Deceit

by Richard Evans

  ‘Clerk.’ Speaker Bagshaw called upon Gordon to introduce private members’ business.

  Gordon stood, and said in his usual deliberate style, ‘Private members’ business: a motion calling upon the government to establish protection orders for amphibians.’

  The speaker took her cue and called upon the member for Cowan to begin her motion. Shirley Edwards stood and began setting out the details of a report that described the alarming drop in frog numbers in the wetlands in her electorate north of Perth. There was now growing evidence of serious ecological destruction which, added to climate change, was leading to dwindling numbers of amphibians which in turn impacted other species, such as native birds. Gordon regretted it was time for him to leave the chamber to return to his office as the topic interested him, so he slowly straightened his papers and called upon Richard Barker to take his place at the large table of the house below the speaker’s podium.

  Gordon approached the speaker. ‘Speaker, may I have a word?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Bagshaw replied. ‘I’ll be right behind you. I’ll see you in my office.’ As the Member for Cowan continued her animated address about the lack of frogs in her electorate, the speaker vacated the chair to one of the members of the speaker’s panel and withdrew from the chamber, her black ceremonial robe billowing behind her.

  Gordon walked out of the chamber and up the half dozen steps to the speaker’s concourse. To the left was the government whip’s office, and to the right of the foyer the opposition whip’s. He entered the government whip’s office and said, ‘Good afternoon, Rosie, do you have any requests for leave or travel from your members?’

  ‘Not as yet, Mr O’Brien, but if I do I’ll get them straight up to you.’ Rosie Cameron had formerly worked for Gordon in the clerk’s office, but found the cut and thrust of organising politicians more stimulating than the tedium of double-checking other people’s work.

  ‘Thank you so much. Let me know if you do.’

  Gordon retreated and headed for the speaker’s suite. Speaker Bagshaw had already returned and flung her robe across a chair. She was flicking through papers on her desk while her assistant waited patiently by her side. Bagshaw passed the papers to her assistant who quietly removed herself, closing the door behind her.

  ‘What can I do for you, Gordon?’ Bagshaw motioned him to sit, but Gordon preferred to stand.

  ‘I am concerned about the program this week. The government seems to be anticipating something that could not possibly happen.’

  ‘How perceptive of them, what is it?’ Bagshaw rocked back in her desk chair.

  ‘They have allowed time for further debate on the Appropriation Bill when it comes back from the senate, and I wonder if you knew anything about it?’

  ‘Not a word.’

  ‘You seem to have been across the issues this morning. Why not this one?’

  ‘Mind your tone, Gordon.’

  ‘My apologies,’ Gordon bowed his head at the rebuff. ‘But, if you knew about the government backflip on the stimulus package, then how is it you are not aware of the government requiring further time to be allocated on a bill yet to be passed by the senate?’

  ‘What specifically is your concern?’

  ‘The leader of the house met with me earlier and she has allocated sixty minutes for the stimulus package when it comes back from the senate.’

  ‘And the problem is?’

  ‘It is an assent process and doesn’t require speeches. It normally takes ten minutes at most, you know that.’ Gordon breathed deeply. ‘The question I have is this: do you know why the government wants sixty minutes to do something they can do in ten?’

  ‘You are correct in assuming I know something about the arrangements this week. The prime minister had me in on the meeting this morning with the governor-general and James Harper. We sorted out protocols for the week, and as you know the two leaders agreed in principle to a caretaker government, but also allowing this final money bill through the parliament this week.’

  ‘I respectfully remind you that you insisted the Indonesian money was to be linked to the stimulus package last Friday, so why the change of heart to the amendments you said I was to expect? I don’t understand.’ Gordon moved from one foot to the other.

  ‘I have no idea why they changed their minds. I told the PM’s office of your concerns on Friday after speaking with you, and I suppose they responded positively to your suggestions by dropping any proposed amendments.’

  ‘I am suspicious of the government’s motives here.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ Bagshaw sat forward in her chair.

  ‘I would hope the speaker’s office is not embroiled in some covert manipulation of the parliament.’ Gordon almost choked on the words.

  ‘I find that suggestion reprehensible.’ Bagshaw stood, strode to the door and opened it, implying it was time for Gordon to leave. ‘Gordon, you have four days left; do not spoil them by forcing me to take action against you. Keep to the parliamentary program that has been agreed by the parties and everyone will be happy.’

  ‘I’m sure they will,’ Gordon said as he swept from the office, ignoring the startled staff. As he reached the parliamentary entrance he thought through what he already knew, trying to piece together a pattern. Then he changed direction and headed toward Barton Messenger’s office.

  ‘Could I see Mr Messenger, if he is available, please?’ Gordon waited as a male staffer knocked and entered Barton’s office, closing the thick soundproof door quietly behind him. After a few moments the staffer returned saying, ‘He’s just finishing up a phone call, he won’t be long.’

  As the staffer resumed his seat, the door opened. ‘Gordon, nice to see you, please come in.’ Barton stood back and allowed the clerk to enter.

