Cut to the Chase

by Ray Scott

  ‘It may be an idea,’ agreed Fernandes. ‘I’ve no doubt you’ll draft a good address, but there is always the danger of the odd word that could be misunderstood…eh?’

  Wallace could certainly agree with that. He still squirmed at the memory of the day when he had used the word “durex” to a predominantly British audience – he had meant Sellotape, momentarily forgetting that in Britain “Durex” had other connotations. An American presenter he had met in San Diego had told him of a similar experience. When addressing a British audience he had talked of being out of his depth, using the expression…“up to your fanny in the mire”. He had been unaware one of the words had a different usage in the British Isles from that encountered in the United States. He had also been to a meal in a restaurant in London after delivering a seminar, sitting back and declaring to his astonished hosts that he was stuffed! He had merely meant that he couldn’t eat any more!

  ‘Yes,’ Wallace replied. ‘I agree there is.’

  ‘Hallo, Wallace.’

  Wallace didn’t like that. It was as though he was one of Lincoln’s troops.

  ‘Hallo Major,’ he replied coldly. ‘I have seen Fernandes and fixed up an engagement with the Australian – Indonesian Society.’

  ‘Don’t you mean the Indonesia – Australia Society?’

  ‘Yes – probably,’ Wallace didn’t like his brusque correction as if he was a recalcitrant private caught idle on parade. ‘I am addressing them the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘What on?’

  ‘Friendship between our two nations.’

  Lincoln digested this in silence for a moment.

  ‘Hmmm! What time are you doing it?’

  ‘Seven thirty pm.’

  ‘Good, leave it with me.’

  They both hung up. As Wallace left the lobby he became aware of the hall porter who was swabbing down the main entrance hall, he had left a large wet patch near the front door, with a line of wetness extending down to the lobby phones where he was working now. Wallace felt his heel slip on the wet area and cursed as he nearly fell flat on his back. The porter was looking at Wallace as he recovered and entered the lift; he had a little smile on his face.

  Wallace had resolved to wake early so he could work on the address for the Indonesia – Australia Society. He was not starting from cold; this type of address had been delivered so often that it was merely a case of adapting from what was virtually a master presentation. Addressing friendship groups within Australia where the third party countries were America, Britain, Canada or New Zealand were stock items. Altering the name to the country concerned was the first step, then culling newspapers and consulting consulates to find what was topical and appropriate was the next.

  Wallace had a few words on the telephone with Alex Miller, the Commercial Attaché at the Australian Embassy…the man on whose appointment list he should have been when he saw Major Lincoln. Miller was most helpful in supplying some current agreements and petty differences between Indonesia and Australia.

  Wallace had also been put in touch with the secretary of the Society who had given some dates relating to Indonesian history and details of political personnel. All Wallace had to remember was to keep off East Timor, still a touchy subject between the two nations, anything to do with off-shore oil exploration and any mention of a couple of islands where there were internal disturbances from independence groups.

  The previous night in the bar, Wallace had met an American from Boston staying on the same floor. He had an unopened bottle of Scotch in his room so they went up later and had a go at that. He also had a telephone that worked and Wallace had been able to make some calls from there as well. Warren Hamilton was a computer software whiz kid, bugs had developed in some software supplied to the Jakarta office of an American company and he had been sent over to sort them out.

  Like most Western companies, when it came to sorting out computer problems, whether straightforward glitches or at worst, viruses, they preferred to have their own nationals fix it sooner than anyone from the indigenous population. Fears of industrial espionage, like leaving a bug that could transmit information to a rival; or even sabotage, were rife. Warren was a good sort, he had played some college Grid Iron football, and, to Wallace’s surprise, had some knowledge of Australian Rules. He was also an avid follower of the Boston Red Sox and they talked baseball for much of the evening.

  In the morning he was awoken by the sound of activity outside, squinted at his watch and was astonished to find that it was 4.30 am. He could hear the usual bustle in the streets outside and went over to the window to have a look. There was a mosque at the end of the street and crowds of people were heading in that direction. He went back to bed but found that he could not woo sleep again. He gave up the unequal struggle and returned to work on the presentation for the Society.

  He took a stroll after breakfast, feeling satisfied with himself. He felt that he could talk for about an hour, which was long enough, maybe too long, for anyone to listen. He managed to reach the park over the road without too much difficulty, apart from narrowly escaping death under the wheels of a taxi and being hooted and cursed by the drivers of about 17 other vehicles.

  That was another factor that Clive Passay had mentioned, the road rules appeared to be non-existent, while the ratio of aggression and bad manners rose in inverse proportion to the amount of road rules. Vehicles scurried around the streets as though they were the only ones within a seven kilometre radius, and once Wallace saw a car mount the pavement when taking a left turn when there was insufficient room on the carriageway, while warning signals for left and right turns appeared very late, if at all. Miraculously he didn’t see any actual collisions, they seemed to have a hairline warning system to avert actual contact, but pedestrians had to take their chances.

  At 10.00 am he returned to the hotel and gave the presentation another run through and polish before he went for a pre-arranged cup of coffee with Warren. Warren had two other Americans with him; they were recent arrivals and also staying in the hotel. Since like tended to attract like they had all locked onto each other.

