“Sorry, the Multinational Force. But yes, basically the Americans. They said it was because we couldn’t link properly to their CI network, but the truth is they simply don’t trust us.”

Hidaka wished he had some idea what the man was talking about, but he didn’t let his confusion show. This Moertopo seemed quite happy to discuss state secrets with him, despite the fact that he seemed to have been allied in some way to the United States. Notwithstanding the pressures of time, Hidaka would need to play this very carefully indeed.

“Can you stand?” he asked. “Would you like some tea?”

The man nodded gratefully. Hidaka clicked his fingers at a sailor, who hurried over to help Moertopo into the armchair. After some hasty instructions the crewman set about drawing another two mugs of tea. Hidaka took a plain chair from the wardroom table and spun it around to face Moertopo. He sat to bring himself down to eye level with his subject.

“Lieutenant Moertopo,” he said, forming the name carefully, “this task force, was it heading for Java?”

“Of course,” the lieutenant replied, gratefully sipping his tea. “The president himself insisted that we play our part in any operations taking place in our home waters.” As he spoke, a measure of pride worked its way through the layers of illness and discomfort.

“And you were sailing from?”

“Dili,” he said and then, “East Timor,” as it became obvious Hidaka was confused by the answer. “We were training in preparation for deployment.”

“Lieutenant Moertopo, you will have to excuse my ignorance, I have been at sea for many months. But I must say, your ship has me baffled. I have never seen its like before.”

Moertopo snorted in a thin imitation of good humor. Obviously the effort taxed him severely.

“That is not surprising . . . I am sorry . . . Mr. Hidaka.”

“Commander. Go on.”

“Commander. We’re the last of the old Parchim-class missile corvettes, purchased in bulk from the East German navy in the nineteen nineties. They’ve been refit—”

“Excuse me,” Hidaka interrupted. “Did you say the nineteen nineties?”

“Yes. I forget the exact year. It was before I was born. But President Habibie bought thirty-nine of them. Most rusted away for want of funds to maintain them. Saboteurs destroyed some early in the war, but the Sutanto and the Nuku escaped. Did you know we carried the president himself and his family away from Tanjungpinang to Singapore?” Moertopo asked proudly.

But Hidaka wasn’t attending to the question. He was staring at the young naval officer in sheer disbelief.

“No, I did not know that, Lieutenant,” he said distractedly. “Do you know your current location, roughly?”

Moertopo shrugged. “You would know better than I, Commander. Clearly you haven’t been unconscious for Allah knows how long.”

“Yes, yes, but roughly.”