He instantly put a foot up on the chair and tried to lever himself up onto the dais. But he couldn’t do it. Embarrassed, he instinctively extended a hand to me, silently requesting me to give him a hand up. I looked down at him unmoved. This man had been identified in the recent Royal Commission as being connected with the Comancheros bikie gang. He had refused my invitation to meet with him earlier and I was not at all inclined to assist him in any way. Looking down at his supporters standing next to him I said, “I think that Mister Jones needs a hand.” Four hundred people watched in bemused silence as the remarkably obese Toby Jones was pushed and levered up onto the dais.
As soon as he was standing next to me, wheezing and looking like a big crumpled balloon, I commenced presenting the reasons for introducing the ID cards. “The benefits, to each of you and your employer, arising from introduction of the photo ID card are too numerous to cover in depth. There is the improved safety, better everyday security, protection against terrorist attacks, elimination of ghosts on the payroll and more effective protection against fraud.” I then went on to briefly address each aspect. From time to time there were questions from the gathering which I responded to clarify the issue. Several were asked by the mining contractor, who I soon realised was guiding me to mention aspects that would affect his mining contract workers. I concluded my explanations with the words. “Well I’ve been talking to you for fifteen minutes. I have now concluded my summary of the case for the photo ID card. Toby Jones now has a maximum of fifteen minutes to tell you why he thinks that it is a bad idea. After he finishes I will have a few brief words to wind up this meeting and you can all have lunch.”
Amid much clapping and whistling I then stepped to the side to allow Toby Jones to assume the central position on the dais.
Toby Jones was a strong speaker but what he had to say was absolute twaddle. His arguments were mostly irrelevant, his wild claims were without any supporting evidence and his rhetoric full of clichés. His key objection seemed to be that the photo ID card was part of a government conspiracy to monitor and control its citizens. He stated that it was the duty of every worker to fight against it tooth and nail. Even then his library of arguments was sparse and he started repeating himself before he was half way through his allotted time. Finally, after fifteen minutes of excruciating frustration at having to listen to his nonsense, I stepped back towards the centre of the table, ostentatiously tapped my watch and called out in a firm voice. “Times up!”
There was a buzz of conversation around the room which instantly silenced when I held up my hands for quiet. I looked around the room assessing the mood of the crowd. There were no angry faces and whenever my eyes settled on someone momentarily I received a friendly smile. There was no need for me to recap the issues, as far as I was concerned the debate was over. All I needed to do was to wrap up the meeting. Turning to face Toby Jones I said in a clear voice. “Thank you, Toby for your eloquent presentation. I have only one word of response. Oombarlo!”
Jones was bewildered and showed it by blurting out. “Oombarlo? What on earth do you mean?”
I smiled indulgently. “Sorry, Toby. I thought that you, of all people, would be familiar with the word, oombarlo. Let me explain by giving you an example of how it is used. Some years ago there was a union organiser engaged in travelling through darkest Africa seeking to spread the unionist word amongst the tribes in remote areas. One day he came across a village where he was invited to address the gathered members of the tribe. As the union organiser outlined each of the benefits of being a union member, and the great advances achieved by unions, the tribe would roar their appreciation and shout loudly in unison. ‘Oombarlo! Oombarlo!’ Each time the union organiser received an ovation he swelled with pride and proceeded to make even more outrageous claims. And each time he did so the tribe members’ ovation and chants of ‘Oombarlo! Oombarlo!’ resonated even louder through the jungle. Eventually the chief, with tears streaming down his cheeks, stood up to thank the union organiser and said, ‘On behalf of the tribe I would like to thank you for your talk. As a gesture of our appreciation of you coming here and telling us about Unions I would like to take you on a tour of our temple where hundreds of sacred bulls are kept. But I need to warn you, watch out where you step as there is a lot of oombarlo on the floor.’”
There was a momentary pause as the crowd, who had been completely silent during my rather longwinded story, suddenly got the joke and roared with laughter. Toby Jones was mortified. When he tried to speak he was repeatedly drowned out with a chorus of ‘oombarlo, oombarlo’. Eventually, totally humiliated, he had to be assisted down from the table and led from the dining room by his few remaining supporters.
I stood silently watching him depart. I had no sympathy for him and I guess that it showed. Glancing around at the gathering I saw Jack Gilmore at the front, taking a photograph of me with his cell phone. I grinned, gave him a thumbs-up and jumped down off the table. All things considered, I reckoned that the confrontation with Toby Jones had gone well.
***
It was three o’clock when I walked back into my office. A note was lying on my desk. It was a message to ring Ewan Ryan. I had been busy doing the rounds of the construction site since lunch and had been so busy that I had not even checked my emails. The midday meal had been a high spirited affair. Everyone had been in good spirits after the stop-work meeting. I repeatedly heard the word ‘oombarlo’ followed by laughter.
I had expected Ewan Ryan to contact me today but his greeting took me totally by surprise, “I thought you said that you preferred a quiet, boring life.”
