It's Personal

by Philip Bond

  “Suits me.”

  *

  She is dismayed; it’s a treasury proposal for a new tax levy destined to reduce the federal government’s foreign debt.

  “How does he get this stuff?”

  Straight to the Top

  The door opens; the prime minister, his political adviser and press secretary enter. The camera is ready as the PM gives pace to the proceedings… “We better get started, Harry.”

  “Okay, you guys ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Undaunted by the occasion, Harry fires… “Prime Minister, we read in the papers and see on the television what the media believes to be the issues, but what are they for you?”

  “Well, Harry,” Pullman stands to Harry’s side in the PM’s frontal field of view, providing visual prompts where necessary… “The pressing issues facing us are our future in the Asian Pacific region, our competitiveness with world economies and getting all Australians working. In short, getting the right economic mix for the next century.”

  “Prime Minister, picking up on that, I am going to focus on just five topics. Firstly, foreign affairs; does the proposition of a near neighbour embarking upon a major program involving nuclear energy concern you?”

  “I take it you are referring to Indonesia?”

  “Correct.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “We have good relations with the Indonesian government and they have been speaking about the program now for twelve months. We have been offering advice and guidance for the same period. We are totally satisfied the program is to address the energy needs Indonesia requires as part of their industrialisation.”

  “Prime Minister, every country that starts a nuclear program says it is always for peaceful purposes. Name one country that has not gone on to develop a nuclear weapon?”

  “Australia!”

  She forgot the obvious, however, the professional makes it look as the segue to the next question… “What are the circumstances, prime minister, under which this country would embark on a similar program?”

  “Australia has excellent relations with many nuclear powers. The cost of such a program is prohibitive for us, as it is for our northern neighbours.”

  “Does Indonesia’s building of nuclear reactors on known geographical faults concern you?”

  “We are assured by the Indonesians that before construction of a facility commences, sufficient design work will take place to ensure the facility withstands the shocks associated with a seismic event.”

  “That answer indicates it does concern you?”

  “Well yes, it’s one of the topics of discussions we had with their people.”

  Trevor signals a time check.

  “Prime minister, I would like to keep off shore for a little while and turn our trade policy. How do you answer the critics from the farming sector, regarding your efforts to halt the damaging US trade enhancement scheme?”

  “We’ve made strong representations to the officials in Washington and they have assured us they are targeting the European community, but you see it comes down to our competitiveness. Production costs must come down to allow our farmers to market competitively regardless of the subsidies others are paid.”

  “What further can be done?”

  “We are constantly exploring new trading methods and opportunities.” Pullman seems to be prompting through a series of rehearsed signals… “The road’s hard but we have been here for two hundred years, it’s always been rugged and it always will be so. We learn, adapt and get better.”

  “Prime minister, coming on shore now, I would like to look at immigration, what provisions will be made for the five boats that are apparently on the way down to Australia from Indonesia?”

  “I would not know about five. There are some boats, but I don’t know the number.”

  The PM’s a seasoned politician; in studying his style, the only concession he gives to having any unease during interviews are pointing a finger onto a desk, shifting in a seat, jerking body movements prior to answering and subtle eye movements.

  “I do, prime minister, I have it from a cabinet briefing paper put together by the Defence Force and Customs.”

  “Regardless of the number,” the PM shifts in his seat… “We’re part of the Asian region and many people in difficult circumstances in poor countries try various methods to improve their lot. Travelling to another country to start again is one, and going by boat is the current fashion. We’re in the process of establishing official representation in that country in the hope we can bring some order to the immigration question.”

  “Prime minister,” Harry remains motionless… “What is your government’s response to the reports when illegals land in Indonesia, they are given water, some food and maps on how to get to Australia then towed out to sea?”

  “Those stories are just that, stories. Indonesia doesn’t have an official policy supporting these stories but no doubt, like Australia, there are persons who have strong opinions regarding immigration and boat people. I’m in no doubt this could happen at a low bureaucratic level.”

  “Prime minister, can we now move to the economy? Firstly, foreign debt, can you tell me about the proposal before cabinet to introduce a tax levy specifically to pay off foreign debt?”

  The PM flinches… “We ahh,” he plans to announce this policy until well after the election… “We are considering levy similar to that for Medibank, going directly towards debt retirement.”

  “So, you are asking the electorate to trust a politician with a new tax?”

  “Well yes, you see,” he shifts in his seat again… “It’s specifically for debt retirement, nothing else, the legislation will see to that.”

  “Prime minister, who makes legislation?”

  “The Parliament.”

  “Politicians?”

  “Ahh, well yes.” His facial expression betrays unease.

  “The question bears repeating, prime minister, you are asking the electorate to trust a politician with a new tax?”

  “Yes,” the PM’s unable to restrain himself; his hands begin moving in emphasis to words. Pullman flinches… “Foreign debt is something, as Australians, we all share. It’s a sound way of tackling the problem and I must point out, when the problem disappears, so, too, does the tax. That will be enshrined in the legislation.”

