by Ray Scott
That was where Robert Bramble came in. Their first acquaintance had been at secondary school where Bramble was a few years older than Wallace and as a senior boy had often asserted his right to twist the arm of any more junior boys in the playground who were unlucky enough to stray within reach, including that of Wallace!
Their next meeting came about at the time Bramble was a junior executive in ASIO. Wallace had recognised him at once when he also joined the organisation; Bramble had not changed much since his arm twisting days and, having some semblance of seniority, tended to boss people around, including Wallace. He was dark haired, with a few flecks of grey, which was nothing to do with worrying or his life style, Bramble’s father had been grey haired when still a fairly young man though Bramble appeared to have avoided that fate. Bramble also had a hooked nose that was quite distinctive and a self important look. He adopted ASIO as a career where Wallace did not.
Their next crossing of paths came one cold June night when Wallace gave a motivational speech as a guest speaker at a Rotary Convention and Bramble, now a senior ASIO operative, was in the audience. After the Rotary meeting ended, he approached Wallace and re-introduced himself, there was a brief chat, during which Wallace pointedly asked him to stop calling him Josiah, and then they both parted. Wallace was never quite sure why Bramble was in Rotary; he wondered whether he used it for recruiting other mugs like him, unless Bramble suspected the organisation of engaging in nefarious activities. Two months later he approached Wallace out of the blue and asked him to do a small job for him, involving delivery of a package, when Wallace next went to the USA. Wallace refused.
He came round to see Wallace again two days later and insisted, promising him a small fee, and the chance of more work. To show his good faith, he landed Wallace an assignment at the annual general meeting of a large and well known Australian company. They wanted a light hearted speech delivered at their annual convention, based on their own industry, to break up an otherwise dreary sequence of serious business presentations. Apparently they supplied electronic equipment to ASIO so there was some connection there.
His ability to assist with procuring business persuaded Wallace to agree to help Bramble, and thereafter it became an irregular thing. Wallace would keep him posted as to his itinerary and Bramble would find small deliveries or collections for him to undertake.
‘Why don’t you use your own people,’ Wallace had once asked him when they were having a coffee in the open air section of a Canberra coffee house.
‘What own people?’ Bramble had answered sardonically.
‘What sodding government, especially those oriented to the Left, will allocate sufficient funds to its intelligence organisation?’
‘Surely our government does,’ Wallace had retorted. ‘You must have unlimited access to funds.’
‘Don’t talk bloody crap!’ Bramble had snorted bitterly. ‘Bloody Labor Governments think we are secret police oppressing the workers and spying on the unions, while Liberal Governments look nervously over their shoulders while they give us inadequate hand outs from Consolidated Revenue which is ostensibly for something else when they think Labor aren’t looking.’
He paused for breath in the middle of his tirade to sample his coffee.
‘All we’re good for is to be whipping boys whenever the CIA foul something up, there’s a Russian spy scandal or we invade somebody’s home looking for bomb making materials. When we had that bloody balls up at the Sheraton all those years ago we actually had the Victorian Labor government trying to have the names of our people publicised which would have blown their cover forever and wasted millions of dollars expended on their training! Don’t talk to me about fucking governments!’
Such had been the bitterness of his response that Wallace had let the matter ride, frankly he had some sympathy with much of what Bramble said.
Wallace had been asked to deliver a motivational speech to a convention that was being organised by the insurance industry and was being held in Singapore, and with the situation of the insurance industry as it was at that time they probably needed motivation. The industry was jittery and tending to tip large numbers of their workforces into the street clutching retrenchment cheques immediately after, or probably just before, the release of their annual statements.
Why the insurance industry selected Singapore for an industry conference was puzzling, unless they were hoping to stimulate re-insurance business from that sector, or maybe the strip clubs were more discreet.
The preparation for Wallace’s presentation was going well, he was arranging for some visual aids encompassing cartoons and drawings that should go down well. He called upon Laurie Frazer, an old friend and former work colleague who was the Assistant Manager at the Saturn Insurance, to check with him to see if he thought they were all right.
‘I can’t see much wrong with those,’ Frazer said as he riffled through them. ‘But you should make some adjustments to the features of the face of the character in this cartoon. It bears a strong resemblance to last year’s Insurance Institute President. It could be misconstrued.’
They went to lunch, and Frazer paid.
‘How is life at home?’ Frazer asked Wallace.
‘Non-existent,’ was Wallace’s bitter reply. ‘She’s gone, or more correctly, I’ve gone! It just became impossible; you know her and what she’s like. She is still living in our flat in St Kilda. This was about a year ago, it was inevitable’.
Laurie said nothing, he merely grunted and nodded. He knew Elsie Wallace formerly Elsie Palmer, he had never liked her and he clearly thought his friend was better off without her.
Wallace had been married for about four years; somehow he fell into it perhaps dazzled by her good looks and a perfect figure. But Elsie had one defect, she had much conversation and it was mainly limited to pedantic statements and a total inability to admit that she was wrong about anything, plus a penchant to be rude to people. He had believed that after a few years he may have been able to soften her aggressive attitude a little but had regretfully to admit failure.
