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CHOGM Pt. 01

By: Cromagnonman



In February 1978 a Regional Meeting of the Commonwealth Heads of Government (CHOGM) was being held in Sydney, Australia. 

In the early hours of February the 13th 1978 an explosive device detonated inside a garbage truck outside Sydney's Hilton Hotel. Two council workers were killed by the blast and a policeman died later from injuries received. This much is fact. 

This story is about this incident and is based on information that is freely available in the public domain. This information when taken in isolation might seem to mean little, but when linked together forms a very large and messy conspiracy. Self preservation has meant that I have sat on this story for the best part of twenty-five years, and as you read it you will understand why.

It is emphasised that the events and characters, other than those identified as fact, which are depicted in this narrative are fictitious, and any similarity between these and any persons living or dead, is coincidental.

Several organisations are mentioned and, while it may appear that these are accused of involvement in this incident, I must again stress that this is a work of fiction and any actions attributed to them are fictitious and any similarity between members of these organisations and any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

Headlines and leaders from the Sydney Morning Herald are used to establish time, and as an indication of the relative importance placed on these incidents at the time Or could it be an indication of the amount of pressure being brought to bear in order to keep a lid on a certain organisation's involvement in this plot.

Like most of my stories there is a certain amount of romance involved, simply because I'm a Romantic old fart. CM

1

New York 01 August 1995:

It was all she could do to walk briskly down the street. The once tight jeans flapped against her pencil thin legs and her coat hung loosely around her gaunt frame. Walking as if she was fit and healthy was taking more out of her than she had anticipated, but she had to keep up the pretence of someone who wasn't about to let her illness get the better of her.

She didn't dare look behind her for fear that she would give away her fear of being followed, which she hoped that she wasn't. She had the feeling that she had been followed ever since she had left Washington. Even though she hadn't noticed anyone, logic told her that she was being followed because that's what they did. Hope told her that the precautions that she had taken had ensured that she wasn't being followed, and she was living on hope.

Her walk took her to a record store on the Lower East Side. She had not been there before but had spoken to an assistant over the phone from her hotel where she was sure that her followers would not have been able to bug the room.

She had taken all of the precautions that she had read about in all of the best spy books, making reservations with one airline from Dulles to La Guardia but taking a stand-by ticket at the airport and flying with another to Kennedy. She fought for a cab from Kennedy to Times Square before taking the subway across town and catching another cab to her hotel. She hadn't booked at that hotel either, having made a reservation at a more expensive hotel uptown. She took the risk that the three star hotel would have a vacancy when she checked in. It did.

The hotel reservation was part of her elaborate smoke screen that she had set up around her visit to New York. Her official reason for being there was medical, which was essentially true, she was scheduled to see one of the country's top oncologists in a last desperate attempt to fend off the disease that she knew in her heart was not about to let go.

She was preparing to die, not as she lived in virtual obscurity, but with one final act of glorious and public defiance, that only those for whom she had worked for so long would ever know about.

She showered and changed into jeans and a windcheater, covered her sparse grey hair with a blonde wig and tucked the whole lot into a woollen cap and wrapping her face in a woollen scarf, not so much to shield herself from the cold because it wasn't, but to cover her thin, haggard face from view before venturing forth into the bustle of rush hour New York. She figured that she would be harder to track in a crowd than on a deserted street, if such a thing ever existed in New York and she was not yet ready for them to find her.

The bell over the door of the record store tinkled as she pushed it open and a small, long haired man came from the back room into the front of the store. "Hi, can I help you?"

"Yes, I rang a few minutes ago about the new CD of the Carmina Burana; you do have it don't you?"

"Of course."

"May I have a look at it?" The assistant took the disc from the pack and handed it over. "Do you mind if I have a listen to it?"

"The player is there in front of you, I have some unpacking to do out back." He left. She inserted the disc into the player and soon her ears were filled with the crescendo of the opening passages of 'O Fortuna'. While she was listening she took another compact disc case from her bag and removed the disc from it. Taking the liner from the Carmina case she scribbled a few words inside it and replaced it into the case. The disc that she had brought with her from Washington she placed in the case and she replaced it into her bag just as the assistant came back into the store. "Is it OK?"

"Yes thank you." She handed over the money and left the store.

She stopped at the nearest café and ordered a cup of coffee to still her nerves as she took the CD case from her purse and placed it into a small cardboard package. She read once more the address on it:

'Mr Russell French

14 Windsor Way

SOUTHVALE SA 

AUSTRALIA'

She walked from the café to the nearest post box. Reaching it she stumbled against it and, using her coat to hide her movements, took the package and slipped it into the box.

She stayed in that position hoping that some kind soul would not insist on helping her, until some unkind soul told her to get out of the way so that others could use the post box, before pushing herself upright and walking off with renewed vigour.

The burden of almost twenty years knowledge had been lifted from her frail shoulders. She didn't care now if she was being followed because she had just started a chain of events that would now run its course. Revenge was hers.

She hailed a passing cab and gave directions to her hotel. The driver glanced briefly into the rear view mirror as she settled into the seat. He thought that she must have been running from something because, from where he sat, the disguise was obvious, but then he gave it no more thought because many of his passengers were running from something or someone. He had learnt from experience that it didn't pay to get involved in other people's problems.

The doorman at the hotel opened the door for her but as she passed the reception the desk manager stopped her. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm checking out in a few minutes and would like to settle my account now."

"Certainly, your room number is?"

"704." She took her credit card from her purse and handed it over. The transaction complete she strode to the elevator and was whisked from sight. She knew that the card transaction would set off alarm bells and a team of agents would soon descend on the hotel. She had to move fast.

Back in her room she removed her disguise and threw it into the waste basket. Sitting on the bed she opened her attaché case and removed a small container. From the container she took a syringe and an ampoule of clear liquid. Inserting the needle she drew off the entire contents.

She paused for several minutes before placing a tourniquet on her arm. When the vein was swollen enough she inserted the needle and injected the contents.

She moved over to the phone and dialled 911. "Yes, I need the ambulance. Yes, I have just accidentally taken an overdose of morphine and I don't know what to do." She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. "Take that you fucking bastards."

Even before the wail of sirens heralded the arrival of the ambulance, two men walked into the hotel and approached the reception desk. "Have you seen this woman recently?" One of the men held a photograph up to the receptionist.

"You have some interest in this person?" He was fishing for a reward.

The men produced official looking shields from their coat pockets and waved them in front of the receptionist's face. "Good enough, follow me." He led them to the elevator and within minutes they were at the door of her room. Using the master key the door was opened and he stood aside to allow the two men to enter.

"Shit and damnation!" The first of the men had seen the recumbent form on the bed. Moving quickly he checked for a pulse. There was none. "Quickly, look for it!"

"What are we looking for?" His companion was obviously not as well informed as he was.

"There should be a CD somewhere."

"Why are we looking for a CD?"

"We suspect that she has been accessing confidential files and down-loading them onto a CD so that she can pass them on to someone. We had hoped to intercept her before she could pass them on so that we could find out who she was sending information to. I hope that we aren't too late."

"Who is she?"

"Her name is Judith Treharne and she was for many years the Personal Assistant to our Operations Director. When he died she was transferred. It would seem that she didn't like the move."

"But to spy, what makes you think she was spying?"

"We suspect everyone."

"Trusting soul aren't you?" He rummaged through her purse and removed the CD case. "I think I have it."

His companion looked at for several minutes, a frown on his face. He took it over to the desk and placed it the CD Rom slot of his laptop computer and hit the keys that should have accessed any files on it. The screen remained blank. On a hunch he accessed the CD player, switching it on he was less than pleased to hear the strains of the Carmina Burana filling the room. "Shit and damnation!"

"Again? What is wrong now?"

"This is most certainly not what we are looking for." He quickly searched through the rest of her belongings without success. He took out his cell phone and dialled a number. "Hi. Yes it's me. No we have not found it. What we did find was a disguise, so it looks as if she knew that she would be followed if she went out so she took precautions. I don't think that we'll ever be able to find what she did with that CD."

The voice on the other end of the line expressed his dis-satisfaction at the news. "I don't care what you have to do or how you do it, I want that disc back and I want it before any third party has the opportunity to use the information on it. This is a matter of international importance and the information on that disc could have major negative repercussions for us with our allies."

"How can we find what she did with it if we don't know where she went or even if she went?"

"Back track on her movements. Find out if she went out at all today and see if you can find out where she went. She can't have gone far on foot so try the cab companies and see if she used a cab to come or go."

The sound of running feet reached them seconds before the feet's owners arrived. "Step aside please!" The head Paramedic shouted.

"You're too late. She's dead."

"Let the experts be the judge of that." He quickly checked for any vital signs before standing up. "She's dead. I'll call the police and arrange for a body bag. She said something on the phone about morphine when she called 911, have you seen any evidence of the drug in here?"

"Over there." One of the men pointed to the ampoule on the bedside table.

The paramedic picked it up and looked at it. "If she used all of this she was definitely serious about killing herself. There was enough in here to kill a horse."

Through the door walked a short, scruffily dressed man wearing a sports coat that was several sizes too small for him but probably wasn't when he bought it. "What has happened here?"

"Who are you?" Asked the first of the two men.

"Lieutenant Spinelli, and who are you?"

"Could we have a brief word with you, in private?" He led Spinelli out into the hallway. "What you have here is a Federal incident and the Firm is vitally interested in it. I want the autopsy report on my desk before the ink is dry on it, 'kay?"

Spinelli grunted his response and strolled back into the room. He was sick of these federal types pushing him around, but knew that there was nothing that he could do about it. "I want nothing, and I mean nothing, touched until we can pick up all the evidence that there is to pick up. Do I make myself understood?"

The group, minus the two men who had managed to slide out of the room un-noticed, mumbled there compliance and settled in for the long wait for re-enforcements. 

* **

The front door of 14 Windsor Way Southvale opened and Russell French walked in with a post pack in his hand "I wonder who is sending me a CD?" He said to Jenny.

"Is there a return address?" Jenny was a still attractive 38 years of age, long blonde (natural) hair, slim build with bumps in all of the right places despite the obligatory two children.

"No, but it's postmarked New York, I don't know anyone in New York, at least I don't think I do." He took the CD from the pack, "I wonder why anyone would send me this?"

"What?"

"Carmina Burana. It's one of my favourite pieces and this is a new version but that still doesn't solve the mystery." He walked over to the CD player and inserted the disc. Pushing the play button on the remote he waited for the music to fill the room. It didn't. "Strange?"

"Wait a minute!" Jenny removed the disc from the player and placed it into the CD slot on the computer that she had been using. She clicked into the Windows program and, using the mouse she clicked her way into the CD drive and the only file in it, 'Hilton'. "Whoever sent this has obviously taken a CD and written this data on it, copied the Carmina label onto it, and then placed it in the CD case of one that she had purchased for the occasion."

"What made you think of that?"

"Read this." Jenny handed him the liner from the CD pack. Inside were scribbled the words 'I hope you can do something with this, regards Win Hilton'.

The file that appeared on the screen was headed by a short note: 'Mr French, you don't know me and I should inform you that any attempt to find me will prove fruitless. By the time that you receive this CD I will be dead. I am pre-empting my death because I do not want to give my employers the pleasure of that responsibility and I have lost patience with Mother Nature. Whatever the reason, my death bears no relevance to the information contained here." 

"I found your name on a file connected with the case about the bombing of the Hilton Hotel in Sydney in 1978 and read that you had come uncomfortably close to exposing the truth before being forced to shelve your investigation. I have decided that the truth is more important than the personalities involved, so have taken the liberty of copying the files and sending them to you so that you can complete the task that you started so long ago. Do not let anyone stop you this time." 

This was followed by page after page of official files from the CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia.

Russell's first reaction was to stare in amazement at the computer screen as file after file scrolled over, his second was to exclaim 'fuck', a word he didn't normally use at home, and his third reaction was to pick up the phone and dial a number in England. "John, Russell, yes the car is still going beautifully. Listen, I have just got this load of files that seems to have originated from a friendly in the CIA, and I think that it is just about time we moved on this. I just rang to tell you that I need your permission to resurrect the old story."

"Russell, you know that you didn't need to ask, permission is granted and give 'em hell."

Russell hung up the phone and took a deep breath. "Well here we go again." Jenny was reading the last pages of the file and spotted a familiar name. "I wonder what Colin Winchester has to do with this?"

"He was the Assistant Commissioner of the Australian Federal Police who was supposedly shot by a disgruntled public servant. He had been the leader of a sting operation that was supposed to trace the cannabis distribution network between the ACT, Southern New South Wales and the West Coast of the US. There was a very strong rumour going around that it was a mob hit. Apart from that several names that appeared in that drug sting also appearing in the investigations into the marijuana cultivation and distribution around Griffith that featured one Robert Trimboli. According to one report I read, the Griffith operation was heavily financed by the CIA. I wonder if that connection is the reason that it rates a mention in these files."

2

Sydney February 1969

"Were did you get this?"

"The Texas Tavern."

"This is really heavy shit man. It's giving me the best buzz I've ever had."

The two young men lay sprawled on a large mattress, their backs against a wall on which were several large posters that were enlargements of album covers.

From another room two young women came into the room bearing bowls containing a reddish liquid with lumps in it. "We lifted some stuff from the shop down the road, it's not much but it'll do."

Looking at the bowl one of the men asked, "What is it?"

"It's tomato soup with tuna."

"Oh." He took a sip of the liquid, pause for a few seconds to allow it to slide down before spooning the rest of the bowl down.

Finishing the bowl he picked up a package from the floor, taking a small packet of Tally Ho's he joined two papers together and into this his placed a quantity of Drum tobacco and on top of this he crumbled some hash. Rolling it he lit it and passed it to one of the girls. 

"Have some of this."

She took a large drag of the smoke and held it in for as long as she could before slowly exhaling. She then took another long drag and repeated the process before passing it on to the other girl.

She closed her eyes and sat against the wall for some several minutes before opening them again. "What's in this?"

"I don't know, it's some new gear that the Yanks are bringing in from Vietnam."

"I don't feel well." She closed her eyes again.

The others ignored her while they finished the joint. It was only then that they noticed that she was shivering. It didn't register even then that there was anything wrong with this, even though the weather was hot for that time of the year. It wasn't until she slumped to the floor and vomited on the tattered carpet that they realised that there was something wrong.

One of the men tried to wake her up without success. "I think we had better get an ambulance." He said.

The other man got unsteadily to his feet and left the house. He returned just as an ambulance pulled up out the front. 

The ambulance crew had been confronted with similar emergencies in this part of town that had increasingly been inhabited by these long haired young people who claimed to be artists.

They lifted the stretcher into the back of the ambulance and one of them stepped in with her. His partner called in to the ambulance base and requested police attendance at the address. "I think that you should point out to the police that this is not a typical overdose situation or the effects of too much marijuana, this is something that we haven't seen before and I don't like it."

The police Drug Squad was called in and searched the house for traces of the drug that had caused the problem.

"Where is it?" The leader of the two man team asked the young men.


CHOGM Pt. 01



"Where's what man?"

"The hash that you've been smoking."

"Don't know what you mean. He picked up the bottle of beer from the floor beside him. "We're having a little party and all we're doing is drinking beer." He took a swig to emphasise the point.

"Don't give me that bullshit! One of your friends is on her way to hospital and there is a fair chance that she might not make it," He had no knowledge of her condition but decided that a little leverage wouldn't go astray. "And you sit there trying to convince us that you are a little drunk. We have been around long enough to see through that. Now tell me where it is."

"I haven't got any stuff."

"Look, I'll give you one more chance. If you tell me where it is I won't bust you, but if I have to search for it I will. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Sure, but we don't have anything."

"Okay, we search." The two policemen started to look in the more usual hiding places, on top of wardrobes, taped to the underside of toilet cistern lids, behind wall clocks, aware that while they searched they were no closer to finding the stash.

It wasn't until the leader reached up and took the curtain from the window and peered down the rod that they got any reaction from the others. Blowing the rod he ejected a small foil wrapped parcel from inside it. Picking it up, he opened it and looked at the contents.

"What have we here? If I'm not mistaken it's part of a block of Thai Gold. Now how do you suppose that it got there?"

"How would we know man?"

"Cut the crap! One of you got this from the Texas Tavern over the last two days. It is just as well we found this because if we hadn't you might have just found yourselves in hospital just like your friend. Now I have to go to the trouble to bust you."

"Can't we talk this over man?"

"You had your chance and blew it! Look, if you tell me who sold you this stuff I might let you off, okay?"

"I don't know his name."

"What does he look like?"

"About your height and weight, short hair, clean shaven, looks just like a cop."

"Not a Yank?"

"No way man. He is Australian."

"Would you be able to point him out to us if we took you down there?"

"I would but I won't."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to end up dead."

"Why would that happen?"

"You don't know this guy. He has rubbed out people before."

"If we could make it so that he won't know it was you that put us onto him would you do it?"

"If I do this you won't bust us?"

"That's right."

"All right."

"Let's go."

"Now?"

"No time like the present."

They drove to a street that was a hundred metres from the Texas Tavern and walked the rest of the way. Instead of entering by the front door they entered through the kitchen and were soon seated at the rear of the club looking out at the patrons from behind a scrim curtain that allowed them to see out but no-one to see in.

"There he is." His finger pointed to a man seated on his own at a table. As they watched a young girl came over and sat down. The two talked for several minutes before she produced a packet of cigarettes from her bag and lit one. He also took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, placing the packet on the table beside hers.

They talked for several more minutes before she got up and, picking up his cigarette packet from the table, left.

He picked up the other packet and removed the money from it and put it in his pocket before taking a small package from another pocket and putting it into the packet that he placed in his pocket. He was ready for his next customer.

"You had better shoot through." The young man needed no second invitation.

"What do we do now?"

"What can we do?"

"How much do you value your life?"

"More than my job."

"My sentiments exactly. I think that it's time to look for a new career. I for one am not going to be tarred with that particular brush and if we blow the whistle on our colleague there we will not live long."

Amsterdam February 1969

The police were used to this task and were no longer sickened by the sight of addicts who died of overdoses of heroin. What concerned them was the spate of marijuana users who were now being found suffering the symptoms of heroin use.

For some time the controlled use of soft drugs had ensured that fewer users felt the need to move on to hard drugs and those that did were supplied with controlled quantities of uncut smack ensuring that they didn't suffer from the impurities like arsenic, often used to cut the drugs.

The patrol that was called to the usually vacant warehouse building overlooking a canal was confronted with a disturbing sight. Sprawled around the large room were several semi-comatose bodies. In the centre of the room was a large water pipe beside which was a foil package containing a block of resinous brown material.

Peter Van Gammeron picked it up and sniffed it. It didn't smell like any hash he had smelt before and in the back of his mind he knew that he had stumbled on the solution to the problem that had bothered him over the last three weeks.

Turning to his partner he said, "Klaus, I think we should have this analysed and if my hunch is right we should then try to find out who is bringing this into Holland."

Klaus Dolman had also seen this before and shared Peter's fears that something was happening that was taking the fight against the uncontrolled use of hard drugs out of their hands.

They called in for an ambulance to come for the victims and while they waited they thoroughly searched the room. They found the usual paraphernalia that accompanied the lifestyle of the typical user, the posters, records scattered around the record player and piles of clothing in various stages of decomposition.

The cooking area of the room was also in the same condition as the rest of the place. There were cans with some of the contents still remaining in them, bottles half filled with stale milk and containers that had once contained hamburgers and other take away foods.

The bathing area was to all intents and purposes non-existent. A shower cubicle had a promising fungi farm around its walls while the track left by the dripping tap had carved its way eventually to the floor outlet.

The air in the room hung heavy with a cloying combination of body odours, incense and Patchouli oil. The smoke clouds were still hazing the air making it difficult for the police photographer to get clear shots of the scene. The use of a flash gun was out of the question as it only intensified the smoke in the air.

Having done as much as they could for the time being Peter and Klaus packed it in and drove back to the headquarters of the Drug Squad. They didn't go straight in to the squad room as was normal, but first called in to the laboratory where they presented an assistant with the remains of the block of hash. "How long will it take you to check for traces of Heroin in this?" Peter asked.

"I can have it for you in half an hour."

"Good, that will give us enough time to have a cup of coffee and get rid of the taste of that place from our mouths."

When they returned thirty minutes later their worst fears were confirmed. "I don't know where you got this from but it is potentially lethal."

"Heroin?"

"In large doses. This block contains around thirty percent heroin."

"What devil could be putting this stuff on the street?"

Peter and Klaus both went back to the Squad Room where they approached the Inspector. "Sir, we have discovered something that you should know about."

"What is it?"

"Someone is selling some bad hash on the streets."

"What is bad about it?"

"It is thirty percent heroin. I think that we should forgo any other inquiries for the present to concentrate on finding out who is doing this."

"I'm afraid that that is a decision that neither you nor I can make. I will put it to the Captain and get back to you in the morning."

"Very well." Peter had a feeling of foreboding.

His feeling was confirmed when the Inspector announced that the Squad was not well enough staffed to allow them the luxury of having two men following up a hunch.

"Why do I get the feeling that someone up there doesn't want us to stop this?" Peter asked.

"That is not the situation at all. We just do not have enough staff to carry out this investigation."

***

London, 17 March 1969:

The unmarked police car turned into the entrance of the alley and stopped. The two men sat for a few minutes looking through the windscreen at the scene before them. The rain swept pavement reflected the intermittent flash of the camera as the photographer worked quickly to capture the details at his feet. The two men pulled up the collars of their overcoats up as they got out and sloshed their way down the rain soaked alley.

A cat sheltering behind a dust bin spat at their passing feet, its wet fur forming a black mat over its thin body. Slumped among a ragged pile of soggy cardboard was a pile of rags.

"Well Constable, what do you have for us this time?" The voice was strong, a reflection of the position and power of its owner.

"It's one of your regulars and it looks as if she came into some heavy shit."

"What do you mean?"

"Look for yourself."

The tall man pulled away some of the rags to reveal an untidy collection of flesh covered bones. "Miranda, what has the fool done this time?" 

"As far as you knew did she use anything stronger than hash?"

"No. I've known her now for three years and in that time she has never, to my knowledge used anything else." He stooped and pulled back the sleeve of her soggy coat, there were no needle marks on her arms. "It doesn't look as if she used heroin."

"Then how do you explain this?"

"What actually happened here?"

"It appears as if she was at one of your normal pot parties and it got a little out of hand. We haven't yet worked out how she came to be here but from the little sense that we have been able to get from the other freaks upstairs, she wanted to fly."

"Is there anything to suggest that her aerial ambitions had been assisted?"

"Who knows? Even when that lot comes down from their collective cloud I doubt if they will remember any of what has happened."

"Lead us to this gathering."

The constable led the way to a side door and together they ascended the rickety stairs to the upper floor loft where they found about twenty hippies lying around in advanced stages of drug induced euphoria.

"I see what you mean. Who is in charge of this place?"

"Miranda's friend Jasmine rents this place as an artist's studio and several of these things use it to create their alleged masterpieces."

"Which one is Jasmine?"

"The blonde sitting over there with the Guru." He indicated a slim blonde who despite her dazed state was still a very attractive person.

The scene that confronted Detective Sergeant Bryan Jamieson was one to which he had become inured. He found early on in his stint with the Drug Squad that it didn't pay to become too close to any of those involved. His mind drifted back to the loss of his first "regular", who also happened to be an attractive blonde girl. He had thought that she had so much going for her, she was a sometime model who had just won a recording contract on the strength of her beauty and the fact that she could actually sing.

She had begun using heroin when the pace of her hectic life had started to get the better of her. The industries to which she belonged were a ready source of drugs and she soon became totally dependent on it.

Her short life was foreshortened by an overdose of stronger than normal smack. Her supplier was arrested and charged but never stood trial. His life was also cut short but not by the drug that he so readily sold. His death had every appearance of an execution designed to remove from others the temptation to implicate any party in the trafficking of drugs.

Jamieson's thoughts returned from the sense of loss and wasted life that he felt at the time, to the present. Something told him that he would need to find some of the drug that had been used here tonight and have it analysed. He had never seen so many people so far under the influence of marijuana or hashish. This stuff was much stronger. 

Searching among the scattered cushions that littered the floor was made more difficult by the bodies that sprawled over them. "Why don't you call the ambulance service and get them to send over a fleet to take this lot to hospital. I'll call this in and arrange for a friendly doctor to be on hand to monitor their progress. I want to interview the first one that surfaces and all of them before any of them are released. Also, I want a lid kept on this. The Press is not to find out, is that clear?"

"A bit late for that." The police turned around to find a woman standing in the doorway.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Jamieson asked.

"My name, which by the way is on this Press Card, is Jane Symonds. I am by way of occupation a Freelance Feature Writer. I have been doing a piece on this artists' commune that Jasmine is running here. The reason that I am here is that about half an hour ago I received a call from her that something was wrong. Who might you be?"

"My name is Jamieson, I am with the Drug Squad. How well do you know this Jasmine?"

"We were at school together. Our families are friends so you could say that I have known her all my life. Having said that, I have not been all that close to her over the last couple of years until I bumped into her in the middle of a Harrods sale a month or so ago and she told me what she was doing and hoping to achieve here. I thought that it would make a good feature piece so I sold the idea to the Editor of one of the weeklies that has syndication contacts overseas. I thought that if it was good enough I would become famous."

"How many times have you been here over the last week or so?"

"A couple, and then only during the day. I am more interested in the artists that use this place than what happens after hours. I guess I don't really approve of what was happening."

"What was happening?"

"Oh the usual Hippy stuff, drugs, casual sex. Jasmine was quite open about it. She asked me if I was interested. I wasn't."

"Where did she get the money to run this 'commune'?"

"Her father owns the building so she gets it rent free. He was going to pull it down but she somehow talked him into letting her use it. As far as the cost of food and such, I think that all of the 'artists' are on the Dole so there wasn't that much of a problem there."

"But the Dole wouldn't be enough to buy the drugs that they are using. Do you have any idea how they could afford them?"

"I got the impression that they were dealing. I guess you know the usual story, they get some drugs in and cut it for their own use and sell the rest to make enough money to buy the next supply."

"I suppose that it would be asking too much for you to be able to tell me who they were buying from?"

"Yes it would."

The arrival of several ambulances heralded a period of activity. As the semi-conscious bodies were carried from the loft, Jamieson asked Constable Roberts to begin the search for any of the drugs. 

"I may need to talk to you again," he asked Jane, "Where would I be able to reach you?"

"Actually I was just thinking that if it was alright with you I would like to stick around while you go about your investigation. I feel that this could be an even bigger story than the commune one."

"I will have to get permission for you to do that but that won't happen until the morning. I will let you stay here for the present on one condition."

"What's that?"

"Nothing, and I mean, not one word of what has happened here tonight will be released until you get a clearance from Scotland Yard. Understood?"

The last victim removed Jamieson and Roberts quickly and expertly carried out a systematic search of the premises, looking in all of the usual hiding places without success. There were traces of Hashish in the bowl of a large four pipe hookah which Jamieson scraped out and placed in a plastic bag. There was no trace of any marijuana or unsmoked hashish to be seen.

"This is odd." 

"What is Miss Symonds?"

"See these old paint tubes, see how they are cut open?"

"Yes, but wouldn't a poor artist do that to get as much paint out of the tube as possible?"

"And leave some paint in the tube? No, look at this new tube. If you squeeze it, it feels hard in the centre."

Jamieson took the tube and squeezed it between his fingers. She was right it did feel hard. Taking a palette knife from an easel he slit the tube. Inside it was a small parcel wrapped in plastic. "Bingo! Thank you Miss Symonds."

"Will you stop with this 'Miss Symonds', the name is Jane."

"Alright Jane, thank you. What made you look at the paint tubes?"

"The fact that they had been split open and there was quite a lot of paint left to harden in them. Poor artists would not allow that to happen."

"I wonder where they buy their paints."

"Do you think they actually buy these? Wouldn't it be a safer bet that whoever sold them the drugs took legitimate paints, opened them up and inserted the packages of drugs, re-sealed them and passed them on to these people."

"You know a lot about this sort of thing."

"I know more than most journalists, but this is pure guess work on my part."

"I would say that it is a pretty good guess." Gathering up all of the paint tubes around the loft and sending Roberts to search for any cupboards that might contain further supplies, Jamieson turned to the PC who first led them to the scene, "Would you arrange with your station to send some men over here. I want this place locked up so tight that the rats will need a clearance to get in."

"Yes Sir." He replied. Taking out his walkie talkie he contacted his station with Jamieson's request.

"Well that's it for now. Can we drop you off anywhere?" He asked Jane.

"If it is not too much trouble you could drop me off at my flat. I caught a taxi to get here."

After dropping Jane off at her flat in Mayfair Jamieson and Roberts drove to Scotland Yard. 

"I want you to take this stuff down to the lab and have it analysed. I want a complete breakdown of what is in this stuff and if it doesn't show that there are large traces of heroin in it, ask the lab people to check it again." Jamieson's voice had a hard edge to it that Roberts had only noticed a few times before and that was when he had witnessed what he described as a tragic waste of talented people.

"Yes sir." Roberts hurried away.

In the Squad room Jamieson started on the laborious task of writing up his report of the night's activities and when Roberts returned he was dispatched to the Hospital to make sure that the security arrangements were in place and that the Doctor in charge knew exactly what was required of him.

"Bryan, a word, if don't mind." The Detective Chief Inspector looked around the Squad room to see if there were any other police officers in the room before sitting in a chair at Jamieson's desk. "What did you find tonight?"

"Not a lot really. A young lady tried to fly off the roof of a building without a lot of success. We found a room full of semi-conscious 'artists' who were suffering from a surfeit of hashish which may or may not have been doctored. It is still too early into our investigation to be sure, but we are proceeding with all possible speed."

"That's just what I wanted to talk to you about. While I want you to move heaven and earth if necessary to trace the source of the drug, I would appreciate it if you do not mention in your report the names of the victims."

"May I ask why?"

"Let us just say that people in high places are involved."

"I see. I will investigate this matter fully and submit my report to you. What you do with it after that is up to you."




CHOGM Pt. 01



"That is not good enough. I say again, I do not want certain names to appear in any report."

"May I ask which names are not to appear?"

"You may ask but I won't tell you."

"So I am to produce a report which doesn't mention the name of people who you can't or won't name but if I don't know who they are how can I not mention them in an investigation into what could conceivably be a murder. I don't see that I can comply with your wishes here."

"It was not a murder."

"Really? How can you be sure?"

"Sources. I can say no more."

"I must protest in the strongest possible terms. I am conducting an investigation into what appears to be a dangerous situation which could have long standing repercussions among the community at large and you are telling me to limit my investigations to, just what are my limitations? If it is purely the death of a known drug user, that can be covered by Homicide. If it the presence of drugs in the incident then we become involved. Once we are involved we investigate fully because the results of our findings are vital in our fight against the organised drug pushers."

"Unless I have your full co-operation I will have to turn the investigation over to Homicide."

"I say again, I will investigate this matter fully. What you do with the result is up to you. I have already taken steps to ensure that no information will be made public before my investigations are completed. If you don't agree with that then feel free to find someone else."

"I guess that will have to do. You will keep me informed of any developments as they occur, won't you." His emphasis on the 'will' was an indication of his involvement. As the DCI left Jamieson wondered to himself if he had done this deliberately to ensure that he would leave no stone unturned or whether he really was under pressure to limit the enquiries.

Jamieson rang the hospital and asked to speak to Roberts. When he eventually came to the phone Jamieson asked him to get a list of the names of all those involved and bring it to him as a matter of urgency.

An hour later Roberts returned with the list. Jamieson looked at it in amazement. "Bloody Hell! This lot are connected to half the people in Debrett's. No wonder the DCI wants a lid on this."

"What does the DCI want us to do?"

"Limit our enquiries and not name any names."

"Upper class ponce. I reckon we should publish the bloody lot, maybe then the poor little rich kids will stop getting involved in this scene."

"Spoken like the true working class copper that you are."

"I'm not joking. If these rich kids didn't buy the drugs the price would come down to a point where the poorer kids could afford them without turning over someone's house for the readies."

"Interesting concept. But if we could stop the trafficking completely there would be no problem. That is my aim."

"And you talk like an Upper Class Don Quixote. It is impossible to stop this. It is too organised and too valuable for those behind it to stop now. My sources tell me that this latest stuff comes from a very powerful and supposedly legitimate source."

"Really? And who do your sources say is importing this stuff?"

"I have no names but it has been hinted that it comes into the country in Diplomatic Pouches."

"From where?"

"The drugs originate in South East Asia and arrive here from Hong Kong, Sydney or Auckland."

"So it is not a Triad or Mafia operation. Diplomatic couriers would indicate that it is a sanctioned operation. I would like to know more. Did the Doctor say when we would be able to interview our friends?"

"Yes, he said we could talk to them around lunch time."

"OK. Go home and get some sleep I'll see you around eleven."

* * *

Eleven O'clock saw the weather not improved and Jamieson's outlook on life little improved. He had not slept well at all, tossing and turning, his mind going over the events of the evening. It was during one of his more introspective moments that he understood why his wife had left him and moved in with a nice steady Company Director.

Roberts arrived right on eleven in a disgustingly cheerful mood. He chattered away throughout the drive to the hospital. "You were right about that hash we found last night, it was heavily laced with heroin. What would they hope to achieve with that?"

"To get the casual pot smoker hooked on heroin so that they can expand their operations."

They arrived at the hospital to be told that the patients had all been discharged. After they got that news they became silent. It was the calm before the storm.

The Doctor in charge of the Ward in which the victims had been kept, had over-ruled the instructions given by the Doctor that Jamieson had arranged to look over them. He had released all of the patients and somehow or other their medical records had all disappeared.

Jamieson was furious. "I gave implicit instructions that these people were to be kept here until after I had spoken to them all. You over-ruled that order for whatever reason I can't even think, and you bloody well lose the records. I will be recommending that you be charged with perverting the course of a police investigation."

He stormed out of the hospital in a foul mood. Roberts followed in a much more subdued frame of mind. As they reached their car the dispatcher came over on the radio with a message for Jamieson to ring a number. It was Jane. "Can I meet you somewhere for lunch?"

"I would love to but I don't think that I would be very good company right now."

"I'll chance that. The reason I want to see you is important and not the kind of thing that I would like spread all around the city."

"Do you like hamburgers?"

"Real or plastic?"

"Real."

"Yes. Where did you have in mind?" Jamieson gave her the address of a small hamburger restaurant tucked away in a back street where they could talk without attracting too much attention.

Roberts dropped him off and returned to the station to start to track down the people on his list.

As Jamieson entered the restaurant he caught a glimpse of her sitting in a booth at the rear. She rose to meet him and he paused to take in the beauty of what stood before him. She was dressed in jeans tucked into long black boots and wore a floral blouse that was tight enough to reveal the lines of her body. Over her chair was draped a blue anorak. Her long straight hair was pulled back from her face and tied at the nape of her neck with a bow. She saw his gaze take her in and bobbed before him in a mocking curtsy.

They sat opposite each other and after the waitress had taken their orders Jane burst out with her news. "I have been doing some digging and I have found out who is supplying these people with drugs."

"Let me guess. It is someone who is attached to an embassy and who travels a lot between here and either Hong Kong, Sydney or Auckland."

"How did you know?"

"I wasn't absolutely sure, but that's what the rumours are telling us. If you have proof you have just confirmed the rumours."

"There's more. The person who is actually supplying the stuff is a Trade Attaché with the American Embassy and my source says that title is usually given to CIA operatives. This is a CIA sanctioned operation!"

"And you can prove this?"

"Yes. The information that I have I will give to you and only you, no other member of the police force."

"You don't trust too many people do you?"

"If you had the information that I have you wouldn't trust just anyone."

"Then why pick on me. I would have thought that if you know the operations of the Drug Squad you would hardly trust any of us."

"You and your friend are the only two I would trust. Believe me I've asked around. Do you want what I have or not?"

"Miss Symonds, I could kiss you."

"Why don't you?"

"In public?"

"Anywhere, anytime. Here, now."

Looking around him to check if anyone was watching and finding themselves un-observed, Jamieson leaned across the table and kissed her. Jane reached out her hand and held him lightly behind the head. "I don't usually do this but something about you last night made me want to get involved in this case and with you. I hope it doesn't compromise your work."

"No more than it has already been compromised."

"What do you mean?"

"Pressure from above, disappearing victims, vanishing reports, you name it."

"It is sounding more and more like a CIA operation." 

"Is this a personal vendetta or can anyone join in?"

"What do you mean?"

"You are acting as if you have something against the CIA."

"You are right. I used to have a brother, some-one that I always looked up to. He was working on an operation in Asia during the early years of the Vietnam War. He tripped over one of the CIA's little schemes and when he refused to back off he disappeared."

"What was the official verdict?"

"Missing, believed dead."

"How did you find out about this?"

"He had been seeing this girl in Hong Kong and he left some papers in a Safe Deposit box at the Bank of Hong Kong with explicit instructions that if anything unusual should happen to him she was to get the key to me."

"And these papers were genuine?"

"Yes, without a doubt. His covering letter contained information that only he could have known and which he knew would confirm the authenticity of the papers."

"What was in the papers?"

"I can't remember all of the information, but briefly, it outlined what the CIA called its Covert Operations Group which it used to compromise Governments right throughout the World. It also set out details that they were planning to implement the use of the narcotics trade to finance these operations."

"Is there any chance that I could have a look at these papers?"

"Sure. It will take some time to get them."

"How long will it take?"

"I will have to go to my place in the country to get the information. I have the papers safely in a place that not even my closest friend could find and certainly the last place that anyone would look for them."

"Do you need an escort? Just in case there is trouble."

"I suppose that you are offering?"

"Now that you mention it, yes."

"In that case, I demand that the police provide me with an escort because I am extremely afraid that I am in mortal danger."

"Fine. I'll just ring in and tell the DCI that I am following up on a lead and won't be in until tomorrow or the next day."

"Whose car will we take, yours or mine?"

"I don't actually have my own car. I have use of a police car for work and I use public transport on the few occasions that I venture out outside of work."

"That settles it we use mine."

Jamieson paid the bill and together they walked out of the restaurant. While Jane went to collect her car Jamieson used a public telephone to ring the DCI. "Yes sir, I have a lead to follow that will take me out of London for a day or two. Yes Sir I will tell you about it when I return. No Sir, I can't tell you more at this time. Because, Sir, I don't know any more." The frustration was beginning to show in his voice. "All I can tell you is that it is a strong lead and it will take me out of London at least until the day after tomorrow."

As he left the phone box he heard the sound of a car horn behind him. Turning he saw Jane behind the wheel of a yellow Morgan. Climbing into the passenger seat he turned to her, "I'm impressed, but don't you think that we should be using something a little less obvious?"

"This is my car, my image, and where we are going if I was driving something else it would be more obvious."

"Okay. Let's go."

"Don't you want to get you toothbrush and a change of clothes?"

"Why is it that when I am at work I am super-efficient and practical, but when I am with you I couldn't organise a s.."

"A what?"

"A summer holiday."

"Rubbish! You were about to say a screw in a brothel. Where are we going?"

"I thought that you were the one who knew."

"Where do you live?"

"Oh, of course, the toothbrush and change of clothes. Turn right here and follow this road to the next set of traffic lights and turn left."

They drove in silence until they reached the block of flats that Jamieson called home. "Somehow," He thought to himself as he unlocked the door, "this place has lost its appeal."

Jane glanced around as she waited for him to pack his overnight bag. She saw a picture on the coffee table of Jamieson and an attractive dark-haired woman. "Is this past present or future?"

"What?" He asked as he emerged from the bedroom.

"This woman you are with?"

"Oh her. Very much past I'm afraid. She couldn't handle the hours I worked in what she perceived as a dangerous job, so she left me for this dull Company Director who just happens to be filthy rich with a mansion in Surrey from which he commutes to work in his Roller, a yacht in the Mediterranean on which they spend at least two months every year."

"Are you jealous of him and his success?"

"I was for a while. I did all of the usual male things under these circumstances, you know, drank too much, not enough sleep, too many women that I couldn't remember the next day."

"I understand. My father did the same sort of thing when Mother left with this titled twit. It didn't work for him and he eventually died still mourning her departure."

"It's all very Spartan, I'm afraid I'm not one of your houseproud people."

"Oh I don't know. At least it's clean. It has a certain charm to it that my flat doesn't have, expensive furniture doesn't always provide character and I find character more important anyway."

Jamieson wanted very much to carry the conversation further but was reluctant to for fear of frightening her off before he even got to know her.

They left the flat and walked to where she had parked the Morgan. Jamieson glanced around half expecting to see that they were about to be followed. He was not disappointed. Conspicuously parked inconspicuously about seventy yards away was a Rover that he recognised as one used for following suspects. He said nothing to Jane as she pulled from the kerb. 

"Have I lost them yet?" They had travelled for about ten minutes during which time Jamieson had kept a watch behind them using the wing mirror on his side of the car.

"Who?"

"Your police friends in the Rover. I noticed them as soon as we pulled away from your flat and the way that you kept looking into that mirror confirmed for me that we were being followed, so I lost them, I hope."

"You have lost them but don't get too cocky, I'm sure that they have arranged for a welcoming committee down the road a ways."

"Well that'll be their problem won't it, I'm not going that way at all." She turned off the road that she had been driving on and, by winding around for several minutes, during which time Jamieson became confused himself, she emerged onto the Motorway and was soon travelling at a good speed towards the country,

He was impressed with the confident manner with which she handled the car, especially on the narrow country lanes they soon found themselves travelling. Morgans have a reputation for being a little skittish on rough corners but she kept the car under control while at the same time pushing it along at a healthy speed.

After two hours drive she turned in through an old wooden gate and drove down a gravel drive to a bungalow set well back from the road. "Here we are. This used to be my maternal grandmother's house. She shared it with my maiden aunt and I inherited it after both of them died. I find it's a great place to come to when the weight of the world is pressing hard on me."

"I like it so far. It is the type of house I've always seen myself retiring too. The walks it the woods, grouse shooting and a spot of salmon fishing to while away the time until the pub opens. That sort of stuff."

"I hate to tell you this but you'll be lucky to see either a grouse or a salmon around here. The nearest thing to a wild beast is the odd rabbit or hare in the fields."

"That's good, I never was one for hunting and fishing. What do you do in your spare time?"

"The walks and the pub are about it I'm afraid. Dump your things in here. She indicated a bed room and he noticed that it contained a large four poster bed. "Would you like to freshen up while I make us some tea, or would you prefer coffee, then we'll go into the village and get some food."

"Tea will be fine thank you. Then I think we should get down to some business before we think about food."

They sipped their tea in silence as Jamieson read through the papers that Jane had retrieved from a hiding place in the wall behind one of the pantry shelves. "Holy cow! It's all about the setting up of a distribution network to ship raw opium to a heroin factory in Vietnam and then using US service personnel as mules to ship it through staging posts in Hong Kong and Sydney. If the government ever got hold of this it could see the end of any alliances that we have with the Americans."

"They wouldn't do a thing about this. The Americans have too much influence over them and it wouldn't matter which party was in power, the result would still be the same."

"Do you mind if I make notes?"

"Go ahead. Actually I have the original in a safety deposit box in my bank in London, to save time why don't we get that out and you can take a photo copy of it."

"Good idea. I'll just take some quick notes just the same, I want to cover my arse in case something happens to us before we can copy them."

"You say that as if you think something will."

"We may have lost our original tail but I can't be sure that they haven't managed to find us or that they won't manage to so I still want to cover myself. I don't suppose you would have an envelope around here would you?"

"Of course." She hopped up and opened a dresser drawer and found him a white business sized envelope.

Jamieson folded his notes and placed them into the envelope that he addressed to his former wife's home and in another that he addressed Robert's home address he placed a note that read 'Important, If anything happens to me contact my ex.' Follow instructions to letter.' He sealed it "When is the mail pick up around here?"

"If we hurry we can make it. If not it won't go for another two days. Do you want a stamp to go with that?"

"If you don't mind."

They drove the three miles into the village with several farmers waving and then allowing their gaze to follow the car as they noticed a second person sitting beside the driver that they were so used to seeing on her own. Jane pulled up in front of the general store cum Post Office and she and Jamieson walked inside.

"How are you Mrs Finchley?" Jane asked the woman behind the counter.

"Janey, how are you today. Is something the matter? You don't usually come down during the week, not this time of year at least. Her eyes came to rest on Jamieson. The question remained unasked.

"No, nothing wrong. We just decided to come down for a day or so. Bryan, this is Mrs Finchley, if you ever want to find out about anything or anyone hereabouts she's the one to ask."

"Hush at you girlie. Don't pay her no heed Sir, I'm not one to gossip."

"I'm sure you're not. Has the mail been picked up yet?"

"No. It won't be long though, can I get you something while you're waiting?"

"Yes, we'll have a pint of milk, some butter, one of those lovely big crusty cottage loaves, eggs, cheese, and have you got any of that streaky bacon?"

"How much would you like?"

"I think just the two large rashers will be fine thank you."

"You're not planning to stay long then?"

"No we both have to be back in London by lunch time tomorrow."

Mrs Finchley cut two rashers of bacon and placed them along with the other provisions into a large brown paper bag. Jamieson and Jane put them into the car and walked the twenty yards to the hotel.




CHOGM Pt. 01



The Three Fiddlers was a small and very comfortable pub. It was dark even during the day but the lights were not turned on until it was officially dark. The walls were all panelled in timber burnished and stained by hundreds of years of open fires and pipe smoke combined with the backs of farmers' coats as they leant against them for support.

The Publican was a large man with a jovial outlook on life and a face that had obviously seen the bottom of many a pint glass during its life. "Jane, I heard you were down, and not alone either I'm told." He looked at Jamieson with the expression of someone who naturally assumed that an introduction was a matter of course.

"Bryan Jamieson, this is Mr Finchley, between him and Mrs they have a monopoly on commerce in the village, and on information." 

