Cassidy

by Morris West

  ‘We’re right in the heartland here, Mr. Gregory – old money, new power structures, oligarchies that reach round the continent and across the oceans: banking, insurance, oil, metals and – always and everywhere – the law; you and I and the silks and the judges… So, as you have observed, one has to learn some pretty nifty jigs and reels.’

  ‘Charlie Cassidy must have been in his element here.’

  ‘He was, though God knows how he got past the committee in those days. The old rules used to be: no Catholics, no Irish, no Jews need apply.’

  ‘If I know the old bastard, he dealt his way in.’

  ‘I’m sure. More deals have been set in this dining-room than the chef has set jellies.’

  ‘What sort of deals?’

  ‘You name it: development permits, mineral leases, Government supply contracts, how much it would cost for an advance look at the prosecution case and how much for a nolle prosequi from the Crown, the going rate for a knighthood when knighthood was in flower.’

  ‘And the public wears it like a clean shirt!’

  ‘Because, my dear Mr. Gregory, there’s no such animal as the public. There’s only Tom and Jane and Dick and Mary. So long as they’re nuzzling in the food trough, or getting laid, or trying to win a fortune at the races, they couldn’t give a damn – until, of course, one of their kids gets busted for drugs or dies of an overdose or tries to make an easy five thousand on the mule run to Bangkok and cops twenty years in a Thai prison! Then they scream blue murder; but the screaming stops long before election time, when the Government pumps money into housing or mounts a purge of the police force, which will halt the day it disappears from the front page. Here, take a look at the menu.’

  It wasn’t hard to choose: Sydney rock oysters, a salad of lobster tail, a superfine Chardonnay to help it down. Flushed with the comfort of the meal, I made bold to offer a criticism of his thesis.

  ‘We all know what’s happening. I’m far enough into Cassidy’s files to have some idea of the scale. But just suppose you or I were elected Premier of this State tomorrow on a reform ticket. Where and how would we start to clean house?’

  ‘Fair question, my friend. But naïve, terribly naïve.’ He took his time disposing of an oyster and a sip or two of Chardonnay. ‘The answer is simple. You don’t start anything, anywhere, until you’re forced to it. The first priority is to pay your debts: Cabinet appointments, jobs for friends and friends of the friends. You have to get them in place first, otherwise you’re out there naked and shaggy as a cormorant on a rock! Then, just as you’re feeling safe, you become aware that the distance between you and the Tom, Dick and Mary who voted you into office is longer than a trip to the moon. You also become aware of a vast army of bureaucrats whose sole function is to be sure you don’t do anything rash – or, preferably, anything at all. Think of the inertia in that vast mass of people and paper. Think of the force necessary to budge it even one centimetre. Take an example: you know your Police Commissioner is bent. You really would like to get rid of him. The first thing you need is evidence. You don’t call for it yourself. Protocol – and animal cunning – say you call for it from the Minister for Police. He doesn’t have it; he’d be nuts if he did; but he promises to see what’s in the file. Then he discovers the file is in circulation. When he gets it back it’s mysteriously incomplete. He promises an immediate investigation to find the missing items… Do I go on?’

  ‘No. I get the picture.’

  ‘That’s just the inertia element. What about the other elements: the collusive, the conspiratorial, the venal, the threatening? You have to deal with them all, while you open fêtes and make policy statements about health, education, cost of living, drunken driving, the plight of the farmers… until the day comes when you realise that that’s the only way the game can be played. You let the cancer run its course while you’re scratching the itch in the crotch of society.’

  ‘Counsels of despair, Mr. Rebus?’

  ‘No, Mr. Gregory. A lesson in realpolitik. You see that white haired gentleman in the corner, with the three younger men? That’s Gerry Downs. The one on his right is his Editor-in-Chief. The one on the left is his in-house counsel. The fourth is…’

  ‘Micky Gorman, by God! Isn’t this rather a public place for a conference? Doesn’t Downs have a private dining-room at his newspaper?’

  ‘Of course, but he likes to be public from time to time.’

  ‘Did you know he’d be here today?’

