‘He hates O’Brien.’
‘Why else would he want them all in the chamber?’
‘If I know Gerrard, he’d prefer a five-minute valedictory for O’Brien with no-one in the chamber.’ Anita was working through some creative options. ‘No, I think it’s something else.’
‘Forget it, this is crap. Why didn’t the wanker just put it in the mail?’ Cleaver left Anita still contemplating the note.
‘Any idea who sent it to you?’ Craig asked.
‘Nope, none. I’m not so sure I share Cleaver’s lack of enthusiasm; although it does seem like it could be a bit of a beat-up.’ Her phone buzzed with a message.
FANCY A COFFEE?
When she arrived at Aussies Cafe there was already a crowd after question time. She saw Barton, smiled and went to order a coffee. The baristas were moving through the queue quickly, and within moments she was sitting with her coffee waiting for Barton to speak.
‘You look different somehow. What have you been up to?’
‘You know I’m chasing this immigration detention story.’ Anita took a sip of her coffee. ‘Well, I’ve had some strange information fall into my lap.’
‘Ah, another leak, eh? This place is like a sieve. What have you got?’ ‘A cabinet minute document.’ Anita spooned froth into her mouth. Barton jumped, glanced over his shoulder to check who might be listening. ‘You have what? From when? What does it say?’
‘Last week, and not much.’
‘Can I have a look at it?’
Anita slowly shook her head.
‘Okay, can you at least tell me about it?’
‘No. I think I have a story, but I don’t know what it is.’
‘How did you get it?’
‘That’s the strange part. I got it at the movies, stuck under a seat in the cinema where A Star Is Born is playing. Hey, I wonder if that’s a clue?’
‘Sounds a little weird to me. Why not just mail it to you?’
‘Maybe it’s urgent. You know how unreliable the mail is in the press gallery. But the secrecy has got me thinking I may be missing something, and it could be bigger than I imagine.’ Anita sipped her coffee. ‘How was question time? Anything exciting happen?’
‘The house is all a bit too solemn at the moment, plus we’ve been bound by an agreement to behave.’
‘I was going to ask you about that. How come?’
‘Harper was stitched up by Gerrard this morning at a breakfast. It seems he wants us all to be on our best behaviour this week.’
‘Gerrard doesn’t do anything for the common good; he wants you compliant for a reason.’
‘I know he’s a self-interested twat, but this week there’s only the stimulus package and a couple of other pieces of bipartisan legislation going through the house. There’s nothing controversial happening at all.’
‘My source says I should follow the money.’
‘What money? The only money is the stimulus package going to the taxpayers. How’re you going to spend yours?’
‘On getting fatter, I suppose.’ Anita laughed. ‘Or I might get a new pair of sneakers.’
‘I’ll spend mine on a case of good wine. Shall I get white or red?’ Barton smiled and cocked his eyebrow hopefully.
‘Nice try.’ Anita replied playfully. ‘Why would I be asked to follow the money if there’s none to follow?’
‘O’Brien thinks there is,’ Barton offered.
‘What do you mean?’
‘O’Brien thinks there’s something brewing in the government. He’s worried about the extra time scheduled for the bill when it comes back to the house on Thursday. Thinks it’s unnecessary, and he could be right – it’s a simple matter of assent. He thinks it might mean the government’s being shifty. I spoke to Meredith Bruce about it, and she assured me there’s nothing to be concerned about. She had a request from the prime minister apparently, so he could speak again and tell us how generous he is.’
‘According to my source document, he wants the entire ministry in the house on Thursday.’
‘Why?’ Messenger spooned himself froth from his coffee. ‘I would have thought he’d let them go early, since it’s only valedictories.’
‘But why would he insist on you blokes behaving this week?’
‘He doesn’t have the numbers, so it can’t have anything to do with a vote. It wouldn’t be about the clerk, and it’s not valedictories, so it has to be an announcement of some kind.’
They sat and sipped their coffee, pondering what it might mean.
‘O’Brien suspects there could be an amendment to the money bill to add more funds for the Indonesians.’ Barton broke the silence.
‘What?’
‘The immigration detention money, which is now scheduled for February. O’Brien is of the view there was a push to have it approved by the parliament this week.’
‘Is that even possible?’
‘We’ve already approved it. It was in the budget and it’s due next year anyway, so it’s not controversial. Even if it did come in, we really wouldn’t have trouble with it.’ Barton finished his coffee. ‘I told him we would need to consider it in detail and if it was pushed through this week by the government, we would reject it.’
‘You can’t force any divisions, remember.’ Anita flicked open her note pad, pulled a pen from her ponytail, and began to take notes. ‘So, why is O’Brien concerned?’
‘He thinks if it was in the legislation with the stimulus package it wouldn’t have been scrutinised as it should be. I told him to stop worrying and enjoy his last few days because it’s not in the stimulus legislation. Anyway, the senate can’t amend a money bill.’
‘Who says so?’ Anita asked.
‘The constitution.’
‘Really?’
‘Yep, Section 53. So O’Brien is silly to think the senate would amend the bill.’