  “What does your government intend to do to reduce the huge social security burden the Australian taxpayer has to endure?”

  “Create jobs,” while sizing both hands.

  “Something more substantial than tree planting or community service work?”

  “Yes, we have announced a water resources policy that’s intended to cover the water supply problem for rural Australia, as well as, creating substantial job opportunities during construction and in the commercial aftermath. This will be the first time any Australian government has addressed the water resource problem in the arid regions of Australia.”

  She leads him to water, but can she make him drink… “Prime minister, looking at social issues, what do you see as the biggest social problem facing Australia?”

  Pullman alters his stance as the PM responds… “Drugs and the crime associated with its presence.”

  Now for the show stopper… “What would you do, prime minister,” opportunity is appropriate… “if I told you, a large shipment of illegal drugs is due into Australia very shortly?”

  Deliberately, she turns to see Pullman’s face; he freezes as the prime minister answers… “Harry, if you know something the Australia Federal Police do not, then we better get you talking with them. I personally would want to do all that is possible to remove the low-life types who peddle this stuff, and I am in favour of severe penalties for those involved with the importation and distribution of the stuff.”

  “As you know, prime minister, I am investigating a story concerning drugs. I can tell you, it is my belief a major shipment is due into Australia any day now.”


  Again, she deliberately tosses a quick glance to Pullman; his face is white… “And if I am right, those who are participating in the importation are powerful and dangerous.”

  “Well, Harry, it’s important you talk to the right people, so we can apprehend the culprits.”

  “That is just it, prime minister, who are the right people? Anyway, I would like to thank you for your time.”

  “It’s a pleasure.”

  The cameraman calls it… “That’s a wrap.”

  The prime minister leans forward to Harry… “Harry, if you have any information the authorities do not, share it please for all of our sakes.”

  She notices Pullman coming around behind the PM… “That’ll be taken care of, thanks again, prime minister.”

  The Prime Minister adds… “There’s a reception this evening here at the house for a visiting Chinese delegation. I’ll get an invitation over to your station this afternoon, make it and we will talk?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  *

  Phillip’s on hands-free to Wellington and Harry… “We’ll slot it into the current affairs program. It’ll rate its pants off. We’ve started the promo’s already.”

  Wellington’s ecstatic… “That is good work, Harry, you not only covered my story, but you are to be congratulated for introducing your drug story into the political agenda. Well done, whatever I can do to help, ask.”

  The receptionist brings an envelope into the office… “Harry, this just arrived at the reception for you.”

  “Thanks,” tearing it open… “Wow, it’s the invitation to the Parliament House reception at 6:30 tonight. It’s almost four thirty, I’d better do something about getting ready.”

  The hands free announces… “Enjoy yourself, Harry, you have earned it. I have to go so I will say bye.”

  “Bye, Phillip.”

  Wellington hangs up… “Use the reception to its advantage, make contacts, identify people and listen. You will enjoy the opportunity.”

  Now she is following her story with Wellington’s full support. Tonight’s reception would hopefully be a smorgasbord of opportunities.

  Harry is invincible.

  *

  The taxi pulls up at the entrance; she bounds out, making her way into the reception.

  The hall is large and full of people all talking at the same time. Looking around, she realises she is just one notable in a room of notables.

  Time for Harry to mingle.

  Seeing an army uniform, she notices the wearer looking at her. He strides over… “Hello, Harry, my name is Andrew Horne. We do not know each other, but I just had to tell you that, like thousands of Australians, I have seen your work and unlike most television journalists, your reports are news and not self-promotion.”

  “Thank you, Andrew. You’re obviously military, what do you do?”

  “I’m in planning.”

  “How interesting.”

  “I love your story on the boat people and using the PM’s comments to catch the Indonesian ambassador out. It was marvellous.”

  “Andrew, wasn’t it?” He strides over… “What can you add to what the prime minister said and the response by the Indonesian ambassador?”

  “I have some knowledge on the subject, and what the PM said is correct. The ambassador was beautifully caught out. I mean there is a great deal of truth in the fact Indonesia has an unofficial policy of assisting the boat people to Australia. The whole of northern Australia is wide open for all sorts of things.”

  “What things?”

  “Illegal immigration is only part the problem. Smuggling, both in and out, are the real worry.”

  “The whole of the north is peppered with old wartime airstrips. It’s possible to fly planes both in and out of Australia totally undetected. It’s estimated huge quantities of illicit drugs come into the country that way. Maybe the drugs in the story you are doing arrive that way. We need a concerted program involving surveillance, intelligence gathering and an interception capability. We need publicity campaign to get the government to perceive the need. Take my card and call me at a suitable time, and I will be happy to give you any background information, off the record. I am so glad I could meet you. Call me.”

  As he melts into the crowd, another person moves closer… “Harry Reisner, my name is Alexander Sutcliffe. I could not help noticing you here and I am delighted; at last, we have some class in the Canberra press gallery.”

