Читать книгу Direct Action - J D Svenson - Страница 13

Head still pressed against the headrest, Robert opened one eye at a squint and found the clock on the dashboard between the adjacent hulking shoulders of the pilots. Twelve more minutes, going by what they’d said earlier when he’d managed to be heard asking across the scream of the engine. Surely he could hold out for that long. He had given up trying to speak to his ever-present security detail in the next seat, concentrating instead on his breathing and trying not to let loose the fist of panic that was welling in his throat. He had always hated flying, and helicopters were a whole extra layer of nightmare. Whenever he and Colin had holidayed anywhere, the trip had only been accomplished with twice as many Serepax as the label directed and sustained administration of the drinks trolley. And he wasn’t above holding Colin’s hand on takeoff either, or at least hooking a foot quietly round his ankle if the nearby seats were full. But it was Sunday, and he hadn’t seen Colin since the corridor outside COG two days ago, and this contraption was a long way from Emirates business class. He’d tried focusing on the horizon, thinking perhaps looking off into the distance would help. It didn’t; the horizon’s relentless bucking just made him feel sicker. Away from them stretched vast tiered mounds of grey and yellow earth, the trucks moving across them only just visible, kicking up dust soundlessly as if he was watching a silent movie. He’d never been to the state Resources Minister’s electorate, and he could see why. It was fucking miles from anywhere, and mainly dirt.

Finally they lowered to the earth and with desperate fingers Robert unbuckled himself, his palms slippery with sweat. Inside the aircraft hangar the air conditioner hit him like a blow. Ah. Power. He nearly collapsed on the cool concrete there and then, wanting to be enveloped in its icy body hug. But you couldn’t do that when you were Premier. You could barely do anything. His phone rang. He checked the screen. Carl, the state Energy Minister. He pressed.

‘Bob. You nearly here? Julie’s rung three times already.’

Robert turned to Damo.

‘How long?’

‘Eighteen minutes, sir.’

‘We’ll be there in twenty. Well,’ Robert corrected, glancing at Damo, ‘eighteen.’

‘There’ll be a coldie waiting for you.’

The mood was sombre when he arrived in the vast farmhouse dining room. The state Resource Minister’s personal property had become a de facto safe house of sorts, with easy access by air an hour from Sydney in an area still with power, and plenty of room in some pimped up shearers quarters for the various Cabinet members. Security had of course tried to convince them all to stay in that sweaty bunker below Parliament House, but as he walked in he was annoyed to see that the Deputy Premier, Michaela Flanagan, was present, together with two junior members of his Cabinet whose names eluded him. They were all gathered around the microphone implant in the middle of a vast timber dining table. As he approached, Carl simultaneously dialled a number on the pad next to it and handed him a long-neck. Robert took the drink and nodded to those assembled, sitting down. The phone picked up.

‘Julie,’ Carl said, leaning towards the speaker. ‘You there, mate?’

‘I am,’ came the Minister for Home Affairs’ rounded vowels. ‘As is Mr Royce,’ she added. ‘So we’re just waiting for Josh.’

‘Yes, the treasurer will be here in a minute,’ said the Federal Minister for Resources. ‘How’s it going over there?’ He chuckled. ‘Brings a whole new meaning to keeping the lights on.’

Robert’s phone pinged and he looked down at it. Colin. Where are you?? I need to talk to you! Followed by the requisite pink hearts and rainbows. Robert swallowed and held it at a discreet angle to type his reply. Darling, in a meeting. Call you as soon as I can.

‘Barton, I’m glad you see this as a matter of amusement,’ said the Federal Minister for Home Affairs in clipped tones. ‘What I want to know is, Premier, how are you going with arrests?’

Robert looked up, reddening even though he knew no-one could have possibly seen. Arrests. Yes.

‘Yes quite. Carl,’ he said, gruffly, ‘why isn’t the Police Minister here? Any updates on that?’

‘Ah, he’s at the Sydney control centre I believe, Premier,’ said Carl, blanching. ‘I’ll just see if I can …’ He pulled out his mobile and searched for the number. Michaela chipped in, leaning towards the phone.

‘Good afternoon, Ministers. Michaela Flanagan. Deputy Premier. I’m so glad you raised that,’ she purred. ‘I understand the Federal Police are intending to charge the perpetrators – when they’re found – with terrorism. It seems that it would be the AFP that is coordinating arrests then, wouldn’t it? More a Federal matter?’

There was a pause.

‘My instructions are that the MoU with the AFP relies on full cooperation from NSW Police,’ the Federal Minister for Resources replied. ‘Those being the authority present on the ground.’

