Читать книгу Choices - Jeff Edwards - Страница 13

Dan

I awoke in the predawn darkness, and lay in bed tossing over the events of the past twenty-four hours. What had I been thinking of? I remonstrated silently. I must have been out of my mind to think that something like this would get me out of trouble. Over and over again I considered the options I had previously dismissed, wondering desperately if I could revisit them in some way in a vain attempt to return some form of sanity to my life.

But with the rising of the sun came the realisation that what had been done could not be undone and that I had no option but to continue with the charade. As my old Uncle Bill had instilled in me at an early age, ‘You look at the cards that you have been dealt, and that’s the hand you play. It’s pointless betting on a full hand if you only have a pair of fours. You may win on a bluff a very small percentage of the time, but those wins won’t make up for all the losses.’

I considered the hand I was holding at that point in time be about equal to an ace, queen and three small unsuited cards. To win with cards like that would require a great deal of bluff and a large dose of luck.

With plenty of time on my hands I ate a leisurely breakfast at a pancake shop in Civic, noting that my followers were sharing a table across the room from me.

I hoped that they had both managed a full night’s sleep and were on their game because it was important that they didn’t lose contact with me today. I had to make sure that they saw exactly what I wanted them to see, and that they reported the details accurately to their superiors.

I left the restaurant but remained standing outside in full view. Hoping my watchers were close by, I took my phone from my pocket and punched into it a series of numbers.

I was very relieved when from the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the female officer standing inside the door trying to catch every word I spoke.

‘I’d like to speak to David Jones on extension 451,’ I said into the phone.

I waited several seconds. ‘It’s me … I’m here. Just up the road. It’s all gone pear-shaped. I have to see you … no it can’t wait. Like I said, I’m here right now. It has to get sorted out today … no I wasn’t followed … yes. I’m sure … no it has to be today … I don’t care how long I have to wait. I need it sorted … ok. I understand. Get there as soon as you can. I’ll be waiting.’

On my way back to my car I stopped into a newsagency and debated whether to pick up a few magazines, but decided instead on a cheap pen and a book of puzzles. I needed to keep my mind alert, and I had already read the surfing magazines they had on show.

Making sure my followers were close behind, I drove back out to the suburb of Russell, but instead of heading toward my old work address, I parked outside a smaller building closer to the lake.

The office of the Australian Security and Intelligence Organisation, better known as ASIO, had long outgrown its original office and was now scattered in many different office buildings throughout the capital and plans were afoot to rehouse the agency in a new headquarters. If only the local community would allow them to do so, which they were not. No one it seemed wanted a large gathering of spies permanently stationed in their backyard, if any of the articles in the papers could be believed. I guess they were all afraid the building would be a likely target for terrorists.

I entered the building and took a seat in the reception area making sure that it was as far away from the security desk as possible, and I hoped that the agency’s current disorganised state would work to my advantage. After looking around to make sure there was no one else in my vicinity I made myself comfortable, took out my pen and puzzle book, and settled down to wait.

* * *

‘He’s inside ASIO headquarters waiting for someone,’ reported the male follower.

‘How do you know he’s waiting for someone?’ asked his superior.

‘He was on his phone talking to someone named David Jones,’ said the agent consulting his partner’s notes. ‘Ruth heard him and took it all down. He asked to be put through to a David Jones on extension 451.’

‘That’s impossible,’ responded his boss. ‘Are you sure he wasn’t on a public phone? When did he place this call?’

‘He was out in the street using his mobile, not more than a half hour ago.’

‘No he wasn’t. His mobile phone is being monitored and it hasn’t been turned on since he left his house. He’s had a lot of people trying to contact him and his message bank is full, but he hasn’t attempted to turn that phone back on.’

‘So he must have a second mobile phone. One we don’t know about.’

‘It appears so.’

‘With an untraceable mobile phone there seems to be more to Mr Travers than meets the eye. I’ve sent an e-mail to ASIO requesting that they clarify his current status. I’ll let you know as soon as I receive a reply.’

‘How much longer do we have to stay on his tail?’

