The Operators

by Barry Heard

  Using at most six seconds of transmission time. Only the first letter of the word ‘don’t’ was significant. It signified that d represented the number 1.

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  Here’s an example using this code to encrypt something you’ll be familiar with, a birthdate:

  23.05.1948 = og,ea,dhwt

  To communicate that date, the operator would first say, ‘Fraggles, don’t’. Then he would read out the letters representing that date, using the phonetic alphabet — ‘oscar golf echo alpha delta hotel whiskey tango’ — spelt this way for clarity over noisy lines.

  Simple, quick, using at the most eight seconds of transmission time. Clever, safe, precise, and powerful. Although the operators rarely used these codes, when they did, these codes were vital.

  Chapter 23

  It was the small hours, barely morning, following the day that Wally had spoken to Basil at the golf club. His phone buzzed, and he jumped — at last!

  He had been sitting, waiting in his hotel room, staring at the code he had created, the code that had enabled him to send Basil his phone number via a text message. Wally had a new phone number, 0840952280199, for the phone that Diyab’s friend had set up. Wally had understood the need to send it in code — just in case those crims had Basil’s number, had some way of monitoring his messages.

  Fraggles was his lifeline. Using the Fraggles code, walk the dog, seeded in his conversation — ‘Is Fraggles okay, Basil?’ — the phone number became ‘dhadelgghdoee’. Wally had checked the interpretation many times before he sent it.

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  When the message reached Basil, he was sitting on a tram in Melbourne after purchasing two phones from a second-hand phone shop in Brunswick. No contract, unlocked, three-month warranty, and limited accessories; the phone only suitable for calls and sending messages — perfect. When Basil’s own everday mobile buzzed, the screen flashing ‘Unknown Sender’, Basil nearly cheered. The message was short: ‘dhadelgghdoee’. Basil nodded.

  Grabbing his notebook, he wrote down ‘walk the dog’, tracing over the letter o to make it bold. Beneath the o, he wrote the number 1.

  Less than two minutes later, he had it: 0840952280199. He picked up one of the second-hand phones and immediately sent Wally a return message: ‘DARCY mate.’

  When Wally’s phone buzzed, though the sending number was blocked, he knew the message was from Basil. The message was simple: two words. He smiled — well done, Basil.

  He waited. Twenty seconds later, his phone buzzed again, another message, except this message was a jumbled-up series of ten letters: ‘shcl kkt bam’. It took Wally six minutes to decode.

  The word ‘DARCY’ hinted at the word ‘blacksmith’, with the first letter of ‘mate’ pointing to number 1.

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  To explain:

  Les Darcy was born near Maitland, New South Wales, in 1895. He started boxing as an amateur at age fifteen and quickly turned professional. He won his first sixteen fights before challenging the veteran Bob Whitelaw for the Australian welterweight title. Darcy lost the twenty-round decision, but, in a rematch, knocked Whitelaw out in five rounds. Darcy became embroiled in the politics of conscription during World War I, and left Australia for the United States to avoid the aggravation. He became the best boxer of his time — the champion, a hero. He died at age twenty-one.

  During their infantry training prior to embarkation, Wally and his mates had done three months at Singleton Army Base. On leave, they frequently visited Maitland. Les Darcy was the town’s icon, and most of the blokes became interested in this amazing young athlete. Prior to his boxing career, he had spent three years as a blacksmith.

  ‘blacksmith’ — a very powerful word when coding. Ten letters, all different.

  After Basil and Wally exchanged phone numbers, Basil, still on the tram, rang Harry and David, another close mate, confirming that all was organised. Basil met David at his house and Harry outside Caulfield station. Basil drove them to Stratford. All of Wally’s mates were worried about Meredith.

  Meredith stood wide-eyed as Basil’s car stopped beside the old peppercorn tree. She had watched the car turn off the highway and drive down the long lane to the old homestead. The three men got out. All four came together, and the group hug lasted a long time. When they loosened their grip, Meredith was in tears and the men were shaking.

  Basil was the first to speak. ‘Need a cuppa, sweetie, and a chat.’

  Meredith apologised for the untidy house and lack of fresh cakes as she walked across the wide verandah and into the house. Half an hour later, after many topsy-turvy comments and enquiries, things settled. Although the story of what was going on with Wally was still riddled with holes filled with contradictions, they had located him and, for the moment, everything was okay.

  Reaching into his pocket, Basil produced a second-hand phone. He handed it to Meredith along with a notebook and two sheets of paper explaining how to use the phone. Put simply, Meredith could use it to contact Basil, no one else. She would receive updates and other important information. Meredith nodded, it all made sense — until she turned to the second sheet of paper.