‘Yes of course, Minister,’ Robert said, glaring at Michaela. She was always just that little bit too bold. One of the security detail approached the table as a light started to flash on the phone.

‘Police Minister now on line two,’ he said, nodding at the console.

‘Oh, oh goodness,’ Carl said, putting his phone down. ‘If we just click on that he’ll join the call …?’

‘Should do, sir.’

Michaela held a hand up. ‘We’ll get to the Police Minister in a moment,’ she continued smoothly. Robert stared at her. You didn’t keep the Police Minister waiting at a time like this. Unless you were Michaela Flanagan, evidently. ‘But first, if we could just ask one thing before we do – the matter of the power plants themselves,’ she said, glancing at Robert. ‘Perhaps Carl as Energy Minister could fill us in. How long until we can get power restored?’

Restored? Why hadn’t he thought of that. Of course that was the most important thing. Yes. How about how to get the power back?

‘Thank you, Michaela, certainly,’ began Carl. ‘Look, you know, I won’t lie. This is not ideal. I’d say we’ve lost at least 7K megawatt hours of electricity capacity. I mean there’s a bunch of renewables and a few pussy gas-fired plants about the place, but these babies – the three that got hit, that’s Eraring, Liddell and Bayswater – that’s a fuck of a lot of power, if you know what I’m saying. Love to hear about the chances of getting it from the other states by the way,’ he said, leaning into the microphone while holding Michaela in a look. ‘Because right now that’s all we’ve got. Even a national rationing scheme might be necessary.’ They nodded at each other and he leant back. ‘If I could be so bold.’

‘And we can assume,’ Michaela said, taking her turn to lean forward, ‘that the Commonwealth will trigger the company’s rights under the Terrorism Insurance Act, am I right? Make the necessary declarations and so on? Any news on that at your end?’

‘Ms Flanagan,’ said the Minister for Home Affairs, pleasantly, ‘I don’t follow.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry,’ Michaela said. ‘The Terrorism Insurance Act. Clapped-out old thing you guys passed a few years ago, seems it might come into its own now. Provides that the Commonwealth will foot the bill for any costs from terrorism incidents excluded by an insurance contract. Under the usual terrorism ouster, I mean.’

‘Oh that,’ said the Minister, in a tone that sounded to Robert like she hadn’t understood a word. ‘Yes I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. We need those arrests first though, don’t we. And as we have said, all the resources of the Commonwealth are available in that regard.’

‘Thank you, Minister,’ Michaela said. It was like watching a rat bare its teeth. ‘That is good to know. And let us know if you need anything from us to make that declaration.’ She sipped on the glass of white wine at her elbow.

‘Of …?’

‘Of a declared terrorist incident under your Act,’ said Michaela, rolling her eyes at Carl. ‘To trigger the reinsurance. Look – I’m sure Treasury can fill you in. Josh. He’s coming on soon isn’t he? He’s the responsible Minister.’

‘I know who my own Treasurer is, Ms Flanagan. Thank you.’

‘Yes of course. It’s just that if it’s less than ten billion dollars damage to infrastructure, your Act provides that the Federal Government steps in and covers the cost the insurer won’t. Because of the usual terrorism exemptions in the insurance contracts, of course.’

‘Presumably we have a discretion as well,’ said Julie, dryly. ‘As to whether we want to.’

‘Well, of course you do, Minister, but I can’t imagine why—’

‘Ah – thank you for that careful summary, Michaela,’ said Barton. ‘As Federal Minister for Resources I’m with you one hundred per cent. One hundred per cent. And I’m sure Josh as Treasurer will be too, and Energy. Singing from one song sheet there, no question. We need to get those plants up and running again as soon as possible.’

‘You’ve got our agreement there,’ said Michaela. ‘Haven’t they, Robert? She was looking at him. ‘Robert?’

‘What? Oh,’ he said, putting his phone back face down on the table. ‘Sorry. Yes.’ Then he glanced at Michaela and spoke pointedly into the microphone. ‘Especially at the prices the other states are charging for their electricity right now.’ Two could play this game. ‘See what you can do about that.’

‘You give me some arrests,’ said the Minister for Home Affairs, ‘and I’ll give you whatever you want. Can we have your Police Minister on the call now, please?’

‘Sure – oh,’ said Michaela. The light had stopped flashing. ‘He’s gone.’

‘Sorry, chaps,’ the Federal Minister for Resources chimed in. ‘Just had a text from Josh. He’s a bit tied up at the moment, he says. Can we reschedule? Say this afternoon?’