She also had the feminist outlook. Wallace didn’t disagree with many feminist aims but he objected when it reached the stage where anything he said was carefully analysed and dissected to try and isolate some imagined chauvinism.
There were several bust ups resulting in short separations, Wallace’s work in latter days on the speaking circuits had made that inevitable, often he was away for weeks at a time. The final break had come when one of their neighbours, a lady of like ilk, had reported to Elsie that she had seen Wallace in a city restaurant with an attractive brunette.
Ironically it had been true, but it was a business lunch with a business contact, his agent, Christine Norton, who had been instrumental in arranging many presentations for him, the lunch had taken place while they had been discussing a prospective presentation to a company seminar in Perth, Western Australia. It was even more ironic that her sexual preferences were rumoured to be on the eccentric side, which made the accusation of having an assignation even more ridiculous.
Despite these obvious disqualifications for an affair being in progress, Elsie refused to amend her initial reaction, and had flounced out in high dudgeon, no doubt expecting Wallace to crawl back uttering abject apologies and bearing gifts. But by then he had had enough of the incessant arguments and accusations of chauvinism, so they separated officially and Wallace moved into a bachelor flat in South Yarra.
The aforesaid Perth assignment had come up, while there he had picked up one or two more speaking engagements, plus some temporary work with an insurance company claims department brought about by a plethora of claims caused by a torrential rainstorm that flooded several suburbs. Consequently Wallace had not returned to Melbourne for about six weeks.
‘The divorce came through recently,’ Wallace added. ‘I haven’t seen her since then.’
‘Sorry Harry,’ Laurie shook his head, ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘Don’t be,’ Walla
ce replied. ‘Best thing that could have happened, for both of us.’
Chapter 2
It was very hot as Wallace booked into the Ming Court Hotel in Singapore, the heat seemed to shimmer from the pavement and hit with a sledgehammer. His bags were collected and taken up in the lift by a porter, and not for the first time he marvelled at the “No Tipping Allowed” sign. It made a refreshing change from avaricious London taxi drivers and virtually everyone who offered a personal service in the United States.
He revelled in the luxury of a shower and then set to work on his presentation. He was determined that this one was going to be a good one, one of his best, because he knew there would be a few in the audience that he knew from his days in the industry. Laurie Frazer called when he was finishing the second run through; Wallace was pleasantly surprised to see him in Singapore.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’ Wallace asked.
‘I didn’t know myself,’ Frazer replied. ‘My boss was called away to London at the last minute and it seemed pointless wasting the air ticket.’
Wallace went over later to the Convention Centre to check everything, he knew from bitter experience that it paid to check everything. Taking other people’s word for it that everything was in working order was a short cut to disaster.
He discovered that there was no spare light globe for the overhead projector so he asked the head porter to obtain two spares. The porter looked blank and clearly didn’t know what Wallace was talking about, and when he did he had no idea where there were any spares. So Wallace went out into the nearest shopping centre and purchased two, taking care to slip them into his shirt pocket, avoiding the side pockets of trousers or jacket. He had lost light globes like that before when placing a hip against a stiff door to open it.
He had a few drinks with Laurie Frazer that night plus two of his cronies who had arrived by the afternoon flight. From their conversation the current insurance industry in Australia did not inspire confidence, far too many companies servicing too few people.
‘If we had a population twice our size we’d be OK,’ lamented Dick Prowse, a manager from the Renown Fire & General.
‘If we had a population twice our size we’d be starving and dying of thirst,’ retorted Laurie.
They went around the town and had a rickshaw ride in the stifling heat, though there was a pleasant breeze as dusk fell. They visited the Raffles Bar and finally returned to the hotel the worse for wear.
Wallace gave the presentation another run through and manipulated the overhead projector slides. This was useful as he found two of them had got out of order. He found that his diction was slurring a little, so he ran through it again and pronounced himself satisfied. Then he turned in at 1.00 am.
The meeting was in session when Wallace arrived at the Convention Centre, this was the morning session and there would then be lunch followed by his own presentation. There was a separate room allocated for visiting performers, there had been a Chinese comedian at dinner the previous evening. Wallace was somewhat intrigued to know what direction the humour of a Chinese comedian would take, and resolved to ask Laurie later.
Wallace was placed between the President and the Past-President, and had to agree with Laurie that the latter would definitely have been associated with the original edition of the offending cartoon and was thankful he had altered it.
‘I gather that there are some problems within the insurance profession,’ Wallace said to the President as a conversation starter.
‘Yes, we are presently having difficulties, in Victoria in particular, with the collapse of a large insurer,’ said the President. ‘They had been undercutting for years which affected all of us as we had to cut rates to obtain new business or save some business connections, now they have gone we have a period of adjustment. We’ve also had severe bush fires that encroached upon some suburban areas last year. There are other factors of course.’
‘I heard about an insurer that collapsed when somebody embezzled most of its funds.’
The President nodded.