  Turning her head to locate the person speaking the words, she sees a slightly balding chubby man, possibly in his late forties, only just taller than her.

  “Alexander, hello; what makes you notice a difference in the membership of the press gallery?”

  “I’m first assistant secretary in the immigration portfolio. I’m intrigued with your story on immigration and drugs in Newcastle. Off the record, I have felt for a long time there was something fishy with the program. I have never liked the way it’s put together, too much political interference. The program is administered out of his office, you know.”

  His breath smells strongly of alcohol… “Whose office?”

  “The minister’s!”

  “Samuel Duffield?”

  The smelly first assistant secretary has her complete attention… “None other.”

  “What is the relationship between Lloyd Sanders from the American embassy and Duffield?”

  The bureaucrat’s facial expression changes dramatically… “How much do you know about him?”

  “I know he’s CIA, and I know there is a connection between both. What can you add?” She senses discomfort… “I didn’t know if the two knew each other, however, your body language confirms it. I need more; it’s important. How often would Duffield meet with Sanders?”

  Sutcliffe is now very nervous… “It’s dangerous to talk here. I can’t answer any of your questions, sorry.”

  The room’s full of people, most into their third drink, heading towards the tenth and all talking at once. Waiters weave their way through the throng as Canberra’s elite blatantly networks. Harry and Alexander are just two among two hundred… “You have the information I need. It will be off the record, no attribution to your department. I need to know where to look and what questions to ask of the right people. Help me Alexander, please?”

  “Look, you know who Sanders is, therefore, you know why I can’t talk about him here. It’s dangerous.”

  This links all the parties to the drugs; she’s determined to cement it in concrete… “I’m keen to know why you know Sanders and why a senior public servant is scared of him and how did Sanders and Duffield become involved? Alexander, why don’t we get out of here and talk?”

  He eases somewhat… “Maybe somewhere quiet.”

  This is not Harry’s town… “Suggest somewhere?”

  “Okay, but we must leave separately. Maybe we can meet in around forty minutes in the bar at the Pavilion Hotel.”

  *

  Getting a cab from Parliament House is easier said than done. The delay’s twenty minutes. Harry’s concerned Alexander will go cold.

  Finally, the cab arrives for the short distance to the hotel.

  Once inside, she looks around at the nearly packed bar, thankfully seeing Alexander off in the corner. He makes room for her at the table.

  “Sorry for the delay Alexander, I thought I might not see you.”

  “I thought twice about it but know there’s a greater good to be gained from talking to you, off the record.”

  “Agreed.” Few in this town agree to attribution.

  He’s fidgety… “This place is too public for my liking,” tossing glances over his shoulder… “There’s a little restaurant not far away where we can talk in private.”

  Another taxi ride, albeit short.

  Opening the door, she looks up at the name… “Is this it, the Graphix Restaurant?”

  “Yes, I hope you will like it.”

  The evening is early, and the restaurant is small and almost em
pty. The owner steers them towards a suitable table in a corner and hands each a menu.

  “Any pre-dinner drinks?”

  Alexander imbibes… “We’ll have a bottle of white burgundy thanks.”

  Keen to get on with business… “Alexander,” launching into it… “I want to restate, this is off the record and no mention of you or your department will be used.”

  “That’s a prerequisite.”

  Situated on the first floor of a shopping centre, the walls are tastefully covered with prints from a graphic arts studio… “Alexander, I did a story exposing a drug distribution racket in Newcastle. I’m following leads into Canberra. There’s a larger story involved. I need your help; if you have any information, please tell me.”

  “As a senior public servant, I take my job very seriously. My role is to administer the politicians’ immigration programs. Scope for any illegal activities is limited. The scope for political abuse of the process is wide open and happening. I believe that abuse is illegally motivated and offers great physical harm to anyone who interrupts the process, which may have already occurred.”

  The waiter delivers their bottle of wine with a plate of warm bread.

  Internally, the restaurant has two levels with the lower containing the bar, kitchen and some tables, the upper slightly larger, accommodating only tables. Ignoring the waiter, she jumps in quickly in case his feet go cold… “Does the name Graeme Neate mean anything to you?”

  He flinches… “Yes, for two reasons.” Then uncorks his vessel of knowledge… “Firstly, I saw your television report that night after you were forced off the road but also, he’s the union delegate at several meetings with Duffield during the planning phases of the immigration program.”

  Bingo!" She can’t help herself… “That links them.”

  The exclamation startles Alexander… “Pardon?”

  “Sorry, Alexander; what problems did Duffield bring to the immigration program?”

  “Where to begin? The significant problem is approvals. He would insist upon final approval also; he would reinstate applicants that were clearly quite unacceptable to normal departmental guidelines.”

  “What is an example?”

  “Applicants with criminal links, nothing so stupid as a criminal record but applicants who come under police suspicion. All the time, Sanders would drop by his official title is immigration attaché you know.”