It's Personal

by Philip Bond

  “Count me in.”

  Something changes within Matt; since meeting Harry it’s an unexplained feeling, elation, growing euphoria, the sensation of emotional release and developing love, a sense of rapture in seeing her, being with her, making love to her.

  Lebanon, Grenada and Panama may as well be on another planet, that is, until the alarm sounds, now he’s the marine, once more with all the fears and phobias to again haunt… “Babe, I’ve been thinking about your story and about me and my life. I love my country. I’d sacrifice my life to defend it, but I’ve come to a time where I don’t know who the good guys are any more.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Authority, duty and, above all, honour are the foundations for his being, all undermined by those like Sanders. Matt is consumed by questions without answers, that is until now… “See, I’m told take out this person, grab that target, but always look after your own. I do my job and always look after my buddies. I take that to mean, don’t sacrifice your buddies, don’t let them die and that’s what I mean by, I don’t know who the good guys are anymore.”

  “Are you talking about Sanders?”

  “Yes.” His face betrays the turmoil within… “Because I suspect he’s implicated in the importation of drugs into this country.”

  “Yes,” the journalist always has a question… “What are you saying Matt?”

  “Babe, I can’t tell you all ’cause it’ll end up,” pausing… “I’ll lose you too and I won’t let it happen, not now and not ever. With what I know and what I can pull together, there’s stuff Kevin Carmody doesn’t know. He’s dirty but I need to protect my ass. I’ll give you two embassy names. You’ll have to bump into them somewhere to make it look legit. They can tell you what they want,” his voice extrudes authority… “Harry, hand the whole thing over to the authorities. You mustn’t investigate anythin’ else concernin’ the drugs story after that. Is that clear?”

  “Don’t worry, Matt. Nothing will happen to me, I have a high profile. They cannot touch me.”

  Matt turns to face Harry, grabbing her shoulders… “Babe, Sanders works for people who kill heads of government. What protection does your job give you? They can make anything look anyway they want.”

  As if on cue, they unleash their passion, holding the other close in silence for some minutes.

  Past emotions confuse and cloud her thinking but now, in the minute, comprehending the substance of her feelings realising she’s emotionally moved on. Both kiss gently and passionately.

  Matt finishes with… “I’m scared to say I love you, but I can’t think of anything else that fits with what I feel.”

  Displays of tenderness or visible emotions to others have been steadily stripped away and hidden from view in a defensive move; how many close friends can one lose in the line of duty before emotion dries to a desert. Even now with Harry, survival instincts take over… “I’ve got to go.”

  Rising from the bed, he’s off to the shower. Harry rolls over, grabbing his pillow, pulling it close. In a few minutes, she joins him in the tiny bathroom… “Babe, I’ll be gone when you finish showerin’. So, I’ll say bye now.”

  He holds Harry by her shoulders and lifts her up to his height to kiss her again… “I’m off.”

  Leaving the shower to dress, there’s a note on the table beside her bed, ‘Hi babe, these are the two names. First, Venito Tomsetti, look for him at the Graphix Restaurant in Kingston early Wednesday evenings. Mid-thirties, 5 ft 10, 180 pounds, dark hair, olive complexion. Second, Karen Wysemen, mid-thirties 5 ft 6, 130 pounds, fair hair and complexion. Usually at the Hyatt Hotel club bar Thursday afternoons for meeting women. Both have their beef with Sanders. REMEMBER get the information you need, pass it to your Federal Police. Do not get involved any further. I love you, Matt.’

  “I love you, sergeant, I love you.”

  Once more she is consumed with this new unmistakable feeling inside, calm, safe and loved.

  *

  Bolstered by the power of love, Harry’s ready to rip the heads of crocodiles.

  Her steps deliberate, her course charted, she heads through reception towards the newsroom and into Wellingtons office. Looking inside to an empty office when a voice from behind questions… “Looking for me, Harrietta?”

  “Wellington, you scared the hell out of me.”