I was thrown by his unexpected response to my greeting and stammered. “What…what do you mean?”
“The YouTube video of your stop-work meeting today.”
I was still bewildered. “I don’t know what you mean?”
“Oh! Well, someone recorded your presentation at the stop-work meeting today and put it up on YouTube. It’s been there less than two hours and has had thousands of hits already. I’ve been told that it is going viral, whatever that means.”
I was silent for a few moments, taking it all in. Finally I spoke. “Well, I didn’t know about the recording or the YouTube clip. Have you seen it?”
“Yes.”
“Does it help our cause?”
Ryan chuckled. “I should bloody think so. Someone at Red Rock sent a link to Gibson Construction and we have all seen it. But what I want to know is; what was the reaction at Red Rock to the meeting?”
“I think that the Union will be hard pressed to make trouble in regard to the photo ID card. I don’t think that they will muster much support on site. I’ve been constantly approached by workers around the construction site telling me that they support the proposal. I think that it is done and dusted.”
“Good. Well the lawyers, yes the bloody lawyers, have reviewed the stuff on the data stick and are right behind you. They recommend that Gibson Construction do not prosecute the whistleblowers. They also think that there is an excellent chance of getting witness protection for them. Our administration people are very much in favour of your initiatives for the photo ID cards and checking out the approved suppliers list.”
He stopped talking apparently waiting for me to respond so I said, “Good. I don’t think that the ID cards and checking the approved supplier list is particularly radical or innovative. They’re the obvious steps to take.”
Ryan snorted. “To you maybe, but from where I’m sitting I have to tell you that I’m pretty impressed.”
For a moment I thought that I’d make a joke about taking the opportunity to ask him for a raise in salary but decided against it. Somehow I felt that he would not react well to flippancy. Instead I asked, “What about the meeting with the Commission on Tuesday. I would like to spend half a day or so with the consulting engineers in Brisbane soon. Tuesday would be a good date. What time is your meeting and do you still want me to be there?”
“Yes. Definitely, I want you there
. Anyway you were invited by the Commission. The meeting is at ten o’clock. What time can you get here?”
“Nine o’clock.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you here in my office then. You can see the engineers in the afternoon.”
“Okay. I’ll see you at nine on Tuesday.”
Ryan chuckled again and said loudly. “Oombarlo! Oombarlo! I love it.” He was still laughing as he terminated the call.
***
I had just hung up when there was a knock on my door and Jack Gilmore walked into my office. With a grin on his face he said, “Hey, Adam there’s something that you should see…”
I interrupted him. “I can guess what you are going to tell me. It was you who recorded the stop-work meeting and put it on YouTube.”
He looked surprised. “So you know about it already? Are you okay with it?”
I grinned and said, “I haven’t seen it but the boss has told me that it helps our cause so perhaps I should be thanking you. But I would like to see it sometime. Can you email me a link?”
“I’ve already sent it.”
***
It took more willpower than I possessed to resist the urge to immediately view the YouTube video. As soon as Jack Gilmore left my office I located the email from him and clicked on the YouTube link. A few seconds later I was watching the video clip. It was a strange feeling to watch a video of myself when I had not been aware that I was being videoed. Somehow the person standing on the table didn’t seem to be me and I found myself watching the video with a curious objectivity and lack of self-consciousness.
My opinion of Toby Jones must have been apparent to all who were at the meeting. And anyone who later viewed this video. As he had been talking I had sought to maintain a neutral expression but I hadn’t managed it. The video showed me to have a disenchanted look. Almost a contemptuous sneer. The physical contrast between us was striking. He was an obese lump in wrinkled and ill-fitting clothes, whereas I was trim and clad in neatly ironed shirt and drill trousers. The sight of Toby Jones being pushed up onto the table and helped down again at the end contrasted poorly with my grinning thumbs-up and nimble descent.
When the video finished, I did not feel pleased with myself. At best, the video portrayed me as being cool and confident. But others could well see me as being overconfident and arrogant. The problem was that given the same situation again I would probably do exactly the same thing the next time. I shrugged my shoulders and rolled my head contemplatively with my eyes closed for a few moments.
I knew that regret is the ultimate waste of time. What has been done can’t be undone. I had achieved what I had set out to do, but I felt a twinge of guilt. I couldn’t help wondering if I had really been justified to deliberately humiliate Toby Jones as I had.
***
Brian Clements called me on Skype that evening. He was his usual ebullient self and instantly cheered me up with his optimistic take on life. “Kate and I have just watched the YouTube clip. Man, you were great. But what about the oombarlo joke? You should have given me some credit. I told it to you years ago when we were just kids.”
I laughed and replied, “Sorry Brian but you told me an oombarlo joke about an explorer in darkest Africa telling outrageous lies about his adventures. I told a quite different joke.”