  All offices in the parliament, other than in the ministerial wing, were exactly alike: timber furniture, modern green leather lounges and green patterned carpet for the representatives, red for the senators, in accordance with Westminster protocols – same size and shape for all. Gordon sat in a visitor’s chair at the desk and Barton, following his lead, sat opposite.

  ‘What is your view about the program this week?’ Gordon said.

  Barton seemed surprised by the question, ‘Other than having to be here, when I would argue we should not be out of respect for our dead colleagues, nothing much. It seems benign to me.’

  ‘I have a few concerns and I wonder if I could share these with you.’ Gordon leaned into Messenger.

  ‘Namely?’

  ‘I am wondering why there is time allocated for debate on the return from the senate of the Appropriation Bill on Thursday.’

  ‘Meredith Bruce explained it to me. The prime minister wants to be able to have a final say on wishing folks a merry Christmas before it is passed.’

  ‘She did not suggest that to me when I saw her earlier. Do you believe her?’

  ‘I have no reason not to. She’s a good egg, among those other rotten ones, and I believe her. What are you seeing that I’m not?’

  ‘Maybe I’m overreacting.’ Gordon hesitated. ‘When I met with you on Friday, I was certain the government was planning to bring an amendment to the appropriation legislation and add the Indonesian funding to the bill. Indeed, I was absolutely positive that was going to happen, as I had every indication from people I was talking to that that was the case. The speaker confirmed it, treasury had advised they had no problems with the funding, and the drafting office even told me the next day they were following government direction in drawing up legislation, and this is what I expected was to be done.’

  ‘You told me there were two money issues to be drawn up in a new bill: the stimulus package and the immigration centres. I told you flat out we would not vote for it.’

  ‘But now things have changed for no apparent reason.’

  ‘That’s a good thing, Gordon, surely,’ smiled Messenger.

  ‘I suppose so, but I discovered this morning that Robert Haworth, the draft
ing clerk who did the original combined funding bill, has gone on unannounced leave. Don’t you think that is strange?’

  ‘Gordon, I suspect the funding for the immigration centres would have been approved anyway, seeing as it was in the budget, and our side have already agreed to it. We just would not have voted for it in a combined Appropriation Bill this week. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I mean, we are now voting on it in February, apparently.’

  ‘It does matter if there is no scrutiny of the money transfer, and that can only ever happen before the parliament.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Most money bills are approved by treasury, yet treasury have not been asked to approve the Indonesian money. They don’t like signing a cheque unless it has been scrutinised by the parliament, and proper examination and appropriate checks made. But if any money is approved by the parliament prior to going to treasury, then treasury must do its duty and meet the deadlines set by the parliament and transfer monies. It’s too late for any checks then.’

  ‘Yes, but if we approve funding then surely the money is transferred with conditions.’

  ‘It’s too late to ask for money back when it has already gone, and that was my concern over the weekend.’

  ‘But, where would it go?’

  ‘This is what I’m worried about. Money is never rushed through the parliament when it is going overseas, never. And yet, we saw an attempt by the prime minister to do just that only a few days ago.’

  ‘Gordon, the government is not planning to pass any money to Indonesia now though, is it? They have obviously changed their mind, and we would never have voted for it.’

  ‘Have they?’ Gordon could do no more than raise his doubts with Messenger, it was up to him as the opposition to find out more and do his own investigations. ‘Check the program, and keep an eye open for any sudden changes.’

  ‘Gordon, I think you worry too much, but I will raise it with my colleagues.’

  ‘That’s all I ask.’ Gordon left, and Barton shouted to his assistant.

  ‘Charles, get me the leader’s office on the phone will you.’ Gordon was pleased with Messenger’s response, but concerned about his lack of enthusiasm for taking on the government. He hoped he could rely on them to act if they were called upon to do so. He strolled back to his office, walked through to Marjorie’s work station to check if any messages had come in while he was in parliament, but there were none. A large envelope stamped ‘Confidential’ had arrived from security for him, which he took into his office and dropped on his desk as he moved to the window and stood looking out onto his tree.

  Marjorie followed him and said, ‘Thought you might like a nice cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit – your favourite.’

  ‘Thanks so much, Marjorie. Would you care to join me?’

  ‘Can’t right now. Richard wants some files completed before he’s back from the chamber so I best get it done.’

  ‘He really is onto it, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s a good man and he’ll be a worthy replacement.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t gone just yet.’ Gordon smiled as he sat down and began tearing at the confidential envelope, revealing a single sheet of paper, headed Cabinet Briefing Notes, dated the previous Tuesday. He sipped his tea as he read the contents, unsure why someone would send him minutes of a meeting between the prime minister and his ministers, discussing the tragedy and plans for a memorial. What did pique his interest was the reference the prime minister had made to including the funds for the immigration detention centres in legislation before the meeting with the Indonesian president on Friday, after agreeing the previous day to monies being paid in four tranches. He noted with interest that the prime minister also insisted that all ministers should be in attendance on the last day of sittings prior to question time, which had now been allocated for finalising the stimulus package.

  Marjorie returned to the office and placed a number of files in the large basket on Gordon’s desk.

  ‘I thought you wanted me to wind down? Those files don’t look as if I’m winding down at all.’

