Liam was led off the airstrip and up to a low slung building, which turned out to be a hotel. With air conditioning, and a little display of tacky souvenirs. The driver went up to the check in desk.
'This one has an appointment with Mr Streich.'
'He's out, but should be back in the next couple hours.'
'Game patrol?'
'Yes.'
The driver turned to Liam. 'Sit down here for a while.'
Liam sat a long while. Or maybe only a little while. It felt long.
Eventually he heard 2 or 3 vehicles nearby. That was likely Mr Streich.
Another 5 or 10 minutes later, the receptionist's phone rang. She lifted it, listened, gave an 'uh huh', followed a few seconds later by a second one.
'He'll see him now in his suite.'
The driver led the way again, up the stairs and along a long hallway to a door. He knocked it, and opened it after hearing 'Enter!'
The suite was big and airy, looking out over the vast flatness that they were in the middle of. A short, tanned man was sitting relaxed on a sofa. He wasn't bulging with muscles, but you could tell he was very fit. He was Jeremial Streich.
'Hello Liam, welcome! Sorry for the rough handling, but there's some people who don't like that I continue to walk this earth, so I take some precautions.' He leaned forwards. 'I'm afraid your trip has been something of a waste though. There's nothing that can beat the 'unmanned seabed searchers'.'
'Really? I thought the Italians had something.'
'They might. But selling it means that it counters something, and anything that puts out the idea that the sealanes might be booby-trapped is unacceptable. But I know that's not really why you're here. You're here to try to pick up any information I have on the encapsulated torpedoes, and feed it back to whoever has you in their employ. You're not the first. But who you're working for is the first to have stolen the software for them. That's something. And it's something you didn't know, going by your face.'
Liam decided that his interests were best served by keeping quiet.
'There's a few other systems out there. Two Russian ones, a Chinese one and an Italian one. I've brokered deals involving each of them. I really hope that your people aren't doing anything stupid in hacking them. I'll give you no more help than that. You'll be taken back in the morning. The girl in reception will give you a key for your room.'
Liam was left stunned. He composed himself.
'Thank you very much for your help. I hope we can talk again later.'
All that got was a wave out.
At reception he was given a key, as well as having his documents and wallet returned to him. A rack of tacky safari postcards caught his eye.
'Do you have postage stamps?'
He got a blank stare.
'Do you have stamps for the postcards? I want to send one.'
With a bit of negotiation, he managed to buy a postcard, a stamp, and a promise that the postcard would in fact get to the post office.
On the postcard he wrote a brief note.
'Hi Rich, in Africa here, saw some elephants, they remind me of Mickey Mouse. Hope all's well with you, I'm stuck here a while longer but I'll come see you when I can. Cheers, Liam.'
Under the stamp he wrote 'MALAY CORK'.
And for the address he put:
Richard Quinn,
Curragh Road,
Carrynick,
County Londonderry,
Northern Ireland.
He gave the postcard to the receptionist, and muttered a little prayer to whatever deity might see fit to favour him and keep the world from war.