Sami finally gave in to his urge and jumped out of his seat. ‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ Sami shouted. ‘Let’s go and get them.’

Clarke shook his head. ‘It’s not that simple.’ He then explained that there would be no black sites, torture or even questioning anyone without a warrant. ‘Even if we were granted a warrant to question them, they would be released back into the general prison population afterwards. We are prohibited from putting them into isolation. And you all know what will happen if we start asking questions and can’t put them into a black hole when we are done.’

Sami did. Boom! They would activate all their assets and blow up the entire cell. All remaining targets would be attacked at once. The only way you could question one of them was if you had all of them locked away in cages, blindfolded and gagged. He suddenly longed for Guantanamo.

‘This is bullshit,’ Maverick said, slamming his fist into the desk. ‘What sort of country is this? Do you guys want to be responsible for the next hundred people they kill? What is it today? The thirty-first? We only have twenty-five days until the next attack. Get your president on the phone and make him change the goddamn laws. Or is he a fucking terrorist too?’

‘Special Agent Smith!’ Sami said in his most official voice. ‘Sit down. Enough.’

He turned towards Clarke. ‘I’m sorry for my colleague’s outburst, but he does have a point. Is there any way we can change whatever it is that is stopping us from pulling all these guys out of the prison and placing them on a suitable site? Do you have a line to the Prime Minister?’

Clarke explained that not even the Prime Minister could change the law, that any proposed amendment had to be presented to parliament and passed by both the lower house and the upper house before being sent on to the Governor-General for royal assent.

‘We have already submitted our proposal to the Minister for Defence,’ Clarke said. ‘But it will take time that we don’t have, and the amendments will almost certainly be blocked.’

‘So, what’s the plan then? Is there one?’ Sami asked.

Clarke clicked his remote again, bringing up a picture of young man. Blue eyes, blond hair.

‘Meet Riley Jax.’

CHAPTER 33

Goulburn Jail, Goulburn, NSW, Australia

CLARKE wasn’t himself. Pale and clammy, eyes glazed and slightly red, he looked like he hadn’t slept for a week. He barely appeared to be paying attention when Jax delivered his latest report, verbally, in one of Goulburn jail’s legal visiting rooms.

‘The vitiligo has extended to his right arm,’ Jax said. ‘His gingivitis has also worsened from mild to what I would say is severe.’

Clarke showed little interest.