‘There was also the case of another UK company where someone bought the Australian branch but it collapsed shortly afterwards. Both of these discrepancies occurred some years ago now. Regrettably there have been other cases, they have not helped the industry at all.’
The conversation moved onto Wallace’s presentation, he was feeling nervous, as he usually did prior to a presentation, and began to perspire. The screen was not in view but was behind the curtain on the stage. The overhead projector was in sight and – as at 8.00 am – worked all right. He checked in his pockets for the spare light globes, they were still there.
There were many faces in the audience that were clearly from the local scene, and some that were from Indonesia and the Philippines. Wallace was not sure whether these countries had private insurance industries or whether the business was run by the state so he asked the question.
When the meal was finished and the coffee cups were in evidence, the President rose to his feet.
‘Could we ask you to vacate the room, gentlemen and re-convene at 2.30? This will give time for the furniture to be shuffled around and the room prepared for the presentation to be delivered by Mr Wallace.’
As Wallace entered the bar of the hotel later that night he felt as if he were walking on air. After the presentation people had come up to shake him by the hand and congratulate him upon a job well done. As he stood at the bar, and later when seated at a table quaffing drinks with Laurie Frazer, Dick Prowse and others, people sought him out and made kind remarks about the delivery and presentation.
Everything had gone well and in the main the jokes had gone down well – apart from one which he had hastily slurred over when it was clear that laughter was not forthcoming. This happened in most presentations, that joke or aside that had brought the house down the last time could fall like a lead balloon the next. As the French would say, spreading their hands out in Gallic resignation: – c’est la vie!
Wallace was royally entertained until late that night, when he finally turned in he slept the sleep of satisfaction that is only born of a task well done.
It was hot and sultry when Wallace disembarked at Jakarta, even hotter than it had been in Singapore. He decided to take a taxi to the hotel. If ASIO or ASIS was going to hire his services then they could pay for the privilege. He was beginning to entertain feelings of dissatisfaction with Bramble, although these jobs were simple and were little more than messenger drops or pick ups, there was always the fear at the back of his mind of being apprehended. He had never forgotten the case of GrevilleWynn, a businessman who had carried out odd jobs of a similar nature for MI 6 when he went overseas on trade assignments. He had carried out one job too many and had been arrested at a trade exhibition. He finished up in the Lubyanka Prison for a lengthy term until he was eventually swapped for some Soviet agent M.I.5 had previously apprehended and jailed.
He told the driver to head for the Hotel Indonesia and settled back in the rear seat. Bramble had told Wallace to call in at the Australian Embassy, a natural enough place to call if he was in the city on business. He had been told to book an appointment with a local Jakarta agency who would allocate an assignment that would assist contact with their courier. It was best that the assignment came from an outside agency even if it was pre-ordained, the embassy did not wish to be directly involved. At the embassy Wallace was to see the Military Attaché who would brief him as to what was expected.
As the cab threaded its way through the streets he was struck by the vast numbers of people, the streets and pavements seemed to be packed with humanity. He was also aware of a slight smell of rotting vegetation. The grandfather of one of his colleagues had visited Jakarta many years before; he had said that the smell had reminded him of the stench of the trenches of the First World War. After many years it was far better now, but Wallace could see what he had meant.
The areas passed through were a mixture of high rise buildings and shan
ty town, not unlike Singapore where modern developments were banishing the old style buildings that had been there for centuries. That the new architecture was interesting there was no doubt, and similar edifices could be seen anywhere from Paris, Sydney, New York and London.
The cab finally entered the centre of the city and pulled up outside an impressive building with a glass facade. Wallace clambered out onto the pavement and superintended the dumping of luggage at the feet of the porter, handed the cabbie a note which he accepted and then drove off with a crash of gears before there was any question of giving change. The cases were loaded onto a trolley and were forced through to what appeared to be crowds of pedestrians to reach the front entrance.
‘Wallace,’ he said tersely to reception, they ticked off his name and the porter was handed a room key, they entered the nearest lift and went up to the 9th floor.
The room was good, maybe better than the room recently vacated in Singapore. Wallace resolved to eat meals within the hotel as he had no wish to contract the Jakarta Dribbles because of unwise eating. He remembered Clive Passay, an old friend who made frequent trips overseas servicing boilers, saying that in foreign climes one ate only in the best places, and even then one was not immune. Diarrhoea and Jakarta, he alleged, were synonymous and if troubles of that nature were contracted the best policy was not to cough or sneeze. Happiness, as Clive remarked on his return from one of his various overseas trips, was a dry fart!
He decided to defer the visit to the Australian Embassy until the next day, and took a stroll through the city streets, starting his wanderings at 7.30 pm after finishing the evening meal and soon could feel the perspiration beginning to soak into his shirt.
He walked around the shopping centre, taking care not to loiter too long at any one particular shop or stall, not being in the mood for being accosted and touted by over excitable shop-keepers. He was looked upon as fair game by a few touters; one fellow simply would not let up and actually followed him around the corner as he sought safety in flight. Wallace assumed he was near to his closing time and wanted one last customer before placing the shutters up for the night.