‘But O’Brien thinks if the government does amend it, there may not be the usual scrutiny and review.’ Anita scribbled a few notes on her pad.
‘Crumbs, you look gorgeous when you’re intense like this.’
‘Barton, this issue of the Indonesian funding could be very serious. I’ve been told to follow the money, and now you’re telling me there could be some dodgy parliamentary business concerning money.’
‘I am yet to see a link, but I take your point,’ Barton said.
‘Thank you.’ Anita flopped back in her chair. ‘Now get me another coffee, please, there’s a good boy.’
‘I’d rather get you dinner,’ Barton said, as he rose to buy more coffee.
Gerrard found his wife sunning herself out by the pool. She looked tanned and taut, and he felt a fondness mixed with his normal carnal urges as he approached her. She looked up as she heard his footsteps, shading her eyes.
‘How was it?’
‘Exhausting, but it’s all finally under control. The bill is in its second reading and passes the house tomorrow with the opposition totally under control and none the wiser. If all goes according to plan, the senate will send it back for amendment on Wednesday night, and it’s back in the house on Thursday first thing.’
‘She’s a smart girl, that Zara.’
‘Yes. Little does she realise she has just cost the nation forty million dollars.’
‘You have played her beautifully, darling. It seems those late nights with her have been useful after all.’
‘I’ve decided to take the rest of the day off,’ he said, neatly redirecting the discussion away from the speaker.
‘Great, get into your trunks and have a swim, the water’s gorgeous.’ She lay back to enjoy more sun.
‘I will, but I wanted to talk to you first.’
‘Why, what are you worried about?’
‘You know me, always worried about things not in my direct control.’
‘For a politician with such confidence, you really do suffer from self-doubt, don’t you?’
‘Has the banking been finalised?’
‘I
had a little trouble with my reasons for establishing the account and providing an identity that was acceptable, but I resolved them. Your department wants you to declare it on your parliamentary interests’ statement, but that’s no issue I’m told. I didn’t quite appreciate how hard it has become to open a bank account, especially overseas, but I’ve had wonderful support from a few friends in France who I’ve spoken with, all hush hush of course.’
‘We tightened the laws to stop the illicit transferring of funds from crooks and fraudsters.’
‘I must say it works a treat. It was damn near impossible to do, but I found a way – best you don’t know, darling.’
‘Quite. What are your plans for the remainder of the week?’ Gerrard began loosening his tie.
‘I fly to Zurich on Thursday afternoon to complete the banking arrangements, although I may have a stop-off somewhere – apparently they need a personal meeting to finalise the account details and verify identity. All being equal we should be able to deposit money into the new account by the following Monday or Tuesday at the latest. It just needs Amir to do his part. When do you release the funds?’
‘Thursday night if all goes well in the parliament. Amir will formally request the funds from the government before 5.00 pm his time, which means treasury will transfer them overnight from Australia. He should have them first thing Friday, and then he can begin to wash it. He says Monday, but sometimes I don’t trust the smarmy little prick.’
‘When do you think you can come over?’
‘I’ll need to clear my commitments here, but I reckon before Christmas.’
‘Christmas in Paris would be delightful.’
‘I’d expect we’ll come back in January for the by-elections and the swearing in of the new prime minister.’
‘Who’s that likely to be?’
‘It depends on the by-election results, but I suspect Jonathan will win the vote.’
‘When will you announce your retirement?’
‘I’m a little unsure if I should do it in the parliament on Thursday, or wait until Friday.’
‘Have you suggested anything to anyone?’
‘No, only you and I know what I’m planning.’
‘Oh dear, thank goodness we’re moving to Europe.’
‘You do realise, if this blows up in our face, we may never be able to come back.’
‘Yes, darling, I know. But it won’t blow up. It’s all under control, so stop worrying and go for a swim, and get your handsome body out in the sun. There’s nothing better than a tan on a man in Paris.’
Gerrard began pulling his shirt from his trousers. ‘I never thought it would be this easy to give it all up, but I must admit, since we started talking about this last week I’m pleased to be going, quite frankly, especially after losing Fred. I find I’m rather tired of it all.’
‘You’ve done your time and sacrificed many things for the nation, my darling. The people of Australia will miss you, but I doubt we will miss them.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
WEDNESDAY 7.35 AM
‘Good morning, Mr O’Brien, sir.’
‘Good morning, George.’ Gordon placed his briefcase on the conveyor as he always did, with the assistance of George Nikolaos, the senior security officer at the entrance to the House of Representatives.
‘Just two more sitting days, sir, then you can kiss this place goodbye. We’ll miss you.’
‘Thank you, George, and I’ll miss you.’ Gordon passed through the security scanner without any intrusive beeps emanating from it, collected his briefcase and began to leave the security room. ‘Have a good day.’
‘I will, thank you, Mr O’Brien.’
Gordon was tempted to visit the speaker’s office as he had done every morning for the last seventeen years when he arrived at parliament, to check on any overnight instructions and receive any briefings, but this morning he’d decided he didn’t want to be bothered with any of that. Richard could look after it all. He’d listen to Marjorie’s sage advice about stepping back from the work. He smiled as he passed the office.