"Pleased to meet you sir." Bryan held out his hand and was startled by the strength of the handshake.

"Pleased to meet any friend of Janey's, that's not to say that there've been that many mind you. You look like a man that would like a pint."

"We both would thanks," said Jane, "and not any of that mass produced rubbish either, a pint from the old barrel in the cellar." She turned to Bryan, "You wait till you taste this beer, it's a local brew and leaves the city rubbish for dead."

Mr Finchley poured three pints and placed them on the bar in front of them. The three of them were silent for several seconds while they savoured the beer. Jane lowered her tankard and licked the white beer moustache from her top lip. "I was right wasn't I?"

"You were indeed. I don't suppose we can get a couple of bottles of this to take with us?"

"You aren't staying for dinner?" Finchley asked. "The good woman has baked a lovely big gamekeeper's pie."

"We're staying. There is no way I'm going to miss out on that." Jane's enthusiasm for country cooking was obvious.

"What's in it?" Bryan asked.

"There's venison, jugged hare, grouse and pheasant."

"I didn't think that pheasant and grouse were in season."

"That's why it's called a gamekeepers pie. We can get their hands on anything at any time of the year." Said Finchley proudly.

"I wouldn't tell him too much," Jane winked to Finchley, "He's the head of the Midlands Poaching Squad."

"Actually sir, if the truth be known the pie is nothing more than lamb, rabbit and chicken." Finchley's wink was as big as Jane's.

A couple of the local farmers stomped into the pub and soon a boisterous group surrounded Jane and Bryan at the bar, each of them sizing Bryan up, wary at first of any newcomer to the district, but soon warming to the relaxed way with which Bryan chatted to them.

After a hearty meal of pie and three veg, washed down with more of the local brew, the group sat around the fire, pots in hand discussing the problems of farming in winter. Bryan showed a keen interest in their problems and was soon being regaled by ever more exaggerated stories of the dramas of farm life.

They left at around ten and drove happily back to the cottage, Jane allowing Bryan to take the wheel of the Morgan sensing that this action would show to the farmers that she had accepted him as her own and expected them to do likewise. The car crunched up the drive and before Bryan had even switched off the motor Jane leant across and kissed him. "Thank you for tonight."

"But I didn't do anything."

"Yes you did. You took them for what they are, you didn't put on any airs and graces with them and they really appreciated that. You would be surprised how totally they can crucify anyone who talks down to them."

"You sound as if you're speaking from experience?"

"Yes. I made the mistake once of bringing up a friend who was something in the city and he thought it was beneath him to even talk to them. It was the loneliest night I've spent in my entire life, and that includes nights spent on my own."

They walked into the kitchen and Jane stirred the fire into life. She took down a saucepan and boiled some milk. Seated in the kitchen warmed by the heat from the old fuel stove, Jane and Bryan moved closer to the inevitable.

Bryan was pleasantly surprised to find that the bed was warm. He slid between the sheets to find himself enclosed in Jane's waiting arms. "I have waited so long for this moment." Jane whispered in his ear.

"But we only met last night."

"What I mean is that I have waited so long for the moment when I am actually about to make love to a man that I feel so totally comfortable with."

"Grammar, grammar."

"Leave my dead grandmother out of this."

"You know what I mean, you being the famous writer to the world."

"Shut up. How can I kiss you when you keep talking?"

He shut up and she kissed. He returned the kiss and slowly, gently, they were joined as one.

A far off rooster woke them. The sun was streaming through the curtains forming patterns on the wall. Jane stretched her arms over her head as she woke and Bryan made the most of the opportunity to take her in his arms and kiss her. "Good morning Darling."

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you supposed to have come up with some lame excuse and left me a note before sneaking off into the night?"

"Silly woman. For starters how could I leave when you've got the car, and why the Hell would I want to leave with you here in this wonderful bed."

"Oh well, I suppose that I'll have to lie here while you do your he-man thing and take advantage of my helplessness."

"If you insist." Bryan kissed her, his hands moving slowly over her body. Jane stirred under his caress, making small whimpering noises as his fingers encircled her nipples. Her whimper became a sob of passion as she felt his mouth close over one of her nipples. Her passion intensified into motion as he entered her. With slow languorous movements they rose to a combined climax.

Jane forbade him to help as she fussed around the kitchen. His taste buds stood to attention as the aroma of frying bacon and eggs wafted down the hallway. She walked into the bedroom holding a tray before her as the only concession to decency she wanted. Bryan took it from her and placed it on his lap while she slid back into bed.

Breakfast was a laughing happy meal with both of them not caring for the world around them although both had it in mind that they would have to leave shortly.

It was nine thirty when they adjourned to the bathroom for a frenzy of splashing as they washed off the traces of the night.

At ten o'clock they were seated once more in the Morgan. Jane leant over to kiss Bryan. "Do you think you can survive on that until we reach London?"

"I guess I'll have to, won't I?"

Jane turned the ignition key, and they and the Morgan ceased to exist. 

3

The explosion was heard in the village and it was a matter of minutes before a crowd was standing in front of the wreckage of what was once a tidy cottage. What remained was a blazing pile of roof timbers and thatch in the centre of the brick walls.

In front of the house was a large crater where the Morgan once stood. In an adjoining field the car lay on its back, a charred and crumpled wreck, the remains of its occupants lay in the field beside it. Mrs Finchley stood looking at them with her head bowed. "The poor wee girlie," She sobbed, "she looked so happy last night. I really felt that she had found the right man at last."

"Look at this." PC Robinson, a dour policeman in his forties stood up from his search of Jamieson's body, in his hand was a wallet and identification card. "This man was a policeman. I had better contact Scotland Yard." Robinson did nothing without first contacting his superiors or, as in this case, someone else higher up who would take command of any investigation. He hopped on his bicycle and pedalled as fast as he could in the direction of the village.

An ambulance arrived and the ambulance driver checked the bodies to see if there were any sign of life. There was none. He draped them with blankets and stood beside them to wait for Robinson to return.

Two of the farmers stood beside him chatting to each other, "Did you see that car down here yesterday evening?"

"Yes I saw him drive along the road and stop at the gate. This man got out and looked at the house through binoculars for a few minutes and then drove off the way he came."

"I wonder if he had anything to do with this."

"More than likely. I can't see that he would do that for his health. I suppose we should tell Robby when he gets back."

They didn't have long to wait as Robinson came puffing up on his bike. "Don't touch anything. The brass from London are on their way up, it seems as if this fellow was one of the top detectives in the city."

"Hey Robby, Bill here and me saw this car here last evening and the driver was acting real strange like."

"In what way strange?"

"He was looking at the cottage for some time and then he drove back the way that he had come."

"And what way was that?"

"Back towards London."

"Did you see anyone else around at all?"

"No, we went to the pub around then."

"I think you'd better stick around until the coppers from the city get here." The three of them stood apart from the group of villagers who were slowly dispersing. Finchley and his wife were visibly shaken by what they saw. Both of them looked on Jane as more of a daughter than just another village girl. They had known her from the time she came to stay with her grandparents during the war years when the cities were being bombed on a regular basis. She was a bright and friendly girl who always looked on life as if it was all fun. She talked incessantly but with an intelligence beyond her years and the Finchleys recognised, even at that early stage that she would have a bright future in whatever field she chose.

Over the years they had followed her career with interest and pride. They remembered her first by-line and had started a scrap book in which they carefully placed clippings of any stories that they or any of their friends in the city found.

They had seen her on occasions with a young man, but despite their feeling for her they had never felt that any of them were good enough for her until yesterday when she arrived with Jamieson. Something about her demeanour and the way she looked at him said to them loud and clear that she was sure that he was the man for her. They had discussed this the night before as they closed up the hotel after the last guest had swayed off into the night.

Now in a senseless act of destruction she was gone. They could think of no reason for her death other than that it must have something to do with her association with Jamieson. When they heard the rumour that he was a policeman, they were even more confused.

Soon the quiet country air was pierced by the wailing of police sirens. Several cars pulled into the driveway and rolled up to the crater that was the centre of the explosion. A couple of policemen and the ambulance crew walked to where the remains of Jane and Bryan lay under blankets. A plain clothed policeman walked over to where the two farmers stood. "I understand that you two saw a car around here yesterday afternoon. Can you describe either the driver of the car or give us a description of the vehicle?"

"Well yes. The driver appeared to middle aged, round forty, he was wearing a fawn overcoat and a brown hat. He would have been about six feet tall and looked fairly thin. The car was a silver coloured Rover, the same as that one there." He indicated the police car.

"Not an unusual car. You didn't get the number by any chance did you?"

"Yes, didn't you..." He stopped as the heel of his friend's boot came down on his toe.

"No."

"I don't suppose we can expect miracles in a case like this."

"Who do you think could have done this?"

"I'm not at liberty to suggest any suspects at this time, we have to carefully consider any evidence that emerges before we can identify any suspects."

The two farmers left their names and addresses with the policeman and headed for home. "Didn't you say that you saw the number plate of the car?"

"Of course I did silly, but when I looked at the car that that copper arrived in I recognised it as the same bloody car. You don't think that I am going to say to some bloody big city copper that I saw him snooping around where a couple of people got blown to pieces. The same thing would probably happen to me."

"Shit, what have we stumbled on here?"

"I don't know and I don't want to bloody know and I'm tellin' you that for nothin'."

At around the time that the police left the scene to return to London Roberts was called into the office of the DCI. "Sit down Roberts." A chair was indicated on the opposite side of the desk. "You knew Jamieson pretty well didn't you?"

"Why the past tense?"

"We have just been informed that Jamieson and an as yet unidentified person were the victims of a car bomb attack in the country. Did he mention to you what it was that he was investigating up there?"

"No, all I know was that he said he was following a lead and would be back this morning."

"He didn't mention any concerns about the case that you were working on?"

"Nothing apart from being pissed off over the hospital releasing all of those witnesses."

"I would like to see any of his case notes if you could get them for me."

"I'll have a look through his things for you. Have his relatives been notified of this yet?"

"I wasn't aware that he had any apart from his ex-wife."

"Don't you think we should let her know, as a matter of courtesy?"

"I suppose so. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes. I'll have a look through his things first."

Within ten minutes he had returned to the DCI's office with a few pieces of paper that were not much more than a series of thoughts but with nothing specific. Roberts left the police station and drove out to Jamieson's ex-wife's house. 

The door of the large brick house was answered by a maid dressed in black and white uniform. "Yes can I help you?"

"Is Mrs Carmichael at home?"

"Yes. Who shall I say wishes to speak to her?"

"My name is Roberts, Detective Constable Roberts. I am a friend of Mrs Carmichael's former husband."

"Won't you please come in, I'll get her for you." She left him standing in the hallway while she went to find her mistress. A minute later a tall, slim and elegant blonde woman walked slowly down the hallway, stopping in front of Roberts. "How may I help you?"

"I have some bad news. Your former husband was killed in an explosion this morning. I felt that it would be better if you heard the news from us rather than through the news media. I don't suppose that you have spoken to Bryan recently have you?"

"No. We haven't really spoken at all since the divorce. A funny thing happened this morning though, I received a letter from him that had been posted from some village somewhere. In it there was an envelope that he said that I should give to you, no one else, only you. I thought it rather odd because he never wrote to me at all, not even a birthday or Christmas card."

"Do you have the letter here?"

"Yes, I'll have Lucy fetch it for you." She turned her head. "Lucy would you bring me that letter that I left on the desk in Mr Carmichael's study this morning."

Lucy arrived with the letter that she held out to Mrs Carmichael who indicated with a small movement of her head that she should give it to Roberts. Roberts tore the letter open and inside he found two pieces of paper, one in Jamieson's distinct scrawl and the other in a neater, more feminine hand. The first contained a message telling him to reveal the contents of either letter to no-one and to take the other sheet of paper, which was a letter of authority addressed to the manager of a suburban branch of the Bank of England. It also contained instructions that he was to follow to the letter, to take the contents of the safety deposit box at the bank and send it by registered mail to Interpol. He was under no circumstance to reveal the contents of the papers in the box to anyone, particularly not to the DCI. After he had done that he was to drive to Jane's house, the address of which was included, there he was to look for a secret panel in the back of the pantry cupboard, third shelf up, in which he would find copies of the documents in the box. He was to take those papers and deliver them personally to a person whose name was included, in MI6. Again, he was to disclose none of the information.

"What does it say?" Mrs Carmichael was intrigued.

"Just some papers in connection with an investigation that he was working on. Nothing exciting."

When Roberts left her she was none the wiser. He drove to the bank mentioned in the note and, after some negotiation with a reluctant manager, retrieved the papers from Jane's safety deposit box. He sat in the vault and read quickly through the papers. What he saw in them filled him with fear, not only for his own safety but that of any one who crossed the path of the organisation mentioned in it. He quickly re-sealed the papers and left the vault walking quickly to a nearby Post Office he posted the papers by registered mail to Interpol.

Calling in he said that he wanted to have a look at the scene of Jamieson's death and hopefully come up with some ideas.

Roberts drove his own car, a battered but reliable Morris Minor, at least on the outside it was, mechanically it was MGB and he had retained a certain fondness for it since he helped his late father with the conversion.

Arriving at the cottage Roberts looked into the crater wondering just how much explosive had been used to cause such a huge hole. He then walked over to the field in which markers still showed where Jane and Bryan were found. He stood for a few minutes, head bowed at the site before going into the house. Working quickly he located the panel in the cupboard of the largely undamaged kitchen at the rear of the house. Finding the papers he put them into his inside jacket pocket.

Roberts drove into the village. It was late in the afternoon so he decided to call into the hotel for something to eat before returning to London.

"You've been out at the cottage then?" Finchley asked him as he stood at the bar.

"Yes. I wanted to have a look at the scene for myself."

"You're not from around here are you?"

"No, I'm from London. I am, or was that is, a friend of the man that was killed in the blast."

"Nasty thing that. We've never had anything like it around here. Peaceful this place is, we'd like to keep it that way."

"I won't do anything to change that."

The regular patrons started to come into the hotel for their evening refreshment and soon the bar was a noisy gathering of people all with opinions about the recent happenings. Roberts overheard something that set his senses racing. Two of the farmers were holding centre stage with their opinions as they were something of local celebrities having been witnesses of sorts to the crime. "I'm telling you, the car I saw snooping around the evening before was the same car that one of the policemen drove up from London in. It was a silver Rover and the number plate was the same. I wasn't about to tell the police that I saw it, I might be mad but I'm not stupid." 

Roberts pushed his way to the two men, "I heard you say that you saw a car snooping around here the evening before the blast, can you tell me more about it?"

"And who might you be?"

"Let's just say that I'm a friend of the man that had been blown up in the car."

"Let's just say that we don't know anything."

"Ok. My name is Roberts. Bryan Jamieson was my partner and we were working together on a case that was getting some pretty heavy interference for above. I heard you mention that the car that you saw was the same one that one of the policemen drove up from London, somehow that doesn't surprise me. I knew that Bryan was coming down here with Jane to look at something and he warned me that he could be in danger and gave me instructions of what to do if something happened to them. I am in the process of doing that now."




CHOGM Pt. 01



"I guess you can be trusted, but if we find that you have done the dirty on us we will not be too pleased and when we are not pleased we have a nasty way of showing it. The car we saw, the silver Rover stopped on the road outside Jane's place and the driver was watching the house through some binocular things, he stayed there for about five minutes and then drove back towards London. Jim here thought he heard something around two in the morning, or at least his dogs heard something, because they were growling at something."

"How far does Jim live from Jane's place?"

"Just over the hill, not more than a couple of hundred yards."

"It wouldn't have been a fox or something like that would it?"

"No. At foxes they bark, at men they growl."

"You didn't investigate?"

"No. I don't get out of bed unless I hears someone comin' through the window."

"Did you hear anything else?"

"I thought I heard a car drive past my house."

"About what time was this?"

"I'd say it was about three in the morning."

"But you're not sure."

"Well, I looked at my alarm clock and the hand was pointing to the four so I knew that it was about three."

"The hand pointed to four so you knew it was about three?"

"Yes. You see the clock was broken and I fixed it, but I lost the minute hand and when I pushed the hour hand back on it was in the wrong place. I just haven't got around to changing it."

"So, a car drove away about three. What was the next thing you remember?"

"I was out in the fields caring for my sheep when I heard a loud bang coming from over the hill so I dropped everything and raced over. I saw the house on fire and the hole in the ground where the car once was."

"I understand that you two were talking to Jane and Jamieson the night before, was there anything about them that struck you as unusual?"

"No. They just seemed like any other young couple in love."

"In love?"

"Oooh yes. They looked at each other all the time. And she was holding his hand every chance she got. We were all happy for her because he looked like a nice enough chap and he was obviously as much in love with her as she was with him."

"But they only met the day before yesterday."

"It doesn't take long to fall in love. Why me and my Beryl knew the moment our eyes met that we would be wed one day."

"Did they do anything yesterday that could be seen as unusual?"

"The only thing they did was to buy some provisions and post a couple of letters."

"Did you mention that to the policeman that was here earlier?"

"No I did not. I knows when to keep my mouth shut. I wasn't going to mention that to someone who could have been involved in it all along."

"So you feel that this person had something to do with it?"

"Yes. And you sound as if you're not too surprised about that. I bet you have a good idea who's involved."

"I suppose you could say that I have a fair idea who is calling the shots and who is jumping to the call. I can't say too much, but I don't like it at all."

"What can we do down here to help?"

"Just keep out of it but if you would let me know if anyone else is snooping around, you can ring me on this number," He took a card from his pocket on which he wrote his home number, "If I'm not at home you can leave a message with my wife. Remember, don't do anything that will get you hurt, these chaps are playing for keeps."

Roberts left the hotel and drove back to London. As he pulled onto the motorway he noticed a car behind him that he was sure had been following him ever since he had left the village. He accelerated until he was speeding along at 80mph but still the car was trailing about a hundred yards behind. He slowed down to a more respectable 60mph only to see the other car slow down as well. He took the papers from his jacket pocket and, reaching under his seat he jammed them into the seat webbing where he was sure that a cursory search would not find them.

The motorway was winding through some deserted countryside when he noticed the other car start to move up on him. He put his foot down hoping to outrun the other car but realised as soon as his car was at full stretch that the other car was more powerful. After a mile or so it loomed up along side of him and he glanced over to see if he could get a glimpse of the driver, but the other car had a dark tinting on the side windows that effectively shielded the driver or any passengers from view.

The car was a black Mark 10 Jaguar, low and powerful. As Roberts watched the driver adjusted his speed to match the Morris. The cars entered a long sweeping bend and Roberts took his eyes away from the Jaguar to concentrate on the road ahead. As the two cars reached the apex of the corner the Jaguar swerved onto the Morris sending it careening off the road and down the embankment. 

Roberts fought the wheel with all his strength but realised that his efforts were going to be of no avail. The Morris rolled several times and came to rest on its roof at the bottom of the embankment, Roberts, unconscious and lying on the inside of the roof, one shattered arm hanging out the driver's door.

Two men walked up to the wreck and dragged him free. While one of them went through the motions of checking to see if he was alive, the other went through his pockets. "Not a bloody thing worthwhile here. I was sure that he took something out of the house."

They both started to search the car and would have been more thorough had not another car pulled up. "Everything all right here?" The driver asked.

"This chap is unconscious, could you go down the road and call for the police and ambulance?"

"I am a doctor, I think I should have a look at him. I suggest that you should ring for the police while I take care of him."

"All right." Said the larger of the two men. They walked back to the Jaguar and drove off.

Roberts started to come round just after they left. "Just lay still. I'll splint that arm of yours while we're waiting for the ambulance. Then I'll give you an injection to kill the pain."

"Was there anyone here when you arrived?"

"Yes, there were two men here."

"Were they in a black Mark 10 Jaguar?"

"Why yes they were, why?"

"I think you had better flag down the next car and get them to fetch the ambulance, you see those men ran me off the road. Before you go could you do something for me?"

"Yes."

"I am a police officer working on a case, you can check my ID if you like, inside the car, under the driver's seat are some papers, would you get them for me?"

The doctor walked over to the Morris and felt around until he found the papers. He pulled them free of the seat and looked quickly at them before putting them inside his own jacket. "What are you doing with them?" Roberts asked.

"Don't worry about things, I'm on your side. Jamieson rang me yesterday before he came down and said that if anything happened to him you had instructions as to what to do, and that I was to follow you to make sure that you weren't prevented from doing what he asked. Apart from being a member of MI6 I really am a doctor. The name's Carrington, Jeremy Carrington." He took out his wallet and showed Roberts his driver's license, "We seem to be in the middle of something big."

"I can't say that I'm all that pleased to meet you but I am glad you came along when you did."

"Excuse me a moment will you," Carrington ran down to the edge of the road and hailed a car that was passing. He arranged for the driver to contact the police and ambulance.

When he came back he sat down on the grass beside Roberts, "Do you know what is happening here?"

"From what I can work out there is an organised network of people working at the US Embassy who are bringing drugs into this country in diplomatic luggage. This seems to be one of several countries in which they are operating and they are making an awful lot of money doing it. I don't know why, and I'm not about to ask."

"In simple terms you are right. What is in these papers is a breakdown of the whole network from the time the drug crop is harvested in Cambodia and Laos to the time it reaches England. This is political dynamite on an international level and the repercussions for both our government and that of the US are enormous."

"Don't our people know about this?"

"Yes they do but they are under instructions not to ask too many questions."

"It all seems too sordid for my Constable Plod brain to absorb. How can two supposedly civilized governments sit back and allow this to happen? Don't they have any conscience?"

"When you're talking the kind of money that we are here you find that the powers that be suddenly lose any conscience that they once had."

An ambulance arrived and Roberts was placed onto a stretcher and lifted into the back. "Can you make sure that my car is taken care of? It means a lot to me."

"Leave it all to me, I'll get in touch with you and let you know what happens to it." The ambulance drove off as a police car and tow truck arrived on the scene. Carrington arranged for the car to be taken to the local garage and asked the driver to store it until he was given further instructions.

"Can you tell me what happened here?" The policeman asked.

"Well not exactly. I came along and found this car on its roof and the driver crawling out of it, he didn't seem to know what had happened."

"There was no other car in the vicinity?"

"No, at least not that I saw."

"And you say the driver didn't seem to know what happened, he didn't mention another car at all?"

"No. I had a look down by the road and it seemed as if he ran off the side of the road and just rolled over when he swerved to get back on to it."

"I think we'll get some experts out to have a look to see if we can piece this together. It doesn't seem possible for a car to roll over on this stretch of road."

"Maybe he had been driving for some time and went to sleep."

"It's a possibility that we can't discount yet. Where can I contact you in case we need more information?"

"My name is Cartwright and I work for Major Preston as his stable manager, you can contact me at Manor Farm any time. Here is my phone number." He took from his wallet a business card that identified him as a racehorse trainer at Manor Farm.

"Very good. How is the Major? I heard that he had been out to visit his businesses in Hong Kong and had been taken ill with one of those oriental diseases."

"He's alright now but it was touch and go for a while. I'll let him know you asked about him when he gets back next month, what did you say your name was?"

"Smithson, PC Smithson."

"I really must be getting on. Don't forget, if you need anything just call me."

"Very good Sir."

Carrington/Cartwright got into his car and drove off in the direction of London. Just around the corner from the scene he turned into a secondary road that skirted a small wood and, by taking a series of small lanes he soon found himself driving up a long driveway to a large house set well back and shielded by trees from the road.

As his car pulled up in front of the house a tall, thin man wearing the tweed jacket and corduroy trousers of the country squire came out of the front door. "Well?"

"All taken care of. We won't have any trouble from that quarter again. I can't believe the trouble that Symonds caused when he alerted his sister to those papers, but here they are now. "He took the papers from his jacket and passed them to the other man."

"Damn!"

"What's wrong now?"

"These are not the originals. A good copy yes, but definitely not the originals."

"What do we do now?"

"We retrace the movements of everyone connected to this until we find out what has happened to the originals. Now, we know that Symonds' girlfriend sent the papers to his sister and that she had them stashed in the cottage somewhere. We searched the place from top to bottom without success but when she appeared on the scene with the copper we knew that she was probably going to show them to him. They went into the village for supplies and a drink before returning to an evening that neither of them would have forgotten for some time if we hadn't had them disposed of. We again searched the cottage without success but were sure that he had made some contact with an associate who would lead us to them."

"We intercepted that person on his way back to London and relieved him of the papers before he could deliver them. At no time did he have the opportunity to copy them so there must have been another copy somewhere else, but where?"

"I wonder if she has them stored in a bank vault somewhere."

"A strong possibility. I want you to check around and see if you can find out if she had a Safe Deposit box at any bank, and if she or anyone else has accessed it over the last few days."

"OK. What has happened to that other policeman?"

"I have arranged for him to be dead on arrival at the hospital. It seems that he suffered a severe neck injury that didn't show up in the initial examination by the ambulance men."

"Won't someone get suspicious about two policemen, and partners at that, both dying within a day of each other in separate `incidents'."

"People are being paid very good money to discourage such thoughts."

Carrington/Cartwright left and drove, again by a circuitous route back towards the motorway and London.

4

Paris March 20th 1969:

"Gentlemen, I must apologise for the haste in calling this meeting but happenings over the last couple of days have brought the matter to a head. We have had four drug related murders in England in the last week."

"Nothing new about that." The speaker was an American with all the trappings of a Hollywood spy, dark suit, snap brimmed hat, dark rimmed glasses and a cynical attitude.

"As you observe nothing unusual about that." The Director of Interpol was a small man with close cropped grey hair and a permanently sad face. "Except, except that two of the victims were policemen who were investigating the first. They were killed in separate incidents using different methods and an attempt has been made to conceal the facts."

"What has that to do with Interpol?"

"When taken in context of similar happenings in Holland, France and Australia, a lot. It appears as if a batch of adulterated hashish was shipped around the world and this has caused several marijuana users to find themselves dead. When police have managed to get too close, they have been either bought off or eliminated. So you see gentlemen, it has become a matter for Interpol and the various intelligence agencies throughout the World."

"Do we know who is behind the movement of these drugs?"

"Yes. The drugs have originated in South East Asia. They have been processed in plants run by this organisation, transported to a central warehousing facility in planes flown by the same organisation and distributed by a network of couriers employed by the government of the country that has set up this organisation."

"Who is this amazing organisation?" The American asked.

"It seems amusing that that question should come from you. It is the CIA."

There was a general buzz of amazement around the room as the representatives of the various Police and security forces from around the world digested the statement.

"We have been aware for some time that US troops have been used to transfer drugs around the world but have always been led to believe that it was a small scale operation that was earning a few unscrupulous people some extra money." The speaker's accent identified him as Australian.

"I don't believe what I'm hearing!" The American exclaimed.

A quiet clerk moved around the room distributing folders to each of them. "In the file that you have just had placed before you, you will find a complete, as far as we are aware, breakdown of the operation, how it is being financed, who is growing and supplying the drugs, who processes them and how they are distributed. Our task is to locate the most effective point in this operation at which we can strike to achieve the maximum impact with the minimum risk."

"Hey fellas, count me out. I could be had up for treason if my people in Washington ever found out that I was involved in an operation against my own people."

"So be it. In fact I was just about to ask you to withdraw from this meeting for just such a reason."

"Suits me fine."

"Before you go I am going to ask you to communicate with no-one, no mention will be made of any information that you have seen or heard here today. You can leave the files here when you leave if you don't mind."

As the American left the room one of the British representatives spoke up. "Where did this information come from?"

"One of our men who went 'missing in action' in Hong Kong apparently got wind of what was about to happen and had prepared a report to send back to London when he disappeared. It appears, after all these years that he had managed to get a copy to his sister in England who had it stored away for safe keeping in the fear that if she went to the authorities with it any chance she had of seeing her brother alive would vanish. She gave that information to a friend of hers in the Drug Squad who somehow managed, before both of them were blown to Kingdom come, to alert his partner who sent us the original before he was himself killed retrieving the copy."

"How and when do we act?"

"The 'how' we are about to make a major dent in the supply chain, the 'when' will that it's happening as we speak before our American friend has a chance to alert his superiors and have the pipeline closed down. Now let me explain the 'how' in more detail."

5

London, February 1st 1978:

The beauty of a white Christmas had degenerated into a grey and miserable January which in turn would be followed by what promised to be an equally grey and miserable February. London's grey pigeons huddled on grey ledges to escape the icy blast that brought with it the driving sleet that added to the grey slush on the streets. No-one in their right mind ventured abroad on such a day unless it was imperative.

A black beetle of a taxi sidled into the kerb and discharged a grey figure onto the footpath. Rugged up against the chill the figure dashed into the nearest doorway. The building was anonymous. It squatted like so many other anonymous buildings, shoulders hunched against the weather, protecting the few occupants that needed to be inside its cold confines.

"Jerry's here." The voice belonged to an anonymous man standing at an open window feeding a rather too well fed pigeon. The bird cooed its anger as the window clattered shut leaving it and the arctic atmosphere outside.

"About bloody time. Why don't you get central heating and double glazing in this refrigerator?"

"Because heating ducts are perfect places to conceal listening devices."

"God you're paranoid."

The door opened to admit Jerry into the room. He brushed the drops of rain from his coat onto the dark brown linoleum floor. "What's the panic?"

"Hello John, how are you? I'm fine thank you Jerry and how are you keeping?"

"All right, I was coming to the pleasantries just as soon as I got the blood moving in my fingers."

"Are you all finished?" The pigeon feeder sat down in a large leather chair behind a large leather topped desk on which was a pristine blotter, a desk set complete with gold pen and pencil and a leather bound daily and weekly planner. His chair was in stark contrast to the straight backed wooden chairs in which the other three men were forced to sit. These chairs served to accentuate the discomfort that they already felt.

There was a heater of sorts in the corner behind the desk. It was ancient and inefficient and for all the heat it put out it may just as well not be there. "I have brought you three here today because I have a job for you that requires your special talents."




CHOGM Pt. 02



6

Sydney Morning Herald

Monday, February 6th, 1978

LANDA'S PLAN TO CONVERT HOMES TO FLATS

The State Government is considering allowing homes to be divided into two self contained residences.

HOWARD DECLARES NO-LIMIT BORROWING TO BACK DOLLAR

Canberra- A no-limit commitment to support the Australian Dollar with substantial further overseas borrowings was announced by the Federal Treasurer Mr Howard.

Early February mornings in Sydney belie the day to follow. The sun had not yet evaporated the previous afternoon's rain that had not quite succeeded in cleansing the smog and pollution from the air, streets and buildings.

Sydney airport was beginning to rouse itself into the frenetic lethargy that characterised the indolence that the time of the year imposed on it. Seagulls wheeled and squabbled over scraps of food before heading off to the cooler and more productive grounds of the nearby parks and beaches, for the present though it was the turn of the airport to benefit from the swirling mass of off-white birds.

Like a huge lazy bird with a bright red tail the Qantas 747 lumbered out of the sky and glided smoothly to a halt at the terminus. The umbilicus of the aerobridge stretched out to kiss the side of the plane and greet the usual assortment of passengers. Tired but excited tourists, inward bound to a whirlwind tour of the vastness of the country, where they would exclaim appropriately over the usual assortment of sights that the tour promoters had decreed that they should see. The tired and broke expatriates returning from equally frenetic tours of overseas countries, where they were shuffled through an endless series of sights that tour operators thought they should see.

Business types and returning politicians continued the mutual lobbying that they had carried out for the entire journey. The tired and whingeing children who, unable to sleep due to the excitement of their adventure had succeeded in keeping everyone else awake.

When it seemed that all of the passengers had disembarked and the crew could at last relax, there was a commotion from the forward doorway. Three men in their late thirties or early forties, and in an advanced state of inebriation, approached the hostess with the exaggerated precision of men in their condition. The first took the hostess' right hand in his and with a sweeping gesture of his left hand and a stiffly formal bow, raised her hand to his lips. "My dear child, I must thank you on behalf of myself, and my comrades of course, for the every kindness that you have shown us on this flight from hell."

He staggered slightly, spun stiffly, hiccupped lightly and with a military gait proceeded in the general direction of the terminus. It almost came off. His feet tangled with each other and in a somewhat less than military manner he pitched forward, measuring his length on the floor of the aerobridge.

The hostess glanced briefly at the prostrate form and then turned her attention to the second of the trio. He grinned good naturedly at her and raised his hand to his forehead in a casual salute to her, and in a slow, almost drawling voice he said, "You will have to excuse my friend here, I do believe he has had a wee drop too much to drink. We'll take care of him for you." With that he executed a perfect pirouette that ended in a perfect pratfall at her feet.

The hostess raised her eyes heavenward in a silent plea for Divine intervention and prepared herself for the third and last member of the trio. She was prepared for everything except for the enthusiastic way he grabbed her and planted a huge kiss squarely her unsuspecting lips. She staggered to regain her balance and composure without much success. At last he broke the kiss and, holding her at arm's length, looked her in the eye. "Darling, I love you with a passion never before felt in this worn but not yet dead body of mine. I want to sweep you off your feet and throw you over the flanks of my gallant steed that even now grazes in yonder car park, and ride off into this beautiful sunset." He waved his hand in the general direction of the rapidly climbing, but hidden from their view sun.

He released her and, turning quickly ran lightly after the other two. The hostess swayed back as he released his grip and the only thing that prevented her from falling over was the wall of the aerobridge. She let out a long drawn out sigh as the Captain and First Officer arrived at the door of the plane. "Have our drunken fools left safely?" His gaze followed her pointing finger and saw the trio, arms about each other's shoulders staggering erratically towards the terminal building.

"Why is it that there is always at least one drunken idiot to spoil it for the rest of the passengers, not to mention us long suffering crew." She picked up her flight bag and followed them. "Do you know what one of them actually did?"

"No." In unison from her companions.

"He surreptitiously emptied some fruit salad or something into his airsick bag and then pretended to throw up into it. Then, uggh it was repulsive, he took a spoon from his pocket and proceeded to eat it with such enthusiasm that he had every passenger around him reaching for their own bags. In no time at all there were at least thirty very sick passengers in the immediate vicinity."

The Captain looked at her and, shaking his head said, "I would have thought that they would have warned you about that particular trick at flight school. It isn't new by any means, but, nonetheless it is effective on any unsuspecting passenger."

The conversation centred on the funny and not so funny things that passengers had got up to on flights, and soon they were chuckling as they headed for the terminal. They probably wouldn't have been so happy if they had known the havoc that the walking disaster area was currently wreaking inside the arrivals hall.

One thing passengers rely on to overcome the problems of a long flight is the orderly retrieval of their luggage. There were going to be a lot of very unhappy passengers. The three men were clambering over the baggage conveyor throwing other bags in all directions in a frenzied search for their own. The other passengers looked on in horror as Auntie Maude's Waterford crystal decanter, or whatever priceless trinket was in the bag, was subjected to forces usually associated with mail sorters. It didn't take long for both uniformed and plain clothes police to converge on the trio and attempt to apprehend them. 

Attempt was the operative word. The first lunge resulted in one uniformed officer grasping at nothing and landing face down on the conveyor as the target of his efforts side-stepped with all the agility of a rugby scrum half and sped off down the concourse.

He was quickly pursued by two other policemen while the others stalked the remaining two men. The cat and mouse game that followed soon had the crowd cheering the efforts of the two men to avoid capture. Every time one of them eluded the reach of his would be captor a loud cheer rose from the spectators. The damage to the bags was soon forgotten, except for those importers of certain illegal substances who edged their way to the fringe of the crowd ready to decamp in the event of their bags being burst disclosing the contents for all to see. Soon the already large crowd was further swollen by the arrival of passengers from another flight.

The police were getting extremely uncomfortable due to their inability to catch the two men, and the support that was being given them. "All right you two!" The voice cut through the bedlam like a whip crack. "That's enough!" The leader of the police contingent had drawn a very impressive looking hand gun from the holster under his oversized jacket and had it levelled at the nearest of the two. The crowd cringed back leaving a corridor at least three metres wide either side of him as if they had little faith in his marksmanship. "OK! Grab your bags and follow me!"

"But Commissioner, That's the problem. We can't find our bags."

"Where are your baggage checks?"

They produced the cardboard slips from their pockets and sheepishly handed them over. The slips were immediately passed on to another officer. "Henson, you search through this lot until you find their bags and when you have found them, bring them down to the office. Come on you lot, follow me." He led the way through the crowd that had reluctantly parted before them, down the long concourse to the Airport Security Office.

In the general hubbub that followed their departure from the baggage retrieval area, a man, the picture of sartorial elegance in white slacks and shoes topped by a cerise shirt with matching kerchief knotted casually at the throat, walked slowly away, his right hand casually replacing the small pearl handled pistol into the shoulder bag that he affected. The picture of soft femininity was in stark contrast to his occupation.

No sooner were they inside the office than the Officer in Charge turned on the two men and, with his nose pressed against that of one of his protagonists, and his rage barely under control, he yelled at the man, "What the fucking hell do you think you are playing at! You were supposed to come in here un-noticed and what happens, here you are the centre of a major disturbance. You couldn't have drawn more attention to yourselves if you had tried!"

"Ah yes, but who would suspect that we are who we are?" The voice came from the third of the trio who, having given his pursuers the slip in the toilets, had doubled back to the Security Office. "If we had tried to be inconspicuous as you had suggested we would have attracted the attention of anyone watching for us. There is nothing as conspicuous as someone trying hard to be inconspicuous, as it is, by drawing a different type of attention on ourselves we have created the role that we will maintain throughout this operation."

"God help us! Not only do we have a security problem of unprecedented proportions on our plate but we now have three geriatric adolescents running around making total and utter fools of themselves. I hope that you don't expect us to play nursemaid to you bloody clowns."

"Heaven forfend. I wish you wouldn't be like that Frank. What happened to the happy go lucky chap that caused so much trouble during the police occupation of Cyprus?"

"That was different. We were there supposedly to keep the Greeks and the Turks from killing each other and it got so boring that we had to think of something to liven up the show. Anyhow, I am led to believe that there will be an assassination attempt on one of the Prime Ministers sometime during this CHOGM conference and it's my job to see that it doesn't happen."

"True," He was suddenly all business, "Our information is that a PM will be blown away while in this country, and attempts will be made to implicate a country which most nations have ceased trading with in a bid to force Britain into following suit. One of the offshoots of which will be the worldwide shortage of diamonds and this will create a commercial advantage situation for someone. Our people back home are keeping a watch on the commodity markets to see they can identify any factions from transactions. Meanwhile we've been sent out to see if we can find any clues from this end."

"How do you propose to achieve this?" 

"We don't actually have a plan as such, yet that is. You know the old adage, 'the best laid plans of mice and men etc..', we have found that in our game it's best not to have too many 'best laid plans'."

"Okay, but remember this, as far as my force and government are concerned, if you blow this operation, or get into any strife whatever, we have never heard of any of you. Now where do we go from here?"

"First of all you had better take us to court where, for the benefit of the press and any other interested parties, we can be charged with creating a public mischief or some such, then after we are released on bail you can point us in the general direction of the hovel in which we have reserved accommodation, which one is it now? The Wentworth, that's it."

"Shit, the Wentworth! You blokes don't believe in making yourselves conspicuous do you?"

"We needed something that befitted our station in life as part of the idle rich pommy aristocracy. One can hardly live below ones means can one?"

Within minutes they were being escorted, each handcuffed to a size twenty man in a size ten suit, through the terminal building and out to a waiting police van. As they passed through the foyer they came across the flight crew fresh from their debriefing. A one way exchange of pleasantries followed. The hostess said nothing until they were past and then, with a quizzical look on her face, she turned to the Captain. "Something has been bothering me about these blokes and I think that I've just realised what it is."

"What is it?"

"Although they looked drunk right from the time they staggered aboard, and they certainly acted drunk for the whole of the journey, and they did seem to consume huge quantities of whisky, when one of them kissed me there was no trace of any alcohol on his breath."

This conversation was overheard by a reporter from one of the more sensational weekly tabloids noted for breaking stories which embarrass just about everyone in some sort of authority. He hastily scribbled a few notes in his notebook and ran to a phone booth. "Bob, quickly, can you get someone to find out where the Feds are taking three men who were arrested at the airport a while ago for causing a fracas. I want someone to stick to them like glue until I can catch up with them. In the mean time I have another lead to follow here. At this stage it is in the hunch category, but there is a distinct piscatorial aroma surrounding this whole shebang."

He hung up the phone and raced after the flight crew who were just about to get into a cab. "Miss," The hostess turned to face him as he screeched to a halt beside her. "Miss....," he was hoping that she would fill in the blank, she didn't, "I couldn't help overhearing what you said back there about those men that arrived on your plane. I wonder if I could have a word with you about them."

"I don't know. It all seems so trivial to me."

"Don't under-estimate trivialities, some of my best stories have started out that way. I can make it worth your while. Look, why don't I buy you a drink while you tell me everything you know and leave it up to me to decide how important or not it is."

She turned to her companions. The Captain shrugged his shoulders, neither he or his companions had any claim on her personal time. They had crewed together for several years and enjoyed each other's company while they were away, but at home in Sydney there was no exclusivity involved.

"Oh alright." They headed for the airport lounge where he knew the bar staff well enough to be able to address them on a first name basis, and to exist between paydays without having to trouble his wallet too much.

Meanwhile at another part of the terminal building an American accent was getting more pronounced due to the anger in it. "Goddammit man!" The normal West Coast had given way Texan roots. "This was supposed to be a simple operation! The men you wanted me to TWEP had the attention of the entire passenger list of what seemed like four international flights, not to mention the total strength of the State and Federal police forces. You specifically said that it was not to be a wet operation. I was left with the decision that if I couldn't make the hit without taking out half the tourist boom in one fell swoop I should beat a strategic withdrawal. So I did. Now you spit the dummy."

"I understand." The accent on the other end of the phone was British Upper Class with traces of Oxford and Eton. "You must, I repeat must, make the hit as you put it, before they can make contact with any organisation. At the moment they are nothing more or less than tourists, but as soon as they make contact with ASIO (Australian Security Intelligence Organisation) or Foreign Affairs we will be unable to terminate them without arousing suspicion."

"ASIO is not a problem, as far as they are concerned this is a routine surveillance operation and of no concern to them. We have told them that our intelligence has uncovered nothing to suggest that there will be any problems with their Mickey Mouse conference. As far as we and they are concerned, this is routine."

The man hung the phone up and walked to where a colleague was waiting, "Well?"

"They have been taken to court by the Feds. No chance until they come out."

"Ok, let's see what we can do."

Oxford/Eton was talking once more. "I thought you told me that this man was the best in the business."

"If you had agreed to my suggestion there would have been no problem."

"I will not condone the wholesale slaughter of innocent people just to kill three."

"Suit yourself. All it would have taken would have been a pressure sensitive detonator and a couple of kilos of semtex fitted to the cargo door of their plane and pfffft! No trace, no problem." 

10.30am and the early morning peak hour had given way to the first rush of shoppers looking for that ever elusive bargain in the city stores. The hotels had just opened their doors to the early customers. The freshly washed smell of these hotels would, as the day progressed, give way to the more familiar aroma of stale beer and cigarette smoke as the city patrons strove to drink and smoke themselves into an early grave.

The two men seated, nursing what was to be the first of several brimming pints of best amber, in a darker back corner of the front bar of a hotel known as the favourite watering hole of the media fraternity, and seemingly intent on beating their colleagues in the race to the grave, were deeply engrossed in earnest conversation.

"You were right, there is something very fishy about this case. The three of them appeared before old Hanging Henry Bransome who, as you know, is not noted for his leniency, and all they got was a slap on the wrists. He didn't even ask for them to surrender their passports which should have been the first thing that he would normally do. Not only that, but he remanded them on fifty dollars bail, each, until sometime in March, by which time they will be well and truly gone. Normally, people charged with a variety of offences under various sections of the Air Navigation Act, resisting arrest and being drunk and disorderly in a public place, to whit an airport terminal, would have at least had time as a guest of her maj until they had sobered up. Not this lot. Slapped wrist and sent off."

"These blokes also must have the most amazing powers of recuperation known to man. There was not a sign of any insobriety on them as they strode all too briskly from the courthouse, stepped into a taxi that just happened to be waiting outside for them and headed off to the Wentworth. They had no opportunity to call the cab, it just happened to be there. I thought to myself 'now that is a coincidence' so I followed them, found out which room they were booked into and assigned young Russell to loiter with intent to observe in the foyer. A task he is finding most rewarding as there is a fashion show on there this evening and all these gorgeous young things are coming and going with monotonous regularity. He has explicit instructions to contact the office as soon as there is any sign of them leaving. I don't think that even Louie the Fly could sneak in or out without being noticed.

"All that ties in with what the hostess told me at the airport. She said that although they had to be just about poured onto the plane and they behaved like drunken slobs for the entire trip from London, when one of them kissed her there was no trace of alcohol on his breath. She didn't pay much attention to it at the time, I think she was just glad to see the backs of them. It struck her as odd later as the police were leading them away. It was she that tipped me off to it when she said something to that effect to the pilot, so of course I just had to find out more."




CHOGM Pt. 02



"I wouldn't be at all surprised if the whole thing was some elaborate charade to throw anyone watching incoming flights right off the scent, after all what better place to hide than under the nose of the observer. You say they came in from London?"

"Yes, they were travelling on British Passports and had visitor's visas for a three month stay."

"I wouldn't mind betting they have something to do with the upcoming CHOGM Regional Conference."

"That would seem a fair enough assumption, but on whose side?"

"Who knows? I have a mind to find out."

It was about that time that three clean shaven and spruced up men strode purposefully from the service entrance of the hotel and made their way by a circuitous route to the headquarters of the Commonwealth Police. 

