The Republic of Oz

by Ian Wisby

  “Ah, not yet. I’m still about half way through the first batch,” said Ethan. He was sifting through intelligence files that’d been sent over from ASIO, the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation.

  “Alright, keep working on them. There is a threat, we have to find it,” said Mick and Ethan nodded.

  After Mick left, Ethan stopped and looked over at the TV that was on in his office. It was showing a report on the upcoming Independence Day festival.

  As he sat there, his mobile phone started ringing. It was a blocked number and he was reluctant to answer.

  “Detective Cooper,” he answered. There was a brief pause before there was a response. “Hello?”

  “Ethan…It’s me.” Ethan looked confused and stood up, as he recognized the voice.

  “Simon?” It was Simon Harper, Ethan’s former SASR colleague, and officer with ASIO.

  “Yeah, it’s me…We need to talk.”

  “About what? What’s going on, Simon?” he asked, but Simon didn’t reply straight away.

  “I have Intel about a terrorist plot. I need to talk to you in person,” he said. Ethan let out a sigh and looked at his watch.

  “I don’t really have the time, Simon. I’m in the middle of an investigation,” he added.

  “This Intel will help with your investigation…Please, Ethan. Trust me on this,” said Simon. Ethan just let out a sigh, and closed his eyes. Simon was the last person he wanted to see right now, especially after what happened between them the last time.

  “Okay fine, but you’d better not be screwing with me,” he said.

  “I’m not. Meet me at Circular Quay, Wharf Four. Ten minutes,” said Simon.

  The call was disconnected. He thought for a moment and then he quickly picked up his jacket and headed to the door.

  CHAPTER 19

  AFTER GREG AND Nathaniel Manson had collected the package, the two had separated.

  Nathaniel went off to do his own thing, while Greg was left in charge of the package. He had to be very careful with the case, as it contained an improvised explosive device, or IED for short.

  The case he was carrying contained a large quantity of military-grade Semtex, a general purpose plastic explosive, which was both powerful and deadly in the wrong hands.

  Today, Greg was going to demonstrate just how powerful this explosive was.

  Greg was driving across town and after spending about half an hour driving, he’d arrived in the city. His destination; the Sydney Opera House. As he pulled up outside the main entrance to the Opera House, his mobile phone started ringing. “Yes?” he answered.

  “It’s me. What’s your status?”

  “I’ve just arrived. The package will be in place soon.”

  “Good. The President will arrive at the Opera House shortly.”

  “Don’t worry, Sir. It’ll be taken care of. Is my payment ready?”

  “As soon as the job is carried out, the rest of your money will be transferred. Make me proud, Mr. Hughes.” Greg smiled, and then hung up.

  Since it was a major event, and a lot of high-profile government officials were attending, security was paramount, and private security guards at the entrance way were not taking any chances. Greg was dressed in a pair of blue overalls and wore a safety vest.

  He was posing as a technician, and he was provided with a security pass, courtesy of his employers. He made his way over to the security checkpoint, and presented his ID and access pass. The security guard scanned it. It was cleared.

  “I’m sorry Sir, I’m going to have to search your equipment,” said the guard.

  “It’s just audio equipment. I’m checking the sound system for faulty wires,” said Greg, as he worked through his cover story.

  “I’m aware of that, Mr. Hughes, but this is standard procedure,” said the guard. Greg sighed, but was showing his willingness to cooperate. He placed the case gently on the desk, and unlocked it. The guard stepped in, and lifted up the lid.

  Inside, there were various cables, sound adjustment devices, and testing equipment. Just what an audio technician would be seen with.

  But the guard was curious, and felt all around the case, making sure it was safe. He spent a minute or so doing this, before finally closing the lid.

  “Alright, you’re all clear. Thank you for your cooperation,” he said, and handed the case to Greg, who didn’t look too impressed.

  Dozens of people were already there, celebrating the Australia Day festival. Now that he was cleared through security, Greg made his way over to the staging area, where the new President of Australia would be making her grand speech.

  It was a medium-sized stage, which had been put up specifically for the event. At the front of the stage was a microphone stand and sets of speakers nearby.

  At the back of the stage was a large screen. This was designed to enable those who could not get to the front.

  Greg was treading carefully. Mostly because he was carrying a bomb, but also because he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself.

  There were other technicians working on the stage, and making final adjustments.

  But Greg wasn’t planning on doing any of that. He looked around to see if anyone was watching. He spotted a group of police officers patrolling the area, and making sure things were all clear.

  He waited till they passed, before kneeling down on one knee, and opening up the case. Fortunately, the case had a false bottom. This was where the IED was hidden.

  There were about six big blocks of Semtex, with a triggering device attached. He didn’t need to set a timer, as this device was a pressure-activated bomb. It would detonate when the required amount of pressure was applied on the stage.

  The trick was, placing it in the right position. Greg found the perfect spot, and slipped it in underneath the stage. It was also well hidden from view.

  Once he’d planted the device, all he had to do now, was disappear.

  * * *

  John Bradley was still thinking about the conversation he had with Rick Wilson. He couldn’t believe what he’d said on the phone about Amanda’s fiancé and that he had evidence indicating he had knowledge of Amanda’s death.

