Herbert had no idea whether Coffey had heard. He was looking straight ahead and showing no expression.

“I’m impressed you knew that, Mr. Herbert,” Jelbart said.

“We got the same lecture when I joined the company years ago,” Herbert told him. “Only they didn’t call it a seminar on homeostasis. They used the acronym WYFLH.”

“What does ‘wiffle’ mean?” Jelbart asked.

“Why You Feel Like Hurling,” Herbert said.

Jelbart shook his head and smiled. Coffey did not react. He was too busy concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

The van had a civilian driver, and no one spoke about the mission during the brief ride. Jelbart informed Herbert that Darwin was the nation’s gateway to Asia. The airport had recently been upgraded, and a four-billion-dollar railway had just been completed linking Darwin with Adelaide and other major cities in southern Australia. It certainly looked the part of an up-and-coming city. Downtown Darwin was more metropolitan than Herbert had imagined. Both automobile and pedestrian traffic were thick on the wide, sun-drenched avenues. Newly built towers twenty and twenty-five stories tall rose behind the thickly treed streets. Trendy, upscale stores filled the first-floor shops. It could be Cleveland or Charlotte or any other smallish metropolis in the United States.

Maybe that’s one reason someone like Darling might want to shake things up, Herbert thought. Even though he had international corporations, he might not appreciate the globalization of his native land. That kind of resentment was not limited to Third World nations and radical regimes. Even the Canadians had their problems with American influence.

The van stopped in front of the Australian Central Credit Union Building. The group took the elevator to the tenth floor. They went directly to the MIC offices, where they were met by Brian Ellsworth. The solicitor was solicitous, though he lacked the rugged confidence of Warrant Officer Jelbart.

No, that isn’t it, Herbert thought. Ellsworth is afraid.

They retired to a warm, sunny conference room and shut the door. Jelbart moved a chair aside, and Herbert rolled up to the circular conference table. He poured himself water and took a half sandwich from the tray in the center of the table. It was tuna salad. He took a bite and looked out the window. He could see the ocean from here. The tuna salad tasted very fresh. Maybe it was caught and made locally. This was really a small town with big-city aspirations and modern-world problems. No wonder Ellsworth was scared. On paper, there were solutions and options to twenty-first-century crises. In practice, Australians were still fighting the Japanese Eighteenth Army for New Guinea. They were strong, but not subtle. They were courageous but not patient.

Jelbart took coffee, a sandwich, and a seat. Coffey sat without eating. Ellsworth remained standing.

“Mr. Hebert has been fully briefed?” Ellsworth asked Jelbart.

“He has,” Jelbart replied.

“Except for one thing,” Herbert said. “The whereabouts of FNO Loh.”