Deceit

by Richard Evans

  ‘What does Gerrard want to do now?’

  ‘He wants the community bonus he announced yesterday through both houses of parliament so he can release the funds to the punters before Christmas. He thinks the cash should flow to voters so they’ll remember him at Christmas lunch. The man has no ethics.’

  ‘What are you going to do about it?

  ‘We’ll pass it, but that’s it. Politically we’d be stupid not to because the punters will hate us if we don’t. We won’t pass anything else though, which will probably include your immigration centre money for Indonesia.’

  ‘So you’re not expecting the Immigration Bill to hit the house until February, even though it’s on the notice paper?’

  ‘If it does, we won’t vote for it. We support it, but this is not a time for the government to be ramming legislation through. Jeezus, do they have no respect?’ Barton looked out the window. ‘We have the numbers now, and they would be mad to try it on when they know it could cost them government if we vote against them.’

  ‘Yes, but surely you can’t use your numbers given the circumstances?’

  ‘We are politically obliged not to cause a fuss, so we probably won’t if they don’t bring anything contentious into the house. But, if we need to use them, we will.’ Barton turned and looked at Anita as she pondered her notes. ‘I really don’t want to be here.’

  Finally, Anita looked up and asked, ‘Dinner, tonight?’ ‘

  Seriously?’

  ‘What?’ She smiled demurely. ‘Have you lost interest?’

  Andrew Gerrard had completed his prime ministerial duties and separated himself from the international dignitaries, and was standing outside by the entrance of the parliament saying his final goodbyes and thankyous to the guests. Many of the world leaders would promptly head back to their own countries, their planes waiting at Canberra airport for immediate take-off. Others would head to their embassy compound, the short visit a necessary inconvenience. The modern world meant nation states had to be seen to engage with and support one another, especially during times of national mourning. Other leaders would take the opportunity to follow up on various projects under discussion with the Australian government, and perhaps visit expatriate communities, which was always recommended when travelling on taxpayer-funded trips abroad, and good media was always a bonus.

  As Amir Surriento held out his soft, bejewelled hand, Gerrard drew him close and thanked him warmly for his support, just days after he had flown back from his official visit. He then quietly put a proposition to him. ‘My friend, rather than head back to the embassy, I wonder if you can have your driver bring you to the prime ministerial entrance so we can have a private discussion. I have something to put to you.’

  ‘Ah Andrew, you’re not getting cold feet, are you?’

  Gerrard nervously looked about to see if anyone was listening. ‘No, but I have a proposition for you.’ Surriento tried to read his friend and understood he might have to delay his flight so he could conclude his business with the prime minister. ‘I shall be more than happy to spend a few moments with you to discuss affairs of state.’

  ‘I shall see you very soon.’

  Gerrard left his friend in the hands of the protocol officers and the Indonesian security team. The Australian protective unit had their own team of beefy federal police officers, distinguishable by a little plastic cord attached to their left ear and a platypus badge – their unit symbol – on the lapels of their bulky jackets.

  Gerrard decided to go out onto the forecourt and wave to the crowd that had gathered for the service, which had been broadcast on large digital screens. He had received death threats in the past, and the protection unit had increased their numbers, but they kept their distance, looking like nonchalant parliamentary staff. Although Gerrard believed the community loved him, the election results over the years were getting closer and there was a growing mood for change. While some in the crowd cheered, there were louder boos, and Gerrard quickly withdrew – he knew how quickly crowds could become loathsome if provoked, and he didn’t want that on national television.

  The prime minister was ushered back through the security point, and began his extended walk to his office at the rear of the building. He passed Aussies cafe and stopped to say a brief hello to a table of journalists; they spoke directly to the voters, after all. Gerrard did his fair share of schmoozing with most journos within the Canberra press gallery, knowing his career and the good press he received depended on these relationships and the manner in which he shared stories and exclusives. Likewise, the journalists knew that to maintain their own individual access to the prime minister, and thus the government, they also had to play the schmoozing game, although no-one liked it.

  Gerrard quickly crossed the parquetry floors, passing the black marble fountain directly below the towering flagpole, which sat at the highest point of the parliament. It was an impressive space and Parliament House had been designed to allow the glass corridors connecting each chamber to open out into the magnificent atrium, directly behind the Great Hall.

  He walked past the newspaper library and into the broad corridor leading to his office suite, the blue-grey carpet softening his approaching footsteps as he passed the heavy security doors. A wave to the security guard behind the thickened glass at the entrance to his office foyer, and he was back in his second home. He crossed to the doors that opened onto the prime minister’s courtyard. This space was the most recognisable in parliament: it was where Keating first took questions, and Prime Minister Rudd was drawn to tears as he announced his resignation.

  As he stepped outside, Surriento’s black limousine drew to a halt and Gerrard opened the back door.

  ‘Welcome, my friend.’

  ‘Andrew, you are the perfect host,’ President Surriento said, impressed by Gerrard’s timing and his willingness to open the door.

  ‘Come, let’s have a brandy, or are you dry today?’

  ‘I am not seeing any of my people, so a brandy would be a welcome treat.’