  ‘They only need a signature. Richard has already dealt with them.’

  ‘What is your opinion on this here?’ Gordon was pointing to the paragraph advising the ministers to be in the chamber on Thursday. ‘What did the prime minister have in mind a week ago, before it had even been agreed that parliament open this week?’

  Marjorie studied the paper, ‘Perhaps he’s making time for you.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘It does seem odd that he was talking about these matters last week. Maybe he has something planned for the last day – valedictories perhaps?’ Marjorie handed the sheet back to Gordon. ‘Where did you get this from?’

  ‘Someone was concerned enough to send it to me.’

  ‘Who might that be?’

  ‘Someone in the cabinet who perhaps shares my concerns. I don’t really know.’

  ‘What are you going to do with it now?’

  After a long pause, Gordon picked up the phone, punched numbers and waited for an answer. ‘Hello, George. Can you pop by, please? I have a delivery for you to make.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MONDAY 2.15 PM

  Manuka is a small leafy suburb of Canberra, almost in the parliamentary precinct, renowned for its oval that hosts the annual prime minister’s XI cricket match against a touring international team, and one or two Australian Rules football games during the winter. Manuka is also a popular locale for politicians to relax and enjoy themselves in the restaurants and bars, a short, chauffeur-driven trip from parliament house. It allows politicians and their hangers-on to enjoy the games that stimulate those with power, and also provides social access to politicians and decision-makers, away from the cavernous parliament.

  Manuka also has a cinema complex with three theatres. Anita Devlin sat in one, nibbling popcorn out of habit rather than hunger. She had already seen the movie and pecked at her popcorn waiting for further instructions, convinced another remake of A Star Is Born should never have been produced. She had not recognised the number with the bizarre text message suggesting she buy a ticket for this session of the movie if she wanted information about the prime minister. She’d checked the message with her editor, who thought it was a waste of time but encouraged her to go, with a colleague as sentinel.

  Third row from the back, three seats in to the left of the aisle. She had been promised information and like any investigative journalist she was tempted to believe her anonymous messenger might have something important for her, although her colleague sat further down the aisle, prepared for anything untoward. A few dark shapes littered the cinema and she looked anxiously about her whenever someone came in or she detected movement. Anita had been told to be there within twenty minutes; it’d been a rush, especially with the time it took to find a carpark, but she had taken her seat in time, and now waited, one sneakered foot dangling over the seat in front of her, a little anxious about what would happen next.

  Her phone flashed a text.

  CHECK UNDER YOUR SEAT. FOLLOW THE MONEY.

  Anita looked around the cinema but could not see anyone behaving oddly. She leaned forward and her fingers touched paper. She snatched out the envelope and checked once more for any movement or illuminated phones, then she texted her colleague:

  I’VE GOT IT, LET’S GO.

  ‘They left me this.’ Anita held out the yellow A4 envelope by one corner as she stood before the desk of her editor, Peter Cleaver. ‘What should I do?’

  ‘Get some gloves, and let’s open it.’

  Anita left the office and went back to her desk. A colleague, Craig, had his oversized ski gloves waiting for her, but she hesitated. ‘Aren’t there any latex ones?’

  ‘This ain’t no hospital, honey. Come on, open it up.’

  Anita placed the envelope carefully on her desk, put on the gloves, and fumbled open the flap. She emptied the contents onto her desk – a single sheet of paper. She scanned it
then reread it more carefully, trying to understand what it meant, and why the secrecy about its release.

  ‘What is it?’ Cleaver had joined her at her desk.

  ‘It’s a cabinet brief from last week. It seems Gerrard had an unscheduled meeting on Tuesday and sought approval for the release of funds, first for the punters, then a second amount for the detention centres in Indonesia. There was general discussion about the proposal within the cabinet and it was agreed to reconvene on Thursday once a number of questions were placed on notice to be resolved by the prime minister. It seems they were happy to approve the stimulus package, but were reluctant to change funding arrangements for the Indonesians, which had already been agreed to the previous day.’

  ‘Does it list the questions?’ Cleaver asked.

  ‘How much, and if there was a chance of more funds being required. It also asked if President Surriento was involved directly – apparently there had been a suggestion of impropriety with the president in the past. They also sought clarification about why all the funds were required before Christmas, instead of the planned first tranche released in March.’

  ‘Big deal. There’s nothing in it. Why all the secrecy? The funds have been approved in the budget – so what?’ Cleaver could see no story in the cabinet note. ‘The Indonesians will build the detention centres and the people smugglers will lose their customers, game over and everyone is a winner.’

  ‘I don’t know, maybe it means something, but I’m not sure what. My mystery caller said I should follow the money.’

  ‘What money? Only the stimulus package has gone into the parliament and Gerrard told you this morning the Indonesian money has been deferred until February. Someone is having a laugh.’

  Anita kept studying the brief. ‘There is something here that’s a little strange.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Gerrard has denied all travel this week and wants the cabinet in the parliament for a speech on Thursday. How did he know the parliament would be open then?’

  ‘It’s a waste of time. It obviously refers to O’Brien’s retirement.’