They were not observed leaving the hotel, they were however observed entering the Police Headquarters, twice. The first time by the security camera in the building which routinely filmed all people entering or leaving the building by any of three entrances, the second time was by a hidden cameraman in the building opposite the main entrance who, by hanging off the back of the most impressive 35mm Nikon which in turn was hanging off the back of the most impressive telephoto lens available, was able to take full head shots of anyone, even if they were over one hundred metres away. In this case several full head frames of all three were taken, the film removed and rushed off to be processed and the finished prints matched against all known agents and terrorists from the four corners of the globe. In the case of the trio in question, this would prove fruitless as there was no known record of them. That is not to say they weren't agents.

John Burroughs, the leader and spontaneous kisser of the group, was typical of three. Middle class to his boot straps. Born of inconspicuous parents in an insignificant little village in Central England, educated by way of village school and secondary modern, he won a scholarship to Cambridge where his consistent mediocrity at his studies kept him very firmly in the mainstream of Academia. He turned out for the second fifteen in rugby where he performed serviceably without any fanfare as their half back.

On leaving university with a good but not outstanding pass in Psychology, and before he could use his qualifications, he was called upon to serve Queen and country in the jungles of Malaya. This he did without distinction and with apparent lack of enthusiasm except for one brief moment of glory when he was promoted to the exalted ranks of Lance Corporal, and where he remained until the end of his stint.

While not having the penchant for self aggrandisement necessary for rapid promotion, he never the less came to the attention of his superiors for his uncanny ability to 'blend in' with his surroundings and his efficiency in infiltrating enemy positions. His ability to blend into the surrounding countryside was a reflection of his life in which he was able to merge into the world of his fellow man.

Frank Rogers, the pratfaller, was from similar background and circumstances. He served his stint in the RAF where he became proficient as a radio technician who managed to get the job done with a minimum of fuss and at the same time learn as much as possible about the realm of communications and electronics as they applied to military operations.

That thirst for knowledge that took him into further studies where he graduated with qualifications in electronics and set himself up, in a small way, building, repairing and operating a variety of radio equipment and other miscellaneous gadgets. It was this work that brought him in on the fringes of police work when he designed several listening devices to be used in some marginally legal investigative work for the local constabulary. This in turn brought him to the notice of the Secret Service.

The third and final member of the group was Jerry Smythe, who was nothing more or less than an extremely competent motor mechanic whose talents had been recognised by one of the leading Formula One racing teams. His job meant that he travelled extensively in the course of his employ, both with the team and his other employer, the Secret Service.

It was motor racing that brought the three together. Frank was hired to install a communications system that would allow the driver and pit crew to talk to each other during a race and without the need for those elaborate pit boards that other teams were forced to used. John had been hired by the same team to provide security for their radically designed car which was to become the dominating force in that year's championship. The three became close friends and had taken to going away together on their not too frequent holidays. It was common knowledge in the racing fraternity that such holidays were enjoyed to the full, and that it usually took time for the holiday destination to recover. It looked to be Sydney's turn. What wasn't commonly known was that, all appearances to the contrary, all three were fiercely teetotal. The cover was complete.

The purpose of their visit was to retrieve a camera bag that had been left behind in the confusion at the airport. At least that is what the informant inside the building told the observers opposite, and the fact that when they emerged from the building some time later they carried just such a bag confirmed this. The fact that it had taken some two hours for them to obtain the bag was put down to the usual bureaucratic ineptitude and lack of efficient filing system. The real reason for their visit was that they had spent much of the time in a private room in the depths of the building looking at a series of files on recent arrivals.

Of these, two were well known to them as IRA bombers, and the circumstances of their arrivals sent warning bells ringing. The first and possibly the brains of the two was a small, wiry man with a pinched face and long nose. His swarthy complexion confirmed the wholehearted way in which his female ancestors greeted the survivors of the Spanish Armada that had been wrecked off the coast of Ireland centuries before. His name was Seamus Hooley and he had been responsible for several nail and bottle bomb attacks on crowded shopping malls in the centre of Belfast.

His partner, Liam Flynn was a hulking brute of a man known for the contemptuous manner with which he brushed aside anyone smaller than himself who had the misfortune or stupidity to cross his path. Because of his size that included just about everyone and made him a handy person to have around in close quarters skirmishes. He had been shot several times but showed little outward effects of these wounds. Inside the wounds smouldered slowly to flame an already bitter hatred of Protestants in general and the British and UDC in particular.

The pair had arrived about three days before as crew on a container ship. They had jumped ship in Adelaide and it was believed that they travelled to Sydney via Melbourne in a series of stolen cars provided for them by known sympathisers. It was only suspected that they were headed for Sydney as a curtain of silence had been placed around them and the reason for their visit to Australia.

Also amongst the new arrivals was a face that was very familiar to them and immediately they saw it they had their worst fears confirmed.

"Hey I knew that I recognised this man at the airport this morning!"

"I expect you mean the sweet looking chap in the white and cerise?"

"The very same. Do you remember that case we were called in on a couple of years ago that involved the American Trade Attaché in London?"

"Yes, that wasn't him at the airport was it? If it was he must have a good plastic surgeon."

"No it wasn't him. The chap at the airport wasn't involved in that directly, at least I don't think so, but his 'friend' was or probably is the Trade Attaché."

"Then we have a real problem on our hands. Why was he at the airport? Was he looking for us or meeting someone else? Is this a Company operation?"

"I doubt if he was looking for us specifically unless our cover has been blown already, and if that is the case we have a big problem. For that to happen there would have to be a mole in place in London. More than likely he was checking arrivals. I hope. If he is here for an operation we could have the same situation we had in '69"

"Shit, I hope not."

7

The three left the Headquarters of the Commonwealth Police and proceeded to put the camera to good use doing the tourist bit around the city. They wandered around the Rocks and Circular Quay taking photos of the old buildings and the Harbour Bridge. Then via the Opera House and the Domain and along the wharves of Woolloomooloo to McLeay Street and Kings Cross. Here it was that they really threw themselves into the local scene with such enthusiasm that they were thrown out of several strip joints and other pleasure palaces for trying to join the 'artistes' on stage.

They swaggered and then staggered through the streets of the Cross, pausing several times to introduce themselves to the street vendors of the female persuasion.

It was around 3.00am when they staggered noisily and erratically into the foyer of their hotel, much to the chagrin of the night porter who had just settled down to watch a video tape featuring the carnal gymnastics of some of Hollywood's better known residents. The appearance of the revellers also caused Russell a great deal of consternation as he had not seen them leave in the first place. His only consolation was that if they had, it wasn't by the front door. He would have to report this immediately as it was not the kind of thing that one just let happen.

He ran quickly to the nearest public phone and put in a call to Brian Thompson's home number. The voice that answered the phone was that of a man who did not enjoy answering his phone at three in the morning at the best of times. The news that he heard made him less happy and the whole situation was compounded by the fact that having plied a certain airline hostess with the best food and wine that his credit card could afford, and enticing her back to his flat for a night cap, Brian had just experienced the worst possible form of coitus Interruptus, the unexpected and unwanted phone call.

Russell put down the receiver with ringing ears and strict instructions to be in Brian's office at exactly 9.00am for re-assignment. He recalled the words 'Society Tea Parties' featuring prominently in the conversation, and the thought of this punishment turned the trip back to his lonely flat into a nightmare. His career was in tatters almost before it had started. How could he redeem himself? If he couldn't, who would employ a defrocked journalist? Would he even have the intestinal fortitude to front in the morning? These thoughts were to plague him for the remainder of the night.

Russell French had joined the newspaper the year before following his graduation as a journalist from Sydney University and had shown enough promise to suggest that his time at University hadn't been totally wasted. He was at last coming to terms with his writing style. Gone were the reams of flowery prose that oozed forth from his typewriter only to find themselves in the Sub-Editor's waste basket. He was becoming known in the more usual watering holes frequented by his contemporaries for the pipe that he affected which was getting more anti-social by the day and it didn't matter what tobacco he used it still had the acquired aroma of shredded woollen blankets and week old socks.

As he shuffled to his room a conference was taking place inside the hotel that he had just left. A conference in which the best laid plans were beginning to take shape. A conference between three alarmingly sober agents.

"First off we have to get a motor. I don't think it wise to travel around everywhere by cab, it would be too easy for someone to keep tabs on us. Now, the question is do we buy a car of our own or do we lease one?"

"Why not both? We could use a renter for normal running when it doesn't matter if we are followed and have something better for other use."

"Ok. If we get a car, what kind do we get, Jerry, do you have any ideas?"

"We need something that that will go fast when we need it to but won't seem out of place puttering about the streets. In other words something a few years old that, in its day was quick and with little tweaking will be able to go as fast again if not faster. The local chariots can only be made to go quickly at the expense of their inconspicuousness. I would suggest something like a Mark 2 Triumph 2500 or a Rover 3500, both of which were good, quick and very safe cars. I lean towards the Triumph because I am more familiar with its intricacies."

"How long will it take to prepare something like that?"

"Give me a good workshop and a day and I will produce something that will scare the pants off the local boy racers."

8

Sydney Morning Herald

Tuesday February 7, 1978

DRUG SQUAD CHIEF CALLS FOR BORDER ROAD BLOCKS

Melbourne - A police Inspector called yesterday for border checks on highways between NSW and Vic. to make spot inspections of vehicles for drugs.

ZOO CHIEF WILL STAY IN JOB.

The headlines stared at him from the paper he carried as he walked into Brian's office at precisely 9.00am. Russell at last made up his mind to go onto the offensive and tough it out. With his speech carefully rehearsed and his delivery stride rapidly approaching he pushed open the door ready to launch it only to find the room empty.

He sat on the edge of the desk and revised his speech yet again. The twenty-third mental draft had just been consigned to the mental wastebasket when Brian came storming into his office. "What are you doing here? Get your arse down to the hotel and see if you can spot one or all of our friends sneaking out."

"But, but, but", He stammered "You ordered me to be here this morning to be re-assigned."

"Look mate, the sooner you realise that whatever I might say after being interrupted in mid-fornication at some ungodly hour of the morning should be ignored completely the next day the better. Now get out of here before I suddenly remember just what it was that I said last night."

Russell got. He scampered out of the office and hurried as fast as he could to the hotel, arriving breathless and too late by at least fifteen minutes, not that he knew that at the time.

He took up a position from which he could watch both the lifts and the dismantling of the fashion show that had held his interest the previous evening.

"Excuse me." The voice was soft and low and set his pulses racing, "I wonder if you could give me a hand with this case? My car is just outside." She indicated a largish bag which, when he tried to lift it, seemed to weigh a tonne, but which he manfully lugged out to an MGB parked at the kerb. He hefted it onto the back seat of the car.

"What have you got in here, all the silverware?"

"I'll ignore that insult. Thank you for helping me, you're an angel." She planted a purely platonic kiss on his furiously blushing cheek and climbed into the car.

"Excuse me, but I don't suppose you have seen three Englishmen, about forty years old, sort of medium height and build and with a debauched look about them around the place this morning?" It was a desperate attempt on his part to delay her departure in the hope that he might just be able to pluck up enough courage to ask her out to dinner.

"Have I what! The dirty old buggers tried to chat me up. Who are they?"

"I don't know. All that I know is that I'm supposed to keep an eye on them and follow them when they leave."

"Well you'd better get mobile, they left about fifteen minutes ago."

"Oh shit. Sorry, but I don't suppose you know which way they went?"

"Yes. They caught a cab and I heard them give the address of a car yard out on Parramatta Road."

"Thanks a lot." He rummaged in his pocket in a desperate but unsuccessful attempt to find enough money for cab fare."

"You men are totally useless. I'm heading out that way, why don't you jump in and I'll give you a lift."

Oh frabjous day. Kalooy, Kalay. Russell's mind went into cartwheels of joy, his dreams had all come true. He clambered over the door of the car as he had seen her do, although not nearly as elegantly. His backside had no sooner hit the seat than his back was thrust back into it by the force of the car accelerating from the forecourt and squirting out into the traffic.

Russell experienced a rush of adrenaline as he watched her work the car expertly through the heavy traffic down Pyrmont Road towards Parramatta Road.

By the time that they had reached Parramatta Road she had told him that her name was Jenny Peters and that she was a fashion model, being a reporter (male) with 'normal' urges he was already aware of this, and that she was moderately successful in that she didn't have to have a second job to support herself. She was currently without boyfriend, which was encouraging, twenty years old, which was just right.

"What do you do? I noticed you hanging around the hotel most of yesterday and last night, are you something exciting like a private detective?"

"Hardly. I'm a reporter and I'm supposed to be following those blokes and I don't even know why. I'm not very good at my job either. They got out last night without me seeing them."

"Are you the only person watching the hotel?"

"Yes, well at least from the paper, why?"

"Well don't blame yourself then. If I knew that someone was watching for me to leave I'd have no problem giving them the slip. There are at least three exits from the hotel that I know of."

She pulled the car to the side of the road. "There they are. I'll just back around the corner so that we can watch them without it being too obvious." She reversed the car and parked it so that they could see what was happening across the road.

"Look, thanks a lot for your help. I'll take it from here."

"Like hell you will. This is more fun that what I had planned for this morning. And anyhow you're going to need someone to drive you around and I'm free,"

"Oh alright. Can you wait here while I call in for further instructions? If they make a move come and get me."

Russell set off down the road to where he had seen a public telephone on a corner. "Brian, I'm out on Parramatta Road and it looks as if they are buying a car."

"How did you get out there so quickly?"

"The future Mrs Russell French drove me, what do you think?"

"Don't get smart with me young Russell, just don't lose them."

He sauntered back to the car, hardly believing his luck, the luck that allowed him to find himself sitting in a sports car, not his own unfortunately, with the most beautiful girl he had ever met. They sat chatting to each other about each other and becoming very friendly while watching the three men haggling with a salesman over a dark navy Triumph, gleaming with new wax in the bright sunlight.

After a further ten minutes during which one of the men, the one who seemed to know the most about cars, crawled under the bonnet and the rest of the car and then took it for a test drive, the deal was sealed with a handshake and the salesman and the other two adjourned to the office to finalise the transaction while the third man drove the car to the workshop at the rear of the yard.

Surprisingly a taxi pulled up and the two who weren't working on the car got in and it headed back in the direction of the city. Jenny decided to follow it and Russell had no alternative but to go along with her decision, not that he would have wanted to. 

The taxi dropped them at the office of a nationally franchised car rental agency. "I wonder what they are up to now." Russell thought out loud.

"I suppose that they are renting a car."




CHOGM Pt. 02



"But why if they have just bought one?"

"I suppose it is so that they can cover more ground."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if I was looking for something or someone in a strange city and I had limited time in which to find him or it, I would have as many people as possible looking at the same time."

"I suppose so."

"Wait here I'll check up on them." Jenny was out of the car before he could object.

Five minutes later she was back just in time to see the two men drive away in a beige Commodore.

"The bloke who rented the car is John Burroughs and he used his International License. He has booked the car for three months and has given the Wentworth Hotel as his temporary address. He paid the deposit and one week's rental in cash."

"That's amazing. How did you find all that out?"

"Easy. I just smiled brightly at the clerk when I told him that I wanted to rent a four wheel drive for a magazine shoot at some remote location in the Centre and that I was sure he could arrange discount for me if the company was credited with supplying the vehicle when the article was published. Of course he hot footed it to the manager's office leaving me to look at the hire documents on the desk in front of me."

"I think it must be about time that the others had something to do, can you drop me at the office in Liverpool Street so that I can fill them in on what I've found out and work out what they want me to do next."

"What's this 'what you've found out? I've done most of the thinking and all of the hard work so far so I'm coming with you."

"All right, you can come with me." Russell gave a little chuckle to himself that was only just loud enough to catch her attention.

"What's so funny?"

"I was just picturing the look on their faces when I waltz into the office with the most gorgeous looking girl that I have ever seen. Especially Brian Thompson, he's always going on about his conquests and all the beautiful women he lures into his bed. Especially after I told them that the future Mrs Russell French drove me out to the car yard."

"You told him what?"

"The future Mrs Russell French. I'm allowed my dreams aren't?"

"Dream on Buster."

"Anyhow, after seeing you, he'll have to stock his pantry with Pal for his future dates."

"That's cruel, and demeaning to women. I don't want to hear any more of this sort of talk from my future husband."

"What?"

"You heard me. At least for the next however long we are in the office I'll play the part of your fiancé. Okay?"

"Okay! This is wonderful"

"Don't get your hopes up now. This is a temporary arrangement."

They parked the car in a space reserved for the journalistic staff and strode into the building as if they were majority shareholders on their way to a board meeting. At that time Russell wouldn't have felt any more important if that had been the purpose of their visit.

Their passing was observed with a mixture of curiosity, appraisal, jealousy and open hostility, depending on the sexual proclivity of the observer.

"When young Russell gets here we should know what they...." The door opened to admit Russell and Jenny. Brian sat in his chair, his mouth open but for once no word emerged.

"Hi people. What are you doing?" Russell asked.

Brian at last regained a portion of his normal composure. He leapt to his feet and walked around the desk, his eyes not wavering from Jenny, "What have we here?"

"Eyes off, she's not interested in thirty five year old sexual geriatrics, anyway, what we have is three men who have for the time being split up. They have bought a dark blue Triumph Mark 2 2500S, I presume for getting around quickly and have rented a beige Budget rent-a-heap Commode. I don't know what you people think but I think they are mounting a fishing expedition and by going their separate ways they are casting their net as wide as possible."

"Well done Young Russell, we'll make an investigative journalist of you yet. But let us get our priorities right, aren't you going to introduce us to Miss Peters here who, I imagine is the person you referred to earlier as the 'future Mrs French."

"Yes I am the future wife of this wonderful man." Jenny linked her arm with Russell's and looked admiringly into his eyes. Russell collapsed internally.

"It looks as if your future husband isn't capable of the formalities. I'm Brian Thompson, his boss, this here is Anton with the unpronounceable surname, he's a journalist like Russell and over here is Bob Rushton, the publisher of this paper, gentlemen in case you have been in a monastery for the last year, we are in the presence of Jenny Peters, one of Sydney's top models. Now, to the news you've brought, I think you're right about the need for more than one car which means that they don't know much more than we do. Russell, what you can do is go back to the hotel and cover the garage entrance. Take a 2-way with you so that you can keep in touch with the other people I'll assign to the other entrances, just in case they leave separately. Oh, and by the way, it's important that you keep a record of their comings and goings, so copious notes young Russell, copious notes."

As Russell and Jenny rose to leave Brian cut in, "Now pay attention to your work Young Russell, I want you to be ever vigilant."

"Brian, (a), I wish you would stop calling me 'Young Russell', and (b), for once in your life get your mind above your navel, not all of us look on women as a sexual challenge, and (c) Keep your hands off Jenny, she's mine."

As they walked down the corridor Jenny was deep in thought. "Did you mean what you said back there about not looking on women as a sexual challenge?"

"Good gracious me yes," Russell lisped, "Brian isn't aware of my sexual preferences. I was just about to ask you if you had a brother as pretty as you. What do you reckon? I was speaking in generalities, as far as you're concerned you're very much a sexual challenge that is if you are interested in a struggling journalist."

"I'm more interested in a certain struggling reporter than his over-sexed boss. I find his type particularly repulsive. You don't know what it's like for a model trying to break into the business. It's a sort of media casting couch, if you're prepared to jump into bed with a photographer or a journalist, he might, if the mood suits him, push your career for you. If you knock them back it can be very hard for you. You should see how hard it is to get assignments when every other model in the parade gets her picture in the glossies or on the television coverage of the show. Before you ask, there are a few of us who have made it to the top without having to resort to the system."

"You're maligning me now. You don't strike me as the type who would do that, and even if you were, it's none of my business apart from the fact that you'd be wasting your time cultivating me if that's what you were hoping, I'm in no position to further your career, not that it needs furthering."

Jenny pulled up at the entrance of the Wentworth and before Russell could get out of the car, she leant across and gave him a kiss that left little to his imagination and his pulses racing. "What time will you be through for the day?"

"Hopefully about six, why?"

"Well I'm off to buy some goodies and I'll be back for you about then to take you home for some good old fashioned home cooking that will prove to you that I'm not just a pretty face." With that the MG again took off out of the forecourt and disappeared into the heavy traffic.

Just as Russell was settling himself for a long wait the Triumph eased its way out of the traffic and entered the garage. Something told Russell as it burbled its way past him, that it wasn't your common garden variety Triumph. It had a V8 motor and Russell's knowledge of cars was enough for him to know that this particular model only came with 6 cylinder motors. He decided that this information was interesting enough for him to call it in to see if someone could find out more about the particular car.

"Brian, could you run a check on that car these guys have bought?" He gave them the registration number and the name of the car yard from which they bought it.

Several minutes later Brian's voice came over the two - way. "Russell, this is getting curiouser and curiouser. These chaps have got themselves a very fast car indeed. I passed myself off as a prospective buyer and rang the car yard to enquire about that car. When they informed me that it had been sold I asked them if it was the one I had seen around with the Stag motor. They told me that it didn't have a Stag V8 but an even better motor. This car has a 4.4 litre Leyland P76 motor that has been worked over."

"Phew! It looks as if whatever business these guys are in they are serious about it."

"Well Jerry, how's the motor?" Jerry had just walked into the hotel room.

"Adequate, yes I suppose you'd call it adequate."

"I hope you're joking."

"Of course I am. We have got ourselves a very potent car. I took it for a test drive and wound it out to around a hundred and forty miles an hour and it still had plenty in reserve."

"I hope you didn't attract any attention to yourself."

"No, although the young boy racer who tried to stay with me for a while is probably still licking his wounds after losing it in a big way on a corner with the police chasing him. I was far enough ahead of him for him not to have been able to read my number plate and the police never got anywhere near me."

"Good. Just be sure that it stays that way. What about the Commodore?"

"I've had a quick look at it and the most flattering thing I can say about it is that it's a car, just. Do you what me to tweak it?"

"Good grief no! How would it look if one of Budget's finest suddenly started performing like something you'd expect to see at Brands Hatch? Now let's get down to business. Frank where do you thing would be the best place to find Hooley and Flynn?"

"From what I have picked up around the traps I think the best place to start will be at the offices of either the Builders Labourers Federation or the Waterside Workers Federation. I think either of them could be sponsoring this little escapade. I can use the one about having relatives in Northern Ireland and not feeling all that benevolent towards the English."

"Alright you check them out. You can use the cover of being a Union Organiser from one of England's biggest Unions. I'll wander down to the Universities and mingle amongst the more radical of the students to see if there is something going down around there. Jerry can you check around to see if any of the local villains are looking to acquire a motor for any reason at all."

"Okay. I'll start with the list we got form the Feds and check them out. What we might do is try and flush them out."

"How would you do that?"

"I thought we might arrange a couple of spectacular 'adventures' so that I can get a reputation as a wheel man."

"We don't have a lot of time you know."

"No problems. Just be ready for some fun tonight. Oh, by the way, I noticed a chap hanging around the entrance when I came in. Now I might be wrong but I'm sure that it was the same guy who was stationed in the foyer all of yesterday. That means that at least one crew might be on to us."

"Funny you should mention that. That subject was next on the agenda. We seem, not surprisingly, to have attracted the attention of several watchers. I don't know whether they're just staking out the hotels as a security precaution or if they really are on to us, but I think we should try to find out."

"Should we use the divide and conquer plan or do you have something else in mind?"

"That will probably work in the first instance. Jerry you go out through the garage, Frank, the service entrance and I'll use the front door."

They left simultaneously through different exits, walked around for several minutes before returning, separately through different entrances than those from which they left.

They met briefly in the lift on the way to their room, compared notes which confirmed that all of them had been followed and that they had managed to lose them. They took the lift back down to the foyer and again left by different exits.

Russell, having lost his man immediately doubled back to his station. He called the other two on the two-way only to find that they had been given the slip as well. "Hey! Hold on, one of them has just come out again, Alex whip around to the front and see if you can spot one of them coming out." The radio traffic got a little confused as all three watchers spotted different men coming out of the hotel. Before long the others reported that they had lost their men.

It was enough to convince Russell that they were being played with so he called the others back to the hotel to await further instructions.

What they didn't know was that they hadn't been the only ones who had lost the three men soon after leaving the hotel. Just up the street from the hotel was a coffee shop from which two men had been watching the hotel. Three other men walked in to the coffee shop with dejected looks on their faces. "How could you be so incompetent! It's bad enough that you can't follow someone without losing them within a hundred yards of where you started, but to also lose someone who was following that person, bloody hell, what are we recruiting these days, idiots!"

The other person who had been in the coffee shop was watching the hotel through a camera with a telephoto lens poking through a hole in the newspaper he held in front of him. "At least we're not the only ones to have failed. The other watchers have just come back empty handed." The motor drive on his camera whirred into life as he fed a 36 exposure film through it, capturing Russell and his companions for identification.

The leader of the group was thinking how he could explain to his superiors how it was that his team of so-called experts could manage to bungle yet another assignment. He thought of saying that it was difficult enough for someone with tertiary qualifications in Humanities to become a spy, but he had second thoughts about that, after all that would be criticising his superiors, and Government policy, and it was just not allowed for a Public Servant entrusted with the Nation's security to suggest that the policy could be wrong.

His thoughts wandered back to the good old days of the 'cloak and dagger circus' when there was a gentlemen's' agreement between them that wouldn't let them do anything without first clearing it with each other. There existed a certain camaraderie between agencies and agents, they would score a few points off each other, exchange information to help each other out and warn each other if there was any danger ahead.

If one Secret Service got word that another was in danger, and it would not cause them any embarrassment to release that information, then it would be quietly leaked. The recipient would then leak news to the media of a major Intelligence Coup to demonstrate that the country truly was being well protected.

Because of its lack of expertise and the fact that all information gathered by them had to be forwarded to a Central Dissemination Unit in Canberra which was nothing more than a one way funnel to the CIA, the Australian Intelligence Service, ASIO, was decidedly lacking in major Intelligence Coups. This lack of demonstrable results was put down as due to a need for secrecy in the interests of the Nation's security.

Meanwhile back at the Newspaper office another conference was taking place. Thompson had the floor. "I don't like the smell of this. I've tried to get information through a tame contact with the local police and I have been told, in very strong terms, to give it a big miss. It sounds to me as if they themselves have been told to keep clear. Whatever their position is, I am sure that we are not just dealing with a trio of Pommies who have decided to celebrate, a little too well, their release from the freezing weather of their homeland. Now, my curiosity having been aroused, we have two choices, the first, we can take notice of what I've been told by the police and keep clear, or we can continue to follow this lead.

"Can one of you contact Russell and have him pay us a visit. I think that if anyone has any ideas on this it will be him and I'd like to hear his ideas before I make a decision."

Thirty minutes later Russell was voicing his opinion. "I think these guys are professionals. They had no trouble in giving us the slip and the other lot by the way, and they doubled back to check to see if they had been successful. I don't think they saw me the second time around but I wouldn't guarantee it, they may have just been testing the water to see if anyone was interested and if that was their intention they now know that they are being watched."

"You mentioned other watchers?"

"Oh them. Probably ASIO. Nothing to worry about. They followed our friends the first time and when they lost them they tried to keep us in sight but we managed to give them the slip as well so they retired to lick their wounds in a coffee shop up the road. They make lousy coffee by the way."

"Now then Young Russell," He caught the glance from Russell, "Leave us not get cynical about the efforts of those who go around peeking under beds trying to save us from the dreaded communist threat to our democratic society."

The floor was open to general discussion about the skills, or lack of skills, displayed by that worthy organisation. The consensus of opinion was that they were the laughing stock of the International Intelligence community. There were many examples bandied about to back up that opinion and the conversation would have lasted for several hours if Brian had not called the meeting to order.

"I know we all have our favourite ASIO stories, but could we get back to the matter at hand. What do we do now? I'm all for keeping on with this. Now, if they know that they are being followed they will probably send out a decoy to lure the watchers away. What we'll do is set up a tandem tailing system at each entrance with someone just up the road in radio contact with the watchers and prepared to take over from them if they happen get shaken off. Once the second tail takes over the first person nips back to the hotel in case another of them uses the same exit."

"But what if the use one or both of the cars?"

"We'll have our own cars parked up the road. It will be up to the person at the entrance to alert the others as to the direction that they take and the nearest car will immediately swing in behind them. Now Russell, I want you to get back to the hotel and set the plan into action. I don't want them getting away again."

"Fair go mate! I've been there all day. I need a break. Apart from that, I have a prior engagement with a certain very attractive person of the female model persuasion that I'm looking forward too. I tell you what, I'll set up the operation, instil in them the fear of the awesome wrath of the Managing Editor if they so much as fail before I keep my date."

"I'd offer to fill in for you but I have my own prior engagement, mine being with a certain Hostess whose plane is leaving at seven in the morning and who I intend to personally deliver to the airport after a wonderful night's entertainment."

"Lucky for you that you're not in the position to offer your services because I wouldn't like to be around in the morning after you had struck out with Jenny. She doesn't like you, or hadn't you noticed?"

"Now you've hurt my feelings, but to show you that I don't bear a grudge, I'll let you keep your date, but only after you've set up the operation. Now gentlemen, to the fray!"

The room cleared with alacrity, and alacrity was still with them as they reached the hotel. Unfortunately, it was all for nought. The objects of their interest had slipped quietly once more through the cordon, a fact that they at first didn't realise as the other watchers were still in place.




CHOGM Pt. 02



At the headquarters of the Commonwealth Police it was confirmed that half of the watchers were ASIO and as such didn't pose much of a threat, but the others were a mystery, no record, nothing to indicate who they were or what their interest in proceedings were. "I think we should talk to one of them to find out who they are." Burroughs said. "And I think it should be the one who has been around since the beginning. If any of them knows anything it'll be him."

Russell was standing in the hotel forecourt waiting for Jenny when the three men approached him. They were some thirty metres away when Jenny's car raced into the fore court and screeched to a halt in front of Russell. "Quick get in!"

Russell jumped over the door as she accelerated out into the traffic.

Jerry raced back into the hotel to get the Triumph while the others followed the path of the MG in the traffic. It was still in sight when Jerry arrived. The Triumph moved quickly through the traffic and was soon holding station about fifty metres behind Russell and Jenny.

"What was that all about?"

"You nearly had friends. You were so worried that I wasn't going to come that you didn't see the three men approaching you outside the hotel. I arrived just in time."

9

Sydney Morning Herald

Wednesday February 8

HIGH PUBLIC SERVANT QUITS

The President of the State Super Board, Mr F. M. Stewart has resigned from his $39,000 a year position after a Gov't investigation into the financial dealings of his family company.

GIRL, 4 1/2 DIES AS CAR HITS FAMILY

A 4 1/2 year old girl was killed and her two brothers injured when a car hit them as they were waiting with their mother to cross a street in Annandale yesterday

"Still nothing about the CHOGM Conference in the paper." Russell put his cup down onto the newspaper spread out on the table in front of him. Jenny reached over and poured him another cup of coffee. "Mmmm, thank you, I have never had such attention before."

"Wipe the Cheshire cat grin off your face and let's get going. I for one have to go to work this morning."

The MG backed out of the driveway of Jenny's Mosman flat and headed directly towards the city in general, and the Wentworth Hotel in particular. "Don't look now but there is a car following us. I can't make out the number plate, but it looks very much as if it is the Commodore that those guys rented."

"It not only looks like it, but it is. I've been watching it ever since we left your place. They must have spent the night in that thing. Now there's a new twist for you, the tailer being followed by the taillee."

They drove for a while in silence, each of them lost in the memories of what, to Russell, was one of the best nights he had ever spent. A smile crept across his face which was rewarded by a hand reaching over from the driver's side and squeezing his long enough to make it plain to him that Jenny had enjoyed the evening as much as he. All thoughts of their situation concerning the car following them and the implications involved dissolved in the emotions that the touch had aroused.

Their reverie was brought back to earth with a thud as reality returned. It was now time for rapid decisions. "Don't go to the hotel. Drive me to North Sydney station and I'll catch the train into town. When I leave the car keep an eye out for them, if one of them follows me beep your horn three times as you leave. If they all stay in the car beep twice."

The MG pulled into the kerb outside the station entrance and Russell got out and headed for the entrance, the touch of Jenny's lips lingering on his. Jenny pulled a compact from her purse and repaired the ravages of Russell's departure. Having assured herself that her makeup was once more immaculate and that one of the men had followed Russell she pulled out from the kerb, waving and beeping her horn three times.

The receptionist at the office of the Solomon Model Agency was impressed by the perfect shape of her nails as Jenny walked in. "Hi Jen, you're looking beautiful this morning. I have your assignments for the next week here."

"Hi Francine, may I use the phone?"

"Sure."

Jenny called the general enquiry number of the National News. "Good Morning. I would like to speak to Russell French please. Oh, he's not in yet. Could you put me through to Brian Thompson then, please?" She waited several seconds while the connection was being made. "Brian, Jenny Peters, yes Russell's future wife, look, I dropped him off at North Sydney a short while ago and he was being followed. Could you ask him to give me a ring when he gets in? No, it's not serious, no, I just want to know that he's safe that's all. Sure I'll wait here for his call. Yes the number is," she leant over the desk and read the number from the phone dial, "As soon as he comes in. Thank you."

Francine was impressed, "What's going on?" Apart from her considerable abilities to tell all hopefuls who didn't possess the essentials of the modelling profession, photogenic good looks, limited intelligence and the necessary capital to acquire a substantial portfolio, that she "was sorry, but Miss Solomon was not available to interview prospective models at present, but if you would leave your portfolio and your telephone number she will review it and call you as soon as she is able." Francine was known among the existing clients as the 'eyes and ears of the World' for her sponge like ability to absorb tit-bits of gossip about almost everyone in the industry.

"Sorry love, no can tell, secret you know." Jenny tapped the side of her nose with her forefinger. She picked up a copy of Vogue and sat on the edge of the desk to wait for her call to come through.

Francine was persistent. She tried all of her considerable rumour gathering skills on Jenny. She was still trying fifteen minutes later when the phone rang, she was even more intrigued when, on grabbing the phone before Jenny she heard the voice at the other end announce, "This is the National News with a call for Jenny Peters, please hold, go ahead please."

Jenny just managed to snatch the phone from Francine's hand before the connection was made. "Hullo, Russell? Hi Darling are you all right? Good." Francine was now both impressed and intrigued. "Yes Darling I gave them the slip in the back streets. No, no-one followed me here. Okay, I'll be right over. 'Bye Darling, see you soon." She hung up the phone and strode towards the door leaving a confused, intrigued and impressed Francine staring open mouthed after her. Three simultaneous emotions were almost too much for Francine.

"Wait Jenny, you forgot...." Her voice trailed off as she realised that she was talking to a closed door. She grabbed the assignment sheet off the desk and sprinted after Jenny and just managed to hurtle through the lift doors as they hissed shut, crashing into a surprised and delighted businessman standing at the rear of the lift car. "Jenny you forgot your assignment sheets for next week." She handed Jenny the sheets and turned her attention back to the businessman, "Do forgive me, I didn't mean to crash into you like that." She simpered.

"Put that man down Francine and go tell Miss Solomon that, for the next few weeks or so I'll be incommunicado and not available for any assignments."

"How can I reach you in this 'Communicado' place? In case something important comes up?"

The businessman touched her on the shoulder, "There's no such place as 'Communicado', what your friend is trying to tell you is that she is going away somewhere and does not wish to be disturbed."

"Oh it's like that is it? Don't worry Jen, I won't tell a soul." This statement was unheard by the rapidly departing Jenny who wouldn't have believed it even if she had heard it. Behind her she left a bewildered Francine being propositioned, willingly, by the businessman who didn't have intelligent conversation in mind.

Jenny hurried to her car and headed for the offices of the National News where Russell was in deep conversation with Brian Thompson. "I tell you Brian, we were tailed by two guys going to and from Jenny's place. I managed to give one of them the slip by catching a train from North Sydney to St Leonards. As it left St Leonards I jumped off, and with the next stop being Chatswood, by the time he got there I was well on my way back to the city. Jenny just rang to tell me that she had been followed as well, but that she had also managed to give her tail the slip. What I think we will do is to go back to the Wentworth and let them follow us and catch us. We might be able to find out who they are and what they are about."

"Hold it a minute! Don't you think that I should have been consulted before you went and involved an outsider in this operation?"

"I seem to remember that you took exception to being disturbed in the middle of the night, particularly when you were entertaining a member of the opposite sex, and you made it quite plain yesterday that that is what your intentions were for last night. What happened, you didn't strike out again did you? You must be getting too old for all this."

"Careful. There are times when I don't mind being disturbed and this would have been one of them."

"So you did strike out. Well it so happens that I didn't and I had other things on my mind at the time. I'm sorry if my priorities are a little different to yours."

"My success or otherwise in bed has nothing to do with this. This is shaping up as one of the biggest stories that we have covered, even though it is but a pup. I have confirmed that the other interested party is in fact ASIO, so it would seem that it is an international operation, and a good guess that CHOGM is the focus of it."

"If that's the case why didn't they book into the Hilton?"

"For a couple of very good reasons. If they were based at the Hilton where part of the conference was being held they wouldn't be able to move around as freely without attracting attention."

"Ok. But I still think my plan is worth a try, the sooner we find out if our 'friends' are good guys or not the better. Jenny is willing to help, and it adds to my cover of being a reporter doing an in depth profile on one of this country's top models."

"But what do you actually know of her? I don't mean things like does she have a birthmark on her left buttock. What is her background? Is she connected in any way with any organisation, subversive or otherwise, that could be involved? Does she have any significant ethnic connections? Has she ever had as a lover any person who could benefit from her close contact with us, or, who could be compromised by this operation?"

"The answers to your questions, in order are, no I don't have a birthmark on my left, or for that matter right, buttock." Both men swung around to face Jenny who had entered the room un-noticed. "I work for the Solomon Agency as a model I am not connected in any way with any organisation, political or otherwise that could be considered remotely interested in National Security. I am a first generation Australian of Italian ancestry. Believe it or not, the only person I have had as a lover who could be interested in whatever it is you are doing is standing right here in this room, and if it would help, I am quite prepared to place myself in his care and custody for the duration, and if he is interested, much longer, just so that there can be no question or misunderstanding as to where my interests, motives and loyalties lie."

Russell was quick to reply, "It would help believe me."

"Down children. Let us not let lust get in the way of objectivity. We had better take a closer look at what it is you are letting yourselves in for." He looked at both Russell and Jenny who were seated side by side on the edge of his desk. "We are not dealing with a bunch of amateurs here. They have enough clout to put a gag on the police. They have ASIO running around like a bunch of junior errand boys and the whole while they are pulling everyone's strings."

10

Deep beneath the tranquil countryside of Langley Virginia a voice forced its way past the soggy butt of an expensive Havana cigar, a perk of office, firmly clenched between two rows of nicotine stained teeth, "What you're saying is that you are not satisfied with the efforts of my men." He was talking to his contact in London.

"You asked me to advise you when these men would be on an operation together so that you could eliminate them. I have kept my part of the bargain, now you have decided that you would not keep your part of it. No, I am not satisfied."

"You are in no position to be dis-satisfied, after all it was you that put the kybosh on our plan to take them out in the flight over."

"I wanted no part of such an extreme plan. Have you no feelings for your fellow man?"

"The ends justify the means. I wanted those men taken out and just because a couple of hundred of other people would have gone down with them is of no consequence. Anyhow, there would have been no evidence linking you or us to what would be put down as just another plane crash."

"But, so many other people killed senselessly."

"So? The insurance companies would compensate the next of kin."

"I'm sure Lloyds would love to hear you say that. It seems that you've been involved in this sort of operation before."

"Listen Buddy, we have a nice little operation going on here until along come your pals like knights in shining armour and fuck up the whole shebang. My people are not going to stop until the balance is once more tipped in our favour. We have lost a considerable amount of money over this."

"How were we to know that you were behind the importation of heroin into our country, and for you to use the profits to provide arms to the IRA, well our government just won't stand for that."

"So what do you want us to do, pull out and let the IRA get its arms from the Ruskies or Gaddafi?"

"We don't want them to get their arms from anywhere, can't you see that?"

"That's just too bad. Your government's not altogether pure as the driven snow is it? You're still selling arms to the South Africans who are using them to repress the blacks in their own country and their neighbours."

"That is purely an internal matter between our government and that of what was once, and will probably once again be, a member of the British Commonwealth."

"Commonwealth, smommonwealth. It's about time you lot dragged yourselves into the twentieth century. You don't have a commonwealth. You are washed up as a major power and the only reason you are allowed to believe that you still exist in that capacity is because we want it to be so. We can pull the plug at any time and it is best that you remember that. Now, back to our current predicament. Because of your sensitivities one of our best men is in danger of exposing his cover.

There was a pregnant silence from the other end of the phone. The American spoke again in a cold harsh tone. "As of this moment we are moving to plan B." As if to place more emphasis on the statement he slammed the receiver down.

It was picked up almost immediately, "Honey, will you get the Chief on the blower and tell him that we have a minor problem with our Triangle operation and that I would appreciate it if he could wander down here so that we can discuss it. And Honey, after I've finished with the Chief how would you like to come in here so that I can grab another handful of your lovely arse."

"Sure Boss. I wish just once I could hear a little affection in your voice. You make me feel so cheap."

"Shoot Honey, If'n you didn't like it you just have to say so, isn't that right?"

"Sure, and lose my job. Whether I like it or not has nothing to do with it. What kind of job do you think I'd be able to get if I lost this one? I'd probably end up on my back in some sleazy brothel."

"Now lookie here. If'n I got the feelin' that you wasn't enjoyin' the lovin' that you're gettin' from me you might just as well pack your bags and leave right now."

"I didn't say I didn't enjoy it.." The voice trailed meekly off.

11

"How the Hell did you let him get away so easily?" Burroughs was less than amused. "He gets on a train, travels three stops and calmly gets off as the train is pulling out of the platform leaving you on the train for another two stations before you can get off the bleeding thing. You should have been ready for a trick like that. I think we might have under-estimated our friend. What do we do now?"

"We know where they spent the night. What we don't know is if they are both living in that flat or if just one of them is living there. I suggest that it is about time we turned it over to see what we can find."

"Ok let's do it. But first I think we should go downstairs to see how many people are watching the entrances, then we meet back here in say, five minutes to plan our next move."

Five minutes later, "The place is literally crawling with people watching the entrances and people watching the people watching the entrances, but no sign of either the young chap or his girlfriend. There are ASIO blokes wandering around looking as inconspicuous as a ham sandwich at a Bar Mitzvah and other blokes standing around in groups of two or three looking as if they had just met but who have probably been there for hours."

They left by the garage entrance and drove to the Domain Parking Station. Burroughs and Rogers left the car and, taking the moving footway, made their way to Macquarie Street where they were met by Smythe in the Commodore. "I lost most of them in the car park but there is still one of them sitting behind us so hang onto your hat we are probably going to have to run a few red lights."

By the time they had reached the Harbour Bridge Jerry was convinced that they had lost the tail. He checked the mirrors several times between the bridge and Jenny's flat. They were not followed.

Getting into the flat was relatively easy for experienced lock pickers, which they were. Finding nothing in the flat took some time, both to find nothing and to convince themselves that, no matter how hard they looked they would find no more than nothing. Their search convinced them that Jenny lived alone.

It was time for another conference.

"The choices we have now are, do we go after them and pull them in or, do we sit here and wait for them to come to us?"

"Let them come to us." They made themselves comfortable and waited.

It would have been a shorter wait if they had allowed themselves to be followed from the hotel because their progress would have been relayed back to the newspaper office and, once their destination was known, Russell and Jenny would have driven straight over to her flat. As it was they had to wait for over an hour before they heard the sound of a key turning in the front door lock.

"Well what a surprise. At least it saves us the trouble of having to find you." Russell's reaction was nothing like the one that they had expected and it threw them momentarily. "Just who are you guys, what is going on around here and what are you doing in Jenny's flat?"

Burroughs was the first to speak, "You first. Who are you and why are you interested in us?"

"No. I'm not going to answer your questions until you tell us who you are. My guess is that you are some form of security people and that it has something to do with the CHOGM Conference, now I could be wrong..." He let his voice trail off in an invitation for them to fill in the gaps.

"And my guess is that you must be the media. You are not from the local police or ASIO or else why would they be following you. You have not come into the country recently so you are not imported talent. So if you are the media there are several questions that need to be asked. Now I suppose it is a case of 'you show me yours and we'll show you ours'."

Russell took his press card from his pocket and passed it over. "Now was I right about you?"




CHOGM Pt. 02



"Yes. Let me make the introductions. My name is John Burroughs and this is Jerry Smythe and Frank Rogers. We are employed by, for want of a better name, British Intelligence,MI6. We are here because we got wind that there was a plot to blow up the CHOGM Conference and kill at least one of the attending Prime Ministers. What we don't know is how, when and why?"

"Is that why you have been fishing around for clues?"

"What we discuss here and now is strictly confidential. You are to tell no-one until we give you the word. In exchange for your silence I'll make sure that you get the scoop when it is safe to release the information."

"Agreed."

"Now how did you get on to us so quickly? Was it a fluke?"

"Your entrance into Sydney didn't go un-noticed and you would have got away with it except for one slight mistake."

"What was that?"

"If you're going to play at being drunk you should at least smell as if you had been drinking. The hostess made the observation to the pilot within earshot of one of our people that when one of you kissed her she couldn't smell alcohol on his breath." 

"That's the trouble with ginger ale or iced tea, our people should come up with something that at least smelled like booze. I'll mention it to them when we get home. By the way, we know who you are, who's this?" He indicated Jenny.

"She's just a friend, actually she is more than just a friend, but she's okay if that's what's bothering you."

"Just so long as you remember that. As to what we are doing, we are trying to infiltrated the local scene and find out if there is anything going on that could lead us to the plot to kill one of the Prime Ministers."

"I might be able to help you there. We get a lot of information about goings on that are never printed for one reason or another. While I won't be able to divulge the source of the information I will be able to pass on anything that is interesting, in return for your story you understand?"

"Understood. Have you heard of any increase in activity around such places as the Universities or maybe the union movement?"