  ‘This is the problem with some of you, Amir, I can never tell when you are being a devout Muslim and when you are not.’ Gerrard draped his arm over his shorter friend’s shoulder and led him inside.

  The two leaders turned into the prime minister’s formal office suite and Gerrard closed the door, urged the president to sit and picked out an Asbach Uralt, his special occasion brandy, pouring two generous splashes into balloons. Gerrard then joined his colleague on the leather lounge.

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘May your life be full of grace.’

  Gerrard rolled the liquid and sniffed deeply from the balloon, the aroma enticing his senses. It helped focus his mind after the solemnity of the previous two hours, which had stifled his usual enthusiasm. ‘The Germans sure know their brandies.’

  ‘Yes, but they know little else,’ Surriento laughed, and Gerrard heartily joined him.

  The biggest diplomatic challenge Australia and Indonesia faced was the smuggling of desperate people seeking new lives: non-Indonesian nationals, engaging non-Indonesian criminals to secure them passage to the Australian mainland or a handy island on flimsy Indonesian fishing boats built for bays not open seas, often sinking with tragic drownings. But neither man was too concerned about this at the moment.

  ‘So, what can I do for you, my friend?’ Surriento had a plane to catch and wanted to get beyond the pleasantries.

  Gerrard took another sip of brandy to steady his anxiety. ‘I have thought about your nation’s need for funds for these immigration centres.’

  ‘It is not my need, it is your need to stop the boats. We are willing to help, but you must pay.’

  ‘When do you think we could begin construction?’

  ‘As I have already told you, this will depend on many things.’ The president’s friend was good company, but he needed to get back to Indonesia for important meetings scheduled for the following morning. ‘You have just had a remembrance for your colleagues, so I am not ant
icipating you getting money to us before the end of the year.’

  ‘I am opening the parliament next week.’

  The president shook his head slightly. ‘You never cease to amaze me, you and your crazy rituals. Eight dead and you are back to work. If it was in my country, we would be in mourning for weeks.’ Surriento sniffed at his swirling brandy. ‘This brandy is very good. Now tell me, Andrew, what’s on your mind?’

  ‘If I were to approve the money for you next week, how long would it then take to start construction?’

  ‘I should think we could turn soil in February, so long as the money is with us before March.’

  ‘Not good enough.’ Gerrard came to the edge of the lounge. ‘I need to see site works begin before the end of next week, perhaps even earlier.’

  ‘Anything is possible, but why the rush?’

  ‘Can we get a few signs staked out? Push a tree over perhaps, have your media photograph and interview your works minister digging a hole with my ambassador?’

  ‘I suppose I can manage a sign, but you must tell me why the urgency? We had a plan for February, so why change it? What’s the rush?’

  ‘If I release funds to you next week, then I must be able to show my people that you are serious about doing the work on time, and on budget.’

  ‘How much will you be releasing?’ Surriento sniffed his brandy again and took a small sip to entice his tastebuds.

  ‘Four billion, the entire amount.’

  Surriento began to cough. ‘The entire amount, but why are you changing our plan? We agreed on four payments over three years. You now don’t expect those drug smugglers to be released as well, do you?’

  ‘I am announcing my intention to retire next week so a by-election can be held in my seat at the same time as the others are scheduled.’ Gerrard eased back into the lounge, more relaxed now he had acknowledged his retirement for the first time; there could be no going back now. ‘Margaret and I are moving to Europe a little earlier than planned.’

  ‘That is wonderful news, congratulations. You have had a great and worthy career and Australia will always be in your debt.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I want more than just being considered a worthy leader, and I’d rather have no debt owed.’ Gerrard knew his friend would appreciate his frankness. ‘So, in return for releasing the money next week, I want a larger clip of the ticket.’

  ‘What do you have in mind?’

  ‘I don’t want to be greedy, so I think a one per cent clip is fair and reasonable.’

  ‘That is no problem, but of course, with the amount now four billion, you will need to add an additional forty million dollars to the cash transfer to cover your commission.’ Surriento placed his brandy on the coffee table before him. ‘The problem will be getting such a large amount to you without anyone finding out. I will need to pass it through various accounts if we are to ensure it is not traced to me.’

  ‘I want it transferred to a Swiss bank account the same day you get it.’ Gerrard knew he had to set the rules with Surriento otherwise the whole plan would collapse.

  ‘That is not as easy as you think, my friend.’

  ‘Amir, you know I know this can be done, so stop the bullshit.’

  ‘I will need an Indonesian company to make it happen. So, to set that up for you, I will need twenty per cent of your share.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Amir, eight million? You are no doubt taking a fair share of the capital, so why do you want part of mine as well?’

  ‘You need a financial stake in the game my friend, and I want you to pay a fair share for the work I will do for you. Of course, I also want to maximise my own personal opportunities. The other money pays for my structures.’

  ‘Twenty per cent? Not ten?’ Gerrard knew he would have to pay. The two sat quietly, looking at each other.

  ‘You either want it, or you don’t.’ Surriento sniffed his brandy, the exotic aroma intoxicating his senses. ‘I don’t need the money until March, so if you want it now, make it happen.’