  Chapter 3

  'I consider it a great honour and privilege to be asked to address your society…’ Wallace began, and looked around the gathering. He was thankful that none of his agents in Melbourne or Sydney, nor any rival circuit speakers, were at hand to see and count the audience. It consisted of about thirty people, many of whom appeared to be in an advanced state of senility and two of them had fallen asleep before Wallace had even risen from his seat, a bad start as three more were away with the fairies after he had been speaking for fifteen minutes.

  Wallace was standing at the end of a room that was not unlike the Parliament House seating arrangement at Canberra, with raised seats on each side of the room rising towards the roof.

  He struggled on, the speech was still not as it should have been, he had not had as much time for preparation as he would have liked, but as they were dropping off to sleep all over the place he doubted whether anyone would notice. He noted with interest an elderly gentleman in the front row who was desperately trying not to drop off, each time his eyes closed he jolted himself awake. He had the problem in that being in the front row he was only too well aware that the speaker would be keeping a steady eye on him!

  Then there was a latecomer, he entered by the far door and slid into a seat at the rear. He looked breathless and was younger than the average member of the audience. At a guess he was in his early thirties; he was dressed in casual trousers and an open necked shirt.

  Wallace continued, trying hard not to look at the clock, he had given himself at least one hour but doubted whether he would be able to go on for that long without repeating himself. He was also finding himself addressing an audience that was virtually unconscious.

  He began to realise that his knowledge of Indonesia was limited, despite hasty mugging up since the interview with Major Lincoln. He had, during the quick chat with the President of the Society beforehan
d, made some comment about the roads and how they drove on the right hand side of the road, only to be informed that indeed Indonesian vehicles drove on the left hand side, the same as Australia. Wallace realised he should have known that, having traversed the city streets, but had other things on his mind and had not really noticed. Since the entire country had been a Dutch colony before the 1939-45 war he had assumed that they would have followed the Continentals, but maybe the Japanese occupation during the war had had some effect that had stuck after the war.

  The speech finally drew to a close; the atmosphere was stifling in the hall which had no air conditioning. Then he noticed that two men had appeared at the door at the top of the left hand row of seats, the same door through which the late arrival had entered. To Wallace it looked as if they were guarding it.

  Wallace turned to catch the eye of Mr Roeg, the bearded patriarch who was the chairman for the day. It had been agreed that Wallace would tip him off when he felt he was running out of steam. Roeg was a realist and knew Wallace had been co-opted at short notice and that it was likely the drying up process could set in early.

  In any case, Wallace had been going for over half an hour and that was as much as had been expected, with maybe three quarters of an hour the maximum. To earn $1,000 US might seem extortionate for that length of time, it was, but ASIO in the form of Bramble was either paying for it or subsidising it and for the wear and tear upon Wallace’s nerves he considered it was worth every cent. Roeg nodded, wriggled in his chair and then shuffled his papers to acknowledge that he had received the message and was ready for the winding up.

  According to Major Lincoln, Roeg was a member of some government department and quite influential, a man who had a bee in his bonnet about a South Pacific Federation embracing Indonesia, New Zealand, Australia, the Philippines and Singapore, together with a few other island states and federations in the general area. Wallace had some sympathy with the idea from an economic point of view, and probably from a security outlook when one considered the huge Asian countries to the north, but Roeg’s idea was that Indonesia should exert a dominant role in this grouping and Wallace wasn’t too sure about that.

  The address finally came to an end, the applause echoed around the hall which indicated that some were still awake. Roeg stood up and proceeded to give the vote of thanks. The two men by the door were still there, one of them started to move around the top level of the seats, the man in the shirt had moved forward and down so that he was near to the front row.

  Wallace began to consider that this could be his contact, he also felt adrenalin rise in his system as he realised that the other two men could have followed him to the hall and consequently Wallace himself was now at risk. Bramble said it would be nothing more than a short holiday! The way things were developing Wallace reckoned he could finish up in jail. True, the move of the man in the shirt to the front of the audience could be interpreted innocently, as the acoustics in the hall left much to be desired, but if his two shadows knew who he was and were on his tail, innocent looking moves or not mattered little.

  ‘Does anyone have any questions of Mr Wallace?’

  There were a few, one related to Australian Rules, somebody else asked which side of the road Australians drove on. Wallace replied, saying he had often wondered that himself which drew forth a gust of laughter. Another questioner asked if Australia allowed Trades Unions to exist and nodded briefly when he replied in the affirmative, he refrained from adding a wry comment that came to mind that it was more a question of whether they allowed anyone else to exist!

  Wallace was beginning to perspire freely, he felt that he had become involved in something that was becoming, no…had become…out of hand. If his contact was being followed by policemen or security police then he had led them onto Wallace which didn’t give much for Wallace’s chances if they locked onto him. He was gazing at Wallace intently and his eyes were plainly acting as a signal lamp. Mr Roeg asked again for questions and the man in the shirt stood up.

  ‘What is the political system of Australia? I understand that you have two Houses of Parliament. Can you explain this?’

  Wallace looked at Roeg who spread out his hands and looked quizzical.