"No more than normal although there is a whisper about the BLF (Builders Labourers Federation) planning to use some heavy muscle to take over one of the smaller unions. Are you sure that the Indian Prime Minister isn't the target?"

"Why do you ask?"

"There's a group called the Ananda Marga, and the reports that we are getting from India is that they wouldn't be too unhappy to see the Indian Government in chaos. They are claiming that their spiritual leader is being detained as a political prisoner while the government is claiming that they are holding him on murder charges."

"Our information is that Desai is one of the possible targets."

"One thing that intrigues me is that an organisation such as the Ananda Marga shouldn't have the international support to mount an operation like this, unless.."

"Unless what?"

"It has a lot of followers in America. It may be possible that they are getting some financial and physical support from there."

"You are probably closer to the mark than you realise."

"You mean that you suspect the CIA? That wouldn't be such a crazy idea, after all the Indian government is unhappy with the Yanks exploiting the cheap labour available, they've even expelled some US companies like Coca Cola."

"Let's put it this way, we haven't ruled them out yet."

"So where do we find ourselves? We have a story that we can't use and an investigation we can't stop without some pretty heavy reasons being given, we have already been warned off by the local police, but that is like waving a red rag in front of a bull. The boss has become even more determined to follow this through and get to the bottom of the story. I think I can persuade him to back off a bit provided that I can guarantee regular good stories."

"No! The last thing we want you to do is to back off. If those ASIO clowns suspect that you are easing up on us they will put two and two together and if they don't run out of fingers they will decide that they have something to report, and report it to their masters, and that will draw even more attention on us. We don't want to confuse them by changing the plot just yet, so let's keep on as before. Actually it will benefit us if they are still following you."

"How?"

"Well, up until now you blokes haven't bothered too much about them and they have been relatively successful in following you."

"Only when we wanted them to."

"Be that as it may."

"How would you like to get involved in a little diversion making proposition?"

"How?"

The time that followed was spent in the formulation of plans, the consumption of many cigarettes and cups of coffee. Russell and Jenny provided as much of their local knowledge as they could and agreed that they would only get involved in the routine investigations but would not get involved in any dangerous activities. In return for this Russell would be provided with any non-classified information that it was possible to print, any other information he would have to sit on until the operation was completed and the three were back in England.

Back at the coffee shop no such organisation was evident, in fact confusion reigned supreme, "What do you mean there is no-one there? I thought you were supposed to follow them?"

"We followed them to the offices of the National News. We've been in competition with the press, or at least part of it. We waited for them to come out but we must have missed them because they are not there now."

"Do you think that they could have pulled out of the investigation?"

"No, they couldn't have. If they had why would they still have people watching the hotel?"

"I hate to think. It could of course mean that they are with the other three right now."

"I doubt it. We are pretty sure that they are still in the hotel."

"Forgive me if I should show some reservations about that statement. Can you get someone to check their room to see if they are still there?"

His doubts were realised when the message was received that the three men had, in fact just returned to their hotel room. "Right, I want you to get into the garage and find both of their cars and stick homers on both of them. We are not going to lose them again. I want every contingency covered.

At 8.15 that evening every contingency came unstuck for them. As the three men left their rooms they passed a repair man working overtime carrying out imaginary repairs in the hallway. They made sure that he overheard their destination which he relayed to his colleagues waiting outside.

The Triumph left the garage and turned towards Kings Cross for another night of 'drunken debauchery'. Wrong. As it passed the MG that was parked a short distance from the hotel, an object was passed from one car to another.

The Triumph turned away from the Cross and headed in the opposite direction. The MG went in the direction of the Cross followed at a discreet distance by another car. It was unseen as it pulled in to the kerb and stopped briefly. The tracking device stopped much longer in its new resting place in a convenient waste basket, where it remained until curiosity got the better of the men in the following car. They were less than happy when they found that they had been tricked yet again.

Having completed their task Russell and Jenny returned to the hotel where they let themselves into the others' room and continued the close contact of the previous evening.

In the coffee shop the news that they had been fooled was greeted with less than enthusiasm. "Fucking hell! Didn't you think that they would give the cars a once over for bugs? Didn't you think to put more than one in each car? Do I have to think of everything?"

"But we could only get two of them so we had to put one on each car."

"Why couldn't you get more than two?"

"Because at present this operation isn't top priority and old Henry won't issue any more until its status is higher."

"We'll see about that. I want as many bugs as possible. Then I want one of you to go over to the hotel and plant them on the other car, if it's still there and hasn't slipped out while you were watching. I then want at least six bugs. When you get them I want you to get into their hotel room and plant them everywhere. By the time you are through with the rooms they won't be able to fart without us knowing about it. Do I make myself perfectly clear? Now get out of here, there's work to be done."

There was indeed work to be done. In the inner city suburb of Marrickville the front door of a warehouse had been unceremoniously kicked in by three men dressed in black trousers and pullovers and wearing black ski masks. The large gentleman stationed just inside the door with the task of only admitting those people who were regulars to the illegal casino had failed miserably in his job. In the past he had nothing more to do than pass an envelope containing the required amount of money to the policeman who called. 

Because of this his reflexes were slow, a point he had some time to reflect on as he slowly regained consciousness in time to see the three men leave the building and drive off in a dark coloured car. He was unable to remember the number of the vehicle when the police arrived in response to a neighbour reporting a disturbance.

The organisers of the casino had also called the police, not to report the holdup but to enquire as to where the protection for which they had been paying so highly was when it was needed.

A short time later the same three men raided a Darlinghurst brothel and relieved the proprietor of the night's takings. This was a considerable amount, much of which was contributed by members of the judiciary and legislature. It would have been much more except for the fact that, in return for protection from prosecution and pressure from other like establishments, the members of the local constabulary were granted 'favours'.

As with the casino the proprietor of the brothel contacted the police to enquire where her protection had been and withdrawing all favours until such times as her money was returned.

This call galvanised the police into some activity and cars were dispatched to the scene to gather evidence. This errand was unsuccessful due to the fact that an accurate description of the assailants was not forthcoming and no-one got a glimpse of the car used to leave the scene.

Within the hour a further complaint was being lodged by the owner of a nightclub which specialised in erotic dancers who were later available, at a price, to the patrons who had been suitably primed on 'champagne'. What they had been drinking of course was a cheap locally produced carbonated white wine with the labels of high priced champagne stuck onto the bottle. The trick was to serve the proper bottle first, make sure that it was well submerged in an ice bucket which contained at least half water so that the label would come off without tearing. The cheap stuff was bought as cleanskins from the winery and the labels were slipped off the good wine and placed on the cheap.

The police were well aware of this trick, but in return for a monetary consideration they short circuited any official enquiry.

Again the police received a phone call from an aggrieved client who felt that the amount that he had paid over the years to keep out of the courts had not been earned. This further threat to their diminishing income placed a certain urgency to the police enquiries.

Over the space of three hours a further four similar establishments had been raided and as near as could be ascertained, for the proprietors were reluctant to reveal the full extent of their operations, even to friendly police, the accumulated amount stolen was close to a million dollars.

Slowly and painfully the facts emerged. The raids appeared to have all been carried out by the same three men. The getaway car was variously described as high powered sports car and a 'hot' sedan. What did become apparent was that there was no accurate description of either the men or the car.

It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that, following an anonymous tip-off, the police managed to get a good description of the vehicle, even down to the registration number. That tip came from John Burroughs who knew that the police would have to look for the vehicle as, because the registration transfer had not been affected and the car yard had been given a phoney name and address, there was no record of the owner or his residence and that tracing the car unassisted would be beyond their capabilities.

Meanwhile back in the hotel Russell was amazed at the story he had just been told. "You mean to say that you guys have just gone out and calmly knocked over several illegal operations knowing full well that they are controlled by organised crime and under the 'protection' of the police. You must be crazy!"

"Relax, we know what we are doing. After the first couple of raids everyone was so confused that they weren't expecting them to continue and when they did everyone was blaming everyone else. Those who missed the first raids were feeling pretty smug and invulnerable until their turn came and then they were filled with righteous indignation. It was all so easy."

"What are you going to do with all of that money? I have heard talk of the proceeds reaching six figures."

"I'm sure that the police will put that figure around so that the gangs will blame each other and that they will try to find out themselves and save the taxpayer some money. The money will be deposited in our retirement fund, in a numbered account in a very discreet Swiss bank. Do you want to hear the ultimate irony?"

"Yes."

"The bank that we're going to use to transfer the funds is a merchant bank that is used by the CIA to launder drug money. They are based here but registered in the Cayman Islands. This is right up their alley and this money will end up in Switzerland."

"And just how much of this can I print?"

"The safest bet is to follow the official line which hints at some form of underworld activity without giving any specific details. You could mention that the police are following a line of enquiry concerning a certain car seen leaving the scene at high speed. They have little to go on except the registration number of the car."

"Won't that focus undue attention on yourselves. I could of course put forward the suggestion that this is a takeover bid by a Melbourne based branch of the 'family'."

"Good thinking, a nice juicy red herring. Meanwhile Jerry is going for a pleasant drive in the country in the hope that the lines of communication within the police force have informed the gangs where we can be found. What we think will happen is that the police will allow the gangs first try at getting us. What we're also hoping is that he can give them a run for their money until the moment is right and then allow the best team to catch up to him. With any luck at all they will offer him a job. If they are not involved in this plot, at least we can eliminate them from contention quickly."

"What will happen if he is caught too soon?"

"Unlikely proposition. Jerry here is one of the best drivers in the world, and I include racing drivers in that assessment. It just doesn't suit our purpose at all to broadcast the fact too widely. He has to confine his endeavours to situations such as this. He can of course get caught very convincingly."

"What do you hope to achieve by being caught?"

"Credible contact with them. That way we can check out if there have been any approaches made that connect with our mission."

12

Jerry drove the Triumph slowly out of the hotel garage and made sure that he had attracted the attention of the ASIO watchers to make sure that he lost the right people. Lose them he did, with the accustomed ease that was becoming so frustrating for the ASIO amateurs.

He headed for the Harbour Bridge by way of the Cahill Expressway and by the time that he reached the tollgates he was aware of a silver Porsche 911 keeping a watching distance behind him. This, he thought to himself, is more like it, for a chase car the Porsche was one of the quickest street legal cars around. For a tail car the choice was not so good, for that purpose the car and its occupants needed to be able to blend into the surroundings and not draw attention to themselves. The Silver Porsche with its occupants sporting dark suits and reflective wrap around perving (sun) glasses was very conspicuous indeed.

The Triumph and Porsche headed north along the Pacific Highway, ducking and weaving through the heavy traffic with a deftness that left the normal motorist green with envy, or was it fear.

Running an amber at St Leonards Jerry swung off the Highway into a street that he knew would take him to Willoughby Road and a quicker way north. There was an immediate clamour behind him as the Porsche bounced off a taxi as it was forced to run the red light. It didn't stop although there was some damage to the left side of the car.

The usually implacable taxi driver became very placable indeed. The chase was now on in earnest. Not the street Ernest but the mood earnest, they were in fact racing down Northcote Street.

In the Triumph Jerry was working swiftly. He was now in his element pushing the car in the manner for which it had been designed. The worked P76 V8 motor (the motor had been stripped down and the Leyland pistons and heads replaced with Rover parts) with its higher than normal compression had a narrower torque band and consequently Jerry had to make full use of the close ratio five speed gear box that had been fitted. His changes were crisp and well timed, coming into a downhill bend he went deep into the corner before heel and toeing back through fourth and third to second. Caught unawares the driver of the Porsche found himself entering the corner much too quickly. It spun twice before the driver managed to wash off enough speed and wrestle it back under control before accelerating after the Triumph. 

Through the streets the cars sped, the deep throb of the Triumph in contrast to the higher and more mechanical clamour of the Porsche. They came quickly up on a line of cars waiting to turn right into Penshurst Street and Jerry slowed down as if he was joining the line but at the last moment swung into the through lane and sped to the head of the queue. He just managed to cut in front of the leading car as it moved off on the green light and speed away with a clear road in front of him.

The Porsche following his example was almost squeezed off the road by the other cars, who, having been cut off by one car were reluctant to allow it to happen a second time.

Turning right out of Boundary Road, both cars found themselves speeding along Archbold Road, picking their way through the traffic which, in the way of heavy peak hour traffic on this road, was moving at more than the posted speed limit. In a blaze of glory and horn blowing both cars powered through the Tryon Road intersection and headed down to the first of the Arterial Road bends, an adverse camber right hander that often had a trickle of water running from a spring at the apex across the road to the outside of the corner.

The tail of the Porsche kicked out more than that of the Triumph but the driver had it quickly back under restraint. Both cars bottomed over the bridge and accelerated up the steep slope through the uphill left hander on the widened section of the road.

The time to reel in the fish was fast approaching. Choosing a cluttered service station Jerry pulled off the road, popping the bonnet as he drove up to the pumps. He immediately immersed himself under the bonnet as if he was making some fine tuning adjustments to the already perfectly tuned motor, listening to its vital signs while all the time watching for the fish.




CHOGM Pt. 03



The story so far: Three British agents, in response to intelligence reports, are sent to Sydney to keep a watching brief over the Commonwealth Heads Of Government Meeting's regional meeting. They have teamed up with local Journalist Russell French and his new girlfriend, Model Jenny Peters, to try to identify the bad guys. As Russell and Jenny's relationship grows, a fishing expedition places the agents' plans in jeopardy. 

18

"All the bastard's interested in is pushing drugs." Jerry had found himself in something of a dilemma. If he had refused the job offer it would have immediately raised suspicions in the mind of Carbone and, while he had been assured that there would be no problem if he did decide against taking it, he couldn't be sure. If he took the job there was the likelihood that he would be caught up in the industry that he and the others had been involved in smashing.

All five of them were standing by their cars outside the boundary fence of the White Bay Container Terminal. The next stage of their operation hung in the balance and depended very much on the outcome of this discussion.

"So what is the plan?"

"I pick up supplies at some ungodly hour tomorrow morning and ferry them around the place collecting the money and returning it to Carbone."

"What about the police that turned up, where do they fit in to the scheme of things?"

"They are in the pocket of another gang boss. These two seem to be at each other's throats."

"We don't want to get involved in anything that will lead to you being arrested for drug trafficking, how would that look on your record, and can you imagine the chief? 'Now Gerald, you have been accused of the most heinous of all crimes and considering your position within this organisation I am having some difficulty in understanding your actions. What have you to say for yourself?' 'I'm Sorry Sir, it's just that the most generous salary that you have been giving me over the years is simply not enough for me to live on let alone to save for my retirement. So, with my knowledge of the drug industry and my contacts, I decided that pushing drugs would provide me with an income worthy of my talents, which is a damn sight more than I get now.' The Old Man would shit himself."

"What would happen if we were to get someone to contact that tame cop, what was his name again? Kelly, and tip him off that there was going to be a transfer of goods tomorrow morning. If we play our cards right it will look as if he had been following Frankie."

"How can we tip him off without letting on who we are?"

"Leave that to me. We can use our contacts with Interpol and arrange for them to tip off the NSW police. We don't need to come into it at all."

"But how can you turn up at the meeting without getting involved?" Russell asked.

"I think that can be arranged. Leave that to us. Now you two are finished for the day, I'll ring you in time to be there to cover the bust. Why don't you go home and try and get some sleep."

"Why is it that they have a dirty mind as far as we are concerned?" Russell asked Jenny.

"Probably because it is pretty obvious what we intend to do." Jenny replied, smiling.

And do it they did. The bed received an unaccustomed pounding as they thrashed around in the throes of passionate lovemaking for at least an hour and three quarters before exhaustion eventually took its toll and they separated as far as the bed would allow and drifted off to their individual and collective slumbers.

19

Sydney Morning Herald

Thursday February 9, 1978

INQUIRY EXPECTED ON ASIO FILES CHARGE.

The Premier, Mr Wran, is expected to establish an inquiry into the allegations involving the Leader of the Opposition, Mr Coleman, and ASIO documents.

POLICE SEIZE $10M CROP OF MARIJUANA.

Dawn raid on S.A. plantation.

GOVERNMENT WARNED OF COST OF TIGHTER EXHAUST RULES.

At five thirty Russell's alarm shattered the stillness of his bedroom. Both he and Jenny stirred, and became aware of each other's presence. "Good morning Darling."

"Humph." Russell raised his head fractionally from the pillow and seeing Jenny looking at him was enough for him to snap into life. "Oh I must be in Heaven for where else would I find an angel beside me?"

"It's me you fool, your very earthly girl friend."

"Girl friend? Ah yes, I seem to remember something of the kind. It's been so long that I can't be totally sure, give me a sign so that I know that I'm not dreaming."

"How about this." She leaned over him and kissed him, pressing herself against him, her hand moving slowly down his body until it found his erect and ready penis. "At least he's awake."

"And so am I." Russell rolled on top of her and once more found himself in her and her embrace.

It was a scant regard for speed limits that allowed Russell and Jenny to be in place on the footpath overlooking the roadway where the transfer was to take place in time to see Frankie's car slowly turn into the street and stop at the entrance to the underpass.

At six thirty another car which they didn't recognise cruised slowly past. As soon as it got to the other end of the underpass it turned and parked across the roadway. This was the signal for another three cars to quickly block off both entrances to the road and Frankie's escape.

Men came from everywhere, armed men. Frankie was soon standing beside his car watching while it was being systematically torn apart and searched.

As the men began to warm to their task a beige Commodore drove up and stopped on the corner, the driver quickly assessing the situation and driving as unobtrusively as possible away from the scene.

Kelly supervised the search that in no time had revealed several bags containing a white substance. "A nice little haul Frankie. Who were you waiting for?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Silly boy." The nod was hardly noticeable but it was enough for one of the men to step in front of him and punch him savagely in the stomach. Frankie doubled up in pain gasping desperately for breath. "Now are you going to be sensible or do I have to leave you to the gentle ministrations of our friend here?"

"I know nothing I tell you. All I know is that I had to wait here for someone to turn up. I don't know who. I don't know why. I don't know what was to happen next. I didn't know that stuff was in the car, honest. It was in the garage all day yesterday and I only got it back late last night. I want to talk to my lawyer."

"Take him away. I don't have time to waste with messenger boys. I have bigger fish to fry."

Frankie was bundled into a waiting police car and driven off.

When he was sure that only the right people were watching Jerry drove up to Kelly. "Good work Inspector. I guess we nailed them for you."

"Sure, sure. We've been watching these guys for some time now and it was only a matter of time before we had enough on them to make an arrest. How come you got on to them so quickly?"

"I've been following the trail from the bottom up and this is just a side shoot from the main pipeline. What we are trying to get is the next section and I feel that we have a good chance here."

"How do you mean? Frankie's not about to talk."

"We're going to starve them out."

"What do you mean?

"We'll keep hammering them every time a new shipment comes in until they get desperate and contact their suppliers for emergency supplies, when that happens we hit them."

"How do you know when a shipment is coming in?"

"I am one of the few people who do know and the fewer people that know that the better, less chance of a leak that way. By the way I would appreciate it very much if you don't make any mention of my or Interpol's involvement in this operation, we don't want to frighten them away. You can take full credit for this bust."

"Thank you, that's fine by me. Are you sure that you don't want me to bust the leader of this gang just yet?"

"Wake up! What have I just finished telling you?"

"But it would help me no end if I was to arrest him."

"And have him out of gaol in two minutes because he pleads that he knew nothing of this operation, nothing of what Frankie did in his spare time and has a water tight alibi for this morning like he was at the six o'clock mass at St Marys or something."

Jerry drove back to Mosman where he met with the others. "I bet you that less than half of that heroin is declared as part of the bust. He will feed the rest of it onto the streets and share some of the profits with his boss as a trade off for not busting Lou."

He walked over to the phone and dialled the silent number that Lou had given him the night before. "Hey Lou what happened this morning? I got to the meeting place on time only to find the place crawling with cops and prominent among them was your old friend Inspector Kelly."

"Sure, I'm sorry. It seems that Frankie wasn't as smart as he thought he was and allowed them to trail him. Pity about him."

"Well I don't want to get involved in any of this sort of thing. The last thing that I want is to end up being sent back to England."

"I can understand that."

"I think I'll lie low until this cools down. I won't be any good to myself or you for that matter if I end up in the slammer. I'll give you a call when I think that it's safe to come out and maybe then we can talk business."

Jerry replaced the receiver, "I think that takes care of that loose end for the time being. I have the police convinced that we are Interpol, Lou and his gang convinced that I'm clean as far as he's concerned. That should take the pressure of me for a while."

"Good. Well I guess that just about rules out the organised crime side of things as far as this is concerned. I'll go back to the University. Jerry can you see if you can get in with the Ananda Marga, pose as a convert or something, see if they are up to anything. Frank, how's the Trade Union line going?"

"Pretty cold. I don't think that they are up to anything more than some minor mischief. Hooley and Flynn arrived a couple of days ago and are already something of an embarrassment to them. It seems that they got pissed out of their brains the other night, had a barney and totally wrecked the house that they were staying in."

Russell and Jenny came into the room. "That was a good bust this morning but I've had to modify my story a little because the official release mentioned only one Kilo of heroin, now I know that there was much more than that in the car when Frankie was stopped. I don't suppose that I would be right in assuming that the rest of the haul will be hitting the streets as we speak, would I?"

"You could be right but it is of little consequence right now, we have..." Burroughs never got to finish his statement.

"Bloody Hell!" The anger welled up in Jenny's voice. "What kind of person are you? Do you mean to sit there and tell us that you are not interested in following through on this morning's efforts. Don't you think that drugs are a big enough problem without you turning your backs on it hoping that it will go away, or that someone else will take it up?"

"Not at all. All we're doing is to put it on the back burner for the time being. What information we get will be turned over to the proper authorities at the appropriate moment. What I was trying to say, somewhat unsuccessfully, is that we have a higher priority for the moment."

"I don't suppose that I can argue with that."

"No. Would it help if I was to tell you that we have been doing everything that we can to stop drug trafficking since one of London's finest and most compassionate Drug Squad detectives and his partner were both killed by the very same people that we think are behind our reasons for being here?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand."

"That's okay. Russell what are your plans for today?"

"Well, I've been assigned to this investigation full time, so what do you want me to do?"

"Can you check with your paper's records and see what you can find about anything that might help us."

"Pretty broad search."

"Sure, but it would help us greatly."

"What about me?" Jenny asked.

"You can help Russell and try not to take his mind off his job."

 20

"These guys are clever. I thought that we had them cold with that drug bust but it seems that he used his Interpol contacts to establish himself with the local cops and worm his way out of the tight spot."

"Why can't I just kill them?"

"If it isn't your dick getting you into trouble it's this obsession with getting revenge on these three. The last thing we want now is for you to go in there with guns blazing and shoot the living shit out of someone who has been identified as an Interpol Officer. Now I want you to get on the phone to that broad in the agency and see if she has any news for us."

The second man picked up the phone and dialled a number, "Hi Baby, BillyBob here, yeah we'll have to do it again. Now what have you got for me? What do you mean you don't know where she is? She's gone somewhere and not given you a forwarding address. Have you tried her home? No, have you actually been around there already? Honey, sorry I got angry at you, you're doing the best you can. Catch you later, ciao." He hung up the phone, "Bitch!!

"Trouble?" His companion worked studiously on his already perfectly manicured nails. Justin Masterson was careful about his appearance. His hair was always neatly trimmed and never out of place even in the strongest wind. His clothes always scrupulously cleaned and immaculately pressed.

His manner could be, and was described as effeminate, a description that was as cultivated as the fact. Beneath that facade dwelt on of the most cruelly cold-blooded killers in the employ of the CIA. He would think no more of shooting through an innocent bystander to complete a hit than brush a speck of dust from his clothes.

"Stupid bitch, she has had someone keeping tabs on our friends and it seems that she has gone off with some stud for a dirty week of sex and things and can't be contacted."

"It doesn't matter, it's not that important. I want you to slip over to the Warehouse and pick up that package in the safe and bring it back here, when you get it back I want you to check all the circuits, detonators and timing mechanism to make sure that it is working. We don't want to have anything go wrong at this point."

21

Russell and Jenny found themselves in the dim nether regions of the newspaper's records library going through microfiche record after microfiche record looking for who knows what. Even the most tenuous reference to either the CHOGM Conference, the CIA or the Ananda Marga had to be followed. It wasn't as if there was some starting point that they could use, it was a blanket search and it wasn't very fruitful. There were a lot of references to each of the areas that they were searching but nothing substantial.

The letters seemed to flash past in a never ending blur of green with very little of it of any interest. For two hours they had been at it all they had to show for their efforts were half a dozen small items.

Russell left the room and returned a few minutes later with two plastic cups of instant travesty that was loosely known around the building as coffee. He had only just set the cups down when Jenny called out excitedly, "Darling come here, look at this. This could change the whole course of the investigation."

What she was pointing to was a news release out of India which claimed that the CIA had infiltrated the Ananda Marga religious sect, and that the purpose of this was to undermine the Desai Government.

The item went on to allege that the reason for this action was to stir up anti-government feelings to the point where the government would be forced to resign and go to the polls, at which time the Indian people, with the urging of the CIA backed dissidents, would re-elect the Ghandis to government, a move supported wholeheartedly by the CIA.

If a reason for this action could be isolated it would be found in the rumours that were circulating widely that the Indian Government had plans to nationalise all foreign industry, thus taking from the exploitive multi-nationals, particularly US based industries, the cheap labour advantages that they enjoyed.

One reason identified by the Indian Government for taking this step was the growing resentment among the workers to the lax safety standards in many of the factories, many of which didn't meet the minimum requirements of the International Labour Organisation.

It looked to Russell and Jenny that the CIA/Ananda Marga link would prove to be the most likely and they were tempted to finish up and report back to the others, but reason prevailed, and they decided to push further with the research.

It wasn't long before Russell's attention was taken by a bureau report of a statement made by an American Scientist who claimed that the American Government was manipulating the finances of Third World countries by their controlling of Commodity Prices. Just as they had done in the 60's with sugar shipments from Cuba, refusing to allow the ships to dock and unload cargoes, subsidising production to depress the prices, measures which they rationalised by stating that they were denying Castro the ability to buy weapons that could be used against the US.

What rationale they used to manipulate oil stocks and prices from supposedly friendly countries such as Mexico was not stated, but the report accused the American Oil companies of blatant exploitation. It also pointed to the possibility of a producing country backlash in the form of Middle Eastern countries forming a Cartel to boost the price of oil at the well head.

The report accused the oil companies of falsifying drill reports and understating the Third World Country's oil reserves and selling to them oil from their own reserves at inflated prices.

The report concluded that the US government was, through the companies and its condoning of such practises, denying those countries the money that they so desperately needed to buy foods and medicines.

The report stopped short of accusing the US Government of actual interference in the government of these countries but it did state that in some cases the US was selling arms, through dealers, to those countries who were known to be hostile to US interests.

Russell skimmed through the cables for the next week until he found what appeared to be two unrelated incidents. The first a report quoting an un-named but influential 'informed source' which stated that the Prime Minister of a small African country was accused of accepting money from US based companies in return for the granting of certain concessions. The money was supposed to have been placed in the Country's General Revenue but, the report alleged, it was in fact deposited directly into a numbered Swiss bank account.

The report stated that the Prime Minister, although strongly denying the allegations, was still under considerable pressure to resign.

The second report was of the tragic death in a motor vehicle accident of a prominent scientist, which the report named and which, by coincidence, was the same person who had spoken out against the US Government some days before.

While the report of the 'accident' stated that it was a single vehicle accident involving the vehicle crashing, at high speed, through a guard rail and plunging down a steep cliff onto the beach at Malibu. It was also stated that tests of the driver's blood showed a high concentration of alcohol in his blood stream indicating that he was very drunk at the time. An eye witness stated that there could have been another vehicle involved due to the skid marks on the road. Friends of the scientist stated that he was staunchly teetotal and were at a loss to explain the presence of alcohol. Certainly not to the extent that was alleged in the initial Police report of the accident.




CHOGM Pt. 03



"These people can really play dirty when they want to."

"What is it?" Jenny came and sat on the desk that Russell was seated at. Russell pointed to the reports on the screen.

"Whew! I see what you mean. I certainly wouldn't like to get on their wrong side."

"I think it's about time we showed the others." Russell packed up his notes and tidied up the desk, which consisted of throwing the plastic cup into a bin, and he and Jenny left.

When they arrived back at Jenny's place they found only Burroughs in residence. "Well, did you find anything interesting?"

"Have a look at this lot." Russell spread the reports over the dining table. "While on the surface they don't appear to be related, if you look at them as parts of a much larger picture, you will see what we are worried about."

Burroughs looked through the papers that Russell had given him and as he read his head continually nodded. "This confirms what we know about this organisation. They will stop at nothing to ensure that their operations and that of their country are not interrupted. They will use the slightest pretext to justify going in with their Covert Operations Group and carrying out all manner of mischief."

"Such as?"

"They have been instrumental in the overthrow of several governments when it appeared that American interests were in danger. It has been alleged that they were directly responsible for the assassination of Allende and his replacement by Pinochet in Chile. It has even been suggested in certain circles that they were behind the overthrow of your very own Whitlam government in '75."

"I had heard that but never gave it any credence because I was always under the impression that the Americans were friendly."

"Whitlam was making noises about closing the CIA Communications Base at Pine Gap and they certainly didn't want that. They are like a terrier, friendly as long as you feed it and until you upset it, then you had better watch out because it will turn on you quite savagely."

"Who can we trust, you?"

"Me yes, my government, I wouldn't be too sure. There are enough people in high places whose integrity has been suborned by the Americans and the Russians that I wouldn't place my trust in any of them."

"What about your friends?"

"With my life. What about you two, can you be trusted?"

"Yes." Russell answered for the both of them, "We don't have any reason to betray our government or our friends, do we Jen?"

"No." Jenny answered softly.

"Good." Burroughs looked from one to the other. "Now what are we going to do about this lot?"

"I could write an article for the paper which sets out some of the dirty tricks that the Americans, in general terms though, and which alerts the readers to be aware of placing their trust too highly in them."

"Yes, you could but I'd be very careful how I worded it, use plenty of alleges and reliable source quotes to cover yourself from any possibility of libel action."

"Do you often have to teach your grandmother to suck eggs."

"Touché. It will need to be factually accurate but other than that, write what you like. How soon can you have it ready for me to read?"

"If I start now, tomorrow evening or, at the latest, the next morning."

"Fine, off you go and to work."

"What do you want me to do?" Jenny asked.

"You can help Russell. Make him copious cups of coffee and keep his mind on the job."

"Are you sure that I'm the right person to do that?"

"Probably not, but at least it will keep you from trying to get involved in our side of things."

"But I want to get involved."

"No. That's final. It will be much too dangerous for you and I still think that you can be of more benefit to us by working with Russell."

The finality of his decision left Russell and Jenny with no option but to return to Russell's flat and start work on, well eventually to start work on his article.

As they were about to leave Frank entered the room, "Hey Fellows, I think that I've come up with something. It seems that our old mates Hooley and Flynn are in town for the express purpose of creating some mischief around the CHOGM conference."

"Why? What possible connection could it have with their cause?"

"Anything that they can do to embarrass the British government they will do."

"Again, Why?"

"The reason that they are giving is that it is a reprisal for certain atrocities carried out against IRA members in Longketch prison and the killing of members about the place."

"Same old story. Sometimes I wonder if the retaliation doesn't come first. Do we have any idea where and when this will take place?"

"No. They were not about to discuss too much outside the central committee."

"Will you be able to find out any more?"

"I think so. I got talking to Hooley and it just so happens that I have a distant relative that comes from the same village as him, and knowing the way the Irish breed, we could be related, although heaven forbid that I should have to call him cousin."

"When do you think that you will be able to find out more?"

"Probably in the next day or two, why?"

"It seems that we find ourselves in the situation of having too many leads and not enough people to follow them up."

"What about me?" Jenny asked, "I'm sorry Darling I know that you want me to help you with your work, but I feel that I can be of more assistance helping with this investigation."

"No!" Burroughs's voice was clear and definite. "We agreed that you could help with the routine work but that you should not be involved with anything beyond that. I want you and Russell well out of this part of it."

"What happens if we turn up something important?"

"I will trust you to use your judgement but if it looks as if it might put you in any kind of danger, contact us first. The rule here is, if in doubt don't."

Russell and Jenny left and made their way back to the newspaper office where they soon found themselves once more looking at the blur of letters scrolling over the microfiche screens.

They were both a little on edge two hours later when Russell stopped the machine, peered closely at the screen and called Jenny over. "Look at this." He indicated the report of an interview with an alleged drug courier who had been caught entering the country with a large quantity of pure heroin secreted in special compartments in his baggage.

The report claimed that he had been recruited by the CIA and that he received his commissions through a merchant bank that the report alleged was a front for the CIA and used by it to launder its drug money which, it was further alleged, it used to finance its worldwide covert operations.

In a bid to avoid a long gaol sentence the courier agreed to give the police as much information as he could about the operations and the police, in turn, agreed to keep him in a safe house for the duration of their investigations.

"This is pretty hot stuff."

"But does it have any connection with what we're looking for?"

"I don't know but that's what I'm about to find out."

What Russell found out over the next hour was that while there had been many allegations, none were investigated to the point where action could be taken, about the CIA being involved in dirty doings across the globe. What he also found, and it disturbed him greatly, was the fact that so called safe houses were not necessarily safe. Both Russell and Jenny stared at the report of a fire bomb attack on a suburban house which resulted in the death of a person identified as 'helping police with their enquiries into certain matters'.

"Come on Jen, let's go. I'll put this together at my place, I need to get away from here for a while."

"Wait a minute! Have a look at this."

"What is it?"

"Do we have a description of the CIA bloke that has joined the Ananda Marga?"

"No, why?"

"Look at this." It was a paper put out by a humanitarian organisation that opposed the CIA involvement in world politics and in it were listed the names of operatives it accused of carrying out political assassinations around the globe. One in particular attracted their attention. He was listed as a specialist in 'wet operations' who had been known to use subversive groups, including religious, as a cover. His whereabouts was listed in the article as 'unknown but suspected to be in Asia.

22

Russell and Jenny returned to his flat where they worked putting together an article that explored the growth of the CIA and its links with subversive activities both inside the United States and around the world. It also mentioned the animosity that existed between the CIA and the FBI in America where J. Edgar Hoover saw its involvement in internal activities was a threat to the power base that he had carefully nurtured.

Jenny proved to Russell that she was more to him than an endless source of coffee and typing notes. She was also a source of inspiration. On several occasions she had suggested changes that improved its content and context. Russell was impressed with her grasp of the subject and her ability to put her thoughts into words.

"What would you say to having your name on the by-line of this story?" It was three in the morning and they were both tired but neither had given any thought to sleep.

"No!" Jenny's response cut through Russell.

"Why not?"

"I'm sorry Darling. I didn't mean it to come out like that but it's your story, all I have done is to type your notes and make you coffee."

"You have done much more than that. I don't like admitting this, but without you this story will not have fallen together as it has. If you won't let me recognise your efforts officially I will have to find some other way to show my appreciation."

"Oh yes, and just what did you have in mind?" Russell took her in his arms and they kissed. "If this is the kind of payment that I can expect, I want to work with you forever."

"That, you brazen hussy sounds to me like you are proposing to me. It's just not on."

Jenny withdrew from him, "Does that mean that you won't marry me?"

"Good heavens no. I just meant that I am old fashioned enough to want to be the one to propose." He led Jenny to the bedroom where they exchanged payment for some time before falling into an exhausted sleep.

***

It was just after ten in the morning when they strolled casually into the office of the Weekly News with the completed article. "Brian do you think that you could run this in this week's addition?"

"What is it?"

"Just something that we've put together that links the CIA with all sorts of nasty doings."

Brian read quickly through it. Looking at the two he asked, "I presume that you can confirm all of this?"

"Yes. It is all information that is on public record, all we have done is to link it all together. You must agree that it has thrown a whole new context on this investigation."

"You keep saying we, what gives with you two?"

"We are, as they say in the classic, just good friends."

"The next and more important question is, why now? Won't the publication of this article jeopardise what you are doing?"

"No. By highlighting that the CIA have used various other organisations to do their dirty work for them we are hoping that it will scare the less committed into pulling out. That way the way will be clear for us to concentrate on the more important ones and not get bogged down with peripherals."

"I get the distinct impression that our friends are using us to flush out the bad guys. I don't mind as long as we can profit from it as well."

"Ever the mercenary aren't you?"

Russell and Jenny left for Jenny's flat where they wanted to show their handiwork to the others. When they arrived they found the flat empty so they resumed the close affection that they were showing each other earlier in the day.

So hard were they concentrating that they almost didn't hear the key turn in the front door and were only just able to scramble into their clothes in time before John and Jerry entered.

"It looks like we interrupted something here. Do you want us to leave?"

"No, you may as well stay now. Anyway we have news for you. The article will be going into this week's edition. Here's a copy of the finished product, see what you think of it."

Burroughs sat down with the article and for the next several minutes he appeared to fall asleep. It was only the rapid flicking back and forth of his eyes that gave any indication of his being awake. At last he raised his head and looked at both Russell and Jenny. "Very good. This is just what we want. If this doesn't stir up some action I don't know what will. The problem now of course is, do we continue with our investigation and keep tabs on all of them, or do we wait until after the article comes out and follow up on the ones that don't drop out?"

"We would probably be better off keeping a watching brief on all of them just so that we know what they are doing and can move in quickly once the real enemy is known."

"Do you realise that this will put ASIO in a difficult position. They will be put under a great deal of pressure to do what the CIA wants them to do, even if it is against the best interests of the country."

"Where does ASIO fit into the scheme of thing?"

"They are being used as well." Russell said, "I don't profess to know much about the security services in this country but I do know that the information gathering that goes on is a one way street and that everything that ASIO finds out is fed into the Joint Intelligence Office where it is disseminated throughout our 'friends' which includes the CIA. In return they tell us nothing other than what they have sanitised for our consumption.

"They have used their strength and our parochial paranoia to convince us that we are mere minnows in a large pond and would quickly find ourselves out of our depth if we decided to swim an even bigger pond."

"We are pretty much up with your spy network although our boys tend only to work superficially with them, so we won't be able to do anything that would jeopardise what little contact we have with them."

Burroughs was thoughtful for several more seconds and then came to a decision. "I think it is about time that we had a conference with the Federal Police, after all this is their baby. We could find ourselves in a political shooting gallery with no way out. I can see them trying to explain all this away in parliament, in particular how we happened to have members of the local press corps along but kept it a secret from them."

He made the necessary phone call to arrange the meeting which was to be held in Jenny's flat as soon as the appropriate people could be contacted. It is amazing how quickly the powers that be can get themselves organised when it is important enough.

No more than half an hour after the phone call was made an inconspicuous car pulled into the underground carpark of the block of flats and three nondescript men got inconspicuously out of it and walked quickly into the building and up the stairs to the flat.

Frank Jenkins of airport fame and to whom the call had been made entered the room followed by a tall thin man who introduced himself as Bruce Stansfield of ASIO and a balding, not quite over weight but unfit man, Charles Boothby from the Department of Foreign Affairs. All three had the worried looks of people whose job could hinge on the outcome of the conference that was about to take place.

"I can't help but be concerned that you people have seen fit to involve not only the press but a civilian, and a female at that, in this operation without first clearing it with us." Jenkins spoke for the others.

"Look Frank, you were quite prepared to allow us the privilege of operating independently of your network as long as we kept our noses clean. We have kept our part of the bargain, sort of."

"Sort of!" Jenkins interrupted, "What about your soiree into the nether worlds of organised crime. By the way what did you do with all of the money you liberated from them?"

"Immaterial. We didn't have to call this conference, you would have been none the wiser if we had decided to go our merry way and only told you what we wanted you to hear so at least do us the courtesy of sitting there quietly while I outline our position. When I have finished you can put in your two cents worth. Now, the problem as I see it is this, we have found out that the intelligence service of one of your supposed closest allies is, to put it bluntly, planning some dirty trick in order that it can achieve some obscure political agenda of its own. Now that in itself is not new, given their track record over the years, but what you should be aware of is that your government will be left holding the baby when the shit hits the fan, as it certainly will. We have identified one of their top operatives working undercover within a certain religious sect. We assume it can only be for the purpose of using them as a front behind which he can disappear when the operation is carried out.

We have also ascertained that the same organisation has infiltrated the ruling party of one of the African countries and is planning to use that cover to back a military takeover by disaffected army officers who have guaranteed to toe the line in return for kick backs from them."

"This is preposterous! I'll not sit here a minute longer!" Stansfield stood as if to leave.

"You will sit down and listen to me!" The authority in Burroughs' voice forced immediate compliance. "The other group that we have uncovered is our old friends the IRA. They have got a couple of right nasties being sponsored by some of your less moderate Trade Unions for the purpose of causing embarrassment to your government by penetrating your security net over the CHOGM conference. Quite frankly, from what we've seen of your security someone with the IQ of a sponge would have little trouble in achieving that, and Hooley and Flynn have a little more intelligence than that. Now we could have them pulled in now but that may give them time to bring in a back-up team, so I suggest that they are watched and nothing more for the time being. Our biggest problem is that, whatever happens, you blokes will have a lot of explaining to do, so we thought it best to bring you up to date. Are there any questions?"

"I presume that, as you are telling us about this, that your Secret Service is not the one referred to, and on past performance it is not too difficult to guess that you are referring to the CIA." Stansfield was more subdued now, "This poses a very difficult problem in that we don't deal directly with the Foreign Affairs Department and the only part of our intelligence network with which we exchange information is ASIS, but that is through the intermediary of the Defence Signals Directorate. While this in itself doesn't appear to be a problem, except that, they in turn deal with both the British and American Intelligence Agencies which of course includes the CIA. I have no guarantee that any information sent to ASIS will not be intercepted. Protocol decrees that any approach to the Minister go through either the Joint Intelligence Office or the Office of National Assessment and it would be difficult for me to request a meeting with the Minister without attracting some unwanted attention."

"Well then it seems as if the only alternative that we have open to us is to try and stop this operation before it can be carried out. At present there are three separate groups that we suspect of trying something on. In an attempt to isolate them we have arranged for the Weekly News to print an article on terrorism and its links with various organisations, military, political and religious, in an attempt to narrow the field. I have a copy of the article here if you want to read it, but it will be on the streets in the next twenty four hours so your legal boffins will have a snowballs chance in hell of stopping it."




CHOGM Pt. 03



"A sort of publish and be damned attitude. I suppose that I had better have a look at it."

Stansfield sat and read slowly through it, digesting every phrase and its implication. "Someone has done a lot of research and gone to a lot of trouble to put this together. He or she has made some very interesting and it appears valid assumptions that lead me to the same conclusion that you have reached. I agree, we have to stop them, whichever one is involved, but I'm afraid that ASIO will not be able to offer much assistance. As this article suggests, we cannot make a move without attracting the attention of our not so worthy, it now appears, allies. We can pull in all those people we have who are supposedly watching you lot without success and give you a free go at it."

"No. If you do that you would be alerting them that you have been talking to us and we don't want that. Leave them where they are, they aren't worrying us at all, in fact it is fun confusing them."

Jenkins had remained silent up until this point. Half his concentration had been on the conversation and the other half on the article. "Gentlemen, and not forgetting the lady present, to suggest that you are just about to open up a can of worms is to state the obvious. Here we have a nation that is supposed to be one of our strongest allies plotting to carry out dastardly deeds on our soil. That to me is beyond contempt. On the other hand, how are we to know that the approval for all of this has not been given at the highest level and that snippet of information just hasn't filtered down to the troops. If that is the case and we move in on them they will probably have our guts for garters. Gentlemen and lady, we are in a pickle of the most unsavoury kind and whatever we do will probably cause a great deal of angst in certain quarters. My suggestion is that we carry on as if this conversation has not happened and hope that, when the fertiliser hits the rotary ventilator, as it most suredly will, that we don't end up covered in it. As I explained when you guys first landed, if anything happens we don't know you. We will probably be able to spirit you out of the country at a moment's notice, if that's any consolation."

"What about Russell and Jenny here?"

"We can probably provide them with new identities and set them up in another place for a while, at least until the heat dies down. Much more than that I'm afraid I cannot guarantee."

"That's okay by me but Jenny is very well known around town and has one of the most instantly recognisable faces in the fashion industry, for her to relocate will not be easy."

"That's no problem. I have been toying with the idea of getting out of the modelling side of the industry and taking up fashion design. If we were to move to Melbourne for instance I could enrol at Swanbourne or RMIT or whichever college teaches design. That is of course if you want to go to Melbourne."

"Silly question. If Melbourne is what you want then Melbourne it is."

"This sounds like something straight of one of those cloyingly sweet romance novels." Burroughs steered the conversation back to the matter at hand, "Now if I have my facts straight, ASIO can't help without compromising their position and the Federal Police won't so that leaves us on our own but that's fine as long as we know where we stand."

"Wait a minute." It was Boothby who broke his long silence. "I feel that before you go any further I should at least attempt to ascertain where the government stands in this matter. I can arrange to speak to the Minister and find out if there has been any official approach made by the US government on this matter, if there has, then I can find out what the official line is. If on the other hand there have been no approach on a Diplomatic level, then the Minister should be informed of the relevant details, including your involvement thus far. What I am suggesting is that you should hold off for a few days until I can get back to you with whatever information I can find out. After all it could drastically affect your approach from this point in time."

"Request granted, but time is running out very quickly."

"Point noted. I'll get on to it immediately."

The three men filed out of the room and left the others to contemplate the events as they stood.

"I think we're going to have to move quickly. It was like a bloody convoy down there." Jerry had been standing by the window that overlooked the road. "I recognised one of ASIO's cars but there were at least four other cars that followed them off down the road. I can't see from here if there are any more left behind to follow us when we leave, but leave I feel we must. Jenny, if you had to leave here without being followed how would you do it?"

"Easy. Wait until the ferry is just pulling in to the wharf and slip out the back way and jump on to it. From there you can either get off at the Zoo and catch a bus into the city or stay on to Circular Quay."