  ‘How could I? Pure chance. But it might be fun to say hullo to them on the way out. Micky doesn’t like me very much – and I took a million and a half from Gerry Downs in an out-of-court libel settlement last year. It’s on appeal, but he hasn’t a hope in hell of winning… By the way, how’s the lobster?’

  The lobster was tasting better with every mouthful. I liked this Arthur Rebus and his chameleon personality and his bristling, prickly humour. For the first time since my return to my homeland, I began to feel less lonely and more relaxed. I said as much to Rebus. He grinned and raised his glass.

  ‘Relax – that’s the magic word. What’s Cassidy to you or you to Cassidy any more? He’s left your family a tidy fortune, which may turn out bigger than you think. You’re not responsible for his misdeeds. You don’t have to write apologies for the man – though a hundred words of protest against Gerry Downs mightn’t go amiss. You know: “De mortiis nil nisi bonum – and respect the privacy of the family.” That sort of thing. I’d say two weeks will see me ready to take over the estate. Then you can go home.’

  ‘I’m not sure it’s going to be as simple as that.’

  ‘Why not? I have your power of attorney. I can do whatever is needed.’

  ‘I was thinking of Marius Melville.’

  ‘Ah yes!’ said Arthur Rebus. ‘Ah yes! I had rather left him out of my calculations. He’s a horse of a different colour – and he could be a Trojan nag full of nasty surprises. Certainly you have to meet Melville before you can decide anything about the offshore holdings. I’d like to meet him, too, if it seems appropriate. But if the offshore situation looks messy, I don’t want to know about it, much less touch it… Now, let’s have coffee and then we’ll go pass the time of day with Gerry Downs and Micky Gorman.’

  It was a brief but edgy little ceremony. Arthur Rebus said, ‘Hullo, Gerry. Hullo, Micky.’

  Gerry Downs said, ‘Hullo, Arthur.’

  Micky Gorman flushed and said, ‘Hullo, Arthur. Hullo, Martin. This is a surprise.’

  Arthur Rebus said, ‘Gerry, I thought you should meet our new client, Martin Gregory, married to Charlie Cassidy’s daughter. Martin, this is our great press baron, Gerry Downs.’

  Gerry Downs’ greeting was cool: ‘I heard you were in town, Mr. Gregory.’

  Arthur Rebus said genially, ‘I’m handling the probate arrangements and, of course, representing the general interests of Cassidy’s legatees.’

  Gerry Downs took the point. He said to me: ‘We’re doing a four-part series in our weekend magazine on Charlie’s career. It starts next Saturday. It’s not exactly a hymn of praise, but I’d be happy to send you advance proofs – in case you’d like to check the family background material for accuracy.’

  Rebus grinned and shook his head. ‘I couldn’t advise my client to accept the offer. You have your own editors, your own legal advisers. Micky here knows the family background inside out, don’t you, Micky? I’m sure you’ll be very careful about what you print. But we have to preserve the position of the family, especially Cassidy’s daughter and the minor children.’

  ‘Sure you do,’ said Gerry Downs easily.

  ‘However, we appreciate the offer.’ Rebus added an amiable afterthought. ‘I’d like to return the favour. If I were you, Gerry, I’d give up Chinese Checkers for a while. I hear the game could get rough, very quickly.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll remember it,’ said Gerry Downs. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr. Gregory.’

  As we walked out into the sunshine I asked Rebus the
meaning of the last cryptic exchange. He explained, a little ruefully: ‘Like a lot of public moralists, Gerry Downs is embarrassed by his private vices. Gambling’s one of them. Heavy games with heavy players. One of his cronies is Harry Yip Soong, who is being shaken down by a rival triad. Harry won’t pay – so he’s liable to get a bomb under his car or a fire in his basement. I’d rather Gerry Downs didn’t get hit before I collect for my client. Besides…’ he said it with a laugh, ‘he’s a fellow clubman.’

  ‘So was Charlie Cassidy.’

  ‘Death cancels all debts – and most loyalties.’

  ‘You’re a portentous bastard, Mr. Rebus.’

  ‘I’ve just fed you a good lunch, Mr. Gregory. At least you can be polite to me.’

