The Mandarin Code

by Steve Lewis

The analyst’s eyes glistened. His voice turned inwards. He seemed intent on reassuring himself as much as Dunkley.

  ‘I was operating under strict orders. From on high. They claimed that Ben was leaking top-secret stuff to you.’

  Harris swivelled his chair to face Dunkley, begging understanding.

  ‘How was I to know how this would end? I have lain awake for hours at night wondering whether I should have done something different. Whether I was responsible for Ben’s death.’

  ‘How?’

  Harris pushed his chair back from the desk and stood up. He walked several paces before turning back to the journalist.

  ‘Because on the night Ben died, a call came through to DSD asking for an exact location on him. We were tracking his movements using the signal from his mobile phone.’

  ‘Christ, Trevor.’

  ‘Yes . . . now you understand why I left DSD.’

  He paused.

  ‘And why I’m helping you. Even though I’m breaking the law.’

  Dunkley spent a long time in silence, studying the rim of his tumbler. The guilt the journalist felt over Kimberley’s death was still a raw wound. He’d sought redemption by pursuing the truth and had been abandoned by everyone. So the admission by Harris had a perverse effect: Dunkley had found a traveller bearing the same burden.

  ‘Well Trev, there’s plenty of blame to go around. The only way we can make it up to Kimberley is to finish the job she started. What’s in those files?’

  Harris’s face lightened. He nodded, moved back to his keyboard and clicked on a Waveform icon.

  ‘Tapes, Harry. Hours of them. This one is from 17 August, 2011.’

  The familiar voice of Australia’s Defence Force Chief sprang out of a pair of Harman Kardon speakers.

  ‘Brent, good news,’ Jack Webster said. ‘There’ll be a story in The Australian soon, one that will blow Paxton out of the water. The Defence Minister is dead.’

  For once Harry Dunkley was early. It was nearly 5pm and he ordered a beer while his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the Kingston Hotel.

  The main bar was near empty, a handful of Sunday afternoon drinkers watching a one-dayer on wall-mounted TV screens.

  From the in-house stereo, Elvis Costello was blasting out ‘Oliver’s Army’ in 4/4, the British songster wailing about being anywhere else but here.

  Here’s to that, Elvis.

  He wasn’t a regular but Dunkley had spent enough hours sinking his wages into pool-and-gin nights to know the Kingo’s back story.

  The hotel had been built more than seventy years ago, and in 1963, it famously hosted a meeting of the thirty-six members of the ALP’s federal conference. Labor’s parliamentary leaders, Arthur Calwell and Gough Whitlam, were photographed cooling their heels in the street, waiting to be told what the party’s election platform would be.

  The trope of the ‘faceless men’ was carved into the political lexicon right here.

  Nursing his schooner, Dunkley moved away from the bar. He’d been told to look for a particular poster. It was in the furthest corner, a quiet nook only occasionally disturbed by a bubble of electronic music from one of ten poker machines.

  The wood-framed print carried the image of a Chinese beauty sitting on a chair. She had an open face and beguiling smile. The strap of a blue evening gown fell off her right shoulder. Her left hand was pulling back her hair. And foregrounded in the alluring scene were three packs of Golf cigarettes.

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t she?’ Bruce Paxton stood captivated by the poster, cradling a long cool glass of amber. ‘Ever since I came to Canberra this has been my local. I always sit right here.’

  ‘G’day, Bruce. It’s pretty old. Bit like this place I suppose.’

  ‘Yep. The owner, Steve, tells me he picked it up in Beijing years ago for a song. Along with all the others.’

  Paxton’s gesture swept the room and Dunkley, for the first time, noticed the common theme of the artwork.

  The MP sat down heavily on a stool. His shirt, a size too small, had one too many buttons undone. His athleticism had faded, but he was still imposing. His right hand carried a hardness that showed a history of manual labour.

  And his gloved prosthetic left hand was a symbol of his wild union past.

  The MP put his elbows on the table with his beer between them as he slapped his right fist into the palm of his left.

  ‘Before we start I need to get something off my chest.’

  ‘You called the meeting, Bruce. Go for it.’