"You seem to have it well sorted out, why?" Russell asked.

"Occupational hazard of my profession. I'm always getting blokes follow me home and trying to get me to go out with them. They are usually of the pathetic type so I have devised this method of giving them the slip."

"Have you a ferry timetable?" Burroughs asked.

"Yes, there's one on the fridge door." Jenny walked into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with the timetable. The next one is in five minutes and goes via the Zoo. There is a direct one in about fifteen minutes after that."

"Jerry, you slip onto the first one with Frank but get off at the Zoo and catch the bus into the city. Frank you stay with it and get off at Circular Quay. Russell, how can we get from there to your place?"

"Why my place?"

"We need somewhere else to set up base for the time being and I thought your place would be as good as any."

"Oh. Where do I stay then?"

"I'm sure that you and Jenny could find a place for a couple of days."

"I think we could. If you get off the ferry at the Quay you can walk up to the train station and catch a train around to Museum station. From there you can either walk or catch a cab, it's up to you. What about the car?"

"We'll leave it with you until we need it again, but don't get too many ideas about permanent possession. You had better give us your address."

The information was exchanged for the keys to the Triumph in time for Frank and Jerry to depart. As the ferry left the wharf a fisherman took a two way radio from his tackle box and spoke to someone somewhere. Burroughs thought it would be interesting to find out who the recipient of the message was but resisted the temptation to go down and extract the information.

The next ferry was only half way across the harbour when he left and sauntered down to the wharf. He stopped casually beside the fisherman, "Catching anything?"

"Not much, if I had to rely on my catch to survive I would be much thinner than I am."

"Why don't you look for a more productive spot?"

"I live just up the road and this is great relaxation." He stared at the point at which the line and water surface intersected as if willing a fish to bight.

As the ferry neared the wharf Burroughs slipped his toe under the edge of the basket and flipped it into its path. The ferry captain had thrown his vessel into reverse to wash off speed and the churning propellers destroyed the plastic tackle box.

"Sorry about that. I can't explain how that happened but let me buy you a new one. How much was it?"

The fisherman just stared incredulously at the remains of his equipment, which consisted mainly of a couple of small floats that had managed to survive, the rest of his gear including the radio having sunk quickly to the bottom.

"That was pretty to watch." Russell and Jenny were standing, arms about each other, watching the scene being played out below. "I wonder what he'll do now."

They didn't have to wait long to find out. As soon as the ferry had left the wharf the fisherman walked briskly up the hill to a car parked a few houses up the road from Jenny's block of flats. He spoke briefly, and it appeared heatedly to the occupant as they left. Russell jotted down the number of the car as it drove off.

"Darling, do you think that we could take a short break from playing spy?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"This." She took the pen and paper from Russell's unresisting fingers and placing them on a coffee table, slipped into his not unwilling arms. Her arms snaked around his neck and pulled his head down to meet her upturned lips. His lips greeted hers with passion. 

"Her alternative to spying was much more interesting." Thought Russell. Well he didn't actually think it because his thoughts were very much on the task at hand, returning the kiss.

It was still in progress when she released her strangle hold on his neck and transferred her attention to unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it away from his shoulders, down his arms and out of the waistband until it dropped from him onto the floor.

Russell's unsteady hands began to explore the intricacies of the buttons of her blouse, eventually freeing the garment from her, his hands sought her breasts. Slowly he caressed them and his hands worked their way around the terrain of her body until his fingers found her hardening nipples. A low moan struggled to force its way from her mouth as he gently squeezed them between his thumbs and forefingers.

Jenny's hands had not been idle during all of this, caressing the curly hair on Russell's chest, they decided to move on to new ground. Reaching the waistband of his slacks, they paused long enough to locate the slide of his zipper before drawing it slowly down. It was Russell's turn to moan as her probing fingers homed in on his now full erect penis.

Abandoning the penis the hands found the belt buckle and, as if they were in a separate trance, slowly undid it. Russell stepped out of them as they hit the floor.

His left hand travelled around her waist until they located the button/zip combination and her skirt soon joined his slacks on the floor. There was a growing pile of clothes on the floor and few remaining on either of them.

All the while their lips had remained locked together, but now they separated. "I think that we should adjourn to the bedroom" Jenny suggested.

Russell didn't need to acknowledge the thought as he was already heading in that direction. In what seemed to them to have taken hours but was, in reality seconds, their naked bodies were locked together on the bed. Lips so briefly apart were now locked together and their hands were once more engaged in exploration. Moans again escaped from both pairs of lips and Jenny's legs parted to allow Russell to move into her. Her hips thrust up to meet him. The docking manoeuvre complete, they started to move slowly in unison, thrust met with counter thrust as, with quickening pace they climaxed together in panting pleasure.

They lay locked together for several minutes, regaining their breath, Russell slowly subsiding inside Jenny until, limp and victorious he withdrew from her. Jenny rolled towards him, kissed him softly on the lips and, with her left leg placed over his, and the product of their union becoming a sticky reminder on his thigh, they slipped happily into sleep.

Some time and a repeat performance followed by a splashy, sudsy shared shower later, Russell rang his flat and gave Burroughs the registration number of the car used by the fisherman to leave the scene.

Thirty five minutes later the phone rang. "Can you check to see if there is anyone watching the flat would you?" 

Russell put down the phone and went to the window that overlooked the street and, drawing back the edge of the curtain he looked up the street. It seemed to be all clear but he couldn't be one hundred percent sure. "I can't see anything but if we stay here they will have a fruitless wait, won't they?"

"Yes, that is if you stay there, which you are not going to do. I want both of you out of there and into a safe place as soon as possible. Take the Triumph but whatever you do don't bend it. If you are followed I'll leave it up to you how you get rid of the tail but, and this is important, I want you clear before you go anywhere near where you a going to stay."

"What's wrong with here? What has forced the change of plans?"

"That number that you gave us just happens to belong to a car owned by an American businessman living here in Sydney. That's not the real problem. The car is the real problem. There are two cars running around town with the same plates. Now that in itself is nothing to get totally alarmed about. That happens when you realise that the owner of the real car belonging to the plates has not reported either the car or the plates missing at any time since arriving in this country four years ago, and both cars are garaged at the same address and, amazing coincidence, that address is the same one occupied by the self same businessman."

"So?"

"I'm getting to the good part. The company that he represents is one that is commonly used as a front for the CIA right around the world. Not only that but it has been known to play host, from time to time, to what are formally known as Trade Attaches, a euphemism for CIA hit men."

"Oh. I guess we move."

"Yes. I am assuming that they haven't had a chance to put any bugs in the flat or a tap on this line, in fact I'm sure of the line because we can monitor the line, but it will only be a matter of time before they do so I want you to try and keep one step ahead of them for the next few days."

"Okay, consider us gone. Jen, pack a few things as if you are going out on assignment, we have to leave here, now."

Within five minutes they had left the flat, Russell carrying a bag containing a few of Jenny's clothes and she carrying a small make-up bag. The climbed into the Triumph and drove off. Russell was impressed with the feeling of restrained power given by the big V8.

Jenny used the mirror behind the passenger side sun visor to check that they were not being followed and to adjust her make-up. Just as she was about to tell Russell that it was all clear a car swung out of a side street behind them. In the normal course of events this would not be a cause for concern but in this case it was. It was the same car that had been driven away by the so called fisherman.

What was of more concern was that since leaving Jenny's flat they had taken a circuitous route to avoid the likelihood of being picked up or ambushed. "We have company." Jenny said at last.

"I know. The only thing I can think of is that we have a homer on this car somewhere and no matter how we try we will not be able to lose them unless we can ditch tit. Do you have any ideas?"

"Turn left at the next intersection, there's a ROBO car wash there. If the high pressure jets don't blow it away it will most likely drown it. Just to be sure, when we come out there is a coin operated vacuum cleaner outside the car wash, pull over to it and while I'm cleaning the inside you can have a quick check to see if it is still there."

Russell had the uneasy feeling that she seemed to know a lot about the ins and outs of the spy business than someone of their profession could reasonably be expected to know. He put the thought to the back of his mind where he hoped that it wouldn't be noticed.

It was a good idea. As the gleaming wet car drove out of the car wash they heard a most satisfactory crunch coming from the back tyres. A glance in the rear vision mirror showed a small package of electronic componentry squashed on the concrete. They used the vacuum cleaner to cover the check for more and it was while cleaning out the boot that a second was found. It disappeared down the nozzle to rattle encouragingly into the bin.

"Do you have any ideas where we can stay?" Russell asked as they headed in the general direction of no-where in particular.

"We can always stay with my family. We can kill two birds with one stone. A safe place to hide and I can introduce my parents to the fella that I'm going to marry."

Russell received this news with mixed feelings. While the prospect of being married to Jenny excited him immensely, he also got the feeling that things were moving too fast for him and that decisions were being taken out of his hands.

"What's the matter, don't you want to marry me, or is it the prospect of meeting my parents that scares you?"

"Neither. It's marvellous news and I couldn't be happier, it's just a little unexpected, after all we have only known each other for a very short time. While there is nothing that I want more than to marry you, I am not the type to rush things."

"You could have fooled me. How long had we known each other before you seduced me?"

"Me seduce you? Huh! If the truth be known you had it planned from the start to seduce me, after all what red blooded female could resist such a combination of raw animal magnetism and talent?"

"Look, I'm not suggesting that we should get married tomorrow, all I'm saying is that I am very sure of my feelings and I thought that I should express them before I lost you. Any way next week will be soon enough."

23

As the Triumph turned into the tree lined street where Jenny's parents lived she turned to Russell. "Darling, I have a favour to ask. As far as my father is concerned I am still a virgin. I would appreciate it very much if you say or do nothing to change that opinion. When you meet him you will understand, you see he is very much of the old school ,and has strong Catholic views on the sanctity of marriage and Italian views on pre-marital sex. In his eyes tradition counts for much."

"What about your mother?"

"She is a lot more realistic. As far as she is concerned, just as long as I'm not obviously pregnant when I walk down the aisle she will cover for me."

"That leaves us with two options, we either use some form of protection or get married soon."

"There is a third option that you haven't thought about."

"Oh yes, and what is that?"

"Abstinence. We could always not make love."

"I hope that you're not serious."

"Of course not silly. I know that we haven't really discussed this but you have nothing to worry about for the moment because I'm on the pill."

"Doesn't that go against you Catholic upbringing?"

"Yes, but in the industry I'm in you never know when some person is going to force his attentions on you and it is better safe than sorry. And of course there is that remote possibility that I might just meet Mr Right. In there." She pointed to a large cream brick house set back from the road.

There was a crushed marble driveway curving from the front gate to a three car garage which featured arched doorways. The driveway also curved around a columned portico near the front door. The front garden featured a wide array of concrete statues and fountains which consisted of mainly such things as cherubs urinating into ornamental fishponds. Jenny's father was a concreting contractor who had made enough money during the building booms of the late sixties and early seventies to retire from the physical side of the trade and supervise the members of his large family as they continued that tradition that he had started, one of hard work, long hours and fierce loyalty to the family.

No sooner had they pulled up at the front of the house than what seemed to be thousands of people came tumbling out of the front door. There were cries and kisses for Jenny as greetings were exchanged, and little attention was paid to Russell until everyone had a chance to welcome her.

She took Russell's arm in hers and took him to where her parents stood. "Mama, Papa, this is Russell. Russell, my parents Mr and Mrs Petrelli." Russell shook, hands with a wary Mr Petrelli and nodded to an appraising Mrs Petrelli.




CHOGM Pt. 03



He was then introduced to the seemingly endless stream of brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews and cousins. It appeared that when Jenny had called her parents to tell them that she was coming home to visit for a few days and that she was bringing a friend, her mother had contacted all their relatives who coincidentally lived close by, and they gathered for a reunion to honour their famous daughter, the model.

In no time at all the women folk had disappeared to prepare the fatted calf and the men had adjourned to talk men talk, which was initially of work, but gradually turned, as the latest vintage from the family cellar took control, to a mood of braggadocio. It was during this that Russell found himself put very firmly on the spot. Slapping him lustily on the back Petrelli Senior said "Russell, tell me, you and my Jenny, you have jig-a-jig, yes?"

"No Mr Petrelli." Russell was aware of the term, even if he were not, the tone of voice with which the question was asked left him in no doubt as to its meaning. "We haven't known each other for very long and I respect her too much to do anything like that. She is a lovely girl and one day, if she'll have me, I hope to marry her."

"Is good. I would have liked for her to marry a good Italian boy, but you know these modern women, they have no respect for the traditional values."

"On the contrary. Jenny has a lot more love and respect for her family and its values than you expect. She would never do anything that would bring shame to them."

It was obvious that this was the right answer to give and Russell was aware that he was fast gaining the confidence of Jenny's father. "Tell me, what you do for a living?"

"I am a Journalist."

"Which newspaper do you work for?" Russell told him. "You are not one of them Socialisti are you?" He seemed relieved to find that Russell's political leanings were more Centre then Left.

While this was happening Jenny and her mother were locked in her bedroom and conversation. "This man you bring to our house, is he the man for you?"

"Yes Mama. I have only known him for a few days but already I know in certainty that he is for me. He is kind and thoughtful and I love him."

"Answer me truly, do you make love with him?"

"Yes Mama. But it is only because I love him, and I want to show my love in the deepest way."

"And he loves you?"

"Yes. And not because he told me, even though he has told me that, I can feel it in his touch. He makes me feel like I am the only person in the world when we are together."

"How did you meet him? He doesn't look like any of the men that I have seen working with the ladies clothes. He looks like a man."

"I met him when he was working on a story at the hotel where I did my last fashion parade. He helped me carry my bag to the car and we got talking. One thing led to another and here we are. I have even been helping him with the story that he has written for his newspaper. As we worked together I suddenly realised that there is more to life than the shallow world of fashion. I want to be and work with him forever."

"Jenny, you and your man, are you in danger?"

"Why do you ask?"

"A mother knows when something is worrying her child. You have your reasons for bringing him here and it's not just so that we can meet with him, is it?"

"We are not in any danger. It is just that the men that we are working with want us out of the way for a few days because there are some bad men who have been following them and they don't want us taking the chance of being connected with them."

"I think maybe we should tell your Papa about this, come."

They left the room and headed for the living room where the men had become a noisy jovial family once more. Mrs Petrelli called her husband over to the door and spoke to him softly in Italian. He beckoned Russell over and they all walked down the hallway to Mr Petrelli's office.

"Mama tells me that you and my Jenny are involved in some bad business. Tell me what it is about."

Russell outlined as briefly as possible as much detail about the troubles and their involvement in it. He played down the danger that they could be in and highlighted the achievements and the terrific amount of assistance that Jenny had been. "Mr Petrelli, you should be very proud of Jenny. What she has done for us has been most appreciated."

"This car that you drive, where did you get it?"

The question came as a complete surprise to Russell, who was taken off guard for a moment and had to think very quickly before answering. "It belongs to the men with whom we are working, why?"

"Have you ever heard of Lou Carbone?"

"Yes. Isn't he involved in illegal gambling and drugs?"

"Could be. It seems that when he was spoken to by the police the other day a man driving either this car or one just like it was there too. Was that you?"

"No."

"You're not in any trouble with them are you?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Good. I think that we will have to keep it very quiet that you are here, just in case."

"You don't think that anyone is looking for us do you?"

"Better to be safe than sorry. I'll swear the others to secrecy." He left the room to talk with the rest of the family. "Don't worry my children," Mrs Petrelli had a calm reassuring tone to her voice, "The family will close ranks about you, just like they did in the big war. No-one will know that you are here."

"Look Mrs Petrelli, if we are causing any problems by being here, just say so and we'll leave."

"No. If our girl and her man are in trouble, even if it is with the police, we will help them all that we can. Not to do so, this is against our family honour."

"I don't think that there will be any trouble, because the people we are dealing with are not Italian."

Mr Petrelli came back into the room. "Tell me my son, these people you are having trouble with, are they American?"

"Yes, some of them are. Why do you ask?"

"Jenny's cousin, the son of my older brother, he goes to some places that not even his wife knows of, not very nice places if you know what I mean. He has just told me that the Americans are trying to take over the running of the gambling places and brothels. The local people do not want this but the Americans have a lot of money to put into this."

"That's interesting, but I don't see the connection."

"The Americans, they are not of the Families or the Mafiosi. The word on the streets is that they are Government people."

"It probably doesn't have anything to do with what we are working on, unless, no, even they wouldn't get involved in prostitution unless it is part of their narcotics distribution in this country. Still it could be important enough to follow up. Thank you for your help Mr Petrelli."

"Call me Papa, after all you are going to marry my girl. You must consider yourself one of the family."

After Mr and Mrs Petrelli had left the room Russell turned to Jenny and, taking her in his arms pressed his lips softly against her forehead and whispered to her, "Darling, your mother and father are the most wonderful people. Anyone would think that they had known me for years the way that they have accepted me into the family. I don't know where I would be now if I hadn't bumped into you at that fashion parade."

"Who bumped into who? If my memory serves me correctly it was I that bumped into you."

"So it was. You brazen hussy, why me?"

"You were the strongest looking person there, the others all either had limp wrists or were as fat as pigs. Except of course for our three friends that is, but then I wouldn't have asked them."

"Why not?"

"Well they did try in a funny way to pick me up. I didn't want to encourage them, I might never have got rid of them."

"They probably would have run a mile if you had."

"Thanks a lot! You're probably right though."

"Hey that reminds me. I had better ring the others to let them know where we are."

"Yes we had. There's a phone there that you can use."

Russell rang his flat and gave the address and phone number of Jenny's parents' house and passed on the information about the Americans moving in on organised crime.

***

The evening meal was a noisy affair with everyone trying to talk at once and eat at the same time. The wine flowed freely and the gestures became more expansive as the evening wore on. The food was both plentiful and rich, with sauces redolent of garlic, herbs and spices. The pasta was cooked to perfection, the meats melted in the mouth. 

This was followed by the richest and creamiest desserts that Russell had ever experienced and all of this was washed down with copious quantities of cold sweet spumante. By the end of the meal the whole assembly was lolling about in a state of semi-sleep or semi-inebriation, but totally at peace with the world. Russell eased the belt of his straining trousers another notch. "How can you keep your figure with food like this?"

"Why do you think I live on my own? If I'd stayed here I would be as fat as some of my female cousins by now. Will you still love me when I look like they do?"

"Of course I will, do you doubt it?"

"You men! You were supposed say that you love me just as I am and encourage me not to change."

"Hold it. Of course I love you just as you are. You have the most amazing figure that I have ever seen, but that is not the only reason that I love you. I love you for your mind and personality as well. Anyway, if you get big and fat I will love you just as much, the only difference is that I won't have as much competition for you affections."

"You stupid idiot! There is no competition now. I love you and that's all there is to it. Take it or leave it."

"Your parents seem pretty sure that you and I are going to get married. Have they pressed the point of us setting a date?"

"Not yet. I told them that we will get married but I haven't told them when."

"Do you think we should tell them that we will do it as soon as possible?"

"Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do silly. Do you think that I would be stupid enough to pass up the opportunity of a lifetime to marry the sexiest, most gorgeous, smartest, brightest.."

"I seem to be getting a message here. You are not displeased with the proposition, although I'm not all you say I am."

"If you're fishing for compliments where can I start. Let me see now, for a fat, lazy, ugly old broad you've done alright for yourself catching someone as handsome, witty, suave and sophisticated not to mention filthy rich as me. How was that?"

"You idiot. Just consider yourself lucky that I chose you, after all no-one else would. I was your last chance to save yourself from a life of lonely bachelorhood."

"I think that it is time to formalise our arrangement." Russell rose to his feet and tapped the side of his glass with a spoon. When everyone was paying attention to him he cleared his throat. "Mr and Mrs Petrelli, you are all well aware that Jenny and I love each other and plan to marry. In keeping with the tradition that requires that I ask your permission I ask you. May I have your permission to marry your daughter Jenny?"

The announcement was greeted with cheers and cries. Mrs Petrelli hugged Jenny to her and cried openly with joy. Mr Petrelli slapped Russell heavily on the shoulder and pronounced him truly one of the family. "Tony! Go to the cellar for more wine. This calls for a real celebration."

Within minutes the slapping of backs and cries from the women folk competed on more or less equal terms with the sound of the popping of spumante corks. The wine flowed, glasses remained full and the people got fuller. The party kicked on in earnest.

In the early hours of the morning the last of the relatives had departed noisily and Mrs Petrelli announced that the dishes would wait until the morning. She left to go to bed followed by her husband. Jenny showed Russell to one of the guest rooms and stayed as long a proper under the circumstances before reluctantly going to her own room which she found little changed from when she had left home.

 25

Sydney Morning Herald

Friday, February 10

PARIS POST FOR KERR

AMBASSADOR TO UNESCO

Canberra- The former Australian Governor General Sir John Kerr has been appointed Australia's Ambassador to UNESCO in Paris.

GOVERNMENT DEFEATED - THEN WRAN CALLS ASIO FILES INQUIRY.

The Premier, Mr Wran was forced yesterday to establish a Judicial inquiry into the Coleman-ASIO document controversy after his Government had suffered its first defeat on the floor of the House of Assembly.

***

The morning started well enough. Jenny and her mother were busy making plans for the wedding. There was the engagement notice to put in the paper, and engagement party to organise, the wedding and reception to book. The subject of religion arose but Russell told them that he was prepared to fit in with any arrangements they made. A start was made on the guest list for the reception.

By the time all of the family were invited the reception was starting to take on the proportions of one of Cecil B De Mille's biblical epics and that was without the inclusion of Russell's family and friends which would add another forty people to the list.

At around ten o'clock the phone rang. Mr Petrelli answered and announced that it was for Russell. It was Burroughs. "How secure are you where you are?"

"Safe enough, why?"

"We had several visitors in the wee small hours of the morning. When we accosted them they seemed genuinely surprised to see us and not you. You haven't been making any enemies we don't know about have you?"

"Not that I'm aware of. You don't think that someone found out about the article before it was printed do you?"

"More than likely that is the answer. These chaps weren't amateurs either. They wouldn't tell us who they were working for even though we threatened them with all sorts of diabolic consequences if they didn't. Anyway they're safely under lock and key as we speak, but you'd better stay put for a while longer just in case someone starts making enquiries. Jerry's gone up to Jenny's place to check it out and I'll get back to you as soon as he reports in."

"I hope they didn't make too much mess before you caught them."

"Not too much. You wanted a new typewriter anyway, didn't you?"

"Not my antique Remington that has been in my family since I bought it from a second hand shop last year? There is a lot of sentimental attachment to that typewriter."

"They very same. Still, you'd better keep your eyes peeled in the case that they have located you. Stay put as much as possible and if you go out at all, unless it's absolutely necessary, don't take the Triumph. And make sure that it's parked where no-one can see it from the road."

Russell put the phone down, "What's the matter?" Jenny asked.

"It seems that someone paid a visit to my flat last night. They're locked up now but not before they made a mess of the place. They are not saying where they came from. Because of this we have to stay put here until further notice. They also want us to hide the Triumph and only use if when it is absolutely necessary."

The car was moved into one of the garages and the door locked. Russell, Jenny and her parents settled down to further discussions on the wedding plans.

It was just before lunch when Russell thought that maybe it was about time that he broke the news to his family. "Mum, it's me Russell."

"Russell, Russell who?"

"Alright smarty, so I haven't called you recently. It's your son Russell, and I've got some news for you."

"Should I be seated for this?"

"No."

"Don't tell me, let me guess now. I know, you're giving up your job with that horrible newspaper and are going to work for the Herald."

"No Mum, I'm not giving up my job for you or anyone, the least likely thing would be for me to prostitute my morals by going to work for that WASP rag. No Mum, I'm getting married."

"This is very sudden, when?"

"Soon."

"You haven't got some poor unfortunate girl in trouble have you?"

"No Mum, it's not one of those marriages."

"I presume then that you have found out her last name and you are on speaking terms with her seeing-eye dog."

"I love you too. Thanks for the vote on confidence. Her name is Jenny Peters and she is a model."

"I hope you don't mean one of those 'obvious' people who use the euphemism 'model' to hide their true vocation."

"No Mum." The exasperation was beginning to show in voice. "She is a fashion model and apart from the fact that she is very beautiful, she is also an extremely intelligent and wonderful person. I love her Mum, I love her,"

"I know silly, I am fully aware who Jenny Peters is, I am also aware of her obvious charms. I congratulate you on your triumph. When am I going to have the honour of meeting her and her parents?"

"How soon can you get here? I know that Jenny would like to meet you and I'm sure that you and her parents will get on very well."

"You've met them then?"

"Of course. Don't get offended but I'm ringing from her parents' place now. Yes I have spent the night here but we haven't done anything wrong, when you meet them you will realise that we just couldn't."

"Why should I get offended that you should tell her parents first. Sorry Darling, I didn't mean that. Tell me where I can find you and I will be there as soon as possible."

Russell gave her the address. He and Jenny went into the kitchen where the Petrellis were having a cup of coffee. "My mother would like to meet all of you so I have taken the liberty of inviting her over. I hope that you don't mind."

"No, no. We would like to meet her." Mr Petrelli said. "What about your father, will he be coming?"

"No he's at work and he won't stop for anything or anyone. But Mum will most probably be talking to him right now."

"Your father, what does he do?"

"Papa! That is not polite."

"It's alright Darling. My father is a doctor, and a very good surgeon. He has a practice in Macquarie Street."

Shortly before twelve a taxi pulled into the driveway and Russell's mother issued forth. Russell met her as she got out. "It's very. . . . Mediterranean isn't it?"

"Don't start. Her parents are Italian but that doesn't make any difference to me so it shouldn't make a difference to you. Now I want you to be on your best behaviour so don't start looking down your nose. They are nice, genuine people and my future in-Laws. You might not have to live with them but I will." 

"You don't intend to live in this Medici Palace do you?"

"Give it a miss, please." Jenny and her parents came out to greet Russel's mother. "Jenny, Mr and Mrs Petrelli, I'd like you to meet my mother."

"I have a name, it's Theresa," She glared at Russel. "I'm so very pleased to meet you."

Jenny hugged her and Maria kissed her in the continental fashion while Mr Petrelli (call me Gino) shook her hand.

Russell had to admit that once she was inside the house and had been introduced to Jenny and her parents his mother's behaviour was above reproach and the meeting went off so smoothly that the two mothers decided that they would go off together to look for suitable stationery for the invitations.

Russell was a little worried that there would be an argument between them over the subject of invitations, knowing his mother's taste was probably a bit more 'sophisticated' than Jenny's mother's. He thought that it would be a good time to tell Jenny a little about his family. "Jen, I was a little dubious about my parents' reaction to the news, especially Mum. You have probably gathered that she is something of a snob. That's all a bit of a front that she puts on, but she is really nice once you get used to her ways. I suppose that's because the family are rich and have been for generations, but because it's 'old money' they don't have some of the pretensions that exist in the North Shore Nouveau Riche. After meeting your parents I knew that there wouldn't be a problem in that area because your parents don't bung on side. Mum appreciates that, even though she has been known to do it herself."




CHOGM Pt. 03



"I like your mother. Okay, she came over as a little stuck up to start with, but the news probably came as a bit of a shock to her. It's not the first time that you've shocked her is it?"

"No. You should have heard the fuss she made when I announced that I intended to become a journalist. 'Why don't you choose an honourable profession like Medicine?' Russell gave a reasonable impersonation of his mother's voice. 'Don't you think five doctors in the family are enough?' I asked her. 'But journalists are so, grubby.' That wasn't the end of it though. When I announced which paper I had chosen to work on she practically exploded.' 'Oh Russell, how could you! If you must be one of those things, at least have the decency to work on one of the respectable newspapers, like the Herald.' It was around that time I decided that I couldn't live at home anymore."

"What made her change her mind?"

"Eh?"

"She appeared positively proud of you here today. I bet she has a scrap book at home with a copy of everything that you have ever had printed in it."

"If she was proud of me today it was because of you. You are so much better than either of my Sisters-in-Law. God you should see them. Not a patch on you, both of them are doctors of course, my brothers met them at Med School. Ugly, what is it that my lecherous boss says, oh yes, 'give them a can of Pal and send them home'."

"I hope never to hear you say that about anyone, after all people can't help their looks."

"There is a difference between mere plainness and being down right frumpish. No make-up, sensible shoes, hair that looks like it lost an argument with a pair of hedge clippers, and clothes, straight from the 'Op shop'. I bet that even if you weren't so absolutely beautiful to look at you'd still be attractive. You know how to dress and about grooming. Mum was always taken by a woman with class and style, and you have both in abundance." 

Mr Petrelli came out of his office with a worried look on his face. "Taxes, taxes. When is this Government going to stop taxing the life out of people like me that want to work hard? You should see how much money my company pays in tax each year. It is getting so bad that I might have to think about retiring."

"Come on Papa, you know that you love to work and you wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you ever stopped."

"Listen to this expert. All you have to do is walk backward and forward a few times in front of people and you earn as much money as I can earn in a whole week of back breaking work.(to Russell) Do you think this is fair?"

"I am hardly in a position to comment, after all my job is hardly going to qualify as strenuous physically."

"Don't worry about Papa, he is always complaining. He does that nearly as well as he works. Underneath that growly exterior he's proud of me and my success, aren't you Papa?"

Her father took her in his arms. "Of course I am proud of you. All of my friends say to me. 'Hey I see you daughter on the television last night, she's beautiful.' Then they ask me from where you get your looks. They say that I'm ugly so I tell them that you are just like your mother was at your age and they tell me that I'm the luckiest man in the world to have married someone like that as I am so ugly."

The atmosphere was broken by the telephone ringing. Mr Petrelli answered it. It was for Russell.

"Mr French, we have your mother and some Italian lady with us." There was an obvious attempt to disguise the voice by placing a handkerchief over the mouth piece but the American accent still managed to come through.

"What do you want?"

"We want you to stop the publication of the article that you have written about the CIA or you will never see your mother again. Ever."

"I don't think that I can stop it at this stage."

"I will ring you in one hour and if you can't confirm that you've managed to stop it we will kill you mother in a most agonising way. One hour, that is all the time you have."

Russell was very quiet and very pale. "What is it Darling?" Jenny asked.

"Someone, I don't know who but I suspect our American friends, has kidnapped my mother and yours."

"How much do they want?"

"They don't want money. They want me to stop the article." 

Russell called John and explained the situation to him and it was agreed that a temporary halt to publication would do no harm but could be reversed if harm came to either of the women.

An hour later the phone rang. "It is arranged." Russell told the man. "I want them released immediately and I want to know where I can pick them up from."

"I can't tell you where or when just yet but I will call in half an hour and give you directions."

It was a tense wait and during that time Russell was wondering how they knew about the article and was this just to show them how vulnerable they and their friends and relatives were. His mind drifted back to the recent meeting and which of the other parties involved leaked the news. He was sure that it wasn't Jenkins and if it was one of the others then Australian security has been compromised at the highest level.

The phone shattered his thoughts. "We have confirmed that you have followed orders and will release the women. You are to go to the MacDonaldtown railway station and you will find them in the waiting room. They have been told to wait for you and not to contact the police or you will be dealt with before you can reach them." Russell put the phone down and grabbed Jenny's hand.

"Where are we going?" She asked as they ran to the car.

"MacDonaldtown railway station, it's not a safe place to leave them for any length of time."

They parked the car and ran onto the platform and to the waiting room to find their respectives chatting away to a young girl who looked no more than sixteen years old but already had a baby that was wrapped in a tatty but clean blanket. "If you go to this address," Mrs French told her, "they will take good care of you and help you to find somewhere decent to stay and take you to Social Security and help you through the paper minefield so that you get on a pension."

"Thank you, you've been very kind." Tears welled up in her sad eyes.

Mrs French gathered her in her arms and gave her a hug. "You're a good girl and don't deserve any of what you've gone through. Just be strong and look after yourself and your baby, will you promise me that?" The girl nodded a sniffley yes. "Good, and if you ever need anything call me on that number and I'll do what I can."

"Do you have any food?" Mrs Petrelli asked her.

"No."

"Go to this place," she wrote an address on a piece of paper, "ask for Maria and she will give you any fruit and veg that you need, will you do that?"

"You ladies have been so kind to me, I don't know how to thank you."

"Just make a good life for yourself and your baby and let us know where to send your twenty-first birthday present."

The girl smiled for the first time, "I just might do that." She shoved the pieces of paper into her jeans pocket and pushed the pram out of the waiting room.

"I see you've made it, don't just stand there we have work to do." They walked to the car and as Russell pulled away from the kerb Mrs Petrelli said to him. "Turn left at the next intersection."

"Where are we going?" Jenny asked.

"They had us blindfolded and in the back of a van but I've memorised the turns that we made coming from where we were held. We should be coming to a set of traffic lights, keep going straight and in a little while the road veers to the left follow that for a couple of minutes and you will come to a narrow laneway between high buildings, drive down it until you cross a drain or something that crosses the lane at an angle. The door to the building will be on the right."

"That's incredible!" Russell exclaimed as the car lurched over the spoon drain, he drove to the end of the lane before a difficult three point turn saw them driving back down the lane. "This looks to be the same building where Jerry had his meeting with Lou Carbone, although why they should be doing the bidding of our American friends I don't know."

"Could it be that they use local talent where possible so that they can maintain total deniability if the operation goes sour?"

"That would appear to be the only reason." The drive to the Petrelli house continued with the two women in the back seat chatting as if they were long-time friends who were returning home from a shopping trip. 

25

"You honestly think that your little show of strength will convince them to butt out?"

"Why sure it will. We are dealing with a couple of your actual amateurs here, not professionals. A little nudge in the right place and they will duck for cover right enough."

"I hope that you're right. The last thing we want is for something to go wrong at this point in time."

"Have you set up for our other friends to deliver the package?"

"Yes. It will be in place in good time. I can imagine the surprise on their faces when the balloon goes up. When they realise that they have been used as patsies they are going to be ropeable."

"And the surprise package, that's been arranged?"

"All fixed, both of them, ASIO are set to react to information received and find a small device in the rubbish bin that has been planted by another party. What they won't find until it's too late is the other much more powerful package that's a couple of inches beneath that in a brown paper bag. You have nothing to worry about, just go to all of your functions and suck up to the proper people and leave the dirty work to professionals like me, after all that's what we get paid for, isn't it?"

"It is going to the desired result isn't it?"

"Sure. It'll really knock their socks off. They will be left speechless, you can bet on that."

"What about those mad Irishmen. Where are they?"

"You mean right now?"

"As we speak right now."

"As we speak, Uh Huh. Well I was meaning to talk to you about those two. I think maybe that they weren't one of your most intelligent ideas."

"What do you mean?"

"The last thing that I heard from that front was that they had a few too many at the local pub and got fighting drunk. They trashed the front bar. As we speak they are probably in a de-tox unit somewhere with orders that they are to stay there until their deportation papers can be processed."

"How did this happen? Who was looking after them?"

"A couple of the Union lads were showing them around. Apparently someone suggested a boat race and they all participated with enthusiasm."

"And the minders?"

"Probably sharing a cell with them."

 26

By six o'clock the planning was reaching the stage where the nuts and bolts had been finalised and it was just the fiddly bits to be taken care of. Russell and Jenny were consulted and told where and when the ceremony would take place, who would officiate, how many guests were being invited, what the bride would wear and how many bridesmaids she was allowed to chose, bearing in mind the family politics involved.

"Don't we have any say in this?" Russell asked when the final plan item was revealed.

"Certainly not, you're only the groom. Why should you have any say?"

"I meant Jenny and I collectively, after all it is our wedding."

"Whoever heard of such a thing. Have you heard anything like it Maria? Weddings are just another excuse for families to get together and settle scores amongst themselves. Isn't that right my Dear?"

"I think Russell and I would have both settled for a quieter ceremony held sooner."

"And deny your mother the opportunity to see once more the dress that she wore for her own wedding."

"Mama! For that dress I would wait for two years."

"Steady on. Just a minute ago your were wanting a quick and quiet wedding and now look at you, you're as bad as they are."

"I think that is all we can do today. Russell will you be so kind as to drive me home?"

"I'm coming with you." Jenny said as she went to her room to collect her purse.

They drove in relative silence for several minutes before Russell's mother spoke. "You don't own this car, do you?"

"No mother. It belongs to the three Englishmen with whom we are working. Don't you like it?"

"Oh, it's very nice, much better than the wrecks you used to drive around the paddocks, so I knew it couldn't have been one of your choices."

"Let me tell you that if I was to buy a car it would be this one or one identical to it."

It was nearing seven when the Triumph stopped in the driveway behind a silver BMW which was parked in the driveway, its engine still turning over.

"Well hullo old girl, I wondered where you had got to. I arrived home at my usual time expecting the customary sumptuous repast to be waiting for me and what do I find? A worried Franklin not knowing where you were, and a meal that could only be described as past its prime."

"I'm sorry dear, it's just that so much has happened this afternoon that I completely forgot to ring and tell you that I would be a little late home. By the way I would like you to meet your soon to be new daughter, Jenny Peters."

"Jenny Peters, now where have I heard that name recently? Oh no, it couldn't be! I do believe it is!" His overacting was beginning to upset Russell, "It is the famous model Jenny Peters."

"Yes father it is. Now cut out the histrionics you are making a fool of yourself."

"Sorry. You can call me Walter, but not too often I hate the name, if you like you can call me Father, I'm much more comfortable with that." He took her hand but before he could raise it to his lips Jenny kissed him on the cheek. "I must confess to some small degree of surprise," He looked at Russel, "because when you chose journalism over medicine I said that you would never amount to anything, and now look at you, standing there with what has to be arguably the most beautiful woman in Sydney. Amazing!"

They had moved inside and Russell and Jenny found themselves almost disappearing into a huge leather chesterfield while Mr French sat like some feudal Baron in identical tub chair, cigar in one hand and a glass of his best single malt whisky in the other. Russell and Jenny had settled for a dry sherry. Mrs French had gone off to check if Franklin the housekeeper could put together something for dinner. She returned just as Russell was telling his father something of the day's events.

"Why on earth didn't you call me?"

"I thought of it, but you know how difficult it is to get through to you, especially if you are operating."

"You could have left a message with my secretary, she would have known whether I could be disturbed. As it was I got home to find that your mother had disappeared muttering something about putting an end to this foolishness and not even telling Franklin where she was going."

"What's this foolishness you were going to put an end to?"

"I must learn not to jump to conclusions. I honestly thought when you announced your plans to get married you were talking about one of those floosies that journalists seem to be attracted to. That was of course before I met Jenny and her parents."

"I hope that this means that you will no longer try and stop Russell and I from getting married?"

"Heavens no! I gave up any thought of opposing your plans within five minutes of meeting you."

"Just as well."

"I must say my boy you've done all right for yourself. She is without doubt the best looking daughter I will ever have. Leaves the others for dead."

"Down you lecherous old bugger, your chauvinism is showing." Russell told him.

"Looking is a married man's privilege my boy, it's when he wants to touch that the trouble starts."

Franklin came into the room to announce that dinner was served and they all rose and adjourned to the dining room.

They were seated at a large and very highly polished mahogany table on which sat gleaming silver cutlery, polished crystal glasses and plates, now piled with food, and that would soon be revealed to be Royal Albert china.

Fillet steak, lightly glazed peas and baby carrots and baked jacket potatoes covered with sour cream and chopped chives. "I thought a light meal would be appropriate so I decided to do without the usual entree."

"Are you trying to make me fat?" Asked Jenny, eyeing the mound of food.

"Good heavens no. If you can't eat it all we won't be upset." Turning to the husband. "Will you pour dear?" 

"Certainly. I hope you like red wine my dear, you don't mind if I call you 'my dear', do you?"

"No, not at all, in fact I find myself feeling comfortable with it."

"Fine. I hope that you like this one, it is something that I picked up from a little boutique winery at McLaren Vale the last time that I was in Adelaide. The Southern Vales wineries are gaining a reputation for producing big reds and this Shiraz is no exception. I like it."

Russell lifted the glass and nosed the wine, the aromas of leather with just a hint of pepper greeted his taste buds. He took a sip of the wine and swirled it around his mouth, the unmistakable fruit characters of the Shiraz moved smoothly around his palate aided in no small part by the distinctive flavour of the small oak casks in which the wine had been aged. The finish was dry without the astringency common to many reds. "Smooth. I could get to like this. Can you get me some?"

"I can do better than that. I will give you a couple of dozen bottles to start your own cellar. A sort of pre-wedding, wedding present. Do you like this my dear?"

"Yes it's very nice. A bit different to the wines that I am used to."

"And what wines are you used to?"

"Home made reds and spumante."

"Do you like champagne?"

"If what I've been drinking at fashion parades and receptions is champagne, no. It's much too sweet for me."

"Probably cheap bubbly, it's deliberately sweet so that people will pour it down without questioning its origins. Cheap and nasty, and causes no end of problems the next day. Now I have an excellent Brut champagne that you will probably like and if you do I will throw a dozen or so bottles in with the other wine that I give Russell. You must encourage Russell to maintain a good cellar at all times."

"I don't think he'll need much encouragement, do you?"

"No. Now you will need to try wines from all regions. Don't accept other peoples recommendations, buy what you like and hang the rest. Now if I could recommend a few places for you to try I will."

"Go ahead."

"Well, South Australia produces some of the best wines in the world, particularly reds such as Grange Hermitage, so a trip to the Barossa Valley and McLaren Vale is imperative, not forgetting the Coonawarra district in the South East of the State. There are some good wineries in Victoria as well as the Hunter Valley of course. Visit as many as possible and taste as much as you can, make up your own mind and go with your instincts."

Mr French continued to expound his views on wines during a dessert of fresh strawberries dusted with castor sugar and covered with fresh cream followed by a cheese platter containing several different cheeses and fresh green salad vegetables.

It was just after eleven when Russell and Jenny left to return to Jenny's house. They drove in silence except for the radio playing softly to compliment the mood. Jenny's hand rested on Russell's left thigh and her head on his shoulder. Conversation was totally superfluous, the world and the moment was theirs and theirs alone. What happened outside the confines of the car had lost its relevance other than what was necessary to drive the car. As far as they were concerned World War III could have started.

They turned off the main road into the secondary road that led them to Jenny's parents' house when a car approached rapidly from behind them with its lights on high beam. Russell reached for the anti-glare lever on the inside mirror but that did little to ease the pain of the bright lights when the outside mirrors both reflected the beam into his eyes. "Bloody hell, what is this fool trying to do, blind me?"




CHOGM Pt. 04



27

"Before I tell you I need to explain something. I have worked for these people for the last two years and up until very recently I thought that they were the good guys, at least that was what they kept telling me. My involvement until this assignment was to provide certain important people with 'entertainment'. I wasn't involved in the actual entertainment but because I knew so many models who would do just about anything to make money so that they didn't have to have a 'normal' job to survive, I had no trouble in finding all they needed.

This job was different. I was to keep an eye on the comings and goings at the hotel. When I noticed that you were doing the same thing I contacted my control and reported it. I was asked to get close to you and find out who you were and what you were doing there. I didn't have any real problems with that because even then I sort of fancied you. 

There were however two important things that I didn't count on. First and most important, I found myself falling in love with you. That in itself was great, I could handle that, but when I found out that they were not the good guys that they made themselves out to be, I stopped feeding them information. I told my control that I was going away for a while and would be in touch when I got back. I didn't leave a forwarding address so they didn't know where I was. I imagine that they have only just recently found out that I had joined you and the others.

When they couldn't find me they suspected the worst and when they tracked us to my parent's house they decided to teach me a lesson, so they took our mothers. When they saw you and me arrive at the railway station to pick up our mothers they were probably not very pleased with me, hence this warning. Darling what I'm trying to tell you is that I have been working for the CIA."

"We really fell for that one didn't we? You said that you have been working for them as if you no longer worked for them."

"As of a two days ago I have resigned from the service. They don't know about it yet but I think that they have reached that conclusion all by themselves. How could you expect me to keep working for someone who would stoop to using innocent people for 'leverage'?"

"What are we going to do next?"

"My most pressing thought is 'do you still love me after we have gone through?"

"Of course."

"Do you still want to marry me?"

"Naturally."

"Even with my face all smashed up?"

"Well we could always get plastic surgery on it to restore it to its former beauty."

"Bastard, be serious."

"Apart from that bit about the plastic surgery I have never been more serious. Just you try to worm your way out of this and avoid marrying me. You'll find yourself sued for breach of promise. Now where are we and how do we get out of here?"

"I think that they have us in the same building that they used to hold our mothers. As to how we get out of here, I'm afraid that I don't have any suggestions at all."

Russell looked around and saw that the only window was far too high for them to seriously consider climbing through, and even if they did get through they would probably break every bone in their body falling down the other side. Even if they managed to get through without serious injury they would still have to face the prospect of recapture if a guard had been left. "I wonder what is on the other side of that partition."

"Probably some kind of office, but what good is that, we have to get there first?"

"If it is an office there is probably a phone. As to how we are going to get there, we would probably be best trying to get through the door. I wonder if they did leave a guard."

"I thought that I heard someone outside the door after they left, so I presume that they aren't taking any chances."

"What's your acting ability like, can you improvise?"

"Sure, what do you have in mind?"

"We are going to have a blazing row and I'm going to accuse you of lying to them about what our role is in this. That should make him sit up and take notice. When he comes through the door I'll belt him over the head, that's if I can find something to do the belting with. . ." Russell looked around the room until he came across a one metre long piece of three by two hardwood. "Ready?"

"Yes."

"You stupid fucking bitch! What did you tell them that for! Don't you realise that when they find out that they have been led on a wild goose chase they will come back here hopping mad and it will most likely be curtains for us!" Russell's voice cut through the still air like a whip crack.

"But I thought. . ."

"That's your problem you didn't think! The more I am with you the more I realise that you are nothing more than a very decorative but dumb blonde. Next time let me do the thinking."

"But you were unconscious and it was me that they were belting around." Jenny sobbed.