  “That would please the nuns, wouldn’t it? Now, I have a good assignment for you.”

  “Wellington, I’ve two good leads on my story, I need some network time to pursue.”

  “All the time in the world, as soon as you get someone that meets with my approval to cover the election in your place.”

  “Hell boss,” not an unreasonable ask… “It’s a good story, and it deserves to be investigated.”

  “You’re right, I also think it should however, as I say Harrietta, Canberra is mine to handle the way I see it. My contract comes up for renewal early next year and the election coverage is vital for the negotiations, you understand.” Wellington moves on from chastisement to instruction within the same breath… “Now, I have an assignment for you and for your persistence, there will be another just to ensure your time is well spent on following my election.”

  “Oh gee, thanks boss.”

  “Handle today’s work well and tomorrow’s taken care off. A quote from a past editor of mine circa 1957.”

  Unable to hold back… “Or Wellington Fairchild attempting to justify his position, circa seven seconds ago.”

  “Enough, Harrietta. When you get through the mill like me, more to the point, IF you get through the mill, then you can call the shots. Right now, it is my responsibility and you can keep your smart-arse remarks to yourself. Understand?”

  Again, it’s second best, for now.

  “Your first story is the opposition’s Murray-Darling recovery program. I have a copy of their policy and they are proposing a series of levies and dams along the Darling River in the Cattaburra Caheenels and Bulloo River overflow. Their policy release is in Young at midday. You will cover it and background a piece for news@six.com tonight. Take a copy of the policy papers for your research. Now the second, the Governments Forestry and Conservation policy release in Cooma. I have an interesting Cabinet minute paper you can use. The release is timed to start at 10 am and you’ll have that one backgrounded edited and completed by 11:30 tomorrow morning in time for the PM’s guest appearance on the Lunchtime Show.”

  “You don’t have a chopper here; do I hire one?”

  “You’ll be using the Crew-Cab Suburban, it has all the equipment necessary for you to do onsite editing, as well as a new satellite-up link to pipe it to Sydney when you finished. Hallen will be your cameraman.”

  Frustration bubbles to the surface… “Can we reschedule another cameraman?”

  “Did not do it on purpose, Harrietta, he helps the development of the equipment and this is the second time we’re using it for real.”

  “Ok, I’ll handle it.”

  “If I had any doubts about that, I would not put you two together. I want you to do these stories. They are important, and timing is crucial and that’s why, I have assigned the best to cover it.”

  It’s a bitter pill… “Thanks, boss.”

  *

  “Hi Trevor. Hi Gary.” The guys are in the loading bay.

  Finishing stowing the gear, Gary looks up to Harry… “Come to see me at last. What took you so long?”

  “Don’t start, Gary.”

  “Well what’s wrong, I’m not black?”

  “Gary, our business demands the highest professional standards both in ethics and conduct. Try to match your conduct to ours. We can live with your ethics.”

  Trevor’s laugh annoys Hallen… “What’s so funny, dickhead?”

  “You deserve it, Gary.” Returning the compliment… “We’ve had our little digs at each other so now, we can display our professionalism and get going, it’s a big day and we’ve deadlines complicated by new equipment. I’m not g
oing to be the cause of either of these stories missing their deadlines.” Then in a quiet aside… “Nice one, Harry.”

  The altercation sets the tone for the rest of the day with the drive to Young long and boring. Getting into the assignment, Harry remembers advice someone gave, ‘If you want to know anything about the land, flood paths, heights or drainage, ask one of the old blacks. They know. They know it all because they’ve seen or have been told about it.’

  *

  All interviews are completed; Gary’s uploading the edited interviews to the satellite. In an uncharacteristic moment of praise, relents… “This is the reason Wellington assigned you this story. He knew you could research it on the run and create a piece of brilliance from an assignment others consider shit. I thought you would use the old fella’s questions in the policy release press conference yet keeping them back for a one-on-one with the opposition spokesperson on primary industries is brilliant. Harry, we have the fucking exclusive! Their plan’s a flop. The water will bypass the levies and the dam and flood the scrubland. All the other networks will report the policy, but we have the scoop! We will shit all over them!”