  ‘I always had time for you in the past, but that story you wrote about me and that Chinese money was a stitch-up. I broke no laws and you destroyed me.’

  Dunkley met Paxton’s stare. ‘Bullshit, Bruce. The article was accurate and fair. You knew you were doing the wrong thing, otherwise you wouldn’t have hidden tens of thousands of dollars from the Electoral Commission. Your bad luck was that I tracked down your sidekick Doug Turner and he decided to rat on you.’

  Paxton’s drawl edged up a notch. ‘I was set up, Harry. You know that.’

  ‘Well, that part is true.’ Dunkley drank a generous pull of beer. ‘And if it makes you happy, I was set up too. By the same people. So there you go. As you’d know, Bruce, it’s a big wheel that doesn’t go round twice. And I’ve sunk lower than you.’

  ‘You have, mate. Welcome.’ Paxton smiled and the men clinked their glasses.

  ‘So why did you call me here, Bruce – to revel in my misery?’

  Paxton shook his head.

  ‘Actually, I thought that if there was one bloke who might understand my plight it would be you. I might be on the canvas but I’ve never ducked a fight. Neither have you. And clearly, Harry, you buy some outrageous stories.’

  They laughed, revelling in each other’s misfortune.

  ‘Well, I’ve heard your story, Bruce, and it’s pretty out there.’ Dunkley turned sombre. ‘Have you heard from the Ambassador’s wife?’

  ‘No.’ Paxton glanced at the poster between them. ‘And if she could get in touch she would. Even if it was just to let me know she was okay.’

  Harry lowered his voice. ‘She was special to you . . .’

  ‘She was, mate.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  There was an awkward silence, broken by the ring of a jackpot and the clatter of a small wave of coins spilling into a metal tray.

  ‘Do you have any evidence of these other murders?’ Dunkley was happy to move from difficult emotional terrain to the more familiar ground of facts and questions.

  ‘Only what Mei told me. But I’m sure she was telling the truth. She was terrified.’

  ‘Yeah, that fits with one thing I know. The Japanese are convinced there’s a killer on that compound. I have photos of him. Looks like a nasty piece of work.’

  Dunkley traced the rim of his glass.

  ‘Were you in Cabinet when Bailey gave China the go-ahead to build that compound?’

  ‘No mate, outer Ministry. But I do know that the brass were still whinging about it when I became Defence Minister. Maybe I should have listened to them. I’m changing my views about the threat China poses.’

  ‘Yeah, well I’ve completely changed my view about your fucking defence chiefs. But do you think that Bailey is a threat?’

  ‘Look. I went to China in the ’80s and Bailey was based at the embassy for six months. They tried to recruit me. And. They. Failed.’ Paxton tapped his prosthetic hand three times. ‘But if they tried with me they would have tried with her.’

  Dunkley drained the last of his beer. ‘Have you ever heard of a group of bureaucrats called the Alliance?’

  ‘The Alliance? Sounds like a fucking insurance company. But no, Harry.’

  ‘Well, they were the ones who wanted to kill you off, and to scuttle the gas deal with China. And Bruce, they won.’

  ‘I had no doubt that the brass wanted me gone when I cut their cash. I didn’t think there was a vast conspiracy, though.’

  ‘Well, now it’
s my turn to tell an outrageous story. I think a bunch of mandarins has been interfering repeatedly to shunt the government into the arms of Uncle Sam.

  ‘And this interference went so far as launching a series of cyber-attacks on Australia and making it look as though the Chinese were behind it. They even gave it a 007 code name: the Lusitania Plan.’

  Paxton put his glass down.

  ‘Fuck! Back up, Harry. I know about the Lusitania Plan. It’s an Australian training project, based out of HMAS Harman, a few miles down the road. We wanted to develop the same kind of unit as Cyber Command in the United States. The Lusitania Plan was our test-bed. I ticked it off as Defence Minister. It’s the sort of thing we should be putting our money into. It’s twenty-first-century warfare, not the big ticket bullshit the brass is addicted to.’

  The revelation floored Dunkley.

  ‘Jesus, Bruce, I thought the US was behind this. A nudge to push us back into their tent. But this . . . these attacks . . . you say we had the capability to launch them from Canberra . . .’