"And I suppose you think this hand hurt itself?" Russell slapped his thigh as hard as he could with his good hand. Jenny cried out 'in pain'. It sounded realistic enough for the guard to want to investigate. They heard the sound of a chair scraping back as he stood up.

Russell crept over to stand behind the door so that he could surprise the guard when he came into the room while Jenny continued to sob out a plea for mercy while slapping herself convincingly.

Russell had read somewhere that the sound made by someone being hit over the head was similar to the sound of a melon splitting. It was not like that at all. Maybe he didn't hit the man hard enough, although he fell immediately and lay motionless on the floor. To Russell it sounded more like the sound he remembered from his high school cricket days that of leather against willow when a forward defensive stroke was being played. Not the sound he reasoned, of a full blooded cover drive, but the result was effective.

There was indeed an office next to the room in which they had recently been kept. Finding the phone Russell dialled the number of his flat to be greeted by the sound of a phone not being answered. "What is your home number?" Russell dialled the number that Jenny gave him. "Hullo Mr Petrelli? Russell. Yes we're okay, I think, for now. We are going to need someone to come and pick us up. We are, I think, in the same building as they kept my mother and Mrs Petrelli but I don't think it advisable to stay here a moment longer than necessary. I think I know where they are so we will head in the opposite direction. Could you pick us up on Pyrmont Rd, we'll be heading towards Parramatta Rd. Thanks, see you when you get there."

Jenny came back into the office. "I've locked our friend up in the room after all we can't have him getting out and ringing his mates before we can get well clear, can we?" Russell yanked the phone cable out of the wall socket.

The front door was locked by a padlock on the outside but there was a small access door set into the larger door which was locked by a Yale lock that could be opened from the inside without a key. Russell and Jenny found themselves outside and heading away from the building as quickly as they could.

Mr Petrelli's concern for the condition of both Russell and his daughter was exceeded by that of Mrs Petrelli who insisted that they should go immediately to the nearest hospital for treatment.

"No. We cannot go to a hospital. Even if the hospital staff don't get suspicious and call the police it will be the first place that our friends will look once they know that we have escaped. If we are kept there for even a day it will give them all the time that they need to find us and maybe do something more drastic. Once we get the Triumph, if it is still where we left it that is, I'll ring my father, he'll be able to help us, or will at least know of someone who can."

"Do you think that you can drive in your condition?" Jenny asked.

"Gear changes could be a problem but apart from that I'm sure I can."

"Why don't you let me drive?"

"Do you think that you're up to it, after all you have been knocked around a fair bit yourself."

"I think I'm in better condition than you are."

"All right."

They arrived at the place where they had been ambushed to find the Triumph still where Russell had parked it and Russell was amazed to find that the keys were still in the ignition. "Honest neighbourhood." He commented as he and Jenny followed her parent's car.

After speaking with his father for several minutes Russell hung up the phone and announced that they would meet his father at his consulting rooms in Macquarie St.

Russell's father was less than impressed with the condition of both of them. He taped Jenny's nose and applied medication to her bruised face before announcing. "You will once again be my best looking daughter in no time at all. As for you Russell, I'm going to take you home and make you as comfortable as possible until tomorrow when I can contact a colleague who will come over and set those fingers of yours. In the mean time I'll try to get the swelling down as much as possible.

The Triumph was locked away in the underground car park attached to his rooms and they travelled in the quiet comfort of the BMW. Russell's mother was awake when they arrived and fussed over them like a mother hen, making them as comfortable as possible. All pretences to propriety were forgotten as it was suggested that they should share the same bed as the single beds had not been made up for some time while the double bed in the guest room was always ready for the unexpected.

Mr French gave them both some tablets to take to help them sleep. "Neither of them will be in any condition for hanky panky once those take effect." He told Mrs French as they left the room, "They should sleep for at least ten hours on that dose."

***

Pain is a strange thing. If it is too intense the body shuts it out to the extent that consciousness is lost, but the pain can approach its threshold and be so excruciating that sleep is denied. Russell slept relatively soundly for about four hours until his sleep pattern started to plateau out having progressed beyond the REM stage. It was then that the pain took control. No matter where he put his hand it throbbed. He let it hang outside the bed covers and it seemed to weigh a tonne. He put it on the bed over the covers and the bandages seemed to weigh a tonne. He put it under the covers and they weighed a tonne. A groan escaped from his lips.

"What's the matter Darling is your hand hurting too much?"

"You'd better believe it. How is your head?"

"Don't expect too much passion for the next week or so, but it's okay I guess."

"Look love, I'm sorry if I woke you up. If you like I'll sleep on the couch in the living room."

"Don't you dare move. If anyone is going to move it'll be me." She touched her fingers lightly to her lips and transferred the kiss to his lips and made to get out of the bed.

"Hey! Where do you think you are going? The only reason that I suggested that I move was because I woke you up. If you can stand the occasional moan when the pain gets too bad then there is no reason why we can't both stay here, is there?"

"None at all, my Darling." Jenny got back into bed and careful manoeuvred herself so that she was snuggled up against him with one arm across his chest and her head resting on his shoulder. The weight of her body on his made Russell feel stronger than he had any right to feel under the circumstances, and his pain seemed to abate. The both drifted once more into a fitful sleep.

28

"What do you mean they got away!" The angry American voice screamed at the man cowering in front of it.

"They jumped me and hit me with something, when I came to I was locked in the room and they were gone. I don't know where they have gone to or how long they have been gone, all I know is that I have a sore head and they have gone."

"Why did you go in there in the first place?"

"Because he was beating the shit out of her and calling her all sorts of unpleasant names. It sounded as if he had found out that the bitch had been working for us all along. I thought I needed to save her."

"You needed to save her? I think we have seriously underestimated these two. The information that she gave us was only partly true and she was smart enough to use it to buy them enough time to fool you into letting them knock you out."

"So what are we going to do now?"

"We are going to find them. You can start by getting out to where they left their car and seeing if it is still there. If it is you get to a phone and let us know and then you sit there and watch it like a hawk."

"And what if it isn't there?"

"You had better let us know as soon as possible so that we can put feelers out for it."

"What if they have gone to ground somewhere?"

"That's a chance that we'll have to take. Everything is ready for the day after tomorrow and there will be nothing that they can do that will stop us going ahead with our plans."

29

"Do you know what you have to do?"

"Yes, but how am I going to place it in the bin without being seen?"

The two men sat in a deserted office in a building overlooking the rear entrance to the Hilton Hotel. The one obviously in charge spoke with an American accent, the other an Australian. They had been planning this moment for some weeks, ever since the American had joined the Ananda Marga sect's Australian group in Sydney. He had brought with him a self-professed expertise in 'maximum impact with little damage' expressions of opposition to a variety of Governments throughout the world, particularly in Latin American and developing countries.

The Ananda Marga was ripe for this type of manipulation. It was one of many mystical religions that proliferated in India as a result of the Flower Power revolution of the late Sixties and early Seventies. It had a political axe to grind in that its leader was being held on what it alleged to be trumped up criminal charges.

To achieve its goal, that of the freedom of its leader, it had formed within its ranks a radical element, the Proutists, which had embarked on a campaign of minor and embarrassing bombings which caused little damage to people or property and were of more of a nuisance than anything else.

His support of the Ananda Marga's push to destabilise the Desai government in India and secure the release of its leader from what it claimed to be a political incarceration and which the government insisted was a criminal matter, was enthusiastic to say the least. It was he who engineered the plan to create mayhem at the CHOGM Conference with a demonstration of the lax security precautions provided by the Australian Government. This was to be followed by an announcement by the Ananda Marga claiming responsibility for the incident and highlighting the reasons for the action.

"Don't worry about that, I have arranged for a little charade to take the guards' mind off their job long enough for you to do what you have to do."

"What if someone gets suspicious of the package?"

"No problem. I have arranged for some covering for your package. I have also arranged for the Council to ignore the bin for at least three days which will give us enough time to plan for maximum impact. Now get out of here, the balloon will go up in five minutes and you will need to be in place when it happens."

Five minutes later there was a commotion in the foyer of the hotel. "What kind of hotel are you running here? I arrange with you for the provision of special room service and someone sends this whore to my room!" The man was dragging a struggling woman behind him. She was dressed in the uniform of her profession, short skirt, tight top with a neckline that almost reached her waist, high heeled boots, fishnet stockings and a lot of makeup.

"Look mister, I didn't ask to be sent to your room. I'm an honest working girl just trying to make enough money to put my sister through university."

"Please sir. Could you keep it quiet. I'm sure that we can sort this matter out." The Manager bustled over to the two combatants.

"I will not keep it quiet! I am a man of some importance where I come from and I am here on a very important mission to spread God's word among you heathens and someone has obviously decided that I should be compromised. I will not keep this quiet. I want the world to see the depths to which the sinners in this country will stop to undermine my crusade."

"I am sure that we can solve the problem without your crusade being embarrassed by this incident."

"You might be sure sonny but I am not! Get me a policemen, I want this harlot taken into custody this minute. I can see an officer out there on the street,' He pointed down the corridor to the rear entrance. "get him in here now!"

"But sir, I can't take him away from his duty out there. There is a very important conference taking place here and he is part of the security precautions."

"If you don't call him in here right now I will make sure that this is the last conference that will ever happen in this god forsaken hovel you call a hotel." He was getting redder in the face by the minute and it was obvious to the casual onlooker that he had some considerable experience at this fire and brimstone style of getting his message across. The casual onlooker would have been wrong in that assessment for this was the first time that the man hired to play the part had actually taken on that role, and for that matter the actress hired to take the part of the whore was in no danger of being type cast. She usually played the sweet and innocent types on stage.

"Listen mister. I don't want any trouble from you, all I want is to be paid for my time and get the hell out of here."

"I am not paying you one red cent. I didn't ask for your services, I didn't partake of any service you had to offer and I am not going to pay for what I didn't get!"

"Don't blame me because you changed your mind and got an attack of conscience. I was willing to do whatever you wanted and if that meant listening to you rant about how sinful my chosen career was so be it. You pay for the service even if you don't use it. Now cough up."

"You can go to Hell!"

"Probably, and when I get there I will probably find it full of red necked hypocrites like you. Give me my money now."

The hotel manager came in with the policeman from outside. "Constable will you take these people out of here and do something with them. I just can't have them creating this sort of disturbance in the hotel right now."

"Don't you have your own internal security that can take care of this?"

"Normally yes, but for the duration of this conference I am having to put up with the local clowns from ASIO."

"Very well. Sir and, madam," He looked down his nose at her, "Would you please come with me while I get someone to help sort out you problems."

"I don't want trouble. All I want is what's owing to me."

"You'll get that, maybe not in this world but you will reap your just reward in the next, Jezebel!"

"Please Sir, try not to draw undue attention to yourself. If you just come quietly we can sort it out without anyone getting hurt."

He walked slowly towards the front door of the hotel. The casual onlooker outside the hotel would have seen a man walking down the street pause and place a small package wrapped in newspaper into the waste bin outside the hotel. Some minutes later, another man walking in the other direction placed another package in a brown paper shopping bag into the same bin. Both men walked away from the bin as quickly as possible trying not to appear suspicious. The casual onlooker, if there had been one, would not have paid any attention to this incident, his attention would have been attracted to the happenings in the hotel foyer, happenings that would soon be happening in the street.

A Police car pulled quietly into the kerb and the two players were bundled, still protesting loudly into it and it drove off. It didn't go to the nearest police station as the casual onlooker would have supposed, instead it drove two blocks down the road and turned right. Around the corner both players received their agreed very handsome performance fee and got out. Both got into the same anonymous family sedan, embraced for several minutes before driving off. They were in fact very close friends.




CHOGM Pt. 04



30

Sydney Morning Herald

Monday, February 12, 1978

TIGHTER CAR EXHAUST RULES DELAYED

Federal and State Ministers deferred yesterday the introduction of tighter emission controls for motor vehicles.

PM DEFENDS KERR'S PARIS APPOINTMENT

SHARP RISE IN UNEMPLOYED

IDENTITY CARD PLAN IN PNG

CO NOT LINKED WITH DRUGS: NUGAN.

Mrs French looked in on them several times before they once again stirred. They were just emerging from their sleep when the door opened and Russell's father and another man slipped quietly into the room. Russell recognised the other man as one of his father's long time colleagues whose sons had attended the same school as Russell and his brothers.

"Well young Russell what have you been doing to yourself?" He picked up Russell's hand and started to remove the dressings. 

"I jammed it in a car door." Russell winced as the removal of the bandages caused him some discomfort.

"And I suppose you beat up this poor unfortunate young lady as she tried to get away from you."

"No. She has in fact been practising her circus act which consists entirely of her head butting fists."

"At least you haven't lost your warped sense of humour. I feel that you are going to need all of it when I start playing around with this mess you once called a hand." He examined the fingers, "Hmm, this will take some doing and you won't be able to play the guitar for some time."

"Will I be able to play it when my fingers get better?"

"Yes."

"That's great because I can't play one now."

"Ha, ha, but there is one thing that you will be able to much better, at least for a while."

"And what is that?"

"You will not have any trouble scratching yourself. What I'm going to have to do is to insert stainless steel rods into at least two of these fingers to hold them together while they bones set. The others I will splint. Now I'm going to need a table that I can use to operate and a couple of strong lights so that I can see what I'm doing. I will need to have a lot of local anaesthetic administered so that I can manipulate these, do you have any handy?"

The operation was carried out on the dining room table with Jenny standing at the head with her cheek against his whispering softly into his sedated and unhearing ears and sobbing quietly throughout the entire process.

At last it was over and Russell was carried back to the room that he and Jenny had shared the night before. He was laid in bed and Jenny kissed him before leaving the room. "Are his fingers going to be all right?"

"Yes, it will take time but they will mend quickly enough as long as he doesn't bump them or get them caught in another car door."

"Mrs French, would you mind very much if I stayed with him until he comes out of the anaesthetic?"

"Why don't you call me 'Mother' after all you are almost family, of course I don't mind if you stay with him but before you do don't you think that you should contact your friends and let them know what is happening?"

"Yes of course." She rang the newspaper office.

"Where are you?" Brian Thompson asked when he found out that it was Jenny.

"We are at Russell's parent's house and I have some bad news for you. Russell has been injured. He has had one of his hands badly smashed up and has just had an operation on his fingers. They are badly broken."

"Is he in hospital?"

"No, we thought it best if we kept away from hospitals."

"Listen I was just about to call the police to look for you. The others rang me this morning wanting to know if I knew where you were. It seems that they have been trying to contact you for some time and didn't know where you were."

"I'll ring them straight away."

Jenny rang Russell's flat, this time there was an answer. "Where are you, we've been trying to find you for some time?"

"We are at Russell' parent's place. What's the matter."

"I think you and Russell will have to find a new place to live. This place has been done over something fierce."

"What about my place?"

"Not much better, what have you done to upset whoever it is that you have upset, and where is Russell.?"

"Well, he's out to it at present. We were both beaten around last night by our friends and I guess that they are mad with us because we got away from them."

"What do you mean he's out to it?"

"He has had his fingers badly smashed up and has just had them operated on. I'll get him to ring you when he comes to."

"I think that you had better stay put until this blows over. I warned you that these guys could play rough. This was only a small taste of what they can do if they put their minds to it."

"I, that is we, intend to stay out of circulation at least for the time being, but as soon as we are well enough we will be back into the fray with a vengeance. In the mean time I have some ministering of mercy to carry on with. I'll ring you later."

"You had better contact us through the newspaper office. We only stayed here long enough for you to contact us. Jerry is out looking for alternative accommodation right now."

Jenny accepted the cup of coffee that Mrs French handed to her. "Thank you, Mother. Do you know that somehow I feel comfortable calling you that. I never thought that I would ever say that, I sort of had this feeling that the way things were going, I would be visiting my future mother in some retirement home."

"You don't know how much Russell's father and I have wished that someone would come along that Russell would like and with whom he would settle down. You don't realise how pleased we were when we saw you. You are more than we could ever hope for. Now go and tend to the injured."

Jenny slipped into the room and quickly undressed to her bra and panties before slipping into bed beside Russell.

It was getting dark when he began to stir. Jenny held him close as he slowly drifted back into the world of the living. "Darling how do you feel?"

"Whew. I feel awful. Ouch!"

"Careful. Those fingers of yours are going to be very sore for some time and you aren't to bump them on anything. Hold on a minute while I go and see if I can get you something to ease the pain a little."

She slipped back into her dress and left him to find some painkillers. "Do you have any Panadol or something, he has woken up and his hand is bothering him a little."

"I think there are some Panadenes in the medicine cabinet, they are a little stronger than straight Panadol or Aspirin. If you get a glass of water I'll go get them."

Russell was sitting up when Jenny returned. He took two tablets and leant back against the headboard. "What has been happening while I've been out to it?"

"I spoke to Brian and John. They know about what has happened to us and they have told us to stay away until this has blown over."

"Fat chance! As soon as I'm well enough I will be back into it."

"I know you will, but don't you think you should obey the doctor's orders?"

"Are you going to stay here with me to see that I do?"

"No. I'm going to find out just what is going to happen and why they are so concerned about our ability to stop whatever it is."

"Well if you are going so am I, and don't even think about trying to stop me."

"I know that I won't be able to. Oh and by the way we are going to have to look for somewhere to live after we are married."

"What do you mean? I thought that we could use one of our places and sell the other. What has happened?"

"Both of our places have been wrecked. It seems that our friends didn't take too kindly to losing us."

"I don't really want to get a new place but if I have to I will. My insurance will cover the damage so there will be no financial problems, I just hope that they haven't taken any of my prize possessions. I have some books there that are almost irreplaceable and I don't know what I'll do without them."

"I don't want to leave my place either I am fond of its location, but it is my place alone and I don't think that you will like it all that much so don't you think that we should look for a special place that is both of us?"

"I suppose that you are right."

Mrs French came in, "We have just had a call from your friends looking for their car. I said that you were not well enough to go out yet so they asked if I knew where it was so that they could go and get it. I told them that was not possible as it was locked up in the car park under your father's rooms. They want you to go and get it for them as soon as possible."

"They can't be too desperate if they are prepared to wait for me to get better. Did you tell them that it might take days for that to happen?"

"Yes but they were convinced that it wouldn't be that long, in fact they said that you would be well enough to get it tonight. You are expected at the newspaper office at eight."

"You can't do it." Jenny said. "You are in no condition to go anywhere until at least the morning."

"Look Darling, apart from a hand that is swathed in bandages, I feel fine. If it makes you feel any better I'll even let you drive."

"I suppose that will be alright. What time is it now?"

"It has just gone six."

"There is enough time for you two to freshen up while I organise something for you to eat before you go out. I'll organise for your father to drive you in and open up for you."

The shower was interesting as Russell was unable to use his left hand to wash those parts of his body that he normally used it for so Jenny had to help him. The process soon developed into a splashing fun filled occasion with both of them squirming when the other washed those parts usually associated with more carnal pursuits.

They both ate ravenously from the cold meat and salad provided for their meal and at seven fifteen they were both in the back seat of the BMW as Mr French drove them to fetch the Triumph.

"I want you to be careful with that hand." Mr French admonished them as they drove out of the carpark.

"We will." Jenny replied as she put the car into gear. They had gone no more than a hundred metres than Jenny spoke. "Don't look now, well you can look but use the mirror behind the sun visor, we have got company."

Russell pulled down the sun visor and could make out a pair of headlights about fifty metres behind them. "How do you know that it is following us?"

"It was waiting there when we arrived and as soon as we drove past it pulled out of its parking space. There was one man when we arrived at your fathers rooms and I'm pretty sure that I saw the other man standing on the other side of the road watching the building. Both of them were in it when we went past."

"Can we be sure?"

"We'll see." Jenny slowed down as much as she could without it looking obvious and waiting until the very last moment on a green light she turned off to the right and accelerated away. The car behind them ran the red light and gave chase."

"Hooked." Jenny said calmly as she turned left and gave the Triumph a large serve of accelerator. In no time at all she was back on the street that they had been travelling on in the first place. She drove as quickly as she could to the newspaper office where she parked as far as possible from the street entrance to the carpark.

The others were waiting for them to arrive. "I should be saying that it is good to see you but just looking at the damage I have to admit that it is not such a pleasure. Whatever happened to you?"

"We were taken by the same men that kidnapped our mothers." Jenny began, "They jammed Russell's hand in the door of the car and I am afraid that he has a couple of badly broken fingers. They have been set now but it will be some time before he will be able to use a typewriter."

"How on earth did you manage to get away?"

"That was my hero's idea. He was wonderful. We pretended to have a violent argument and when the guard fell for it and came to investigate Russell hit him over the head with a lump of wood and we locked him up, phoned home, picked up the Triumph and got medical attention for Russell's hand."

"And your face, don't forget that." 

"You make it sound so easy."

"That is the easy bit. Now for the hard part. You might as well know that I have up until a couple of days ago, been working for the CIA. My job in this was to keep an eye on anyone lurking suspiciously around the Wentworth Hotel. When I told them about seeing Russell hanging around I was told to keep an eye on him. What they didn't count on was for me to find out about what they have been doing around the world and, more importantly, falling in love with Russell."

"How much do they know about us?"

"The people I worked with don't know much. I had to tell them some things while we were captured but I didn't tell them anything damaging."

"What can you tell us about their operations here?"

"I was recruited through the modelling agency that I work through, Solomon's, which by the way is run by an American. My job up until recently has been to recruit 'escorts' for visiting dignitaries. I wasn't one of them."

"What about the Ananda Marga connection?"

"Oh it's there all right, but the question is, why?"

"I think I can answer that," Russell cut in, "During my research I found that they were not averse to instigating, using dissident organisations such as the Ananda Marga, the overthrow of any government that didn't fit in with their particular warped philosophy, for instance Chile."

"They don't seem to have much involvement in India itself so why should they want to upset Mr Desai?"

"Could it be that he is threatening to tightening controls over overseas owned industry as a way of earning money?"

"Very likely. What is their main concern in Australia?"

"Drugs. Sydney is a staging point in their drug pipeline."

"How do you know this?"

"One of the girls that acted as an escort was used as a mule to carry heroin to the West Coast of the US."

"That fits, how do they control the finances for all this?"

"They have their own bank in Sydney. All the money used to buy drugs in Laos comes through the Nugan Hand Bank that they own in Sydney."

"How do you know this, surely you weren't high enough up in the organisation to be told this?"

"My friend the mule told me about the drugs and the fact that the money that she brought back from the States had to be deposited in a certain account at this bank. Her share was paid with a cheque drawn on the same bank, she showed it to me, ten thousand dollars for one trip."

"Christ that must have been some shipment, even if she only got the standard percentage that must have had a street value of several million dollars. How was the money moved around, was it by cheque or in cash?"

"Apart from her share it was all in cash, apparently none of it went through the banks books. She told me how scared she was knowing that she carried that amount with her on the way back."

"She was lucky she wasn't relieved of it on the way."

"An operation this size must have protection."

"What from?"

"Customs, other dealers and enthusiastic DEA's. You have mixed in dangerous circles. It would be best if you made yourself scarce."

"Did all of the drugs end up in the US?"

"No, not all of them. Some of them stayed here while a lot of it ended up in England and Europe."

"As I thought."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We were involved in an operation that started with a shipment of bad dope hitting the streets of Europe around nine years ago. There was strong evidence to suggest that it came from the Golden Triangle and the CIA was behind the shipment. It resulted in the death of a couple of addicts in both England and Amsterdam as well as a couple of Drug Squad detectives in England who were only trying to find out where it came from."

"Were the killers found?"

"No. There were rumours of diplomatic immunity being used to protect the culprit but we never any hard evidence."

"So what happened next?

"Well there was raid on the supply route out of Laos, the destruction of a shipment of heroin and the demolition of a manufacturing plant where the raw opium was converted into heroin."

"That must have set them back a bit?"

"It was estimated that the amount of heroin destroyed, on the streets of New York or London would fetch something of the order of fifty million US Dollars."

"Phew! I can understand why the people behind the raid are not very popular in certain circles."

"No we weren't."

"You were there?"

"We actually led the raid for Interpol."

"Could it be that this is somehow connected with that raid?"

"I think that you should keep thoughts like that to yourself. It hardly bears contemplation."

"But what if?"

"It could explain a good many things, like how they knew we were coming in on that flight when our cover has held for so many years. Why there have been several attempts to stop us here and why there will most likely be more attempts."

"What will you do?"

"The first thing is to contact London and see if we can confirm this theory. May I?" He pointed to the phone on Brian's desk.

"By all means."

Burroughs dialled a number that was answered promptly. "Direct line to the boss, doesn't go through the switchboard. Bugs Bunny here, yes we have a problem and I suspect that we have a mole in the place. You can't be serious. Look we can flush out the mole, if in fact one exists, by completing what we have set out to do here."

The voice on the other end of the line was adamant, "The risks are too great. It has taken us years to establish your cover and all of that effort will come to nothing if you are caught out on this job. The orders are non-negotiable. You are to return immediately and as quietly as possible. I don't even want the opposition to know that you have even left the country, do I make myself clear?"

"Very. Our cover has already been compromised and if that is the way you feel then I have no option but to tender my resignation effective as of now. You will forward my severance pay care of the GPO in Sydney. I have a feeling that I might enjoy my retirement. I feel that my partners will also feel the need to resign," He paused long enough to receive the confirming nods from Frank and Jerry. "Yes, they also resign. Written confirmation of the decision will be sent through the proper channels as soon as we can get them away. Good day to you Sir."

He hung up the phone. "The stupid bastards want us to drop the investigation and return to London immediately. I'm afraid we are not going to comply, after all, who in his right mind would want to go back there in the middle of a freezing bloody winter when we are enjoying so much sun here."

"How will this affect what you have started here?"

"We will no longer have any official status here, not that we ever had any. What we need is another reason to continue."

"I think that I can give you one," Brian said. "How would you three like to become instant journalists and work for us here?"

"But we can't type."

"Some have never let that problem stop them, have they Russell?"

"Oh, so you're criticising my typing now. Kick a man while he's down why don't you."

31

"Welcome to real world and our team." Brian held out his hand which was taken and shaken by all three new employees of the National News. "Now that the formalities are over let's get back to work."

"Where do we start? Jenny and I think that we have had our fair share of the floor, we seem also to have had our fair share of the action."

"We have all had our own moments of drama. Jerry was looking out of the window of your flat when he saw several cars pulling into the street and parking just up the road. He recognised a couple of the men that got out as being unfriendly so we scarpered from there as quickly as we could. We almost didn't make it and I'm sure that Mr Budget will not be impressed with what has happened to the pride of his fleet. It took all of Jerry's skills to shake them loose. Unfortunately your flat took the brunt of their anger. There isn't much left. We checked Jen's flat and there isn't much left there either."




CHOGM Pt. 04



"I think they are getting serious."

"Yes they are, and you two are to get away from this until everything dies down. Do either of you have anywhere to lay low?"

"Wait a minute, we have them running scared at the moment, why don't we capitalise on the situation?"

"What do you mean?"

"They are worrying about what we are going to do. Maybe, just maybe, they will get sidetracked enough for us to get under their guard and stop them doing what they have planned."

"What if you knew who was pulling the strings?" Jenny asked.

"Do you know?"

"Not exactly, but I have met some of the people that have arrived over the last few weeks. It could be that one of them is the brains behind this operation."

"Okay, who have arrived recently?"

"Well the one who would like everyone to believe that he is the leader is one of your typical obnoxious Americans, you know the type, all loud voice and clothes, wandering hands and no class."

"Did he get too close to you?" Russell asked.

"No. But he did try it on with one of the other models from the agency. Tried to convince her that he could pull a Hollywood deal for her if she co-operated, she of course had heard all of this before and told him, politely of course, to get lost."

"You said that he wanted people to believe that he was the leader, you didn't sound convinced that he was."

"Well no. There were two others that I felt were the real leaders. One was a real Hillbilly. He talked as if he had spent his early life running moonshine in the Tennessee Hills. He exuded sheer menace, to hear him speak you would think that he had no education at all, no exposure to even the basics of human life, and I got the impression that he bit the head off chooks for sport."

"And the other?"

"A very different kettle of fish. He was very effeminate in appearance, softly spoken and on the surface of it, the epitome of sophistication. He frightened me, really frightened me."

"You are right to feel that way about these two wonderful people. They are probably the most ruthless killers that work for the agency, the Company they call it. They have been responsible for many political assassinations throughout the world. They have ruthlessly tracked down and killed anyone that got in the way of the Company's operations, regardless of where and when the hit went down They have placed a whole new meaning on the CIA term 'Twepped'."

"Twepped?"

"Terminate with extreme prejudice. They have been known to carry out a wet operation to get to one man."

"Wet operation? You are speaking in a foreign language here, what does it mean?"

"A wet operation," Jerry explained, "is one where they splatter anyone and everyone in the close proximity to make sure of one hit. The usually use something gentle like an Uzi or AK47, which seems to be the choice of weapon at present, or even a grenade, just as long as it does the job."

"It would seem as if we have the answer to our problem, all we need now is the solution."

"What do you mean? You said you have the answer but needed the solution. You're talking in riddles."

"Sorry if I confused you. Let me start from the beginning, well almost the beginning. Some time ago we were involved in an operation, I've mentioned this before, aimed at closing down the pipeline from South East Asia through Hong Kong, Australia and New Zealand into America and Europe. The head of the South East Asian end of the operation was one BillyBob Brown. His name sounds just weird enough to be true but I wouldn't count on it because we couldn't find any record of him in any files we had of CIA operatives, although I wouldn't place too much credence in that because they have no record of us, at least I hoped that they didn't, now I'm not so sure. Now BillyBob had a penchant for young, and I mean young, girls who he killed without hesitation once he had used them. There were rumours circulating around the US bases in Vietnam that he was a practising necrophiliac although one could never prove such allegations. Do you see the type of person we are dealing with?"

"I'm sure that Mummy would like to meet him." Russell simpered.

"He killed them, just like that?"

"He once boasted that he liked the taste of blood, especially fresh blood flowing from a severed carotid artery. He would kiss them and while they were believing that at last he was showing some feelings he would slit their throat with an extremely sharp knife that he always carried and drink their blood."

"Charming."

"What about the other guy?"

"He is a little more circumspect, although no less gentle when it comes to killing. He was waiting at the airport when we arrived and I have a horrible suspicion that we were his target. Lucky for us that we had made such a huge entrance, he couldn't get close enough to get to us. Must have pissed him off no end."

"Do we have any leverage on either of these men?" Brian asked.

"I don't think so. Unless you have any connections in the homosexual community."

"I'm sure that I can find someone, although I would like to take this opportunity to state here and now that I am in no way involved in that scene." Brian said.

"Methinks he doth protest too much." Russell commented.

"Quiet young Russell or I'll remember something that was said earlier about no compensation for injuries sustained in the course of this investigation."

"Just joking boss, just joking."

"How are we going to get to them?"

"Why don't we get them to come to us?" Jenny said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we are already half way there. I was recruited for my part with them by Francine the Receptionist at the Solomon Agency. If we can get her to believe that I am still working for them but am on the run from you guys and ask if we can stay with her for a day or two until we find alternative accommodation, we might just get them to come looking for us."

"No you don't. You two have had enough excitement to last you until you have grand children that you can regale with highly fanciful stories about how you fought and beat the strongest and most powerful intelligence agency in the world."

"But we won't be able to do that without actually doing this."

"What do you have in mind?"

"At first I thought that we could change her loyalties just as Jen changed hers," Russell said, "But then I decided that it wasn't plausible enough for them to fall for, then, and Jen agrees with me here, we could get Jen to tell her something that is totally plausible, but wrong, that she could pass on to her bosses to get them to react the way that we want them to."

"What sort of thing did you have in mind?"

"Well, what if we told her that Jenny was forced by you guys to follow your instructions even though she knew them to be wrong and that it was contrary to what she was supposed to be doing."

"And just how are we supposed to do that?"

"This is where I come in. Francine knows of my involvement with Russell, I could tell her that he used his irresistible charm on me."

"Do you think that she will fall for that, after all it isn't really plausible is it?" Brian commented.

"Come on, we're trying to be serious here and all you can do is insult me." Russell complained.

"Sorry. Go, it sounds promising."

"I know that you have told us that you want us out of this part of the operation, but I'm afraid that you are going to have to put up with us for a while longer. I could convince Francine that we got involved against our wishes and that this led to us being captured and tortured by the bad guys, who of course we don't know. We managed to escape from them but both of our places have been ransacked, our parents' houses are out of the question because we don't want them to become involved so we are looking for a place to lay low for a while and she was the only person that I could think of."

"That could work. What are you hoping will happen then?"

"I think that she will invite us to stay with her for a day or two, that way they will be able to keep an eye on us to make sure that we don't contact you or get involved again."

"But won't that be playing into their hands?"

"No. first thing in the morning Russell and I will go shopping to buy new clothes to replace the one that we can no longer get to. While we are there we can look for a new flat that is located in such a way that you will be able to stake it out to protect us. When they make their move to get to us you can move in."

"If you have any doubts about your ability to pull this off now is the time to speak up. We don't want you going in over your heads."

"Look, I think you will have to admit that Jenny and I have worked pretty well together up until now, apart from the small matter of a couple of mangled fingers that is, so I have no qualms about us handling this now."

"All right, do what you have to but remember you must keep us informed about every move that you are going to make so that we can cover your backs. Leave us in the dark and you two are on your own, do I make myself clear?" Burroughs voice echoed the concern that they all felt.

Russell and Jenny left by way of the loading dock, in a delivery truck which dropped them off a block from the office. They found a telephone box and Jenny dialled Francine's number. 

"Francine, it's Jenny Peters."

"Jenny! How are you and more to the point where are you?"

"On the corner of Wattle Street and Broadway. Look Francine could you do us a favour?"

"Yeah sure, what do you want me to do, take some man off your hands?"

"No. I'll explain later, but we need somewhere to hide for a day or two until the mess that we are in dies down. Can you help?"

"You keep saying we, do you have someone with you?"

"Yes but more about that later. And another minor problem. We had all of our money taken from us so we will need for you to come and pick us up. Hurry please."

"I'm on my way. I'll see you in ten minutes."

"You're a darling."

"Do you think that she fell for it?" Russell asked.

"Of course. You should realise that she is dealing with one of Australia's best least known actresses."

Ten minutes later a silver Datsun 260Z cut across several lanes of irate traffic and pulled into the kerb with a screech of brakes. The driver leaned over and opened the passenger side door. "Hop in."

They both got into the back seat, trying in vain not to bump Russell's hand in the process.

"What happened to you two, you look terrible."

"It's a long story and it can keep till we're safely in your flat. Drive." Jenny said.

Francine pulled into the traffic without looking, much to the chagrin of her fellow road users. Throughout the rest of the short journey, chaos and mayhem followed in her wake as she drove blissfully unaware of her surroundings.

"How many accidents have you had" Russell asked, hanging grimly with his good hand to the 'Oh-me-Jeezus handle',

"Not that many. I haven't had one this year, yet."

"It's early days. Give it time." Russell muttered under his breath so that only Jenny could hear.

"I hope that you aren't having a go at my driving?"

"Perish the thought."

"That's all right then." She careened off New South Head Road into Darling Point Road, gunned the car for several hundred metres until she reached a block of flats. Even the Datsun seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when she stopped.

She led the way into a flat that had obviously had a lot of money spent on it. The furniture was modern with lots of black leather and chrome. The white shag pile carpet felt soft on their feet as Russell and Jenny kicked off their shoes so that they could luxuriate in its softness. "This is great Francie, do you share with anyone?"

"Not on a permanent basis. It's totally mine. Daddy did help a little, well more than just a little, with the finances when I bought and he pays most of my expenses for me. Would you poor darlings like something a little stronger than tea or coffee to drink?"

"Do you have any white wine?" Russell asked.

"You name it and I have it. Riesling, Moselle, Chablis, White Burgundy,"

"We get the message, Riesling would be fine for both of us."

Drinks dispensed, they sat in the lounge room, Francine filling Jenny in on all of the latest gossip which consisted mainly of who was sleeping with whom. "Have you heard what the grape vine is saying about you?"

"No but I'm sure that you will make very sure that I know."

"Well, it seems that the strongest story is the one that has you retiring to North Queensland with some terribly wealthy but slightly dotty man and had adopted a very different lifestyle to that which we are used to seeing you in, you know the sort of thing, looking after his three strange children from his previous marriage which ended when his wife wandered off into the night and was never seen again. Of course there are all of the usual rumours about dirty deeds being done and that he had murdered his wife to collect her inheritance but then you had come into his life and he was totally besotted with you and had become a pillar of virtue."

"You don't believe that do you?" Jenny asked.

"Believe it, Darling it was me that started it!"

"You didn't?"

"Yes I did, There were all of these nasty stories going around and I thought that the only way to stop it was to come up with a better but still plausible story that everyone agrees with. Any way what has really happened to you and who is this incredibly gorgeous fellow you are with?"

"Down girl, I'm sorry that I haven't formally introduced you two to each other. Francine this is Russell, Russell Francine. Satisfied?"

"So, come on, out with it."

"We have got ourselves mixed up in a situation that has got completely out of hand. We've been followed everywhere we go, been assaulted, kidnapped and beaten up again. We've had little sleep and quite frankly we are comprehensively bushed."

"Who do you work for?" Francine asked.

"The National News, I'm a journalist."

"So how did you get involved in this?"

"Through a story I'm researching. I think I must have touched on a nerve somewhere."

"And we can't go back to our parents' houses because we are sure that they are bugged and under close observation. As well as that both of our mothers have been kidnapped. They weren't hurt at all but the threat was there."

"How did you manage to get away from the people that kidnapped you?"

"That was my genius' idea," Jenny said taking Russell's arm and hugging it to her. "He came up with the idea that we should attract the attention of the guard and when he came into the room that we were being held in he belted him over the head with a lump of wood. He fell for it and we escaped."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"We don't know really. All we do know is that we have to lie low for a while until this dies down. Can you help us?"

"Sure, you only have to ask. You can stay here for as long as you like. I don't mean to get personal but are you two sleeping together?"

"Yes, why?"

"It just means that I won't have to get out extra sheets. I always have one bed made up because you just never know when someone will need to stay over. The bedroom is through there," Francine said as she led them down the hallway pointing to various doors like an Air Hostess doing the pre-takeoff safety lectures, "The bathroom is there and the toilet is at the end of the hallway. Now if you don't mind I am going to grab an early night's sleep, I'm afraid that I partied a little too hard over the weekend and I'm not blessed with your natural beauty, in fact I'm not blessed with any beauty."

"Don't be silly. You are beautiful in your own way."

"Why thank you Ma'am." She bobbed in mock curtsy.

Russell and Jenny had a shower, not together because the cubicle was too small for communal ablution, and climbed naked into the large double bed. They made themselves comfortable, their arms and legs entwined and Jenny's head on Russell's shoulder. A few minutes after they had put out the light they heard a door open followed a short time later by the sound of a telephone being taken off its cradle. There was the sound of a muted conversation and the phone being placed back marking the end of the conversation. Francine now had her instructions.

32

"Yes, you heard what I said. They are here with me now. What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing. What are their plans for tomorrow?"

"I don't know. We never got around to discussing any of that other than that they want somewhere to hide for a couple of days."

"That's okay. Now this is what I want you to do. Tomorrow you are to go to work as usual and leave them there on their own. During the day when they have settled in and are feeling safe and secure, we will send a couple of visitors around to call on them. One of these will have a bandage on his head and revenge on his mind."

"Yes I heard about that, and here I was thinking that he was a professional. How could he fall for an obvious trick like that?"

"Just doesn't watch as many Hollywood movies as you do I guess."

"I hope that you aren't planning a wet hit on my good shag pile carpet?"

"Well we're not going to be able to frogmarch them out to a waiting car and drive them to a secluded place are we?"

"I don't care what you do as long as you don't do it here. My father is still angry about the carpet cleaning bill from that party that you made me hold for those mad Irishmen the other day. You didn't warn me that they were mad and violent when they had a few drinks under their belts, did you?"

"How many times do I have to say that I'm sorry about that? If you insist then we will have to wait our time after all they can't stay there forever can they?"

"Not if I play my cards right they won't. Tomorrow I'm going to ask them to slip down to the shop for some groceries. Knowing them it will probably be in the early afternoon. You can do what you want when they are away from here."

"Okay then. We will follow them from your place and when they are in the right spot kapow!"

"Maximum effect?"

"Maximum effect."

"Messy. I'm glad that I'm not involved in that side of this business."

"Oh but you are, after all it is you that is fingering them for us isn't it?"

33

Dawn brought with it silence. People in Darling Point don't get up at dawn unless they are going down to the Yacht Club to prepare for a relaxing day's sailing on the picturesque waters of Sydney Harbour. None of the occupants of Francine's flat had any intention of doing anything as totally uncouth as getting up to go sailing.

Eight o'clock was announced by Francine's clock radio blasting into life and the latest offering from the Rock Music industry. Soon the shower hissed into life and Francine's voice could be heard struggling to stay in tune with the current hit. This was no mean feat because the song in question had no recognisable tune.

The shower was turned off to be followed by the clatter and clink of various lotions and potions being applied. Shortly after the door to the bedroom burst open and Francine announced in her best 'isn't it great to be alive' voice, "All right you lovers make yourselves presentable and get out to the kitchen for breakfast."

Jenny and Russell soon found themselves seated at the kitchen table enjoying a breakfast which consisted of dry toast, orange juice and something that was supposed to be coffee and probably was some sort of de-caffeinated crap. "How can you be so bright and chirpy this early in the morning?" Jenny asked.

"Clean living and early to bed."

"Come on, it's me you're talking to remember? I've seen you looking like death warmed up, so don't give me that bull about clean living and early to bed unless you admit that there was something masculine and handsome in the bed with you."

"Oh dear, you caught me out and here I was thinking that I'd managed to keep my conquests a secret from you. What are your plans for today?"




CHOGM Pt. 04



"Well we don't actually have any yet. We thought that we might just hang around and do what comes naturally. Why?"

"Oh it's just that there isn't much food in the place, I wasn't planning on guests you know, if you could run down to the shops and get a few things I'd be grateful."

"Sure, this will be a new experience for us, going shopping together that is, and it's something that we have to get used to. After all we are. . ."

"You're not!" Francine screamed in delight. "Jen that's wonderful!" She threw her arms around Jenny's neck and kissed her on the cheek. Turning to Russell she kissed him also, this time on the lips. "When did all this happen?"

"We have only just decided in the last day so you're one of the first to know."

"How long have you known each other?"

"What would it be, three days?" Jenny asked Russell.

"Three days that seems as if we have known each other forever. We know everything that there is to know about each other."

"Look darlings, love to stop and chat, must rush, work you know," Francine spoke in that sort of short hand that is popular among the busy trendies, "There's a spare key on a hook beside the fridge, get what you want, don't worry about shopping for me, I will probably be eating out tonight, see you when I get in, 'bye." And with that she was gone.

The relative quiet of Darling Point was shattered by the sound of Francine's Datsun executing a sliding 'U' turn and accelerating away.

Jenny hunted around until she found an iron to put some respectability into their clothes so that they wouldn't look too out of place as they walked down the street.

34

It was 12:30 in the morning and in an empty office overlooking the Hilton Hotel sat two men. One of them was looking through a pair of night vision binoculars at the street in front of the hotel.

"It's time to make the call."

The other man picked up a phone and dialled a number. "Listen to me, I will only say this once and then hang up so that you will not be able to trace the call." The voice was American and laced with menace. "There is a bomb planted somewhere near the rear entrance of the Hilton Hotel. It is timed to go off in ten minutes. Do not under any circumstances call the Bomb Squad" He hung up. "That should do it, happy now?"

"Sure, I have waited a long time for this opportunity to get even with those Limey bastards. They have got to be there when ASIO turns up at 12:40 to find them rummaging around in the bin and a bomb in it. We have arranged for it to go up accidentally just as the spooks arrive and there will be evidence that they are not who they claim to be." The voice was also American but it was one of vengeance and animal cunning. He returned to his surveillance through the binoculars. "Shit what are those fucking bastards doing?"

"What's wrong now?"

"I thought that you had said that the garbage truck was due around 1:00."

In the office of the National News a phone rang and Brian answered it. "How for from the Hilton Hotel are our friends?"

"Not far why?"

"We've been monitoring the local police switchboard and they just got a call that there was a bomb in a rubbish bin at the Hilton and it's due to go off at 12:40. I think that the balloon is about to go up, so I need you to contact them."

Brian put down the phone and immediately picked it up the 2 way radio. "John, Brian, look I think that all hell is about to let loose. I have just had a phone call from your mate Frank telling me that there is a bomb planted outside the Hilton and it's due to go up in less than ten minutes."

"Any idea who it was that made the call?"

"I didn't wait around to find out, my priority was to contact you."

"Did they say anything else?"

"Only that they shouldn't call the Bomb Squad or they will blow it sooner by remote control."

"Ignore that instruction and get the Bomb boys there as soon as possible and while you're at it see if you can get the police to cordon off the area to keep any innocent bystanders well away." 

"Done. Good luck."

"Thanks, we'll need it."

*

"What's keeping them." The voice inside his head was telling him that the longer his quarry took to get there the more likely it would be for something to go wrong.

His attention was focussed on a vehicle making its way slowly down the street. The Sydney City Council garbage truck edged its way down the street towards the Hilton, its flashing amber lights signalling its presence to any late night revellers in the vicinity, two men worked the rear of the truck grabbing bins and throwing the contents into the hopper of the compactor at the rear.

"Hurry up." Tension mounted in the voice inside his head as the truck edged closer to the hotel. "You are early, you're not supposed to be here for another half an hour."

Slowly, slowly the truck moved down the street, every minute bringing it closer to the danger zone. "C'mon, c'mon." The inner voice was more urgent now. He glanced at the luminous dial of his watch for the hundredth time in the last five minutes.