  Silence fell between the men, and Gerrard heard a bird call from a tree in the courtyard, a leaf blower buzz somewhere in the distance. Gerrard stood and slowly paced the floor to the large window and gazed out upon his courtyard, glass in hand, gnawing at his lower lip.

  ‘Okay, but I want you to do all the work. I don’t want to have any paper trail back to me.’

  ‘You get me the bank account details, and I will set it all up. No-one will ever know you are involved.’

  ‘All right, I’ll have the legislation through parliament next week so we can transfer the four billion toward the end of the week, maybe even before. It’s then up to you, but you must reassure me that works will begin before the end of next week.’

  ‘Why is this so important to you?’

  ‘The deaths of my colleagues have put the wind up me a bit.’ Gerrard sat beside the president. ‘I have by-elections in February, and there is no guarantee I can win the seats I need. I could lose government. If that’s the case, I’m stuffed, and will retire with nothing except the pension.’

  ‘All will be okay, Andrew. Stop worrying, you are doing the smart thing.’

  ‘I need photographs of the site works for the campaign. Plus, it will help alleviate any media doubt about the money if you can get something to me before Wednesday – that would be very helpful.’

  ‘It will be done, my friend.’ Surriento finished his brandy. ‘Thanks, Amir.’

  ‘I have a plane to catch.’ They stood, shook hands, embraced self-consciously, and the president left to his waiting car, eight million dollars richer.

  The prime minister of Australia waved him off and smiled, having secured his own financial future in Europe, with a slightly more generous payout than previous prime ministers on retirement. Gerrard couldn’t resist a small fist-pump as he glimpsed his reflection in a window.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FRIDAY 8.00 PM

  Gordon O’Brien’s office had been busy with parliamentary and government staff coming and going throughout the day as they worked to manage the flow of heads of government and other dignitaries through the parliament. The speaker wanted to ensure all protocols were met, and engaged the clerk’s resources to manage transport and security. It was vitally important to verify that each head of state left at the appointed time, and in protocol order, so as to not diminish their status among other heads of state. It would have been highly inappropriate for a national leader without very much international standing to leave before a significant world leader. This was enormously stressful for staff as they ensured egos were soothed and traffic was managed smoothly. No international incidents today; not on Gordon’s watch.

  As the demanding day came to an end and staff began to drift away to their homes for the weekend, Gordon sat talking with his trusted colleagues. The phone rang, and he punched the speaker button.

  ‘Hello, O’Brien speaking.’

  ‘Hi Gordon, it’s Zara here. Well done today.’

  ‘Thank you, Speaker, were you satisfied with the day?’

  ‘Yes, very happy. I thought the service was appropriate and solemn enough for the occasion, so well done. Please thank your staff for me, the feedback has been terrific.’

  ‘I will.’

  Zara didn’t respond immediately, sighed and then cleared her throat to speak. ‘Gordon, I have had the prime minister’s office contact me and they want changes to the program next week.’

  ‘Oh yes, like what?’

  ‘They want to add further monies to the Supply Bill.’

  ‘Well it’s already in the parliament and second reading speeches are done; it’s about to go to the senate for approval. The public service will need to get their money, so we can’t have any further delays if we are to maintain government.’

  ‘The prime minister would like to add the stimulus package he announced yesterday. He wants to be certain the funds get to the electorate before Christmas.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he just draw u
p separate appropriation legislation so it is not tied to the monies already approved?’

  ‘It seems there are some issues with the prime minister’s office in doing that, so they have requested the additional six billion be added to the current Supply Bill legislation on the notice paper.’

  Gordon’s staff sat quietly listening and pulled faces of bafflement, shaking heads over what they were hearing.

  ‘Speaker, I have to say it seems highly irregular, not to mention cumbersome. The government Supply Bill has completed debate and is ready to go to the senate; we really should not be amending it.’ Gordon gnawed his lip before adding, ‘The prime minister announced the stimulus funds only yesterday, so it really should go through the parliament on its own merits, and then it can be properly considered by the parliament. This is not an appropriate way to manage such huge amounts of public money.’

  ‘The prime minister would like the stimulus cash for the electorate made available as soon as possible, and he has suggested he may add other funds. The prime minister’s office has asked if we could accommodate their request within the Supply Bill so as not to make a fuss.’

  ‘What other funds?’ Gordon sat forward on his chair and looked quizzically at his surprised staff.

  ‘I am not at liberty to say at this point.’

  ‘The opposition has already agreed in principle to the stimulus cash splash for the community, so I’m not sure they will agree to adding more funds to the Supply Bill. The second reading has been completed and is due for a third reading in the house on Monday morning, so unless the government withdraws it, it will have to go to the senate as it is.’

  ‘The prime minister wants the stimulus package through parliament before the end of the week.’

  ‘He can still get it through in a totally separate Appropriation Bill, why does he need to add it to the current Supply Bill? It makes no sense.’

  Zara raised her voice. ‘Gordon, it seems you are not listening to me. The prime minister wants to have the amended bill through the parliament with the added expenditure without withdrawing it.’