  ‘Well, it was the kind of capability we were developing.’

  ‘If it originated here, it would be treason.’

  ‘No, Harry. If they a shot down a prime minister, it would be a coup.’

  The two men fell silent as they pondered the unimaginable. Around them, the hotel bar drifted through the mundane rituals of a Sunday afternoon.

  ‘So what do we know, Bruce? The Chinese are dangerous. The Yanks can’t be trusted. And there are traitors in our ranks.’

  ‘Harry, you know what they say: politics is the womb of war. In this world you need allies. Turns out the enemy of my enemy is my only friend. Perhaps we need to forge an alliance of our own.’

  Dunkley scratched at his ribcage. ‘We ain’t holding many aces, Bruce. Neither of us has much credibility.’

  ‘True that, Harry. But I do have parliamentary privilege and I plan to use it. So, what have you got?’

  ‘Well, Bruce. Turns out that I’ve got tapes. And they tell quite a tale.’

  A broad smile split the MP’s face as he downed his last mouthful of beer. He placed the empty glass on the table, diverting his gaze to the Chinese beauty before fixing his one-time tormentor with firm resolve.

  ‘Well then, Harry. Here’s to the future. Let’s publish. And be damned.’

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Dozens of people volunteered help and advice in the many months that it took to research and write The Mandarin Code. Some wish that assistance to pass unacknowledged. Those who have kindly allowed us to name them here did so on the strict understanding that we would make it clear that they do not endorse any of the book’s contents.

  So, thank you to:

  Dr Hugh White, Professor of Strategic Studies, School of International, Political and Strategic Studies, College of Asia and the Pacific, Australian National University, for his wisdom, guidance and his book The China Choice: Why America Should Share Power (Black Inc, 2013). You should buy it.

  Dr Carl Ungerer, friend, former diplomat, intelligence analyst and adviser to Labor’s foreign minister Bob Carr; currently an adjunct lecturer at Bond University.

  Alastair MacGibbon, former Australian Federal Police agent, now director of the Centre for Internet Safety at the University of Canberra. Alastair was extraordinarily patient and generous, spending hours demystifying cyber-security and internet hacking.

  The chapters on the USS George Washington could not have been written without the expert guidance of Admiral (Ret) Ronald J. (Zap) Zlatoper, a former Commander in Chief of the United States Pacific Fleet. Rear Admiral (Ret) Brian Adams, AO, a former deputy chief of the Royal Australian Navy made many astute corrections to the early draft. Kind advice also came from Admiral (Ret) Chris Barrie AC, a former Chief of the Australian Defence Force, and Rear Admiral (Ret) James Goldrick AO who, among many things in his thirty-eight years in the RAN, commanded the Australian Defence Force Academy.

  A serving US Air Force pilot provided expert guidance to help us write the chapter on flying the B52 out of Guam to the Senkaku Islands. Our American friend selflessly gave several hours of his time in long Skype calls detailing flight procedures for the iconic airframe.

  Patrick Siu was generous in helping the authors understand the beauty of Chinese calligraphy. He is a wonderful artist.

  We would like to particularly thank Amanda O’Connell, our wonderful editor, whose patience and professionalism have made The Mandarin Code a much better read.

  The writing of The Mandarin Code was guided by a number of books. These include:

  The Dismissal: Australia’s most sensational power struggle: the dramatic fall of Gough Whitlam (Angus & Robertson, 1983) by Paul Kelly. Thanks to Paul, too, for kindly allowing us to reproduce a small part of his landmark tome.

  Cyber War: The Next Threat to National Security and What to Do About It (Ecco Press, 2012) by Richard A. Clarke with Robert K. Knake.

  The Party: The Secret World of China’s Communist Rulers (HarperCollins, 2012) by Richard McGregor.

  Party Time: Who Runs China and How (Black Inc, 2013) by Rowan Callick.

  This book already had a fictional head of the US National Security Agency in it (and was all but complete) before the Australian Financial Review’s contributing editor Christopher Joye published his excellent interview with the retired NSA and Cyber Command head, General Keith Alexander, on May 8, 2014. But it proved, again, that some facts are stranger than fiction and we borrowed liberally from it.