In the foyer of the hotel a policeman paced slowly back and forth lost in thought. His thinking was that he should be anywhere but here. Particularly he was thinking that he would rather be at home with his family. Boredom had set in some time before and he had decided to pace rather than stand in one place in an effort to relieve the boredom. His thoughts wondered why he had to do this duty after all it seemed as if this was a nothing assignment. A nothing meeting, nothing in the press or on television about it, nothing seemed to be happening in it, a real nothing assignment.

The men on the garbage truck laughed and joked to each other as they worked their way along the street. They liked this round, few cars to dodge around and fewer dogs to attack them. There was no-one around at this time of the night to complain at the noise that they made banging the bins on the truck to dislodge the last of the rubbish.

Again the dial of the watch was tilted towards the anxious face of the man watching this scene. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon fuck you hurry up!"

The driver stopped outside the hotel. "Can one of you pick up the rubbish bin?"

The policeman called over to them, grateful for someone to talk to, "You guys get it easy."

"Are you going to empty that bin?" The driver called from the cab of the truck.

"We were told to just take some of the stuff off the top of the bin, not to empty it."

"I don't care about what we were told, it's a bloody disgrace having an overflowing bin outside the hotel that is housing some of the most important people around. I'll wear the flack if there is any."

The bin was collected and its contents thrown into the truck. As the runner carried the empty bin back to its holder on the kerb the other runner moved to the side of the truck and pulled a lever which set the big hydraulic compactor in motion. The first runner jumped back to his position on the platform at the rear and whistled for the driver to move off.

As the door of the compactor closed on the rubbish in the hopper at the back of the truck there was a loud explosion and the back of truck was peeled open like a tin can. The two men on the platform were dead before the mangled remains of their bodies hit the pavement.

A large piece of metal scythed through the body of the policeman on duty outside the hotel and he fell mortally wounded to the footpath.

The Triumph had just turned into the street when the explosion occurred. "Christ! Let's go!" Burroughs shouted to Jerry. It leaped forward covering the distance to the hotel in no more than thirty seconds. As it pulled up outside the hotel a dazed doorman emerged. "Get Police, Ambulance and Fire Brigade, quickly!" Burroughs barked at him. He turned around and ran back inside.

"Stay here until help arrives, don't let anyone near this mess." John told Jerry, "I'm going to have a look around to see what I can find." He jumped into the Triumph and drove quickly away.

"Jesus fucking H Christ! What the fuck did they have to do that for?"

"Let's get the fuck out of here, and in a fucking hurry." He grabbed the binoculars from the window ledge and turned to leave the room, the other man was busy removing all trace of them having been there from the room.

"What a fuck up!" He said as they left the room, "Why can't these stupid Aussies follow simple instructions!"

"What happened?"

"When they closed the door at the back of the truck it must have made connection with the detonator of the bomb we put in there. In a confined space like that the blast is magnified and it blew the living shit out of the truck. What I had planned was for the thing to blew the rubbish bin apart and take out our friends and no-one else. Well I'll just have to start work on plan 'B'."

They had reached their car and were just driving away when the Triumph came around the corner. It didn't follow them, instead it turned off at the next corner and doubled back to pick Jerry up from the hotel.

"Well, what did you find out?"

"It was our friends right enough. I recognised the car as one that they have been using all along."

"You didn't think to follow them?"

"No. I didn't know how many of them there were or whether they had back up down the road so, discretion being the better part of valour et cetera, I chose to fight another day."

"Fair enough. I suppose that this supports your theory that one of the reasons that this was set up was to get to us?"

"I'm even more convinced. What worries me is, how did they know that we were coming in?"

"Have you stopped to think that maybe they arranged for us to be here? They contacted the local police knowing that the Feds were monitoring their switchboard and knowing that Frank would contact us as soon as he heard the message and we'd come running like the heroes that we are."

"Possible, in fact probable, it has to be someone who has the clout to organise this whole thing and stop anyone from interfering."

"What do you mean?"

"I know the locals aren't all that serious about security but you'd think that they'd at the very least have patrols with sniffer dogs going around on a regular basis and that they'd be first on the scene, but there was no sign of anyone other than the one cop on duty. Plus the fact that the Bomb Squad had yet to make an appearance before we left, they didn't have that far to come. I want to find those responsible."

"We won't find out here."

"Are you suggesting that we pack up and go back home?"

"No. In fact that is the last thing that I have in mind right now. What I want to do is to find the people that are responsible for this and punish them."

35

Sydney Morning Herald

Monday February 13, 1978

2 KILLED IN CITY BLAST

Two people were killed early this morning when an explosion rocked the Hilton Hotel in George St, Sydney.

The hotel is the venue for the Commonwealth Regional Meeting.

Russell and Jenny didn't see the headlines as they made their way by bus to Bondi Junction. Jenny emerged from a dress shop with three pairs of jeans and several tops. Russell's shopping was a little more conservative, his new wardrobe consisted of two pairs of jeans, a pair of sneakers, three 'T' shirts that told the world that he had been to Bondi Junction and a plain open necked sports shirt for more formal occasions.

With their wardrobes safely packed in an overnight bag they visited a letting agent who located from his files, a small flat overlooking Tamarama Beach, which they took.

Having signed the lease and left their luggage they left to stock the fridge and drop Francine's key back to her flat. Jenny left a note for Francine which told her that they had decided to find their own place to stay and would ring her as soon as the phone had been connected which would probably be in a day or two, in the mean time they would stay out of sight and she had every intention of taking the opportunity to enjoy every bit of her man.

"That should do it." Jenny said as she propped the note up on the dining room table. "That will have them running everywhere looking for us."

As they left the flat they were followed.

The tail was an expert in as much as he had no trouble keeping them in sight. With his concentration focused on the bus they were seated in, the tail was unaware that he himself was the subject of surveillance.

The first car was conspicuous in that it stopped at every stop that the bus made while the second car drove ahead and waited for the bus to catch up to it, all the time watching the passengers alight in the passenger's side rear view mirror.

The first car stopped when they got out of the bus and the passenger continued his surveillance. The second car, the one that was in front of the bus when Russell and Jenny got off, dropped its passenger where it was parked and did a quick trip around the block to see if it could pick up the trail. It did.

By the time that Russell and Jenny had the kettle on the boil, both parties had alerted their bases as to the whereabouts of their quarry.

Cup of tea consumed Russell and Jenny consumed each other. Their lips seldom left the company of the other's except to explore that part of the partner's body that had been identified as giving pleasure.

Their passion on one hand drained their strength while on the other hand it built their strength. The first was their physical strength which was at a relatively low ebb. The second was their emotional strength which grew as the day, the hour, the minute passed by, each of them drawing on the other's reserves to build their own. By the afternoon they were emotionally ready to take on the world.

The world came to them. The sound of a car approaching at high speed was followed by the reports of a gun being fired several times, or several guns being fired once, it was hard to tell. What they could tell was that several shots had been fired.

This in turn was followed by the sound of the car being driven off at high speed. "That car sounds familiar." Russell said into Jenny's ear as the car left.

"I wonder how they found us so quickly." Jenny asked.

"Simple, they probably kept tabs on the letting agents and found us through the one we used. I suppose that they could have followed us when we arrived, after all we didn't take too many precautions, did we?"

Within seconds of the first car roaring away they heard the sound of two other cars starting up. This was followed by the sound of the two cars stopping. This in turn was followed by the sound of the drivers of the respective vehicles getting out of their cars and kicking the punctured tyres in frustration.

The sound that could next be heard was that of a rapidly approaching police car. This was the cue for the occupants of both cars to beat a hasty retreat and by the time that the police car had arrived the occupants of the two cars were nowhere to be seen. 

Hot on the heels of the police car was a contingent of TV news teams and while the police strove to get some sort of lucid statement from the witnesses, the more astute were giving their sometimes highly coloured version to the Television crews in exchange for money.

Viewers of the individual TV stations would have been treated to highly exaggerated and colourful accounts of the happenings, each coloured by the opinions of the witness and was a reflection of his or her particular crusade, be it traffic management, urban law and order or whatever.

While all of these people were milling around and the police were trying to restore some semblance of order, the high powered vultures of the tow truck industry descended onto the wrecks to claim their prize. Repairing bullet holes would prove more profitable than bent panels because they could charge much more on the premise that the damage required the welding in of new sections.

All of this was witnessed by Jenny and Russell through the thin curtains of their bedroom. They in their turn were witnessed by a man stationed on the roof of a block of flats across the road from them. He had been watching them through the telephoto lens of his expensive camera. He took several shots, screened by the thin curtain, of them naked in front of the window. It wasn't that he was some sort of pervert, but he admitted to himself that there were benefits to his trade, it was just that his vantage point proved to be the most suitable for the task.

The photographer was not about to entrust his work to the commercial film developers. He pocketed the exposed film which he would give to someone to take to the headquarters where the police photographer would process and print the film before subjecting it to closer scrutiny.

Having completed their sortie into the land of the expatriate Kiwi, Jerry drove quickly back towards the city. He picked John up from a phone box on Bondi Road. "The police are there, so are the media. That should keep our friends occupied and away from the love birds for a while. Now let's have a look at what is happening back there."

They stationed themselves in a position several hundred metres from the flat but in clear line of sight of it, they would be able to intervene in a matter of minutes should the enemy return.

Within ten minutes of the police leaving the scene the next shift of watchers arrived. A Commodore slid quietly past on its preliminary circuit of the block to check the lay of the land. John and Jerry had parked the Triumph in the driveway of a block of flats and were sure that their presence had gone unnoticed. It had.

36

"This has been one fuck up after another!" The voice was angry, the accent West Coast American, belonged to George P. Alderman, the American Consul. "Why is it that we have what is reputed to be the best intelligence service in the world and it can't even carry out a simple exercise like a minor explosion in a rubbish bin without fucking it up? What have you to say for yourselves?"

"Well," BillyBob started, "It would have gone according to plan if the garbage collectors hadn't gotten carried away and emptied that bin when they had specific instructions not to."

"But the explosives just, and I'll be guided by you on this although don't ask me why I should, they just seemed to be more powerful than we had discussed when we planned this show. Can you explain that to me?"

"The confining forces of the compactor magnified the power of the blast." BillyBob offered unconvincingly.

"Cut the crap buddy! I have here a preliminary forensic report which points to at least ten pounds of plastic explosive being used. Now tell me if I'm wrong, but the amount that we discussed was more to the tune of a fire cracker."

BillyBob's silence was enough confirmation for the Consul.

"Tell me also if I'm wrong, but didn't I give you specific instructions not to let your personal vendetta get in the way of this operation?"

"Yes."

"Now I might be jumping to conclusions here, but I think that you have deliberately disobeyed my instructions and have left me with a delicate diplomatic situation on my hands. It was me that arranged with the police to turn a blind eye to what was about to happen. It was me that arranged for the bin not to be emptied for three days. When the shit hits the fan, as it will, it is me that will cop the flack. Let me tell you, Buddy, if you believe that I will follow that old adage about the buck stopping here you had better think again, because, if my head rolls yours will be in front of mine. Now get the hell out of here!"

After BillyBob had left he picked up the phone and dialled a local number. "Henry? Yes I have spoken to my man and he assures me that the device that he gave those people was of the specified size. His explanation was that there has been another crowd running around who could have gotten in on the act in an effort to discredit us."




CHOGM Pt. 04



"What happens now?" Henry Fitzsimons looked at the silver braid on his navy uniform cap and thought that now might be a good time to consider his retirement.

"We'll let the Federal boys have it for a day or two, they won't find anything that we don't want them to find, and when the heat dies down we will arrange for the investigation to be transferred to your people, after all one of yours was a victim, how is he by the way?"

"Not good."

"Sorry to hear that. As I was saying, after the heat has died down we can throw in our ace who is prepared to swear blind that our religious fanatics were responsible for the whole shebang. Have you spoken to the Federals about this at all?"

"Yes, we had a brief discussion a few minutes ago and they tell me that they have some solid leads and are confident of making an arrest in the next day or so. What do you know about that?"

"They haven't a clue. Did they mention anything about help from other quarters?"

"No, why?"

"It's just that my people have been aware that they have been working with several other people on this case and they have been causing a few troubles around the place."

"You think that these people might have something to do with this?"

"I'm sure that if they are not directly involved they know, or at least think that they know, who is."

"What do you want me to do about that?"

"Nothing for the moment. I'll look into it through diplomatic channels."

"I'd appreciate that."

"Just don't take too much notice of any allegations that they might make."

"I'll bear that in mind. Thanks." His hand shook as he put the phone down, his mind going back to his discussions with the Federal Police Chief and the allegations that he had made.

The Federal Police were less than impressed with the progress of the investigation. Firstly the State police were claiming that, because one of their own had been involved that it was their case, and second, that the Premier had informed them that they had jurisdiction.

Then there was the phone conversation with Canberra. "I must stress that there was to be no full scale investigation because my government will take responsibility for the matter. We have called upon the American Intelligence network for assistance because of the international nature of the matter and I believe that there is a lack of international expertise among the Commonwealth Police force.

My Government has been advised by our friends to concentrate our efforts on increasing security around the conference, in particular the route that the Prime Ministers and their entourages would take to Bowral."

"But my men have a strong lead that will result in an early arrest if they were allowed to continue their work."

"I repeat, you will not continue with this line of enquiry and you will not, under any circumstance make any arrest without first clearing it with me."

"Not even if we have solid evidence that points to a particular person or party?"

"I will not tell you again. Drop it!"

He pushed the button on top of the phone to disconnect the Canberra line and dialled an internal number. "Frank? Listen I have orders to drop the investigation."

"You have got to be kidding?"

"No. You are to cease, this instant, your enquiries into this incident. I don't care how close you are to making an arrest, you are to stop now."

"Someone in high places must know which strings to pull to get the desired results. I never thought that I would see the day when the government of this country would bow to the wishes of another in what is essentially a local issue."

"The orders have come direct from Canberra so there is no way that I can condone a breach of order."

"Your orders may have come from Canberra but I would be prepared to wager an important body part on the fact that it would have originated from Langley Virginia in the U S of A."

"You can wager the whole of your body if you like but I will not tell you, officially at least, where I think the order originated."

"So I guess this is it then."

"No. What I want you to do is to talk to the Army an see if you can arrange for several hundred soldiers to patrol the boundaries of the railway line between the Central Railway station and Bowral."

"Couldn't you do all of this?"

"No. I want you to do it, because then I will know that you won't be running around trying to implicate people who we cannot allow to be implicated."

"Where's our country's autonomy?"

"I don't make the rules. all I know for sure that my arse will be in a sling if I don't follow my instructions to the letter. Am I getting through to you yet?"

"Yes. Understanding this issue doesn't mean that I agree with what is taking place."

"Who said anything about agreeing with what is happening. Just do it."

The telephone rang at the Petrelli house. "Hello" Mr Petrelli sounded cautious after all he was concerned for the safety of Jenny and Russell. What he heard next gave him further cause for concern. "Papa, It's Russell here. Have you heard from Jenny in the last hour or so?"

"No. What has happened?"

"Hopefully nothing. It's just that she was supposed to meet me an hour ago and she hasn't shown."

"Where was she supposed to meet you?"

"At the Hunter Street entrance to Wynyard Station."

"Wait there and I will come in and meet you we will see if we can find her together." He hung up the phone, his face creased with worry. "That was Russell. He tells me that Jenny hasn't met him as arranged an hour ago. This is not like her. I told him that I would meet him to help him look for her."

"I'll come with you."

"No. It will be better if you stay here in case they try to contact us."

He walked to the garage and minutes later was reversing his car out. The Statesman cruised slowly out of the driveway and turned left into the street. As it disappeared around the first bend in the road a telephone linesman raised a two way radio to his mouth. "Get ready, here he comes."

Some five hundred metres from the bend in the road was an intersection with another major road. Mr Petrelli stopped at the Stop sign and, looking both ways to make sure that no other vehicle was approaching, proceeded to drive over the intersection. He had only moved about three metres when a large truck accelerated from its parking space several metres away.

What followed was not witnessed by any other person. The truck continued to accelerate, striking the Statesman directly on the driver's side front door. It didn't stop there, but continued to accelerate spinning the car around and slamming it against a telegraph pole with such force that the pole shook and several wires snapped and fell to the ground, fortunately away from both vehicles.

The truck driver got out of his cabin and walked around to the car. He reached through the shattered window and felt the carotid pulse. Finding a faltering beat he reached in with both hands and with one violent movement broke Mr Petrelli's neck.

Satisfied that his task was complete he climbed back into the cabin of the truck and drove as sedately as he could away from the scene. As he left he spoke to another person on his CB radio, the message short and succinct. "Big Bubba calling Master Blaster. Mission accomplished."

"Any aggro Big Bubba?"

"Negatory. All went as planned. Ten Four."



CHOGM Pt. 05



37

Dusk was just extending its shadowy fingers over the scene. Surfers were wending their way home from the beaches, colourful surfboards slung firmly on top of colourful cars and vans. Zinc cream glowed beneath mirrored sun glasses on the faces that seemed to glow in the red rays of the setting sun. The homeward bound traffic from the beaches confronted head on the homeward bound traffic from the city. The occupants of these cars watched enviously the stream of cars and wished that the quest for wealth wasn't as strong as it was, and that occasionally they could take time off to enjoy the sun, sand and scenery offered by the beaches.

It was from this particular melee that a large black car emerged, the blind eyes of its tinted windows obscuring the occupants from any outside interest. It pulled into the kerb outside the block of flats in which Russell and Jenny were once more dozing.

"John, we've got company."

Burroughs sat up and raised the seat to its upright position and his eyes followed Jerry's pointing finger. As the car pulled up the passenger side front door opened and a large man in a too tightly fitting suit got out and walked to the rear door which he opened. A much smaller man in white slacks, pink shirt, broad brimmed white hat and holding a pink handkerchief to his nose got out. Both men went into the building.

"What do you make of that?"

"Trouble and in big doses. Let's go!"

"The Triumph throbbed into life and moved quickly towards the limousine. Reaching it John moved quickly. Before the driver had a chance to realise what was happening he found himself being dragged from his seat. He didn't notice being put carefully back into his seat as he was suffering from the effects of being hit firmly with a blunt object, in this case a good old fashioned cosh.

"Okay let's get on with it." Both John and Jerry ran quickly into the building and up the stairs. At each floor one of them looked through the glass panel of the stair well door to see if the other two men could be seen. On the seventh floor they were rewarded by the sight of the larger of the two men going to work on the door with his size thirteen foot. The door didn't last long and the two men were soon inside the flat.

"What do you want?" Russell's voice could not hide the fear that he felt.

"We want you two. Now we can do it the easy way or I can ask my friend here to apply pressure." The voice was smooth and soft, the implications the opposite.

"Can we get dressed first?" Russell asked.

"Tony, check the room to see if there is another way out of here." Tony lumbered into the bedroom and briefly scanned it.

"Do you mind!" Jenny's indignant voice came from the room"

"Sorry lady." He backed out of the room. "No other way out Boss."

"Alright, but no funny business."

As Russell went into the bedroom John stepped into the flat, "I would suggest that for your health's sake you two gentlemen put down your weapons and stand over against the wall, facing it if you please, rest your hands on it and your legs apart please." The two men complied with the order, but instead of frisking them both John and Jerry applied their feet to the groin of the other two men. Both men slumped to the ground in agony. They were quickly trussed up like turkeys.

"It's safe to come out now." John said.

"What did you do to them?" Jenny asked as she came into the room.

"Made them boy sopranos again, at least for the time being. I presume that you know these specimens?"

"Yes, the one with the coconut ice colour scheme is the one that I told you about."

"It seems as if you people are not safe no matter where you are. You'd better come with us."

As they hadn't fully unpacked it took a matter of minutes for them to throw their clothes into their bags and leave.

"Your phone isn't working." John said as they left.

"No, it hasn't been connected yet. Why?" 

"We should get someone to come in and take care of your friends."

"There's a public phone box on the corner."

"How did you know that, you haven't moved from your flat all day."

"We noticed it on the way in and thought that if we needed to ring you it wouldn't be too far away."

"Where were you when the fun was happening a couple of hours ago?" Russell asked.

"Oh what fun was that?"

"A bit of shooting, a lot of shouting and police and TV crews everywhere. I think that our friends are at each other's throats now."

"That was the general idea. We are going to your office to catch up with the latest and then we will decide what we need to do to keep you out of trouble until this dies down."

"Here we go again. You know our feelings on this don't you?"

"Yes and the answer is still to get you away."

"We survived their first attempt, who is to say that they will be any more successful the second time round especially if they are blaming each other now."

"You survived because we were there. We may not be the next time."

They stopped briefly at the phone box while John rang his contact in the Federal Police. His manner when he returned to the car was one of extreme anger.

"What's the matter?" Jerry asked.

"I'll fill you in when we get to the office but let me say I'm not a happy chappy right at this minute."

The car pulled up in the carpark of the National News and they all walked through to Brian's office. The greeting that they received was not the one that they either wanted or expected.

"Where have you been?" The urgency in Brian's voice was enough to gain the attention of all of them.

"Why, we didn't think that the bombing of the Hilton was all that important to us."

"The bombing of the Hilton has nothing to do with this, your mother is frantic with worry. She has been ringing every thirty minutes since about eleven this morning. She won't tell us what has happened only that it is very important that she talk to you." 

Jenny walked over to the desk and dialled her mother's number. "Mama what is the matter?"

"Jenny! Where have you been?" Her mother had lapsed into Italian. "Your Papa is dead."

"Papa dead. How did this happen?"

"Where is Russell?"

"He is here with me now, why?"

"Has he been with you all the time?"

"Yes, what are you saying?"

"Before he went out your father got a phone call from someone who he thought was Russell saying that you were missing. He was on his way to help look for you."

"I was not missing and Russell has been with me all of the time. The call was obviously to get Papa to leave the house. Whoever it was knew that he would only leave if he thought that I was in danger. It must be someone that knows both Russell and me."

"They told me it was a car accident."

"Who told you?"

"The policemen who came to tell me about it."

"Have you seen him?"

"Yes. He looks so peaceful."

"Do you believe that it was an accident?"

"No. The other driver did not stop. They say that they are looking for him but I think that they don't look so hard."

"We'll see what we can find out from this end. Russell and I will be right over."

"You had better tell Russell to ring his mother. I called them when I was trying to find you and I'm sure that she will be as worried as I was. I will see you soon. Take care."

"We will, 'bye Mama." Jenny hung up the phone and turned to Russell. "I suppose that you heard that?"

"Yes. What happened?"

"Papa is dead. The police told Mama that it was an accident but she is not convinced."

"We will go over there straight away."

"Not before you call your mother. Mama had to call her when she was looking for us, she might be worried."

Russell rang his parents' home. "Mother? Oh Franklin would you be so kind as to call Mother?" There was a pause while his mother was summoned. "Mother it's Russell."

"Where have you been? Maria was frantic with worry when she called here."

"You have heard the news then? We are on our way over there. I just rang to say that we are all right and for you not to worry about us."

38

On their arrival at Jenny's parents' house they were greeted by her brother Tony and his wife. "She is all right for now, in fact I have not seen her so calm for long time and it worries me. I think that Maria and I should stay with her for a day or so just in case she starts to feel the shock of what has happened."

"That will be fine by me although I think that she will surprise you as to how well she will take this news. She is a lot tougher than you give her credit for."

They were led inside where they found the older Maria seated on the lounge waiting. When Jenny and Russell entered the room she got up and gave both of them a hug and held them to her for several minutes. "This thing that happened to Papa, this is connected with what it is that you are working on?"

"We believe so yes." Russell answered.

"Then I say to you that we must avenge Papa's death. I will see whoever it was punished and if the police can't find the man that did this I will find him myself and I shall see my husband avenged. This I swear on the Blessed Virgin."

"Mama, you can't get involved. These are bad men and they will not hesitate to kill you if you try anything." The worry in Jenny's voice was evident.

"I will. There is a tradition where your father and I came from that honours the 'eye for an eye'. Your father would wish it."

"Father was not one for these traditions." Tony said.

"Father was one for these traditions." Jenny replied. "You haven't heard him talk about his wartime experiences lately, because if you had you would not have said that."

"But he has honoured the traditions of this country in his business and personal life since becoming an Australian all of those years ago."

"He may have taken out Australian citizenship but he has never renounced his heritage."

"This true." Maria Senior said. "When he was dealing in business, if the other person crossed him his vengeance was swift and powerful. These people only crossed him the once and the word very soon spread around that he was not a man to be crossed. He was fair at all times."

"We first have to find out who did this and that won't be easy because the police will not be very co-operative."

"We know who it wasn't because we were entertaining one of them at about the time this happened so it couldn't have been him, but that doesn't rule out the other one and if it is him he will probably be hiding behind Diplomatic Immunity so we won't be able to touch him."

"Don't be so sure. If we can locate him we will wait for him to come out and then we will take him."

"I hope you don't intend to kill him yourself."

"We will not have blood on our hands but I am sure that someone will be only too happy to do it for us."

"How do we find out if it was the one that you think it was?"

Jenny moved to the phone and rang a number. Francine answered. "Francine, Jenny."

"Where are you? I was worried sick when I got home to find your note and no forwarding address."

"It's a long story and I haven't got time to tell you all that there is to tell but briefly, we rented this gorgeous flat at Tamarama, overlooking the beach and settled in for some pleasant getting to know you things when these two men burst in. Russell and I were scared out of our minds with fear, and just as we thought that they would do something nasty, two other men walked, calm as you like into the room and knocked the other two out. We got out of there as quickly as we could."

"Where are you now?"

"Staying with family but I don't think that we can stay here much longer because they have killed my father."

"When did all this happen?"

"This afternoon, Francine, we don't know what to do or who to turn to. All that we know is that we are not safe here. I don't know where we can be safe."

"You should have stayed here, I'm sure that you would have been safe here."

"No, we didn't want to involve you in our problems."

"Look, I have some friends who will be able to help you, I will speak to them and ring you back when I have something arranged. See you."

Thirty minutes later the phone rang. "Jenny, Francine, it's arranged. I'll meet you there as soon as we can get there."

Jenny hung up the phone. "Interesting."

"What is?" Russell asked.

"Francine has never been here and she didn't ask me for the address but she still said that she would meet us here with some of her friends and hopefully help us out."

"Maybe she has your address from your records at work."

"No I don't think so because I was not living at home when I signed up with the agency. There's another thing that bothers me."

"What is that?" Russell asked.

"I got the impression that she wasn't ringing from work or her home. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she was close by when she rang."

As if to confirm her observation it was less than fifteen minutes later that Francine's Datsun swept up the driveway and skidded to a halt outside the house.

Francine was the first to emerge from the car and was greeted warmly by Jenny and Russell. The passengers slowly and gingerly extricated themselves from the car. Both of them looked a little the worse for the experience of driving with the erratic Francine.

"Jen this is Jim Crossley and Aaron Silverman, they are the investigators who do occasional work for the agency."

Both men expressed their pleasure at the meeting and, from their attitude it was obvious that they were used to extracting their fees in a more physical manner than was ethically correct.

"What I, we, require from you is enough information as to the identity of the driver of the truck that killed my father for us to see that justice is not only done but seen to be done. The form that this justice takes is of no concern of yours. We will try to carry it out in a legal manner but if that is not possible then we will just have to take the law into our own hands, and the less you know about that the better. We will pay you the standard fee for your work, I think the usual terms is for us to pay half now and the balance on a satisfactory completion of your task."

"Our fee is based on the resources that we employ in carrying out our job. We have a standard charge of two hundred dollars per day and we ask for two days in advance. We will keep you informed on a daily basis as to our progress and at the end of five days, even if we do not have any firm results we will invoice you for five hundred dollars. At that time we will discuss whether you wish to continue with the hunt. Is that fair?"

"Yes that seems fair enough. What we can guarantee you is, if you are successful in this case you may find yourself receiving more work from the Italian community, however, if you are unsuccessful, you can kiss any chance of work from that quarter good-bye. Is that clear?"

"Yes." The two men realised that, looks to the contrary, Jenny was turning out to be a hard headed business woman. She had left them little room to manoeuvre.

"'Bye Jen." Francine ushered her reluctant passengers towards the Datsun. "Don't worry, if anyone can find this man Jim and Aaron can. We'll keep in touch." Her parting words were lost in the noise of scattering gravel and the exhaust as the car fishtailed out of the driveway.

No sooner had they gone when Tony came out of the house. "These men are involved in this business."

"How do you know?" Russell asked.

"I have seen them around talking to our people who are involved in this business."

"What business?"

"We are reluctant to admit that our community is involved in gambling and prostitution but these businesses have been part of the Italian way of life for centuries, and it is something that will be impossible to prevent."

"Why would these people want to take over such businesses?"

"Prostitution is a way of keeping open their drug operations. They make sure that the girls are hooked on drugs and need to keep working to feed their habit and then they offer to supply their doses free if they were able to push drugs to their customers. As for the gambling, there are many people in high places in government and the police who are compulsive gamblers and by allowing them to get into debt they are able to manipulate their allegiances for their own ends."

"But they shouldn't need to take over your community's business interests. Why don't they just walk in and compete with you?"

"They don't like competition. They much prefer a monopoly situation."

"Can't you go to the police with your information?"

"We spit on the police. We have given them solid evidence in the past and they not only have not acted on that information but have actually got kick backs from those concerned. No the police are definitely not to be trusted."

"But you will not be able to deal with these men if they have the protection of the police."

"We are sometimes successful by using the same methods as they use on us."

"Maybe, and I'm not making any guarantees here, but I may just be able to help you." Russell said.

"How can you help?" Tony asked.

"By writing an expose on their involvement in organised crime."

"Maybe when this thing is over, but until that time we cannot allow you to write anything."

"Why not?"

"Because it would drive into hiding those people who can help but who are reluctant to on the basis that they may be singled out for treatment by the other gang members."

"Then what do you propose?"

"We will put the word on the streets that we are looking for these people. We have a large network of taxi drivers, bus and train drivers, service station attendants and small business men who can watch almost everything and everybody. It will not take long to find them."

"Then what?"

"We will face that problem when we reach it. You will stay here and keep Mama company while we do this."

"But can't we do something else?" Jenny asked, "We will feel so useless here."

"You will be doing a more useful thing by staying here."

"Can we let our friends know where we are and what we are doing?"

"Yes. Now I must go. Take care of Mama and each other."

Russell rang Brian at the National News office. "Where are you and what are you doing?" Brian's voice greeted his.

"I am still at Jenny's parents' house. There seems to be a lull in the festivities for the time being but the Italian community has rallied to the cause and probably hundreds of them are scouring the countryside for our friends."

"How is Jenny's mother taking the news?"

"Pretty quietly. She is amazing, the reserves of strength that she is showing now are something that makes me quite envious."

"Okay, just you see that you keep right out of trouble. I want you back here in one piece."

"Your concern is touching." Russell hung up.

The day progressed incredibly slowly for both Russell and Jenny. They sat on the lounge chair and the time sat heavily on their minds as they pondered their next moves and formulated all sorts of different contingency plans.

All the time that they sat in the lounge room they could hear Mrs Petrelli fussing around in the kitchen. Presently she came into the room with a tray on which was a pot of strong black coffee and a plate containing a variety of Italian pastries.

They sat for a time in silence, sipping their coffees with a distinct lack of enthusiasm that was reflected in their attack on the pastries. After what seemed like hours much of the coffee and almost all of the pastries remained on the tray. "Under normal circumstances," Jenny thought, "Mama would be fussing around trying to get me to eat hundreds of these things because she thinks that I'm too thin."

Under the circumstances none of them were at all interested in eating so none of them felt inclined to encourage the others to eat.

Sometime later the phone rang and when Jenny answered it she found a dejected Tony on the other end. "We have found out nothing yet, it's almost as if there is a wall of silence around this whole matter."




CHOGM Pt. 05



"How can we break down that wall?" Russell asked.

"I don't know, do you have any suggestions?"

"No. unless we go back to the original plan of trying to flush them out. It seemed to work pretty well before."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Leave that to me. Keep in touch."

Russell picked up the phone and rang Brian Thompson again. "Brian, do you know that article that I wrote, and that we are not allowed to print?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I am thinking, to hell with them, why don't we go ahead and publish. We can also use the other three's knowledge of the CIA operations to add to the validity of the article. If that doesn't flush them out nothing will."

"We can go one better than that. Most of the typesetting is already done so what I have in mind is a Special Edition to hit the streets tomorrow. If we get to work straight away we can just about make it."

"Another thing, Francine from the Solomon Agency is more heavily involved than we at first thought and there are a couple of supposed legal types called Jim Crossley and Aaron Silverman who are in it as well. Oh and just one more thing, if, when you are moving around gathering information for us you will most likely run into some swarthy Mediterranean types running around doing the same thing don't worry too much because they are on our side. Jenny's family have recruited the Italian Community to help find our friends. I don't think that I would like to be in their shoes when they are found. By the way, we are dealing with members of the Covert Operation Group and they are not very pleasant customers."

"How do you know this?" Brain asked.

"Because Jenny's brother Tony. . ."

"What else would he be called?" Brian interrupted.

"As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, Tony knows some people who have had some dealings with them and there have been rumours of people conveniently committing suicide after falling foul of them."

"I don't want either you or Jenny even contemplating suicide because of this operation, is that understood?"

"Yes, your meaning is clear and we will take every precaution to ensure that this will never happen."

"Just see that you do. I want you back in one piece."

Russell hung up the phone once more and settled back to await the next phone call. He was only just getting settled when it arrived. It was Tony once more. "Russell we have found them."

"Where?" Russell asked.

"There is this house in Vaucluse that is owned by an American based company, they are there."

"Wait until we get there before you try anything." Russell turned to Jenny and her mother. "They have been found. Tony has given me the address, let's go and get them."

"We will call in reinforcements." Maria made several calls. To each of the people called she gave instructions to contact several other people and have them meet the main party at the given address, and to bring with them anything that could be used as a weapon.

During a pause in the organisation the phone rang. It was Brian. "Russell, we have found out where the guys we are looking of are holed up."

"It's not the house of a certain American diplomat in Vaucluse is it?"

"How did you know?"

"We have our methods as well. You had better get some cameras over there because it could be interesting."

"What do you mean?"

"The whole of the Italian community, or at least it seems that way, are massing for vengeance."

"I hope that you and Jenny won't be there."

"Why not, it's just as much our fight as yours or theirs, in fact it is more our fight."

"Just the same you two have had enough for the time being so stay right away."

"Yes Boss, anything you say Boss."

40

The Vaucluse address was that of a mansion of no mean proportions. The American owner of it had insisted that it should reflect the status that he considered befitted him.

Inside this mansion all semblance of status had disappeared in the anger that was being vented by the said owner onto the two men seated on the other side of the desk. "I sent you guys to carry out a simple task and you allowed yourselves to be sidetracked into personal issues. Not only were you sidetracked but you allowed yourselves to be humiliated by a bunch of amateurs. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"Amateurs!" BillyBob had decided that the best form of defence was attack. "These were no amateurs. They had our every move covered. They knew what we were going to do before we did ourselves, at least that's the way it seemed. We had to use a lot of muscle to try to get them to see reason.

"I presume that you are referring to the little matter of a motor vehicle accident?"

"Yes. We, or at least I, felt that we needed to come down hard on them to try to get them out of the picture because they have been causing us a lot more problems that I would have expected for someone that we thought were amateurs."

"It might have seemed that way to you but let me show you something." He threw a manila folder across the desk. "You will see in that file that you have been dealing with a bimbo who has been used up to now to supply my guests with dolls on a casual basis. Her friend is nothing more than a junior reporter on some sleazy tabloid. Now where are your professionals?"

"What about the three Englishmen?"

"What about them indeed. They arrive here in a blaze of glory and so much attention that you were unable to hit them and ever since then they have led you on a merry dance. And what about this afternoon? How could you let them sneak up on you like that? Don't they teach you anything at spy school?"

"If you are so smart how come you didn't have a dossier on them?"

"Because they were of little consequence up until now."

"Bullshit! It was these same three men who closed down your most lucrative source of funds."

"And yours. I seem to remember that you were blasted for creaming a large share right off the top."

"Sure, and who was it that took all of the risks?"

"What risks? You had the free use of air transport to get the stuff out of Laos and Kampuchea, you had access to an unlimited number of couriers to tranship it to Hong Kong and Sydney. The distribution system was in place and the right palms were continually greased. All you had to do was to get the stuff on to a plane."

"But it was me that set up the laboratory to refine the opium into pure heroin and process the Cannabis resin into Hashish."

"And it was also you that insisted on lacing a batch of Hashish with Heroin just to see what it would do. You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? And while we're at it who was it that insisted on conducting some individual vendetta against the very people who shut down your little operation which resulted in at least three members of that Interpol squad meeting with untimely accidents. You did that because they closed down your operation. We had other operations running as well, yours meant little in the overall scheme of things. Shit, putting heroin into hash."

"The way that I had it figured was that if we could get more people hooked on Heroin we could expand our market."

"You should have let us know before you carried out any experiments, after all we have a sophisticated test facility Stateside that is currently looking into the short and long term effects of massive doses of various drugs, especially Marijuana, Heroin and Amphetamines."

"I didn't know anything about that."

"Did you think to ask?"

"No. Would it have helped. The last time I asked for information or assistance all I got was nothing."

"Not only would it have helped, but it would have saved us a lot of bad press, especially with the Brits. They weren't happy about losing two of their best Drug Squad people and an innocent bystander. Now what are we going to do with you two?"

"Do you need to do anything. Why can't we stay here until the heat dies down?"

"For the simple reason that I have been instructed to withdraw your official status with the Consulate and inform you that if you are caught carrying out anything illegal in future, you will find that you no longer have any Diplomatic Immunity."

"You can't do that! How do you honestly expect an organisation like ours to carry out its charter with Big Brother peering over your shoulder?"

"Listen Buddy! You have our protection for as long as you continue to get results. The minute that you start fucking up you will find that your protection is under review. If you continue to fuck up, as you two have done continually on this assignment, your protection will be withdrawn. That is the present situation."

"How do we get out of here if we have no protection?"

"You are the fucking experts, why don't you work it out for yourselves!"

One of the Consular staff members entered the room and whispered into the Consul's ear. "Shit, shit, shit and fuck!"

"What's wrong now?"

"We, it seems, have a whole mob of swarthy gentlemen camped right outside this house. Now what do you think they are doing here?"

"How should we know?"

"Was it not you that ordered the 'accident' which killed the father of our young bimbo? No, I haven't finished yet. Outside is probably the whole family, brothers, sons, uncles, cousins and in all probability the female members of his family as well as a whole bunch of people who aren't even related to them. I have it in mind to throw you to the wolves."

"You can't do that!"

"No I can't. I'll give you the break that you don't deserve." He crossed to the phone. "Police? May I speak to Inspector Johnson? Yes I'll hold." He placed his hand over the mouthpiece, " Johnno, yes it's me. Look I wish to report an assembly of people outside my home who have no right to be there, can you have them moved on?"

He placed the phone back into its cradle. "Now, when the police arrive you will get a few minutes when there will be some confusion and your friends will be moving away. I want you to get right out of here and get away from this house. The next thing I want you to do is to get your arses stateside on the earliest possible flight out of this country, Kapeesh?"

"Understood, and thanks."

41

"This has gone too far!" The voice of the Minister for Foreign Affairs was showing the pent up anger and frustration caused by recent events. "You have done nothing but lie to me about your involvement in all of this."

"I beg to differ Minister, I have kept you informed at all times of what is happening and the potential for any repercussions to you."

"Lies! Even what you have said just now is lies! I find it difficult to trust you in anything anymore. You have told me all along that your 'agency' is in no way involved in this matter yet I have been informed by reliable sources that your people have been behind this from the very beginning, before the beginning even."

"What do you mean?" The American Ambassador was, for the first time on the defensive, at least until he knew the extent of the information provided by the 'reliable source'.

"I want your word that the CIA has had nothing to do with the Ananda Marga sect or its militant arm the 'Proutists'."

"You have it of course."

"You know nothing of the bombing of the Hilton Hotel then?"

"Only what I read in the papers Minister."

"On a different matter, tell me if I'm wrong here. Is not the CIA involved in the financing of drug production and importation from South East Asia?"

"No."

"Is not the CIA, through the Nugan Hand merchant bank in Sydney, with branches in Bangkok and Hong Kong, responsible for the laundering of black money used to finance its drug operation?"

"No."

"Is not this same bank responsible for financing the cultivation of Marijuana crops in the Murrumbidgee Irrigation Area of New South Wales?"

"No."

"Is not this same organisation involved in the murder of Donald MacKay in Griffiths last year?"

"No."

"Is not this bank controlled by a person reasonably believed to be an operative of the CIA?"

"No."

"So Michael Hand has never worked for the CIA?"

"He is not currently employed by the CIA."

"He was never involved in the provision of arms to rebel forces in Laos in return for opium, and has no scheme whereby he has used US servicemen as paid couriers to bring drugs into this country, and then convinced them to invest in a rather dubious Real Estate purchase to 'legitimise' the transaction?"

"I have no knowledge of such a scheme."

"The CIA has no knowledge of one Maurice Ernest Houghton, who was a pilot working for the CIA in Vietnam and who ran the 'Texas Tavern' in Kings Cross and which it has been alleged to have been a major clearing house for imported drugs brought into this country by US Service personnel coming in on R&R leave from Vietnam?"

"I have no knowledge of this man or of these allegations."

"Are you aware that a bomb was placed in a rubbish bin outside the Hilton Hotel in Sydney which it so happens, is the venue for the Commonwealth Heads of Government Regional Meeting?"

"You've asked that question before and my answer is still the same. I do read the newspapers Minister."

"I'm glad that I have got something other than a denial for a change. Are you also aware that two men, alleged to be operatives of your CIA have been linked to this bombing?"

"No I am not aware of these allegations."

"And that one of these men has been involved, with an organisation known as Air America, in the transportation of heroin and other drugs out of South East Asia?"

"I have no knowledge of these allegations and I also deny the existence of an organisation known as 'Air America'."

"Information has come to my notice that one of these men is currently wanted by Interpol for the murders of at least three of its top operatives over the last several years."

"Your information must be better than mine because I have no knowledge of this."

"I am informed that these men have been implicated in the kidnapping and assault of at least four people over the last few days, right here in Sydney."

"I have no knowledge of these allegations."

"I am also informed that one or both of these men have been involved in the hit and run death of a man this afternoon. What do you know of this allegation?"

"I know nothing of this Minister. I will make enquiries through the appropriate channels to see if I am able to shed any light on this matter."

"Why do I view that offer with a certain lack of confidence? What are we going to do about all of this?"

"In the past it has been thought best to deny any such allegations until they die down altogether. I see no reason to depart from this practise. You would be advised to comply with this if you wish to remain in government."

"What do you mean by that threat?"

"Just that if you don't follow instructions, the same process that ensured that your party gained government in '75 will be used to ensure the opposition will regain power at the next election."

"Oh. I see. I guess we have to follow your suggestion then. I would appreciate it if your people were a little more careful in future."

"The matter is being dealt with momentarily."

42

"Russell, you and Jenny are to stay here, when we are in position we will ring you and then you will ring the home of that man and tell him that we are on our way to get them. If I know how they work they will try to move out before we get there, that's why I want that we should be ready for them."

"What if they decide to stay and fight it out?"

"Then they will have a fight." The statement was made with such sincerity that Russell, for the briefest instant felt some concern for the safety of the enemy, for the very briefest moment.

"I want to go with you." Jenny stated.

"No! I have not ordered you much over the last few years but this time I must insist. You will stay here out of the way of what will happen."

Jenny reluctantly acceded to her mother's wishes. The troops left, the tail lights of the cars blurred by the steady evening rain. Soon all was still, Jenny and Russell sat side by side on the sofa. "Who would have thought that less than a week ago we didn't even know each other." Russell reflected.

Jenny, her head on his shoulder and her arms tightly linked in his was in a similar reflective mood. "I don't know whether I am happy or sad that I met you. If I hadn't I wouldn't have found you and fallen in love with you. In this way the days that we have known each other have been very happy. On the other hand I have lost my father, while I can't blame you for that, if I hadn't met you it wouldn't have happened."

Russell held up his still heavily bandaged hand, the steel rods standing out like thin claws from the bandages. "While my pain has been more of physical nature, I can feel your loss too. I only knew him for a very short time, but in that time I gained a great deal of respect for him. I am sure that your father and I would have been great friends."

"I know you would have been. My father was never backwards in telling me if he didn't like any of my boyfriends. 'Jenny,' he'd say to me in his gruffest voice, and I knew exactly what was coming, 'Jenny, I don't want to interfere in your life, but, are you sure that this is the right man for you? He started that even when I was only thirteen. It made me very careful about who I became involved with. The other morning he said to me, 'Jenny, this is the man for you, I feel it here in my heart. Now you are to make him a very happy man like your mother made me happy. He will be good to you and in time, I will be proud to hold my grandchildren in my arms.'" Jenny released her grip on Russell's arm and used the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry Darling, I didn't mean to get all weepy on you."

Russell used his good hand to wipe the tears from his own eyes. "Don't apologise for that Darling. I feel almost as deeply as you. I am glad that he gave his approval of our love before he died. At least he had that much happiness." He placed his arm around her and drew her to him.

They were still in that position when the phone rang. It was Brian and he was angry. "What are you people playing at? This place is crawling with hundreds of people, many of them armed with what the police would deem to be offensive weapons. I hope to God that they aren't planning anything illegal."

"Look mate, I don't know what they have planned and I wasn't about to stop them even if what they have planned is illegal. After what happened to Mr Petrelli and the fact that the police are not the slightest bit interested in it I hope that they get what is coming to them. By the way, could you find out from John or Jerry what happened to the two thugs that they left trussed up in our flat?"

There was the sound of a mumbled conference in the background and Brian came back onto the line. It seems that when the police arrived to pick them up there was no-one there. The official story is that they must have got free and scarpered. John disagrees with that."