We were both thinking back to the time when we were fourteen years old and had spent a whole summer chanting oombarlo as our response to almost anything we were told. As far as we were concerned it was a legitimate word in the English language. But that was a long time ago and somehow it never quite made it to the Oxford dictionary. Its resurrection today had been unplanned. It had just happened.
Brian chuckled and said, “Well, I still think that a royalty is due.”
“Brian, when you watched the video clip, did you see me as being cool and assured or cocky and arrogant?”
He hesitated before replying, he knew that I had switched to serious mode. “I’d say cool and assured, but then I know you well. I can’t really judge how others may see you.” Turning away from the camera he called out. “Kate, do you have a minute. I have Adam on Skype.”
A moment later Kate walked into view. “Hi Adam. I loved your YouTube clip. I’m just about to email the link to Christine.”
Brian looked at Kate and said, “Kate, Adam wants to know if people will judge him to be either cool and assured or cocky and arrogant.”
Kate looked directly at the camera and said, “Your opponents will try to pull you down and claim that you are cocky and arrogant. But everyone else, friends and neutrals, will see you as being cool and assured.”
I grinned at the camera and said, “Brian, you are one helluva lucky guy. Kate, many thanks, I value your comments.”
Brian grinned. “See, I told you that she was smart.”
I added. “And sensitive.”
After a few minutes of less serious banter we said goodnight.
***
The following morning I received an email from Kate. It read, “Christine says definitely cool and assured.”
I grinned. For some obscure reason, it made my day.
***
Tuesday October 27
Brisbane, Queensland
The reception that I received when I arrived at Gibson Construction’s head office in Brisbane was remarkably more friendly than my visit the previous Thursday. Miss Morgan was all smiles, inviting me to call her Ruby and asking if I would like a coffee.
Even Ewan Ryan smiled, stood up and greeted me warmly when I was ushered into his office. A few minutes later we were seated at the conference table sipping coffee and making small talk before getting down to the matter of the meeting with the Crime and Corruption Commission.
Eventually Ryan decided that it was time for business and said, “We will be joined in a few minutes by Gregory Taylor. He’s a lawyer from Gillman, Garry, Clapp and Sayers. You know who they are?”
I nodded. They were one of the biggest firms of corporate lawyers in Brisbane. “Yes. I know who they are.”
“Well. Gregory will be coming with us to meet with the Commission. He has been our legal advisor in this matter. He believes your recent initiatives will benefit Gibson Construction in their relationship with the Commission. He is interested to meet you.” Ryan then laughed. “Hell, everyone who has seen the YouTube clip wants to meet you.”
I grinned. “I suppose that this must be my fifteen minutes of fame that everyone is supposed to have sometime in their life. I suppose that I should try and enjoy it.”
Just then Gregory Taylor arrived. He was a slim, well groomed man in his late thirties with prematurely greying hair. As we shook hands he smiled and said, “Ewan tells me that you don’t believe in lawyers…”
He seemed to be just joshing rather than needling me so I interjected with a friendly grin. “Well, I suppose that you could say that I have DIY in my DNA. I believe in self-help and not relying on someone else to do your thinking. I see that consulting a lawyer is sometimes akin to someone employing a life coach. Employing someone to make all your decisions for you. I suppose my attitude is, if I can do it myself then I will do so, if I can’t then I’d engage an expert. If it’s a legal issue then I might engage a lawyer, but only if I don’t have the knowledge or skills to do it myself or if I don’t have the time.”
Gregory Taylor was not finished with me. “What about today. Do you think that I should attend the meeting with the Commission?”
I replied, “That is a question entirely for Mister Ryan. But if I was in his situation today then I would probably opt for having a lawyer tag along.”
Ewan Ryan gave a dry laugh. “Oombarlo. Oombarlo.”
We all laughed easily.
***
Upon our arrival at the Commission’s offices we were shown into the same conference room that we had been in during the previous meeting. Toni Swan was already there, accompanied by the two young lawyers, Peter Williams and Margaret Smith, who had been at the previous meeting.
When she paused, Gregory Taylor asked, “Has the Commission grounds for believing that Gibson Construction has acted corruptly in any way?”
Toni Swan responded, “Not at a corporate level, but we suspected that some employees could have been coerced. The information provided by Mister Cartwright last week has confirmed that suspicion. In fact, that new information has probably got us to the point that we can launch several prosecutions against Union organisers with links to the Comancheros. But we need to interview the two whistleblowers as soon as possible. Preferably on a low-key, confidential basis.”
She then paused and looked at me inquiringly so I said, “They are rostered off duty next week. I am certain that they will come down and meet with you whenever you want them to. However, I expect that they would need to have their fares and accommodation paid for by someone.”
Ewan Ryan and Gregory Taylor must have discussed that point earlier as Taylor immediately responded to my comment. “Gibson Construction will pick up the tab for that. Also, while Gibson Construction acknowledges that it is for the Commission to make the decision, Gibson Construction does not wish to have the two whistleblowers prosecuted.”
Smoking Gun (Adam Cartwright Trilogy Book 1) Page 14