  “I agree,” Trevor choruses the accolade… “One of the best scoops I’ve seen for a long, long time. Good work Harry, Wellington’ll be ecstatic.”

  “The network will notice us now.” Gary’s eyes are on his personal stocks.

  Rick jumps to Harry’s defence… “You forget Gary, we’re back of camera. This is Harry’s work; we’re just the recording. The only thing the network guru’s will ever notice about us is, if you let things get out of focus or if I screw up the sound. This is Harry’s research, Harry’s questions, Harry’s interviews and Harry’s results.”

  Brooding resumes with the mood in the vehicle for the return journey mirroring the outbound. Gary’s alienated, like a kid with dog shit on his shoe refusing to clean it off.

  *

  Wellington is still in his office on return… “Harry, come here please.”

  “Hi, Wellington,”

  She’s ready to reignite the drug story but before she can say anything… “That’s good work today. The other networks carry straight reporting of the policy launch. You scooped them and that helps me; in turn I’ll help you. I have a copy of the government’s policy, take it, research it like you did today and scoop them again.”

  A quick study of the document… “You have good sources to get this material before official release?”

  “Comes from better than twenty years in this town. They use me to get their opponents then, when it comes time, I get my quid pro quo.”

  Harry looks over the material. Wellington’s abilities have become legendary, as press gallery stories circulate about his ability to produce damning documents that have brought down rising stars, ministers and at least one prime minister.

  Tomorrow is to be another day of policy announcements in marginal electorates, but now someone is in for a shock. She’s too exhausted to make contact with either of the American Embassy staffers and, as Matt’s on duty, it’s an early night.

  Another Day, Another Misdemeanour

  Dressed and ready to come out punching, she hurries down to the vehicle, opening the door… “Where’s Gary?”

  “I called, he wasn’t ready, asked to collect you first.”

  Thank the almighty for air conditioning, especially in motor vehicles, however, the atmosphere is now hot inside the vehicle too… “That’d be right. We agree on the times and he changes everything to suit himself. He won’t be ready when we get there.”

  Trevor doesn’t say anything, putting on the indicator to accelerate the vehicle to collect errant schoolboy.

  Picked in one, Gary isn’t ready… “Just what game are you playing now, Gary? You know goddamn well that today’s tight for time. I have to find the angle and prepare the story for the lunchtime show. If we blow it, I’ll see you lose your balls. Your actions are the height of arrogance.”

  Moving the vehicle before the door closes, Trevor mediates… “Guys, we’re off to Cooma with a busy morning and a story to do. Each of us will do our job in the best professional manner, we will be on time so let’s leave our differences in Canberra.”

  *

  It’s hot and dry with the only wind in Cooma coming from the minister during his policy release. The media scrum packs down to dutifully record the politician’s promises. It looks like being a dull affair, as the scrummed journalist’s prune with banal questions Harry makes her only public contribution… “Minister, in the light of announcement by the Greens Party, they will be giving you their preferences, how do you respond to those who say you’ve bought them off with this policy reversal?”

  The minister is pompously dismissive. With the public announcement over, the minister’s on a roll agreeing to a one-on-one with Harry. Trevor fires… “Got sound.”

  “Rolling.”

  She ambushes… “Minister, in the press conference, you were dismissive of the notion your party has bought the preferences from the Greens Party with this policy reversal. I have a copy of a party document indicating exactly that. What is your response?”

  The minister takes the paper from Harry to study the text… “Where did you get this?”

  “I take it, from your answer, you are confirming the authenticity of the document. Is it your government’s intention to institute a policy reversal to obtain the Greens’ preferences?”

  Dumbfounded, the politician looks at Harry, wondering under which rock to hide.

  After what seems like the world record pregnant pause… “Ahh look, I’ll leave it thanks. I have to be in Adelaide this afternoon. Thank you.”