  John sat in the back seat of his car and stared out the window, constantly thinking about Amanda. It seemed like they’d been driving forever, but in fact, it’d only been about ten minutes; they’d finally arrived at Sydney’s Hyde Park.

  John got out of the car and made his way through the cast iron gates that made up the park’s entrance.

  He was escorted by his bodyguard Mitch Clark, and they approached the water fountain. There was a park bench next to it and he spotted a man sitting there reading the newspaper.

  He identified who it was straight away and turned back to Mitch. He indicated that he didn’t want him to follow any further.

  Mitch respected his command and stood within proximity. John’s heart was racing the whole time he walked over to the park bench. He sat down an arm’s length away from Rick who wore a brown jacket, as the weather was quite cool.

  It was coming into autumn and most of the trees were losing their leaves. “So, what’s this evidence you have?” asked John. Rick Wilson continued reading his paper.

  “It doesn’t look good John…I found bank statements from your daughter’s fiancé`. It shows he received a sum of two hundred thousand dollars two days after her suicide,” said Rick. John’s eyes widened.

  “Are you saying my daughter’s fiancé` had something to do with her death?”

  “It’s possible. But it doesn’t look good either way. Are you still in contact with him?”

  “No. I haven’t spoken with Andy since the funeral,” said John. “I can’t believe he’s involved.”

  “I don’t know if he is involved or not. But one way or another, he should be treated as suspicious,” said Rick. “Here’s a copy of his recent bank statements. You want me to question him?” John shook his head.

  “No, it’s okay. Andy won’t ta
lk to a private investigator. I’ll confront him myself,” said John. He paused for a moment as someone walked past. “Thanks Rick, I owe you big time,” he added. He reached over, and they shook hands.

  CHAPTER 20

  JOHN COULDN’T GET over what his private detective told him.

  The fact that Amanda’s husband Andrew Shaw received a considerable sum of money two days after her suicide raised some concerning questions. He was going to get to the bottom of this no matter what.

  He was on his way over to Andrew’s apartment, as he knew where he lived. His private bodyguard, Mitch Clark, was a little bit concerned about what John was doing, and he was worried about him. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Sir?” he asked, as they drove. John looked at him.

  “Of course, Mitch. If Rick found evidence suggesting my former son-in-law had something to do with my daughter’s death, then I want to know about it,” he said. Mitch didn’t reply straight away and looked back at the road.

  “I just think it’s a mistake to confront him like this.”

  “Look, I respect you’re thinking of my welfare. But for the last six months I’ve been told that my only daughter committed suicide from a drug overdose,” he said. “There’s one thing that is inconsistent…My daughter never took drugs.” They pulled up to an intersection with a red light.

  There was a pause in the conversation. Just then, Mitch’s phone rang.

  “Mitch Clark,” he answered. “One moment.” Mitch looked over his shoulder and handed the phone to John who was staring out the window again. “Sir, it’s the President.” John quickly took the phone.

  “Hi sweetheart.”

  “Hi…I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I knew you had a meeting with Dr. Scott today,” she said. John smiled.

  “Yes, it was fine. It was good to talk to someone about it.” Charmaine smiled.

  “That’s good. I’ve been thinking about her all morning too,” she said. There was a slight pause in the conversation. “Are you on your way to the residence?” John paused, as he thought about what to say.

  “Ah, not yet no. I have an errand to run first,” he said.

  “Oh, I see…What sort of errand?” she asked. John rolled his eyes.

  “Come on now, Charmaine. Does that really matter?”

  “No, I was just curious. I’m just worried about you, John,” she replied.

  “Thank you, but you don’t need to be. I’m fine…To be honest, I’m going to pay Andy a visit,” he said.

  “Andrew? What for?” she asked, curiously. John let out a sigh.

  “A few months ago, I hired a private detective to look into Amanda’s death…He found some pretty convincing evidence against Andy,” said John.

  “I don’t believe this…You hired a God damn private detective?” she snapped.

  “I had to, Charmaine. The AFP finished their investigation and all they found was that she killed herself from a drug overdose,” said John, abruptly.

  “John, I know you’re still grieving, believe me, as am I. But what you’re doing is borderline paranoia,” said Charmaine.

  “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you about this, Charmaine…Regardless, I’m doing this for my sake…We’ll talk later.”

  “John, please. Talk to me,” she said. But just then, John hung up the phone. The car had stopped. Mitch Clark looked over his shoulder.

  “We’re here Sir,” he said, and John nodded. He got out and made his way over to the front entrance to the apartment building.

  It was a townhouse with a contemporary design. John walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell. A few moments later, it opened, and to his surprise, Andrew Shaw stood there in the door way.

  “Mr. Bradley, this is quite the surprise. What brings you here?” he asked. John just stared at him.

  “I think you know why I’m here, Andy…We need to talk,” he said.

  “Sure, come on in.” Andrew showed him in. They made their way down the wooden floorboard corridor and ended up in the kitchen. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” he asked.