"So do I. I saw how well they were trussed up. There was no way that even Houdini could have got free of those ropes. I rest my case. Someone other than the police will have to take care of these two wonderful people."

"What do you intend doing?"

"We are going to put the frighteners up them from here and have them believe that they have a little time before our people get there so that they make a run for it. We will be waiting."

"What if they know that your people are in place before they move?"

"We will play it by ear."

"Good luck. We will be ready to capture for posterity, if nothing else, this confrontation."

No sooner had he hung up than the phone rang again. The voice on the other end said one word. "Ready."

Russell made the call. "Mr Alderman? Russell French here. You have a couple of men staying with you that I would like very much to talk to."




CHOGM Pt. 05



"Oh, and who would they be?" George P. put on his best 'I am innocent but curious' voice.

"I think their names are BillyBob and Dwight but I do know that they are the two men who were directly responsible for the death of a Mr Petrelli. A couple of your people are supposed to be helping us find them but I don't think that they are trying all that hard."

"I really don't know what you are talking about."

"Then let me explain. I know that you and your government are providing Diplomatic protection to a couple of Trade Attachés. These men are assassins employed by your CIA to carry out a variety of tasks, quote, in the best interests of the US government, unquote. Unfortunately for you they have been carrying out their own personal vendetta against three British citizens and this got in the way of the job they were sent to do. Are you following me so far?"

"Yes. It's a very interesting story. Fiction of course, but very interesting. I presume there is more?"

"Yes. Their original task was to carry out some form of punitive action against the CHOGM conference which would embarrass the Australian government and destabilise the Indian government. Your people used the Ananda Marga, or at least its Proutist wing, to plant a bomb outside the Hilton Hotel. What the Ananda Marga were not aware of was that the bomb that they put in the bin was not the only one there. Your own people had also placed a much larger bomb in the bin which was designed to kill and maim anyone within fifty feet of the bin when it went up."

"You must think that I am inhuman to approve such an action?"

"I don't believe that you are directly involved in the decisions. I think that you are going to be left to clean up the mess that these loose cannons are going to be leaving behind. They are also involved in the kidnapping of two innocent women in an effort to prevent the newspaper for which I work publishing an article which outlined the CIA's involvement in Australia."

"I am not aware of this."

"Like I said you, we, have been dealing with a couple of really nice people here. They have set themselves up as judge. Jury and executioner. They have set themselves outside the law and their punishment will be also outside the law."

"Are you now setting yourself up as judge jury and executioner. I would suggest that you leave this to the police and not try and take matters in your own hands. You will be getting in over your head if you do."

"The police are the last place I would go for assistance. They are not the slightest bit interested in any of this because they have their orders from the highest source to have nothing to do with this."

"So what are your plans?"

"We will take our two friends and mete out a punishment which befits the crime."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"We will think of something. My suggestion to you is to distance yourself from what is about to take place."

Russell hung up the phone. "That should stir things along nicely."

"What you said about what these men have been doing, you have proof of it?"

"No, but it fits the pattern of similar operations around the world. The only difference is the involvement of our friends."

They lapsed into an apprehensive silence, both fearing the worst while at the same time aware that the action that was about to take place was necessary.

43

The Vaucluse street was silent. The residents having withdrawn to practise whatever ritual it was that cleared the street after eight o'clock. The still damp pavement reflected the light from the street lights and the occasional appearance of the moon.

The only sounds to be heard were the occasional yap of the family pooch, although the family and the dog would shudder at such a description, seeking admission after its mandatory post meal 'walkies'.

Unseen and unheard were several family cats, each slinking through the sodden gardens in emulation of its long time ancestor, searching for some suicidal beastie that it could catch and proudly display for its human family.

A large black car emerged from the garage and drove slowly towards the street. There was a stiffening of tension among the watching and waiting crowd, concealed in the shadows.

Having safely negotiated the short distance from garage to street the driver paused momentarily before turning left and accelerating quickly along the street.

He was not quick enough. In a practised manoeuvre, born of guerrilla operations in many previous wars, a broad canvas strap studded with many long nails was quickly pulled across the road. The driver did not see it in time to avoid it and his car shuddered to a halt no more than fifty metres from the tape, all four of its tyres flattened against the rim.

There were three men inside the car. They were safe from attack behind the bullet proof glass of the armoured limousine. It was just as well that it was armoured because before any of the occupants considered getting out, the car was surrounded by several armed men.

The driver spoke quickly and urgently into a two way radio handset, seeking instructions and relaying information to the house.

No sooner had the message been received than the garage door once more rumbled open and another car shot forward. There was no hesitation in the driver of this car, he drove quickly down the driveway and out onto the street.

At first the watchers thought that the driver of the second vehicle was intent on rescue. No such intent was on the mind of the driver. Instead of stopping near the other vehicle he drove up onto the nature strip before he had reached the studded strap and accelerated, scraping along the fences and just squeezing between fence and roadside shrubbery.

Several of the watchers had to jump for their lives as the driver had no intention of allowing their mere safety to stop his escape.

His plan worked. Before anyone could react he had made it to the corner and, with the screech of tortured rubber the car disappeared from sight.

Several men ran for cars only to stop at Maria's command. "Only one car to follow. Tony you take three men and give chase. Gino you get onto the taxi radios and get our drivers looking for the car just in case we lose it."

Seeing the one car take off in pursuit the driver of the first car was once more onto the house by radio. Seeing this Maria called one of the men over to her. "Gino I want you to silence that radio, can you do this?"

"Yes. it will be easy." He moved towards the car, a large claw bar in his hand. Reaching the vehicle he jammed the bar under the bonnet he lifted. The panel bent and eventually the lock sprung. "Cheap American shit." He said to himself as he lifted the bonnet and disconnected the battery. "That should stop them."

Next he took a large hammer and punch from the bag he carried and approached the front door of the car, positioning the punch an inch beneath the door lock he struck it a firm blow several times with the hammer. He then inserted a large screwdriver into the newly created hole and pushed down on the handle. The door popped open. "Would you care to join us?" He asked the terrified driver.

With some little fear and trepidation the driver emerged from the car. He looked at the damage to the vehicle, "So much for armour plating" he thought as he was led away by several large and well armed men.

What the driver was not aware of was that the outer skin on the car had been designed to allow the bullet to penetrate. The metal in the skin would slow the projectile sufficiently for it to be stopped by an inner shield without any danger of ricochet with subsequent risk of injury to bystanders. The one drawback to this design was that it allowed relatively easy access to the door locking system from the outside.

Meanwhile at the rear of the house a dark clad figure emerged from a darkened doorway and crouching low, moved quickly across the expanse of lawn until he merged with the shadows along the back boundary of the property.

He quickly and quietly scaled the fence into a neighbouring property, his drop to the ground accompanied by the soft hiss of the cat that almost had its tail trodden on. The man didn't even flinch. Moving swiftly from garden to garden he headed in the direction of the harbour and Neilson Park where he would wait until it was clear before moving to his rendezvous.

In the other direction a high speed chase was developing into something from one of Hollywood's more spectacular epics, all full of noise and spectacular slides but not reaching any closer to a result. The lead car was providing most of the spectacle as it struggled to negotiate the twisting bends in the road. What it lost in its wild slides around the corners it picked up in a straight line as the brute horsepower of the American motor flexed its muscle.

As the two cars sped through Darling Point they were joined by a police patrol, its flashing lights and wailing siren disturbing the peace of the district.

The police car got within sight of the second car but even if it was able to get close enough to the front car it would do nothing, the driver had his instructions. His job was to try to pull over the second car and detain the driver at least that was the plan.

As this was taking place a small boat eased from its mooring at Rushcutters Bay and headed towards the Heads, its mission to pick up a passenger who would be waiting for it at the Eastern end of the Shark Bay swimming enclosure. This was part of a practised routine.

Back in the street the proceedings were taking on the role of a major production. The men surrounding the car noticed a blanket on the floor of the car and, on removing it, found a further two men crouching on the floor.

All three now stood against the car as they were systematically searched. While this was taking place Brian and a photographer strolled over to the group. Seeking out Maria, Brian introduced himself as Russell's employer. This was not accepted until positive identification was produced. 

"I would like to take pictures of these men for the article that Russell has put together."

"I thought that you were not going to publish that."

"After what has happened over the last day or so, all bets are now off. Any understanding that existed up to now no longer exist, at least as far as I am concerned."

"Good. I was all for you publishing it from the beginning."

After taking several shots of all three of them Brian and the photographer left and the three men were ushered into a waiting car and driven off. Apart from three men hiding in the shadows the street was soon cleared of watchers. Some heading for home and bed, while others were headed for another destination where further interrogation of the prisoners was to take place. This group included Maria.

Brian rang Russell from his office. "We have achieved our objective, we now have photos of people to use in the article. I'll drop over as soon as the lab boys have finished with them. They are rushing them through for me and have promised them in around half an hour so I should be able to get over to you by around," He glanced at his watch, "say, one thirty, unless you want to go to sleep that is."

"No, come over as soon as you can. There is no way that either of us will be able to get to sleep until this is over."

"Okay. By the way, tell Jenny that her mother is doing just fine, in fact tell Jenny that she has one hell of a mother."

"I think that Brian is rather taken with your mother. He just said to tell you that she is fine and not to worry too much about her."

The relief at the news showed on Jenny's face as she hugged Russell to her. They settled down to wait for the next development.

Brian was the first to reach them and after looking at the pictures he brought with him they were not sure that they were too happy with events. There was a sense of both disappointment and foreboding in Russell as he leafed through them. It wasn't so much what was there that bothered him as what wasn't there.

Of the three men in the pictures, only the blurred image of the driver of the second car, the one that ran the gauntlet through the blockade, was of either of the two men for which they were looking. The others they recognised as being associated with one or more of the incidents that had taken place over the last few days, but they were not of the major players.

"If this is all of them then I'm afraid that the other one is either still at the house or has managed to slip through the cordon. I'm inclined to think the latter is the case. He is the one that we were hoping to get because he is the most dangerous of the two."

Brian picked up the phone. "Sorry to bother you at this late hour but I thought that I should be the one to bring you the good news that the main bird that we have been looking for has flown the coop, or at least that is our guess. What do you think will be their next move?"

"The train trip to Bowral in the morning will be the ideal time and place to pull off another stunt. It won't matter how well the route is guarded they can't possibly hope to cover every contingency. Whatever they do will be a token gesture only."

"I guess we should once more warn the powers that be, whatever good that will do, that there could be another attempt to throw a spanner in the works. In the mean time I want you three to spare no effort in finding what has happened to our hillbilly friend with the penchant for little girls."

After hanging up the phone Brian settled down with Russell and Jenny to wait for the return of her mother. The sound of the car coming up the driveway roused them from their separate reverie's. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts, only Russell and Jenny seated together gave any indication of mutual existence.

Maria and Tony walked in together, both looking tired and drawn. "Those men are more stubborn than we thought. They tell us nothing."

"Where are they now?"

"There is a ship leaving for America in about five hours time, They are on it. The captain has strict instructions not to release them until it reaches San Francisco and there he will turn them over to the authorities, minus any identification, as stowaways. They will eventually be able to talk their way out of the mess but not before their usefulness to the CIA is lost. We have friends who will see to that." The finality of the statement left Brian, Russell and Jenny in no doubt that it would happen as she had told them.

"And you found out nothing that would tell us what their next move will be?"

"They told us nothing. We tried many different methods of persuasion without success."

"And what about the man in the second car, where is he?"

"The two cars, his and ours, were being chased by the police. They drove very fast, too fast as it happened, and the American man was in an accident and is now in hospital. The police will not be charging him with anything and because they did not catch our driver they cannot charge him. The man is in hospital. He will not be there in the morning."

"You sound certain."

"He will also be on the ship when it sails."

Tony left them at around four to go home, promising to return as soon as he had had some rest. Maria excused herself and left to seek sleep. Brian stretched out on the sofa and Russell and Jenny went down to her old room to try and get some sleep.

All of them were as spectacularly unsuccessful in their efforts as the others and it was with some relief that the sound of the newspaper hitting the front wall and announcing the start of a new day.

44

Sydney Morning Herald

Tuesday February 14, 1978

FRASER CALLS TROOPS

500 TO GUARD LEADERS' TRAIN

More than 500 troops will guard a special train carrying 12 Commonwealth Heads of Government and about 120 Officials from Sydney to Bowral today.

MASSIVE HUNT FOR HILTON BOMBER

NSW Police began an intensive investigation to catch the bomber responsible for the tragic explosion outside the Sydney Hilton.

ANANDA MARGA SEES RUSSIAN PRESENCE

Officials of the Indian based Ananda Marga religious movement called a Press Conference to deny emphatically any complicity in the bomb incident.

"It's started then." Russell looked up from the newspaper.

"What has started?" Brian sat up from his position lying on the sofa.

"The trial by implication of the Ananda Marga."

"What do you mean?"

"What Russell is getting at is," Jenny said, coming in to the room with a pot of coffee and three cups, "The implication of persons or organisations in various incidents can be achieved by asking them for opinions on those incidents, or by someone within the organisation suggesting that they make a statement denying involvement before questions are asked. Either way it implies involvement and the average person who doesn't know the true situation is led to believe that they are involved. The CIA are past masters at this sort of propaganda. But then I guess that I'm teaching your grandmother to suck eggs."

"But wouldn't most people see a 'No comment' as not wanting to admit involvement." Maria came into the room with a tray containing a plate of toast and pots of jams, marmalade and butter.

"There is a difference between not being involved and not wanting to admit involvement. The real trick is to not get drawn into making a statement in the first place."

"And if the Ananda Marga is really involved?"

"The same conditions apply, say nothing and don't get drawn into making any comment."

"The government's reaction is interesting."

"What reaction? I haven't seen too much evidence of it."

"Why aren't they using all of the resources at their disposal to locate those involved in the bombing. They could be combining with the state Police in this, they could use ASIO to carry out enquiries, but oh no, they have turned the whole matter over to the NSW Police and are concentrating on increasing security for the remainder of the conference."

"Without wanting to sound too cynical, could it be that they already know who is involved and are under strict orders to do or say nothing?"

"Just who is running this country?"

"We are, isn't this supposed to be a Democracy?"

Brian interrupted this by-play, "I think that we should try to get some sleep now. There is little that we can do right now and besides I think that we are all too tired to think straight. Russell, could you and Jenny drop by the office sometime this afternoon, I want to run through this whole mess and review what has happened up until now to see if there is anything that we might have missed along the way."

"We will continue our search for that man." Maria spoke in a deceptively soft voice. "We still have to avenge my husband's death. If we find him we will contact you."

"What about the one that is in hospital?"

"He is being attended to. I think that about now there will be some very worried people around town."

"What do you mean?"

"Not now. I will tell you later."

Indeed there were some worried people, especially in a certain house at Vaucluse.

"What do you mean he has gone?" George P. was beginning to show real signs of worry.

"Just what I said. When we went into the hospital to bring him here we found that he had supposedly been transferred to another hospital. When we checked there we found that he had never reached there, and to confuse matters even more, they were not expecting him. He has disappeared."

"What about BillyBob, did he get clear?"

"Yes, we delivered him as arranged and he was picked up from the boat at Mrs Macquarie's Chair as planned."

"At least one thing has gone right. I am dreading what will happen next, this whole thing has been one enormous cock up after another."

As if on cue the phone rang. "Yes."

"What the fucking hell are you playing at up there?" The very angry voice on the other end of the line was that of the US Ambassador in Canberra. "I have just had another long session with the Foreign Affairs Minister and he has accused me, you and our government of complicity in a whole range of things that have happened around this country over the last ten years, and do you know what disturbs me more than anything else?"




CHOGM Pt. 05



"No Ambassador?"

"The bastard was too fucking close to the truth! What do you say to that mister?"

"What is there to say? We shall just adopt the standard procedure under the circumstances and deny and keep on denying until they get sick of asking. If that doesn't work we can always threaten to overthrow their government."

"I've already used that and they have agreed to do nothing for the time being but if you people keep stuffing up the way you have, I don't know how long I can keep them under control."

The next phone call did nothing to improve his outlook on life. It came on the official direct line from Langley, Virginia. The caller was wanting to talk to either BillyBob or Dwight.

"I'm afraid that will not be possible at this time."

"Why not?"

"We unfortunately seem to have lost contact with them."

"What do you mean 'lost contact with them'?"

"BillyBob has gone to ground and we are waiting for him to get back in contact but Dwight I'm afraid has been lost to the opposition."

"Opposition, what opposition?"

"It seems that there are three British agents in town at present."

"I know there are. I arranged for them to be there!"

"There is apparently some connection between them and BillyBob's former life in South East Asia. It happens that they are in town to provide some sort of professional assistance in the security arrangements for this pissant conference. Well it seems as if BillyBob was concentrating more on them and not on his job and the whole thing has gone to Hell in a hand basket."

"You can say that again! I have just had a call from Washington wanting to know what is happening down there. I thought that maybe, just maybe, you might be able to fill me in, Mister."

The emphasis on the 'mister' at the end of the statement had a menacing tone to it that brooked no frivolity. "We could find ourselves in deep shit if we are not very careful. I have spoken this morning with the Ambassador and it appears that the Aussies are not as stupid as we were led to believe. They have gotten information from somewhere that implicates us in a whole range of incidents in their country. I don't know where they got this from but it is remarkably accurate. I do know that the Brits have been working with a section of the press on this as well as the Commonwealth Police."

"What are you doing about it?"

"We have the government under control for the time being. As for the press, pressure will be brought to bear."

"Good. Now explain to me how you happen to lose one of the best and most efficient operatives that we have?"

"It seems as if your two top men made a tactical error in trying to stop the publication of a very damaging article by the press. The stupid idiots assassinated the father of one of our minor operatives who changed sides on us and who is actively involved with this journalist. This brought down the wrath of the Italian community on our heads. You should have seen them here last night. Dwight tried to break through. He would have gotten away with it except that he smashed his car and ended up in hospital."

"I assume that you have a guard on him?"

"That would be a waste of time."

"What do you mean?"

"He has been taken from the hospital and we don't have any idea where he is."

"Well you had better find him! If he has fallen in to the wrong hands the results could be devastating not only for our operations globally but your career. Do I make myself clear?"

"Very much so Sir."

It was almost three o'clock when Russell and Jenny walked into Brian's office, looking and feeling very much refreshed by several hours' almost uninterrupted sleep followed by a shower and a light lunch and several cups of coffee.

The atmosphere in the office quickly brought their buoyant mood down to earth. "I have some bad news for you. We are faced with a cover up. A blatant fucking, pardon the French my dear, cover up! Instructions from above, from the very top, and I don't think I need to spell out who is at the top. We are not to publish our special edition. We are to follow the official line on the bombing, play up what a wonderful development the increased security is in the hope that the public will soon forget."

"Christ, why? I would have thought that the public has a right to know what is happening in this country, not to mention its importance to National Security that no stone should be left unturned in an effort to find the culprits."

"That's what I thought. The Commonwealth Police are no longer involved in the investigation. The whole box and dice has been turned over to the State Police and when I contacted them offering the information that we have compiled I was told in as many words to get lost and leave the matter to the experts. I got the impression from them that the media will be fed selective information designed to divert their attention from the real assassins."

"So that's it then. We can't do any more?"

"I'm afraid not. We can only sit by and watch developments that we are powerless to influence."

"Come on Jen, we have a wedding to plan."

"Look, I know it probably won't help, but I know exactly how you feel. In your position I would feel the same way, but for the present there is nothing that you or I can do about it. You are still officially on leave, why don't you enjoy a week or two together."

"What a let-down." Russell and Jenny were walking to the car park. "Who would have thought that after all of our efforts the authorities would drop the whole thing just like that."

"Aren't the State Police continuing the investigation?"

Russell's raised eyebrow was answer enough. They had reached the car park to be met by John. 

"I see that you have been told the good news."

"Yes. I guess that you guys will be going back to England now."

"Yes. We have spoken to our boss and all is forgiven and he wants us to get back as quickly as we can for our next assignment. So long Russell and Jenny," He kissed Jenny on the cheek and shook Russell's hand, "Here are the keys of the Triumph, take good care of her, she's a great little car."

"Could you do us a favour?" Russell asked, "Would it be possible for you to drive it to Jenny's place for us. We are taking the MG."

"Sure thing. By the way I have a surprise for you. We were going to spring it on you when you got to Jenny's flat but you may just as well follow me now."

He climbed into the Triumph and waited for Jenny to extricate the MG from its parking spot. They followed him over the Harbour Bridge and over to Mosman and the street that Jenny's flat was in.

Instead of stopping at Jenny's block he kept going right down to the end of the point before turning in to the underground parking garage of a block of flats. Jenny parked the MG beside the Triumph aware of the Jaguars, Mercedes and BMW's that proliferated the garage.

They followed John to the security lift that could only be activated by key. They were quickly whisked to the top floor of the building. Both of them had a feeling the surprise would be well worth waiting for. They were not disappointed.

John opened the door and ushered them in to an enthusiastic welcome from Jerry, Frank and Russell's parents. The flat was magnificent. The views from the large picture windows covered as broad panorama of the harbour from the heads to the harbour Bridge. It was furnished in opulent good taste.

"Consider this our wedding gift to you. It seems the least we can offer after all the assistance you have been to us over the last few days, not to mention the pain and suffering that you have both endured. Neither of you will get any official recognition from your grateful government, so this our way if saying thank you on their behalf."

"We are proud of you too." Mrs French hugged Jenny. "We probably won't hear half of what you have gone through, but the little we know has made us very proud, not only of Russell, but of you my dear. Welcome to the family."

"Come here my boy." Mr French led the way to the polished Mahogany bar, opening the door he revealed racks filled with a wide variety of wines and spirits. "Now, you're the host, your guests need refreshments." Opening the door to the bar fridge, "Champagne seems appropriate for this occasion."

Russell selected a bottle and with some difficulty managed to get the cork out without sending it and half the contents of the bottle across the room. "Would you gentlemen care to join us or do you want your usual?"

"I think that this occasion is sufficiently important for us to overlook our vows of abstinence." John took a sip from the proffered glass, "Now this I could get to like."

"I wish mother was here, she would enjoy this." Jenny was just a little subdued.

"Why don't you call her and ask her to join us?" Russell asked.

Jenny crossed to the phone and dialled. "Mama? Yes it's me. Mama so much has happened. Russell and I have just been given a new flat by the men we have been working with. It's beautiful. We want you to come over and to help us celebrate. and bring Tony with you." She gave the address. "We will be expecting you in about an hour, 'bye."

 

45

They were all comfortably seated around the living room enjoying the view of the usual bustle on Sydney harbour and chatting about all sorts of subjects. Mr French and Jerry were deep in conversation about the relative merits of European cars as opposed to British.

"You have to concede that the European makes are a little more innovative than the British. As for quality control, in Britain it is a joke. Take Jaguar for instance, they design a really great car in the Jaguar tradition and slap it together so poorly that the thing is no better than, say, a Holden."

"I grant you that criticism is valid but we are taking steps to eliminate these problems. When we have them solved we will have the best cars around."

"When you have the problem solved you will have caught up to the Europeans. You will need to change the attitude of the British car worker if you are to achieve what you are aiming for. At least the European car worker takes some pride in what they produce."

Jenny and Mrs French were discussing the upcoming nuptials. To the casual observer it would have appeared that they were mother and daughter, not future step whatever. They talked with a deceptive familiarity that augured well for the inter-family relationships but woe-be-tied Russell if he dared to step out of line.

Russell, Brian and John were going over the events of the last week to see if there was some way that they could get around the ban on the article. John agreed to provide them with as much background information as he could about their original involvement with BillyBob and the drug pipeline.

The intercom interrupted these discussions by announcing the arrival of Jenny's mother. Jenny pushed the button which unlocked the front door for her and went to the entrance door of the flat to welcome her.

Maria stumbled into the flat followed by a gun which was in turn followed the large form of BillyBob. Tony followed him with Francine and another gun bringing up the rear. "Don't anybody so much as flinch!" The voice left no room for doubt as to his intentions. "Now you people have caused me a great deal of trouble and it's now my turn to cause you some. Francine would you just check to see if any of them are carrying any weapons."

Francine moved from one to the other, expertly checking for weapons. She found none. Just as she was turning from him Mr French grabbed her from behind, his left arm snaking around her neck and applying pressure to it. His right hand taking her gun from her limp hand he pointed it at BillyBob. Francine was held motionless in front of him. "If you do not put that gun down I will apply even more pressure than I am at the moment and it will kill your friend here."

"Go ahead and kill. I have no further use for the stupid bitch."

Fear showed in Francine's eyes when she realised that he had no intention of saving her from the pain that she was experiencing.

"You bastard! What about all of those promises you made. What about the home in LA. What about all the money you promised me?"

"How naive, you didn't really think that I was about to keep them did you?"

Un-noticed to either of them Maria had moved quietly and imperceptibly until she was directly behind BillyBob. The point of her shoe, applied with the force of her hatred for the man and applied to the part of his anatomy to which it was applied, brought rather satisfying results. His eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he gasped and fell to the floor, writhing in agony. John and Frank pounced and swiftly had him trussed and immobilised. His hands were tied behind his back and pulled as far as possible up behind his neck. A rope from there was looped around his neck and down to his ankles which were also pulled as far as possible up his back. The effect of this was that if he struggled he would choke himself.

Francine, handcuffed, sat quietly in a chair while John contacted the Commonwealth Police. As soon as he had placed the receiver back in its cradle she started to plead with him. "I didn't know what he was doing. He told me that he was working for the Australian Government and what he was doing was Top Secret. I didn't have anything to do with Jenny's father's death."

Even as the words left her mouth Francine realised that she had just implicated herself. She said nothing further. Maria picked up the phone and rang for someone to come and pick up BillyBob. "He will be taken by fishing boat to the ship that is taking the other man back to America. Neither him nor the other one will ever see their homeland again. This much I swear on my husband's grave.

"But shouldn't we have handed him over to the Police?" Mrs French asked.

"No. He would have claimed Diplomatic Immunity and walked free." Brian's voice was cold. "The Commonwealth Police have been withdrawn from the case and the locals are not interested. For once in my life I can condone this form of justice."

"Part of me is appalled with the cold blooded cruelty of what you have planned, but on the other hand I can see the need for revenging the death of your husband and if the proper authorities are either unwilling or unable to punish them, then I suppose you must do it."

"My work her is now finished," Maria said, "Now I must go and organise a funeral. Jenny you must stay here with these people, I will do this myself."

"No you won't!" Mrs French was adamant. "I will help you, if there is one thing I am good at it's organising functions such as christenings weddings and funerals." Turning to John, Frank and Jerry, "You men will stay for the funeral won't you?"

"Try and keep us away. Now we must be leaving, coming Brian? You two stay happy now, and look after each other."

"What now?"

"In light of recent developments I think we deserve a break away from all of this."

"Would you like a pre-honeymoon?" Russell's father asked.

"Sounds great. It will give us a chance to recharge our batteries and get over our physical and psychological injuries."

"Call by in the morning and pick up the keys to the holiday house, you can stay there for as long as is necessary."

"Great, Jen you will love this place."

"What about the funeral?"

"We will send a car for you to save you having to drive all that way down and back."

46

The tension on the phone line between Sydney and Langley was electric.

"What do you mean you have lost another two?"

"Let me explain. We have lost the usefulness of one of our local people who has been arrested by the Commonwealth Police."

"I thought that you had them in your pocket?"

"Something went wrong, don't worry we'll fix it."

"You'd better or by the livin' Jeezus you will find your ass freezing in some Alaskan deep freeze over-looking the Behring Straits and Russia. Now what about the other one, and don't tell me it was BillyBob?"

"'Fraid so. We don't know where he is. All we do know is that him and Francine were together yesterday afternoon and were supposed to call in last night for instructions. They never made the call and Francine ends up with the Feds. We are waiting for her to be released so that we can talk to her and find out what has happened to BillyBob, although I have this feeling that whatever she can tell us will be too little, too late."

"Jeezus H Christ what a fuck up. I send a couple of top men down to some jeezly little country to set off a couple of firecrackers to scare a couple of two bit, second rate politicians and what happens? I end up losing my two top men. I will probably have Washington crawlin' all over my ass because of the Diplomatic repercussions of this fuck up. I'll be lucky to survive myself. Let me tell you right here and now Mister, if I fry over this so will you."

There's not a lot of news in here about the bombing." Russell sat at the kitchen table of the family holiday house at Norahville on the Central Coast.

"Hey! I thought that we came up here to get away from all of this. We are here for the next week or so to have a rest and prepare for the wedding, or have you forgotten that?"

"Sorry Darling, I guess that I'm still curious as to why there has been so little investigation of this." He folded the paper and pushed it away from him. Taking a last sip of his breakfast coffee he asked, "What do you want to do today?"

"How about we go for a walk along the beach."

"Right. That should kill a couple of hours."

"What do you suggest?"

"We could always go for a drive over to the Hunter Valley and check out some wineries."

"I think that we had better take it easy for the first day or so before we go swanning around the country."

"Alright beach walk it is. Which way do you want to go?"

"Choices now. What are the options?"

"We can go south around Norah Head to Soldiers Beach or north along Caves Beach to Budgewoi."

"I think the north route sounds better after all I don't want to risk damaging myself by clambering over rocks."

Minutes later they were strolling arm in arm along the soft sand, the sun warm on their faces and the rhythmic roar and crash of the surf drowning out the sound of their voices. Jenny turned her face to Russell's so that she could catch what it was that he had just said to her to find her lips covered by his in a lingering kiss.

After having walked for half an hour they paused to take in the beauty of the surroundings. The sky and sea competed with each other to create the brightest blue. The seagulls wheeled and soared in the breeze that gusted fitfully over the waves. There were several board riders swooping and diving their boards through the swirling sea. A fisherman probed the white water of the rip trying to entice a meal onto his waiting hook.

"Watch this." Russell leapt to his feet and ran to the waterline. He stood and waited for the incoming wave to wash past his feet and as it ebbed back he began swivelling his feet into the sand. Suddenly he bent over and picked something out of the sand.

"What is it?" Jenny asked.

"A pipi."

"What is it used for?"

"Mostly bait around here but I hear tell that in other parts of the world they are considered something of a delicacy."

"No thanks."

"We used to come along here as kids and catch hundreds of them and sell them to the fishermen who were too lazy to catch their own All you have to do is wait for the wave to wash past you and then as it flows back swivel your feet like this." Russell demonstrated the art to her. "Now you try."

Jenny waited for the right moment and did as she had been shown. Two large pipis bobbed to the surface of the sand. "Look! I did it!"

"Clever person aren't you. Now what are you going to do with it?"

"Put it back where I found it." She bent down and carefully pushed the shells into the sand. "Now what about yours?"




CHOGM Pt. 05



"I was thinking of going fishing but I don't think that it would be a good idea with this." He held up his still heavily bandaged hand.

Jenny held his wrist and tenderly kissed the bandages. "What are we going to do with this?"

"I could scratch your back."

"No way. Those wire bits hanging out the end would rip my back to pieces especially as there is very little protecting it."

"I will be very gentle. Of course I would have to undo your top so that I don't tear the material, not that there is much there."

"Material or top?"

"Both. Do you realise that not so very long ago if you wore that at Bondi Beach you would have been thrown off by the Inspector?"

"Oh, and I suppose that you are objecting to it?"

"Au contraire my dear. You are even more beautiful today than I have ever seen you."

"Are you trying to tell me that I look better with this on than without?"

"I get the feeling that you are trying to back me into a corner here. I think that I'll have to have another look at you without before I can safely say one way or another."

Jenny stopped suddenly and Russell pivoted as she pulled his arm back. The sudden turn caused him to bump into her, they both fell to the sand, his damaged hand burying itself in the soft sand.

"Christ! Careful Darling that bloody near killed me."

There were tears in her eyes as she tenderly took his hand, held it to her cheek, dampening the bandages with her tears before kissing it gently. "I'm sorry, really I am."

"Hey don't cry, it's not that bad. I'll survive you know. I may be crippled for the rest of my life but I will survive."

"You idiot. Here I was shedding real live tears because I thought that I had half killed you and all the time you weren't really hurt at all."

"I was mortally wounded. This is just another example of the amazing recuperative powers of the French family. What say we go back to the house and get some lunch or something."

"I think that we had better stick to lunch, you aren't in any fit condition for your idea of 'something'."

"Spoilsport." They scrambled to their feet and headed arm in arm back to the house.

By the time they arrived they had both worked up an appetite. "How would you like fish and chips?"

"Great! Do you know I haven't had fish and chips for years. Not since a school excursion I went on. We never had them at home and after I left and took up modelling I was never game enough to have them in case I put on too much weight."

"Oh so it's alright now that you have trapped me in to marriage for you to pig out and get fat?"

"No. It was you that suggested we have them and we are supposed to be having fun. You can always work it off later you know."

They took the Triumph and drove into Toukley so that Russell could get some money out of the bank. On the way back they called into a Fish and Chip shop on the main road. "The family always had fish and Chips from this shop at least once, often more than once, whenever we were here on holidays."

"Russell! What are you doing here this time of the year?" Russell was greeted by the proprietor. "What can I get for you and who is this amazing creature you have brought into my lowly shop?"

"This amazing creature, as you so colourfully put it is Jenny Peters, my fiancé. Jenny this is Tony and at any time now his wife Angela will come out and tell him off for ogling you."

On cue Angela emerged from the rear of the shop. "Tony, why haven't you taken the order yet? If you can't serve properly you had better go out the back and peel some more potatoes. What will you have?"

"You are too hard on him Angela."

"If I don't keep his mind on the job he would spend all day out here making a fool of himself with all the pretty girls. Who is this with you?"

"Jenny, this is Angela, Angela, Jenny Peters, my fiancé."

"I hope that you know what you are letting yourself in for. This one is just as bad as my Tony."

"I have him exactly where I want him," Jenny said in fluent Italian, "There is no way that he can possibly step out of line."

Angela laughed and immediately broke into Italian, "You take my advice and let him believe that he is the boss of the family but if you play you cards right you can have him doing everything you want. We have to keep up the tradition of the Italian matriarchal society."

"I will follow my mother's example."

"Now what can I get you?"

"Just a couple of pieces of fish and fifty cents worth of chips, thank you." Russell said.

"Coming up, would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you Angela. There is plenty to drink back at the house."

Several minutes later, as they left the shop with an open invitation to come back any time and a large parcel of steaming hot fish and chips, Russell turned to Jenny, "What was that all about back there between you and Angela?"

"Oh she was just giving me some friendly advice on how to keep you in line."

"Was she now? I suppose she should know, she keeps poor Tony on a pretty tight leash."

"Funny I didn't hear him complaining."

The Triumph slid effortlessly along the almost deserted road back to the house, Russell and Jenny lost in each other, the confines of the car helping to give them an even greater sense of intimacy, of oneness. The mood continued until they opened the door of the house.

Russell could hardly be called the most fastidious person in the world but even his hatred for housework would not have sunk as low as to leave the house in the mess in which they now found it. Furniture was overturned, food was scattered over the kitchen floor and out into the living room where breakfast cereal covered the carpet. The bedroom was no better, clothes scattered all over the floor, drawers hanging drunkenly from the dressing table, the bed clothes dragged from the bed and draped over the bed end. The place was a shambles.

"No Darling, tell me that I am dreaming." Jenny sobbed. "I thought we had left this sort of thing behind us in Sydney."

"So did I. Look I'll call the police, it could just be a simple burglary. Why don't you get a couple of plates and we'll have something to eat while we wait for them to arrive."

"I know you are right but I think that I've lost my appetite. I'll get yours ready for you."

"Don't worry about it Darling, I think I might not be very hungry either." He picked up the phone to be met by nothing. The receiver was a silent lump of plastic in his hand. "Great, Mum must have forgot to pay the bill."

"I don't think that is the explanation." Jenny held the limp end of the phone cable in her hand."

"That's it, let's go." Russell said, "We are going to get the police out here to sort this out."

They left the house exactly as they had found it, making sure that it was locked up tightly. Moments later they were headed back down the road towards the nearest police station.

"Why don't we ring them from a public phone box?"

"No. I am not going anywhere near the house until we have the police with us."

They hadn't travelled more than a kilometre when a car pulled alongside of them, as Russell glanced across to the other car it swerved towards them. Russell was forced to break savagely to avoid being shoved off the side of the road into a stand of trees. "Shit! What does he think he's playing at."

"I think that he thinks that he is going to kill us. Do you think we can get away from him?"

"Only if we can get to the Toukley Bridge before he does. If we can't we might have to double back to Morisset."

"How can we get in front of him? Every time you try to pass him all he has to do is to cut in front of you."

"I suppose this is where I put into practise all of the tricks I picked up watching 'B' grade movies." Russell followed the other car, matching his speed with it until the chance came.

Leaving it until the very last second, he swerved into a side street that he knew would lead him back onto the main road. He accelerated quickly down the road hoping that some elderly pensioner person would not blunder into his path.

The driver of the other car had realised what his plans were and had also accelerated, but unfortunately for him he had become embroiled in the slow moving mid-day traffic jam and could only watch helplessly as he saw the Triumph fifty metres ahead return to the main road on the approaches to the bridge.

Russell made sure that it would be even more difficult for the other car to catch him as he squeezed past a slow moving truck just before crossing the narrow wooden bridge.

Once over, Russell sped up, the Triumph relishing the chance to show its paces once more.

Through Gorokan they sped. Reaching speeds of up to 130Kph, Russell dodged his way through the sparse traffic. Having reached the Pacific Highway Russell opened the car right out. On the long straight just north of Wyong the speedometer climbed quickly to 200Kph. Jenny was looking out of the back window of the car to see if she could see the other car. No sign of it.

Suddenly a policeman stepped onto the roadway about 100 metres in front of them. "Bloody hell, this is all we need." He jammed on the brakes and the Triumph slowed to a halt beside the policeman.

"Going to a fire are we Sir?" The voice was dripping with intended sarcasm.

"If you must know we are heading to the Police Station in Wyong."

"The way that you were driving you might not have made it. Tell me if I'm wrong, but would your speed have been approximately 200 kilometres per hour as you came down this straight?"

"I suppose you could be right. I wasn't really concentrated on the speed. You see we are staying at Norahville and our house has been broken into. There is food all over the place and everything has been ransacked, our clothes are everywhere. We tried to call the police but the phone has been cut and when we were driving down a car tried to run us off the road. We were trying to outrun it when you pulled us over."

"I'm afraid that you might have a hard time convincing the Magistrate that this is a valid reason for driving in such a dangerous manner."

He had no sooner said that when the other car pulled in behind the Triumph. The driver got out of the car and identified himself as a police officer.

"Then why did you try to run us off the road back there?" Russell asked.

"I tried to apprehend you. This car is listed on our stolen vehicle sheets. I presume you can prove that it is yours."

"Certainly." Russell took out his wallet and produced the Registration papers, still in Burroughs's name, and a signed and witnessed document confirming the transfer of ownership to Russell.

The policeman took the papers and walked to his car. After several minutes talking on the radio he returned. "That seems in order Sir. It appears that the stolen vehicle report has been cleared up."

"This gentleman claims that his house has been broken into and turned over, that is why he was in such a hurry. He was driving in to Wyong to report it."

"Couldn't you have phoned for assistance?"

"No. The phone was cut off."

"Well, why don't we go back to your house and have a look? If you would follow me at a more sedate speed we will investigate your complaint."

Russell and Jenny followed the unmarked police car back to the house. The trip seemed to take forever, especially compared with the recent trip from the house.

"Why is he driving so slowly?" Jenny asked.

"Probably to teach me that I shouldn't speed."

They arrived back at the house and Russell unlocked the door and ushered the policeman inside. The rooms were tidy with not a thing out of place. "This is the house that has been ransacked? I must say that burglars are getting much tidier, I was expecting stuff to be all over the place like in your normal burglary. As it is I would be almost prepared to swear on a stack of bibles that this place has never been touched."

"I can't explain this. Not half an hour ago this place was a shambles."

"Look at this." Something had caught Jenny's eye. She walked over to the wall and stooping, she picked up a small piece of red plastic coated wire. "This looks like a bit of phone cable. It looks as if it was missed in the rush to clean up after they reconnected the phone."

The policeman took the piece of wire and placed it in a small plastic bag he produced for his pocket.

"What about this?" Russell asked.

"What about what?"

"The packet of fish and chips has been moved. See, we put it on the bench top right about here. If you feel here you will find that it is hot and there is condensation on the surface. Now over here where it is now is barely warm and there is no condensation."

"Is there anything else that you can see that would indicate that someone has been in this room?"

Russell looked around the room, "I don't know."

"I'll make a note of this. I'll have to write up a report on all of this. You may still be charged with speeding but I'll leave that to the Police Prosecutor. How long do you intend staying here?"

"We had intended staying for at least the rest of this week, but now I don't know. We may decide to go back to Sydney or yet again we may go further north."

"Where can I contact you if I need to?"

"At the address on the Rego papers."

"Both of you?"

"Yes. And in answer to the questions you are about to ask, no we are not married, yes we will be soon, and yes we are living at the same address. We are both adults you know."

"I never for a moment doubted it. If you are not at home where will I be able to reach you?"

Russell took a card from his wallet. "This is my work address. They will know how to get in touch with me at any time. Just ask for Brian Thompson, he's my boss. Will that be all?"

"For the time being yes. Thank you for your co-operation." He turned to leave.

"Just a moment. Can we see some form of identification? If we find out anything of interest we will need to know who to talk to." Jenny asked.

The policeman took a warrant card from his wallet. Jenny looked at it briefly and handed it back. As soon as he had left she wrote a name and number on a piece of paper and. picking up the phone dialled the number of the newspaper office. When Brian answered she gave him a précis of the events and asked if he could find out anything about the policeman.

"Ask him if he can come up with any reason why this has happened when to all intents and purposes this case is over."

"Russell wants to know if you have any bright ideas as to why this happened. He thinks, and I tend to agree with him, that this is not a coincidence."

"My guess is that the powers that be are taking out an insurance policy in case we just happen to change our mind about that article."

"How will that work?"

"They will harass him until he signs an undertaking not to allow publication. I guess we will have to sign such an undertaking as well."

"But what about the piece of phone wire?"

"You don't honestly believe that it still exists do you. My betting is that he won't even write up a report, at least not an official one. He will probably have one tucked away in case you get naughty. In future trust no-one."

"What are we going to do now? We can't very well stay here."

"I don't see why not. If you go somewhere else they will only track you down."

"Whatever you do is up to you but I suggest that you should think that, maybe, just maybe, this conversation is being overheard, if you get my drift."

"Got it. I still think we should go somewhere else because I don't feel comfortable knowing that it has been so easy to get into this house."

"Do you have anywhere else in mind?"

"I thought that Brunswick Heads sounded nice. A friend of the family owns a block of holiday flats there."

"I should have that information you wanted when you get back. Do you have any idea when that will be?"

"That depends on how much we are enjoying the break. We'll probably see you in two weeks."

"What about the funeral?"

"We'll give Jenny's mum a ring as soon as we hang up from this call and make the necessary arrangements."

They rang Maria to find out that the funeral would be in two days time and arranged to fly down from the North Coast for the occasion.

"Jen, could you get the road map from the glove box please?"

"Sure Darling." Russell was deep in thought when she returned.

"If we head off through Budgewoi to Doyalson," He traced the route with a pencil on the map spread out on the table. "Instead of turning back onto the Pacific Highway and going through Newcastle, we can head through Wyee along the Branxton road. This will bring us out just north of Hexham." The pencil made a left turn at Wyee and headed through Hue Hue and followed a path that swung west of Wyong and up onto the Central Mangrove road. "We double back to the Pacific Highway and follow it north." The pencil traced a route through Wisemans Ferry and Windsor back into Sydney.

It didn't take long for them to pack their bags and as they walked out to the Triumph Russell said, "Let's see how well they picked up that message. With a bit of luck by the time they realise that we have given them the slip it will take them forever to find us."

Once more the Triumph was loping along the road at an easy pace. At Doyalson they both noticed the car parked just north of the intersection, its driver sitting pensively, head resting in his hand talking into the microphone it concealed, informing his listeners that the quarry was following the plan by taking the roundabout route north and not heading back to Sydney. He had been prepared to follow them if they had turned back, but as they hadn't it was no longer necessary, so, signing off he drove slowly back towards Wyong.

46

If the American Consul in Sydney had thought that life would quickly return to normal he was very much mistaken. The phone had woken his afternoon reverie. "I have just had another interesting discussion with the Foreign Affairs Minister. He has again accused us of complicity in the bombing of the Hilton Hotel. When I tried once more to assure him that his information was inaccurate he read from a statement obtained from one of your hot shots which was an admission that the whole plan was put together by the CIA and was a combination of a plan to upset the conference and one of revenge against the British. Now what do you say to that?"

"Shit!"

"That's just about what I said. Now do you know what he said to me then?"

"No, what?"

"He told me that if you were not replaced immediately the Australian government will release a statement to the effect that you have been involved in acts of espionage against the people of Australia and have been declared 'Persona non Gratia'. When I raised the subject of the present government's tenure he invited me to do my damnedest."

"Are you going to allow him to dictate to you like that?"

"Do I have any choice? You will be replaced and a statement will be released to the press that you had to return to the US for 'personal reasons'."

"Who do you have in mind as my replacement?"

"Someone with a little more experience than you have. She should be just about there as we speak."

On cue his assistant came into the office followed by a woman in a wheel chair. "Sir, may I introduce Miss Gloria Solomon. She doesn't have an appointment but has given me a note which compelled me to admit her."

"You must be kidding." The Consul said just loud enough for the Ambassador to hear before hanging up. Turning to Miss Solomon he held out his hand. "A pleasure to meet you at last."

"I would have preferred it not to be this way, but unfortunately we have something of a mess to clean up."

"What do you know of what has happened?"

"Probably more than you. This is strictly between you and me, but I have been in charge of CIA operations in Australia for the last ten years."