  As he turns and walks away, Trevor has continuing sound, the directional microphone aimed at the minister who grabs his aide. Gary too is rolling… “Graeme, I want you to find the prick who leaked the document to her so I can have the pleasure of cutting his or her throat. Goddamn it! Some bastard set me up and I want their hide.”

  *

  The jubilant trio just enters the Canberra’s outskirts as Phillip finishes his adulations… “And getting him on tape carving up the aide is brilliant. Tell Trevor he’s brilliant?”

  Harry tosses a look over her shoulder to Trevor sitting in the driver’s seat… “I’ll tell him, but this is a team effort.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You all did great work.” His voice loses its jubilation as he passages to the underlying reason for telephoning… “So Harry, any chance you had a rethink about returning to Sydney?”

  “No, Phillip,” dismissively… “None.”

  “Well, just thought I’d ask.”

  “Bye, Phillip.”

  All things must end; reluctantly… “Bye Harry, I miss you.”

  Turning his head to Harry and watching the road, Trevor is inquisitive… “What did he say?”

  Gary’s sitting in the back-seat stewing in jealousy unable to resist… “He asks for a fuck, but she knocks him back.”

  Harry lashes out as Gary defends himself with a raised arm and leg; instead, she decides to verbally castrate the tormentor… “Well Gary, it’s odd you should want to pass judgement on others when you’re the expert of the technique.” Before Gary can respond, she turns to Trevor and with the artistry of the practiced surgeon takes out the scalpel… “Did you know, when I was working as a newspaper reporter, Gary and I were lovers; I wanted to break into television news, asking for his help; he introduced me to Phillip Brookes, quietly telling him I’m a good screw. I got the job and slime-bag here gets the Canberra assignment, then dumps me. Tell you the truth, Trevor, Gary isn’t even a good fuck. I’ve had a lot better.”

  Belittled and especially by a woman is something Gary will not allow to remain unchallenged… “I suppose that proves what they say about niggers, never mind the colour, it’s the size that counts.”

  “Did you know, Trevor, women can have multiple orgasms. It’s documented the female partners of a male quadriplegics are sexually fulfilled, better than 7
5% of the time? If I had to count up my score with Gary, I’d be pushing to reach one in five.”

  Embarrassed by the exchange, Trevor interrupts… “If you two want to fight, please wait until I’m out of the car. I don’t appreciate being the meat in your sandwich. Harry, you do good work but you two cannot work together and I certainly don’t want to be with both of you together again. Separately is okay but not together.”

  Silence engulfs the vehicle until Harry interrupts… “Please drop me off at my apartment, thanks Trevor.”

  Trevor tentatively responds… “Wellington likes us to go back to the station to report in after field trips.”

  Stuff him and stuff everyone… “I’m aware of the protocol; I’m tired and besides, really not interested in political stories anymore.”

  *

  Sitting in her apartment, her mind wanders back to the drug story churning over the characters in the gallery meeting and the ominous link into the federal government. Thinking ‘better check the station for messages’ she dials… “Wellington Fairchild’s been asking for you, I’m to put you through the minute you call.”

  “Merie please, not now. I’m not in the mood to handle him right now, I’ve had a gut full of Gary Hallen all the way back from Cooma and have my period. Tell him I’ve not phoned. Okay? You know how it is?”

  “I sure do. Fancy having to put up with twinkle dick for seven hours, I don’t know how you do it. There is one message for you; it’s a guy called Matt.”

  “Matt?” Things just improve… “What’s the message?”

  “No message, just for you to call when you’re able.”

  “That is great, now I feel better.”

  “You are a lucky girl; he must be some guy?”

  “He sure the hell is.”

  This is the tonic to sparkle the day.

  The phone rings twice.

  “Sergeant Leveaux?”

  “Hi, Matt.”

  “Hey, babe, you’ve been outta town?”

  “Sure have, now back. What can I do for you, sergeant?” It’s not so much what she can do for him but what he can do to her.