  Our next call was at Cassidy’s house. Marco Cubeddu received us with cautious formality. He loosened up a little when I explained that the Signor Rebus was a colleague whom I had appointed to deal with the formalities in respect of his legacy. Arthur Rebus completed the seduction by explaining, in very passable Italian, the procedures involved and by copying into his notebook the personal details of Marco and his wife. Marco, who had the Italians’ awe of advocates and medicos, was much impressed and confided to me that ‘this one seems a good type – a man of trust’.

  Finally, we were at the butt-end of a long, talky day. We arranged to meet on the morrow to work through Cassidy’s file; then Rebus went back to his office while I returned to the Town House to make my call to Pat and the family in Klosters. It was breakfast time for them.

  ‘We’re sitting here like royalty,’ Pat told me, ‘with a cook and two other servants and a big Mercedes in the garage. Provisions are delivered. We have a number to ring in Zurich in case of emergency. I’ve booked the kids and myself into ski-school. Mother’s American scholar has turned up and is lodged in the guest chalet… and I’m missing you very, very much, darling. When do you expect to come home?’

  ‘Very soon. Old Julian Steiner has found me a good man to handle the probate details… There are, however, some other matters I don’t want to discuss on the telephone. Before they can be settled I have to meet with Marius Melville. After that, please God, I’ll be on the next flight home. Where I’m sitting now it’s lonely and draughty… By the way, there’s something you should know. Your father had a mistress.’

  ‘That’s no news. He had quite a few over the years. Who’s this one?’

  ‘A Thai lady. Cassidy made her a partner in one of his offshore enterprises.’

  ‘You’ve met her then. What’s she like?’

  ‘Good looking, well educated, well connected in her homeland. She’ll present no problem as far as your legacies are concerned. But she has a child by Cassidy, a daughter about sixteen, who’s being educated in Switzerland.’

  There was a moment’s silence; then she laughed a little unsteadily.

  ‘Well! That’s a good item for the breakfast session.’

  ‘I didn’t want to tell you until I got home; but, equally, I didn’t want you to get it second-hand. I don’t know whether the press has it or not. It’s a bit of a shock, but…’

  ‘Not at all, darling!’ She was in control again now. ‘I have a Siamese sister. What’s surprising in that? Is she prettier than I am?’

  ‘I’ve only seen a photograph – and you’re much the prettier.’

  ‘Well, what can I say? Daddy was always full of surprises. Clare will be interested, but I doubt she’ll lose any sleep over it… Just make sure you don’t develop a taste for Thai ladies!’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous.’

  ‘You’d better believe it, Martin Gregory. A wandering daddy was bad enough. I couldn’t wear a playboy husband. Come home soon, please!’

  ‘As soon as I can.’

  ‘You haven’t told me anything about what you’re doing.’

  ‘I don’t want to discuss it on an open line.’

  ‘You sound troubled.’

  ‘I’m feeling my way through a maze, not knowing who or what is going to pop out of the bushes around the next corner… Yes, you could say I’m troubled.’

  ‘Please darling, do try to relax a little. Call some of our old friends…’

  ‘I’ll get round to it… Let me talk to the kids, then I’ll come back to you.’

  It was pleasant to talk to the children, comforting to know that the family circle was still unbroken and that, so far, no malign influence had invaded it. But the comfort was brief and when I put down the receiver I felt more isolated than ever before. The evening stretched before me, bleak and barren as a desert. Then the telephone rang, startling in the silence. When I picked up the receiver, a woman’s voice said, ‘Hold a moment, please. Mr. Erhardt Möller is calling from Manila.’

  The name meant nothing to me. The voice that spoke was heavily accented – perhaps too accented to be genuine.

  ‘Mr. Gregory, you don’t know me. My name is Erhardt Möller. I am a business associate of the late Charles Cassidy.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We had regular transactions which are on record in Mr. Cassidy’s files.’

  ‘I am not aware of such transactions – at least, I have not yet come across them.’

  ‘You will. This call is to put you on notice that you are holding to my account a certain quantity of chemical products, stones to a high value, an assortment of currencies. I shall call on you within ten days to take delivery.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t…’

  ‘I’m sure you can, Mr. Gregory. I’m sure you will… You have ten days to check the records and establish my entitlement. Remember the name: Erhardt Möller, from Manila. Goodnight.’