  Finally, we want to thank all those politicians, staffers, senior bureaucrats, members of the defence force and intelligence agencies, both here and in the United States, who enthusiastically offered ideas, stories and advice. Alas, many of you have begged to remain anonymous. But you know who you are.

  More importantly, we know who you are.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  STEVE LEWIS arrived in Canberra in late 1992 and spent more than two decades tormenting the nation’s political elite. He worked for the Australian Financial Review, The Australian and News Corp’s big-selling metropolitan dailies. He currently works as a senior consultant with Newgate Communications. He is co-author, with Chris Uhlmann, of the best-selling The Marmalade Files and also works as a freelance journalist.

  CHRIS UHLMANN is a Walkley Award winning journalist and one of Australia’s best known and most respected political broadcasters. His career in reporting began at the Canberra Times in 1989, after failed stints as a student priest, storeman and packer and security guard. He was editor of the Canberra Weekly before joining the ABC in 1998. As political editor for ABC TV, and now host of ABC radio’s flagship current affairs program AM, he has earned a reputation for his fearless pursuit of the nation’s politicians.

  PRAISE FOR THE MARMALADE FILES

  ‘Seasoned political journalists Steve Lewis and Chris Uhlmann have come up with a satirical political thriller designed to tell a ripping yarn at the same time as it confronts issues to do with power and leadership, our relations with China and the United States, and the changing face of the media and political reporting’

  Canberra Times

  ‘The book opens on a freezing morning after the 2011 press gallery midwinter ball, with world-weary journalist Harry Dunkley chasing a lead for a cracking yarn. It goes haywire from there to Beijing, Washington and back to Canberra, with no sacred cow left unmilked, no media outlet untainted and no character unbesmirched’

  Australian Financial Review

  ‘Both authors are heavy hitters in the political scene yet scrupulously insist that their book is all harmless fiction. You’ve got to hope so. Imagine if these clowns and schemers really were running our country?’

  Australian Women’s Weekly

  ‘The Monument Men went to war on cultural barbarians whereas the Marmalade Men target political barbarians. Much more fun’

  Phillip Adams

  ‘It’s definitely fun. It’s got sex, it’s got politics, it’s got spooks, it’s got a tran
svestite disco. I table The Marmalade Files and commend it to the honourable members of The Australian’s readership’

  The Australian

  ‘The book’s blurb says it’s a romp through “the dark underbelly of politics” and for once the blurb doesn’t lie . . . the result is The Marmalade Files, a banquet of bastardry’

  Daily Telegraph

  ‘The novel is regularly hilarious, inserting much fiction into a perfectly factual Canberra setting . . . and teases unmercifully the readers’ perceptions of Australian politics and the secret world’

  National Times

  ‘It is indeed a romp – often hilarious and always great fun’

  Weekend Gold Coast Bulletin

  BACK AD

  An imaginative romp through the dark underbelly of politics by two veteran Canberra insiders.

  When seasoned newshound Harry Dunkley is slipped a compromising photograph one frosty Canberra dawn he knows he’s onto something big. In pursuit of the scoop, Dunkley must negotiate the deadly corridors of power where the minority Toohey Government hangs by a thread - its stricken Foreign Minister on life support, her heart maintained by a single thought. Revenge.

  Rabid Rottweilers prowl in the guise of Opposition senators, union thugs wage class warfare, TV anchors simper and fawn . . . and loyalty and decency have long since given way to compromise and treachery.

  From the teahouses of Beijing to the beaches of Bali, from the marbled halls of Washington to the basements of the bureaucracy, Dunkley’s quest takes him ever closer to the truth - and ever deeper into a lethal political game.

  Award-winning journalists Steve Lewis and Chris Uhlmann combine forces in this arresting novel that proves fiction is stranger than fact.

  Click here to buy The Marmalade Files.

  COPYRIGHT

  Like all works of fiction, this story was inspired by events in the real world, but it is a work of fiction and none of the main characters in this book really exists and, more importantly, none of the acts attributed to these fictional characters ever took place. So please do not interpret anything that happens in this book as a real event that actually happened or that involved any person in the real world (whether living or now deceased).