  Meredith frowned. Never a computer person, her recent use of Facebook on a new iPad still confounded her sometimes — and now this? The printed page contained information about a website named ‘Australian Stockwhip Collectors’. A set of passwords were given, enabling a verified user to add content to the home page. Finally, there were listings of local businesses, libraries, and other places offering computers with internet c
onnections for public use. These were the only places from which the site’s users, Wally’s mates and family, should access the pages, unless their own computer was certified secure — most unlikely in the limited time frame and with John and Marcus busy.

  Meredith frowned. ‘Why? What has this to do with John and Marcus?’

  Basil turned to David, Marcus’s father. David pointed to the small notebook Basil had handed to Meredith, then spoke. ‘Your son and mine, we need their expertise in computing. Marcus has been in touch with John. I approached Marcus after Basil said Wally wanted to indirectly contact John. He wanted the lads to suggest or give us some ideas on how we could all communicate safely. The phones are most secure, but they lack bandwidth. So I rang Marcus from a friend’s phone and explained roughly what had happened to Wally and the critical necessity for secrecy. Marcus rang your son John. John was shocked but didn’t panic, hasn’t rung me — or you, clearly, which must have been hard. More importantly, these two young geniuses created the Australian Stockwhip Collectors website. A website we can use in the public domain and keep up to date with what’s happening. Access to the home page will be limited to those with an embedded password, the details listed on that print out, Meredith. We all have a copy.’

  David shuffled, again nodding at the small notebook in front of Meredith. He was not a speaker or one to take control, even briefly.

  Meredith flicked through the blank pages of the notebook thoughtfully, then nodded back at the men. ‘Thank you so much. I can’t … No wonder Wally treasures you guys. You certainly have a special bond.’

  The next two hours passed in a flash. Meredith appreciated the brief personal lesson on how to use the phone and website. Even so, there was a lot of gesturing and bemusement, since they couldn’t use an actual computer for their latter demonstration. Finally, with many tears, the men left, returning to Melbourne.

  The creation of the Australian Stockwhip Collectors website by John was an amusing story. No question he had the skills to make it safe, secure, and easy to access by Wally and friends. However, when it came time to name it, he struggled. At the dinner table the night before, he’d mentioned the topic in a general kind of way to his wife — ‘What do I name a website so that no one will visit it?’ His wife shook her head at this eccentricity, and his youngest said, ‘Duh, come on, Dad,’ while the other two kids just giggled. Then his oldest, Fraser, said, ‘Dad, if I was naming a web page no one would visit, I would call it the Robotic Engineers Society. Or the Australian Stockwhip Collectors. Remember Grandpa’s weird collection?’

  John clapped. Little did Fraser realise, his idea was just perfect. Only old farmers collected whips, and how many old farmers were out there — maybe 100?

  That evening saw the Australian Stockwhip Collectors web pages being updated hourly. For anyone visiting the page after a search, the home page would be impressive — stock images of stockwhips, of outback heroes cracking whips, of the man from Snowy River, etc. The heading ‘Australian Stockwhip Collectors’ appeared in rotating 3D. Two important links were displayed in a menu: LOGIN and BECOME A MEMBER. So clever — if a visitor clicked on BECOME A MEMBER, they were directed to an almost blank page stating, ‘Sorry, we are closed temporarily due to a page redesign.’ With an ‘Under Construction’ animated GIF.

  Returning to the home page, if they clicked on LOGIN, the site required the visitor to enter a password. Such a fun password:

  Pig$-c&n-f!y@+7milesanhr

  On being granted access, a user would then be confronted by a second tier of security, this one demanding a numeric code:

  4238873

  Wally’s army number, the wrong way around or back to front.

  And on the other side of this security, there was a bulletin board, elegant but hardened against hacker attack. On this page, Wally’s inner circle would write their plans and express their support, which Wally himself could access and respond to.

  The plans were now well advanced. Basil and David were ready to fly to Karratha ‘for a fishing trip’ — to meet up with John’s workmate Adam. Harry was organised to fly to Tunggul Wulung Airport, in Cilicap, Java. He was booked in to the three-and-a-half-star City Crown Hotel in Tasikmalaya for $27 a night — which caused a stir when Basil mentioned he was paying $35 a day to leave his car at the long-term car park at Melbourne Airport.

  Adam was key to their movements: he was ex-SAS, and the only person outside the ‘Wally circle’ whom John had turned to for advice. His help, John had believed, correctly, would be both essential and critical. For John had heard Adam mention many times an old friend of his, Rick, the man who had been Adam’s superior officer in the army and was now working in the Australian embassy in Jakarta, in charge of surveillance, security, and secret ops. A powerful job. Between them, Rick and Adam had significantly extended the Vets’ plans.