Instead he decided to have an early morning coffee at Aussies Cafe, a place he rarely frequented, preferring his own company to mingling with the other employees. When parliament was sitting, the population of parliament house increased to roughly five thousand. It was just too many people to cope with at any one time, so he steered clear of places that attracted large groups of people such as the staff dining room or the cafe. But today was different. It was still early, and since the plane crash many staff had left for home. Besides, he didn’t have much to do. He decided to read his newspaper and see if this cafe was as good as everyone in his office said.
He walked the long corridor past the many backbenchers’ offices, the soft green carpet muting his footsteps, noticing the names embossed on glass plates beside each white gloss door, many festooned with Christmas cheer, most carrying political posters or commentary. Partisan politics was hard to ignore.
He noticed how quiet the building was, a silence that contrasted with the power and political scheming that flowed through the place. He could hear nothing other than the swishing of the suit trousers he’d purchased a year after he was promoted to clerk.
He turned left at the second junction and headed for the central building. The carpet gave way to highly polished jarrah floorboards and then black marble as he walked through the glass passage connecting the two buildings: the House of Representatives and the central core with its ministerial wing. His footsteps echoed in the hall as he walked across to the security door and entered the front foyer. No expense had been spared on this fine building, and he was reminded of when Queen Elizabeth II had opened it in 1988. He crossed the empty foyer and entered another security alcove, flashed his identity card against a recording device and entered yet another corridor that led eventually to Aussies Cafe. It had taken him five minutes of brisk walking to reach the cafe, only a fraction of the five kilometres of carpeted walkways throughout these buildings.
The cafe was quiet and there were plenty of tables. He dropped his briefcase on a chair before moving off to order an Earl Grey tea instead of coffee. He hardly ever drank the stuff, and smiled at the thought he might have suddenly ordered one. Life must be changing.
He balanced the cup and teapot on its little wooden paddle, collected a newspaper and headed to his table. Pouring a refreshing cup – no sugar, nor milk – he took a sip then opened the newspaper. Splashed across the front page was an article on the money about to hit every Australian’s bank account from a generous government, legislation having passed the House of Representatives late on Tuesday. Little did they realise it was their money they were receiving. As he read the article by Anita Devlin, he reflected on his initial concerns about the stimulus package, smiling sheepishly at his suggestion that the speaker might be implicated in an unethical manipulation of the parliament. He still didn’t trust Gerrard – and still hadn’t received an adequate response to his question about why the extra time was required for the bill once it was back in the house on Thursday.
‘Hello, Mr O’Brien, mind if I join you?’ Anita had a cup in her hand and an intoxicating smile on her face.
‘I was just reading your story on the stimulus package.’ Gordon couldn’t refuse, and beckoned her to sit as he folded his newspaper. ‘Please, it would be a pleasure.’
‘I’ve been asked to do a story on the last few weeks of the parliament, and I wanted to get your insights, if I may.’
‘It’s been a stinker, hasn’t it?’
Anita smiled at his candour. ‘Can I quote you?’
‘I think not. It’s not for me to be quoted on such things.’ Gordon suddenly felt a little uneasy and straightened in his chair.
‘I think it would be nice to add a human element to your highly respected but rather stoic image.’ Anita settled in at the table.
‘Do you have anything specific you want to ask me?’ He suddenly wished he could return to his newspaper.
‘The prime minister has requested an allocation so that he may speak to it. It’s unusual, but not a problem. These types of requests are not unheard of.’ Gordon began to relax.
‘Why has the prime minister insisted that all his cabinet, and indeed the entire ministry, attend the house at this time?’
‘Has he? I’m not sure I knew that. I suspect it has something to do with valedictories, since the house is not taking votes.’
‘Yours?’
‘Given the prime minister and I, ah, do not see eye to eye on many issues, I suspect not.’
‘Why do you think the Indonesian detention centre money was not included, as planned, in this bill?’
‘It had previously been approved when the government’s budget was passed by both houses. I suspect the government wanted greater parliamentary scrutiny and is deferring it until after the by-elections in February.’
‘Is it true you suspect there may have been some covert scheme developing with regard to this funding allocation for the Indonesians, and if so, have you changed your mind since the legislation is now already through the parliament?’
‘I have no such suspicions. I thought you were going to ask me to speak about the last two weeks?’ Gordon unfolded his newspaper.
‘Just one last question, if you don’t mind?’ Anita pushed her luck.
‘One last one.’
‘If the prime minister were to retire tomorrow, how does that affect the caretaker government?’
Gordon carefully took a sip of tea, considering the question. Anita sat quietly waiting for his response. Knowing when to wait and say nothing was a crucial skill for a journalist – silence sometimes drew out information that otherwise would not have appeared, and this might be one of those times.
‘I’m not sure how to respond to that.’ Gordon hadn’t even considered this intriguing proposition. ‘I suspect it would have little impact, as the bureaucracy is now commissioned to maintain the government until after the by-elections, so it matters not who is leading the government. It would have little impact, quite frankly, and maybe it would be a good thing. Certainly, I’d be happier.’ He allowed himself a small smile.
Deceit Page 15
