightly stupid, she walked on wobbly knees across a no-man’s-land of mown grass to the Papua New Guinea checkpoint. Here a group of customs agents with brightly coloured bird of paradise shoulder patches waited beside a battered plastic table.

A plump man with a shock of frizzy white hair took her passport and scanned the details of her brand-new tourist visa. Fortunately, the clerk at the PNG embassy in Jayapura had accepted a hundred-dollar bribe to expedite it, saving her a week-long wait.

‘What is the nature of your business in PNG?’ The agent’s eyes were fixed on her chest as he spoke.

‘I’m going to visit Wewak,’ she replied. ‘And take a cruise on the Sepik.’

‘A woman travelling alone is very dangerous.’ The man wet his lips as the other two agents placed everything from her bags on the table, including her underwear. He made a great show of pointing out that her tourist visa was single entry. ‘Wouldn’t a repeat be prudent?’

Mia paid a small sum for the unnecessary stamp, to be quickly on her way.