  Contact had been made via the Australian Stockwhip Collectors. John instructed Basil to make a phone call using the second-hand phone he had purchased. When he was connected, Basil was to state his name, rank, and number, platoon and unit. It was the final request, though, that had Basil shaking his head in amazement: he was asked to state his favourite drink.

  Basil understood why John wanted him to use the secure phone. He understood the need for identification. That all made sense. But his favourite drink, why?

  He jotted down the instructions, closed the computer, and rang the number. The voice at the other end said, ‘Speak.’

  No greeting, enquiry, or name — just speak. Basil gave his name, rank, and number. He gave his platoon and unit. Finally, he named his favourite drink — rum and coke. (Of course! Another ten-letter wonder from Vietnam.)

  Then the voice said, ‘Hold. I will get Gordon for you.’

  Rick Gordon, ex-SAS major, Adam’s old commander, picked up the phone and spoke.

  ‘Hi Basil, it’s Rick here. I’ve spoken to both Adam and Wally’s son John Flannagan and believe I’m up to speed with most of what’s happened. I would like to help for two reasons. First, to get Wally Flannagan home safely. Second, after the matter with Wally is concluded, I may be very interested in the people behind his kidnapping. It appears they are — how can I put this? — cyber hackers at the highest level. Any questions?’

  Basil coughed. ‘How did you know that word drink?’

  ‘I have spoken very briefly to John Flannagan twice. I asked him did he believe he could assist with decoding information from a SIM card. John supposed he might be able to, wait and see. Then we had a chat, mainly about John and Wally; however, he said something that I quickly wrote down. He mentioned how his dad tried to explain codes and secret words one day when he opened up about being a radio operator. John was still at high school. John said he would never forget the discussion, his dad’s clever interpretation of words and how they applied them during his time in Vietnam. At the time, the example Wally gave John was rum and coke, yes, one of your code words, signalled by the word drink.’

  Basil laughed.

  ‘I might ask you for a few other code words I may use if needed,’ said Rick, ‘but let’s move on.’

  The phone call lasted fifteen minutes. Another five calls between Basil, John, and Rick — in total, two hours of conversation — arranged everything: flights, accommodation, time line. The main players in the ‘rescue mission’ would be David, John, Adam, Harry, and Rick, along with Marcus (if it could be coordinated; he lived in Norway). The rest of Wally’s mates, they would offer moral support, and that’s nothing to be sneezed at when you’re in a squeeze.

  Chapter 24

  Reception at the Seasons Hotel rang Wayne Smith’s room. He answered carefully, saying only his room number, and he pretended to talk to another person in his room. The message was delivered: ‘You have a visitor named Dustoff, a Russian.’ Wally told reception to send him up.

  Six hours earlier, he had received a message from Basil on their secret web
page: ‘Expect a visitor, Russian name Dustoff, five slow knocks, two quick on your door.’

  Wally waited.

  The knocks came: five slow, two quick. It was safe to open the door.

  Wally stood looking at a man of maybe fifty, maybe even sixty, very fit and well dressed. The man held out his hand, not to shake Wally’s, but to pass over a card. Wally looked down at the card and smiled — there were no words on it, just a drawing of a pig. 7RAR. Now they shook hands.

  ‘Welcome,’ said Wally.

  ‘My name is Rick, ex-SAS, I believe you’ve read about me. I work in Jakarta, the embassy. We need to get going. First, I must get the phone you have from the train. Leon’s, right? I’ve arranged for its memory to be copied and delivered to our experts. You know some of them. Yes, Wally, your son and David’s son Marcus, plus some men from my surveillance team. All are keen to evaluate the information.’

  Next, he outlined Adam’s role in the plan.

  Finally, he smiled, sat in a chair, and said, ‘White, no sugar. We’ve got about fifteen minutes. Oh, and I am a major, so stand when you speak to me.’

  Wally roared with laughter, patted Rick on the head, and volleyed, ‘An army major with a brain and a sense of humour, now that’s a first. But I’m not convinced — got any more proof?’

  Light banter and merriment continued for a short period. Wally learnt that Rick had been in the army most of his life before moving to the security services. During his time in the army, he’d been wounded twice, lost an eye, and gained a bung leg. Their country trusted Rick, and he had got permission to help Wally with his little problem of having been kidnapped. Permission from the top — the very top.

  Rick asked Wally about his time in Vietnam. Wally said little but mentioned he remembered the SAS.

  ‘We admired those tough bastards, moving in such small numbers, no support. Must have been hard. More importantly, they saved our arses once — we were in big trouble, radios jammed.’