  “No, thank you. I won’t be staying long…I’ve come to ask you about Amanda’s death,” he began. Andrew stopped what he was doing and looked at him.

  “What about it?”

  “Two days after her death, you received a bank transfer of over two hundred thousand dollars…Where the bloody hell did you get it from?” John snapped.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, John. I didn’t receive any such money,” he said. John walked up to him with a stern look on his face.

  “I know you’re lying, Andy. Who gave you that money?” he demanded. Andy let out a sigh.

  “Alright, fine…You want to know where I got that money from?” he said.

  “It was my inheritance, from my father,” he said. John didn’t know what to say to that. “My father passed away six months before Amanda…You know, and the inheritance has only just been processed,” he replied.

  Again, John remained silent. He was somewhat thrown off by all of this. “I realise it’s been tough for you John, but I know what you’re going through.” The room fell silent after that.

  “I’m sorry, Andy…I don’t know what to say,” he said.

  “It’s okay, John. I understand what you were doing, and I’d be doing the exact same thing,” said Andy. They both just stood there, not saying anything.

  * * *

  The Admiralty House was in the suburb of Kirribilli, on the northern foreshore of Sydney Harbour.

  It sat adjacent to Kirribilli House, the official residence of the Prime Minister of Australia. It was a large Victorian Regency and Italianate sandstone manor with lush greenery surrounding the residence and occupies the tip of Kirribilli Point.

  It boasted striking views of the city with the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Sydney Opera House to the right.

  A large iron gate with spiked tops secured the main entrance and a security outbuilding patrolled by a security officer controlled who gained access to the residence and when.

  The cast iron gates opened inward and moments later, the black Range Rover Sports slowly pulled in. It was carrying the first President of Australia, Charmaine Bradley.

  The vehicle drove down the gravel driveway and came to a stop at the main entrance. The car sat there for a moment, and Charmaine was reluctant to get out.

  She sat there, and could see there was a group of reporters and photographers standing nearby the main entrance to the Admiralty House.

  They were all clicking away, taking photos of the President’s car. Joe sat in the seat next to her, and he knew that she was distressed. “Ma’am, everything okay?” he asked, as he gently pressed his hand on her shoulder. Charmaine smiled.

  “I’ll be okay, thanks Joe. Just going over the conversation I had with John,” she replied.

  “I still can’t believe he hired a private detective to look into Amanda’s death…I really thought he was getting better,” said Joe.

  “You and me both,” Charmaine replied. “But I can’t be distracted by that now, I have a Constitution to sign,” she said.

  At that, Charmaine stepped out. She was immediately bombarded by the reporters, all chanting questions at her.

  She was literally blinded by the flicker of flashes from the photographers cameras.

  She was greeted by each state’s Governor, who were planning to sign the new Constitution under the republic system.

  Charmaine smiled as she approached them and began shaking hands, one by one.

  The photographers were taking photos of the President shaking hands with the Governors. The whole meet and greet took about five minutes.

  After which, the state Governors and Charmaine Bradley made their way into the residence. They were escorted down the corridor and ventured into the lounge room where the signing was to take place.

  But before Charmaine went to enter the room, she was stopped by Joe who had been on the phone. “Ma’am, sorry to interrupt. I’ve
received a call from the AFP. Superintendent Anna Mackenzie would like a word,” he said. Charmaine looked at him, oddly.

  “What’s this about, Joe?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure, Ma’am. But she said it was urgent.” Charmaine didn’t reply straight away and looked back at the lounge room where the Governors were conversing.

  “Okay, Joe. I’ll take the call,” she replied, and Joe handed her the phone. She walked away a few metres to talk privately. “This is the President.”

  “Your Excellency, I’m Anna Mackenzie. Superintendent of the Criminal Investigative Branch.”

  “Yes, Ms. Mackenzie. I was told this was an urgent matter?”

  “It is, Ma’am. I’m calling to inform you that my agency has been working with ASIO and has identified that there is the possibility of a terrorist attack, which is supposed to take place today,” she explained.

  “My God…Who’s responsible for this attack?” she asked.

  “We’re not a hundred percent sure on that, Ma’am. But we do know it is a credible threat,” she said. Charmaine let out a sigh.

  “Ma’am, I’m calling because I believe that you should strongly consider postponing the Independence Day festival,” said Anna.

  “No, absolutely not. Ms. Mackenzie, today is an historical event. The entire country is watching the event on live television. If we postpone the festival, it will ruin the whole thing,” said Charmaine.

  “I realise that, Ma’am. But we’re talking about a terrorist attack. Dozens, if not hundreds of lives are at stake, not to mention yours,” said Anna.

  “Ms. Mackenzie…I’m about to sign the most important document in Australian history. Then, I will be going on live TV to give my inaugural speech as President…You have until 12PM to neutralize this terrorist threat,” said Charmaine.

  “That doesn’t give us much time, Ma’am.”

  “Then I’d suggest you get to work, Ms. Mackenzie,” said Charmaine. There was a brief pause.

  “Yes, thank you, Your Excellency.” Then Charmaine hung up the call. She walked over to Joe, who was standing by the door.