  That was the last jolt I needed, at the end of a long day. Arthur Rebus was still working at his office. I gave him the news and suggested we fly the next morning to Canberra to see the Federal Police Commissioner. He promised to call the man and get back to me within half an hour. If we were going he would book the tickets. Then I called Miss Larsen at the Melmar Marquis and waited an age while they sounded her bleeper through the marble halls.

  I told her: ‘Things are happening fast. Tell your father I need an immediate meeting. I’m choosing the place: the Oriental Hotel, Bangkok. Ask him what he knows about one Erhardt Möller, who has just called me from Manila, claiming that I’m holding money and valuables to his account. He’ll be here to collect in ten days…’

  ‘I’ll call Father right away.’ She was terse and businesslike but there was an edge of anxiety to her voice. ‘I also think you should move here, tonight. I’ll book you a suite with a harbour view – at concession rates! Our limousine will call for you at eight-thirty.’

  It was a tempting offer and I was almost ready to accept when the phone in my bedroom rang. I asked Laura to hold while I took the call. Arthur Rebus was on the line.

  ‘We’re booked on the eight a.m. flight to Canberra. A police car will meet us at the airport. The Commissioner is eager to talk. He knows Mr. Erhardt Möller, who it seems is a very nasty customer. He thinks you need protection, which he’s happy to offer.’

  I told him Laura Larsen was on the other line with a similar proposal. He said curtly, ‘Stay on your own turf. No more favours from Melville or his daughter. Insist on the meeting with Melville by all means. And Bangkok is a good place, because the Federal Police have a strong contingent of narcotics people working there. But I repeat: no more favours and no more footsies with the Lady Laura. I’ll pick you up at the hotel at seven in the morning.’

  He hung up and I went back to Laura Larsen. I saw no reason to lie to her, so I told her half the truth.

  ‘I’m in discussions with a new law firm who I think can handle the probate of Cassidy’s will. That was one of the senior partners. I’m flying to Canberra with him in the morning. When I come back, we’ll talk about a change of lodging. Meantime, how soon can you get in touch with your father?’

  ‘Right away if I’m lucky. It’s mid-morning in Zurich. Stay by the phone.’


  ‘And don’t forget to ask him about Erhardt Möller.’

  ‘I won’t. But Martin… ?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Father may suggest some other meeting place. What do I tell him?’

  ‘Tell him as politely as you can that he’s the buyer and I’m a very reluctant seller, and I’m sick of dancing to other people’s music. It’s the Oriental Hotel, Bangkok.’

  ‘You have had a bad day, haven’t you?’ She was very quiet.

  ‘I’ve known better.’

  ‘We could have dinner, if you like.’

  ‘I like. I like very much and I thank you for the sweet thought; but until your father and I have met, we won’t know whether we’re allies or enemies, will we?’

  ‘Now you sound exactly like Charlie Cassidy.’

  ‘Some people seem to think I’m already wearing his shoes.’

  ‘If you are, be sure you’re big enough to fill them… Stay in your room. I’ll call you back.’

  She didn’t call. She came an hour later in person. She brought a telexed confirmation of my flight to Bangkok on Thai Airways and the reservation of the Graham Greene suite, four days hence. She also informed me that her father had never had any dealings with Erhardt Möller who, as he put it, ‘belonged on Cassidy’s side of the wire’. By easy inference, he was my pigeon and I had to eat him or choke on the feathers. By an even easier deduction, I owed the lady a dinner and an apology for my ill-temper. She refused the one and shrugged off the other with a wry grin.

  ‘I don’t blame you, Martin. I’m sorry for you. You’re swimming between the rock and the whirlpool – and you can’t trust the lights or the landmarks or the voices… But I beg you to believe I’ve been honest with you.’

  ‘I do believe that.’

  ‘So try to understand this: the only picture my father has of you is the one Cassidy gave him. I’ve tried to add my own touches to the portrait. I haven’t been very successful, because women’s comments on family business are not very welcome. However, I was able to explain the pressure you’re under. You’ve won your point; my father agrees to the meeting in Bangkok. But he’ll make you pay for the concession. So be very careful, Martin, very watchful… And try to make some gesture of respect…’