Robert kept his face carefully expressionless, hoping frantically that it meant at least this excruciating conversation would be over, and also that now he could call Colin, which he would do as soon as everyone rang off.

‘Just going to make a phone call,’ he said when they did, smiling at Carl cheerfully. ‘Won’t be a sec.’

He stepped out into the hallway but there was a security detail snoozing at one end. Damn.

‘Um, sorry, Carl, need my bags for a minute,’ he said, as the State Minister for Energy took up deep conversation with Michaela on the white leather couch. ‘Can you tell me which one’s mine?’

‘Oh, sure, Bob – you’re last one down the hall. Think Damo already put your bags in there, mate.’ He grinned and turned back to Michaela.

‘Ah, great, thanks.’

The wood-panelled hallway seemed to go on forever but at last he found the room, and his two matching leather suitcases were in it. The room was tiny and had an awful lavender and white lace bedspread, but it was private. He shut the door and pressed Colin’s speed dial on his phone, praying for reception. Colin answered on the second ring. At the sound of his lover’s chipper Cockney, Robert’s body suffused with warmth.

‘Ahh, darlin’,’ said Colin. ‘Bout fookin’ time I talked to you. How are you?’

‘Oh,’ Robert said, dabbing at his eyes, which had stupidly dampened. ‘All the better for speaking to you. Is everything okay?’

‘Oh yeah, you know – they’re all fookin’ loonie round here and won’t let us go anywhere, but I’ve got me paints so I’m – I’m alright. You?’

‘Oh you know,’ said Robert, passing a hand across his face, ‘out in the middle of nowhere without you, but other than that fine. The Feds have themselves all in a tizzy and demanding arrests, of course, but that’s to be expected. I suppose they think I can just plant evidence or something. Or have someone else do it. Mind you I would have thought that was their department on a Commonwealth crime. Anyway. What’s up?’

‘It’s fantastic though, isn’t it! You must be so excited now that this has happened.’

‘Sorry, what?’

‘Well – I mean, come on, you were telling me about how the fossil fuel mob is such a pain in the arse, always wanting something from you. Now’s your chance!’

‘Um …’

‘Well three of their power plants have been blown up, right? So …’

‘So?’

‘Renewable energy!’

‘Sorry – what?’

‘Oh my darlin’ – finally, you guys can actually lead the world! The technology’s ready, you know it is! You guys have the most amazing solar access on the planet! You could start now – wall to wall solar plants. Oh Robert – I’m going to be so proud of you!’

Robert closed his eyes and exhaled. He loved Colin dearly, but his lover really did know how to get caught up in things.

‘Colin …’

‘Yes? What?’ he said, with an expectant pause.

‘It’s not … it’s not like that. It can’t be.’

‘What? Why not?’ Now there was an edge to his voice. Robert leant back against the wall, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Their views on politics – or the way the world is, as Colin preferred to describe it – were wildly divergent and they had come to unspoken agreement years ago to discuss it as little as possible.

‘Because …’ He didn’t even know where to start. He remembered the image of the four of them sitting out there on the phone to the Federal Ministers, Michaela in her crisp blue suit, and nearly laughed. Solar power. They’d laugh in his face.

‘Because what?’

‘Because it’s never going to happen, that’s why!’

There was a silence, and it was almost as if Colin was there in the room with him, glaring at him.

‘Not without leadership from people in power, no.’

In power, Robert thought. In power.

‘If you’ll excuse the pun, Colin,’ he said, keeping his voice gentle, ‘there’s nothing “in power” about me. And any mention of renewables right now is going to blow up any chance I have of any, just as much as those loonies did. I’m sorry. I can’t.’ For a moment all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing against the receiver, and the sound of muffled voices outside in the kitchen. ‘Colin? Are you still there?’

‘Yeah,’ he said.

‘I’m really sorry. Look, can we talk about something else now? How’s the food there?’

‘The food?’

‘Yeah. Are they ordering in pizza for you? Any alcohol?’

‘Oh. No. No, they’re not. Wow, Robert, I’m sorry. Look, I have to go. They’re … well actually, it’s just that, you know, I was so excited about talking to you about this and now … well now I just feel like shite. Sorry. Not your fault. We’ll talk later, okay?’

Robert sighed.

‘Okay, darling. Look, I’m sorry, okay? Being Premier is really fuckin’ hard sometimes.’

‘Yeah sure, I understand,’ said Colin. He wouldn’t, though. None of them did. ‘I guess that’s why they got you to do it.’