  ‘Why yes,’ Wallace began, and commenced to give a brief description of the duties of the two houses. His questioner interrupted and asked a further question, a long one that must have taken about three minutes. Others in the hall became restive, they didn’t want to appear rude and leave while the question and answer session was still in progress. Wallace began to cotton on to what the other was trying to do and was wondering how to impart the information to him that it was advisable for them to see each other afterwards but at this point Mr Roeg intervened.

  ‘We have exceeded our time, perhaps Mr Wallace can answer that one in full after the meeting is closed,’ he joined Wallace at the lectern and once again launched into a vote of thanks and they all clapped. Despite the undercurrent he felt a warm glow of satisfaction.

  The man in the shirt advanced towards Wallace slowly, his two followers were still around but were at the rear of the seating area, up high. He extended his hand as he approached, gripped Wallace’s hand and pumped it up and down. He was about 5’8” tall, with dark hair, brown eyes and a day’s growth of beard. As Wallace was near to 6 feet tall he had to look slightly upwards at as they became closer.

  ‘Always a pleasure to meet an Australian,’ he said jovially and clapped Wallace on the back of his right elbow with his left hand, though his eyes belied his hearty manner as they went uneasily from side to side. It was as though he was trying to see behind him without actually turning his head. ‘Do all the states have an upper and lower house?’

  His hand was still holding on, normally Wallace detested people who shook hands and held onto yours as though their life depended upon it. Then the irony occurred to him that in this man’s case it probably did. Wallace suddenly realised that there was something in his palm, the other man released his hand at last but turned his grip slightly before he did so that Wallace’s hand was underneath his. His middle finger dropped at right angles to the rest of the fingers on his right hand and pressed on whatever it was in Wallace’s palm to prevent it falling out onto the floor as their hands parted. Then Wallace’s hand closed upon it and his hand dropped to his side, supporting whatever it was with his thumb.

  ‘Why yes,’ Wallace replied. ‘I believe they do…oh…except for Queensland, I think they abolished theirs in 1922.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘State premiers were John Cain, Jeff Kennett, Steve Bracks, Bjelke Petersen, Neville Wran, Bob Carr, I remember your Paul Keating and John Howard, Kim Beazley…Whitlam…!’ Clearly he was running out of conversational gambits while trying to continue the conversation, his eyes darted around, obviously trying to ascertain where his followers were. ‘Your cricketers, Don Bradman, Ian Botham, Harold Larwood, Wally Hammond, Lindsay Hassett…er…Garfield Sobers, Ricky Ponting, Matthew Hayden and Dennis Lillee,’ he was obviously running out of politicians’names to continue his conversational ramble, though he was certainly confused about the nationalities of his cricketers. If his followers didn’t understand English, assuming they could hear any of the words he was uttering, it would just sound like ordinary conversation in a foreign language.

  ‘Bob Hawke…watch those bastards up there…Canberra! I’m going out past the lectern!’ he continued and his voice rose sharply. He half turned and pointed at the map of Java that was on the front of the lectern, probably for the benefit of the two watchers and he gave a short laugh presumably to try to mislead his followers. He broke away and headed for the first row of seats.

  He commenced walking to the ground floor exit to the right of the podium, it was the door through which Wallace had entered from the rear of the auditorium with Mr Roeg and was not for general public use. This move was plainly not expected by his two pursuers, maybe they didn’t realise there was a door there as they had not made any attempt t
o cover it. He made for it and dived through it, as it closed behind him they began to run down the aisles between the seats. As they did so, all the lights went out.

  There was the sound of shouting and heavy footsteps, then Wallace felt Roeg’s hand on his arm.

  ‘This way,’ he said.

  Wallace could dimly make out shadowy shapes in the darkness as Roeg led the way, all the time there was the sound of confusion in the hall as the pursuers of Wallace’s recent contact became entangled with the departing audience members, who were bewildered at the sudden shutting out of the lights and were tending to mill around. Wallace was still clutching the small article in his hand. It was a computer flash drive; Wallace didn’t need to look at it to ascertain what it was.

  As Roeg’s shape crystallised behind the lectern Wallace paused, bent down and slipped the drive into his sock, pushing it well down into the shoe so that it reposed under the arch of his foot. Then he followed Roeg and emerged into the corridor. There were still the sounds of running feet echoing on the concrete floors, this indicated that the man in the shirt, whoever he was, was still on the loose and had successfully made his escape from the auditorium. Wallace hoped he made it, not only for his sake, but for Wallace’s as well.

  Roeg shook Wallace by the hand when they reached the foyer, the previous act in transferring the removable computer drive had been a wise one otherwise Roeg would have been mystified by what fell into his palm. There was some light here, and Roeg’s features could now be perceived.

  ‘Thank you for speaking to us,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘It is good for people to see someone from Australia, maybe one day we shall all be one people.’

  Wallace smiled and nodded as if in agreement, frankly he could not have disagreed more strongly. The idea of thuggish looking men, presumably servants of the state, chasing citizens all over public buildings and city streets was not an endearing one. The small package in his heel was scraping his ankle every time he took a step and it was an effort not to limp.