‘If he hadn’t left Sydney we would have relieved you by now, but you’ll have to stay with him for the next few hours at least. It will take us that long to get another crew down there to take over. Just make sure you don’t lose him in the meantime.’

‘He doesn’t look like he’s planning to go anywhere anytime soon.’

‘Be on your guard. That may be exactly what he wants you to think.’

* * *

I was surprised that it took an hour for the uniformed security officer behind the desk to begin to have suspicions about me. Finally he made a phone call and a second officer appeared at my side.

‘Are you alright sir?’ he asked politely.

I looked up from my puzzle and smiled at him. ‘Thank you. I’m fine. I have an appointment, and unfortunately my flight was ahead of schedule, so I’m waiting for the appointed time.’

He let me to return to my puzzle and reported to his associate that I was early for an appointment. However, when I was still there an hour later he became more concerned. He called to me and motioned for me to come over to his desk. ‘Who are you here to see?’ he asked.

‘David Jones,’ I replied confidently, fully expecting there to be several persons with that common name on their records.

The security guard consulted his computer. ‘We have four persons of that name. What section does he work in?’

‘I don’t know. We only spoke by phone. He’s on extension 451.’

The security guard shook his head. ‘That can’t be right. That’s not one of our extension numbers.’

‘I spoke to him before I came in here. He said he might be delayed. I’m sure he’ll be here to collect me soon.’

‘Are you sure you don’t mind waiting? Why don’t we see if we contact someone else for you?’

‘Don’t trouble yourself. I’m sure he’ll be here soon,’ I responded with a confident smile.

* * *

When the man and his puzzle book were still seated in the corner of the reception area a half hour later the security guard made another phone call.

This time he contacted the ASIO duty officer and reported the stranger’s presence.

‘Who did he say he was waiting for?’

‘A David Jones on extension 451, but we don’t have any such number.’

‘I’ll look into it,’ responded Agent Diane Hall. ‘Keep a close eye on him.’

Minutes later a curious Diane Hall reported to the main security office and spoke to the officer overseeing the many cameras placed around the building. ‘There’s a male who’s been seated in the reception area for a couple of hours now. Bring him up on the monitors. I want a print-out of his face.’

The security officer nodded and a nearby printer soon deposited the face of Dan Travers into Diane’s hand.

His brow furrowed in concentration, Travers looked very ordinary to the ASIO agent. Not exactly displaying the look of a fanatic of any sort, she thought. To the security officer she said, ‘Check the recordings on the outside cameras. Run them back for two hours. I want to know when, and how, he arrived.’

After several minutes of searching the security officer reported, ‘Here he is arriving in reception, and as we wind back to the cameras in the car park we see him climbing out of an old utility.’

‘Get me a photo of his car.’

‘It’s coming through now.’

Armed with the photo of the mystery male’s car, Diane returned to her office where she punched in the registration number of the utility into her computer.

She then printed out a copy of the information, made several phone calls, and then left her desk to make her way to the reception area.

Dan looked up from his puzzle as the good-looking female agent came through the security point and made her way in his direction. At last, he thought to himself, things are starting to happen.

‘Mr Daniel Travers?’ the agent asked as she came to a stop before him.

‘Hi,’ smiled Dan. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘My name is Agent Hall,’ the agent explained. ‘We seem to be having trouble finding the person who you’ve come to visit. You did say his name is David Jones did you not?’

‘Yes. That’s right,’ Dan smiled.

‘Well the situation is Mr Travers, I have contacted every person by that name with our organisation and none of them have any idea who you are, and why you would be calling upon them. They all deny ever ringing you, a fact that can easily be confirmed.’

Dan’s brow furrowed as he considered his next words. He looked around. ‘I don’t understand it. I certainly spoke to the man and he told me that he would meet me in the reception area of the Department of Agriculture.’

‘Mr Travers,’ the agent said gently, ‘you are in the reception area of ASIO, not the Department of Agriculture.’

Dan looked shocked. ‘My goodness! How utterly stupid of me! I must be going. Mr Jones will be expecting me.’ He jumped up and headed toward the door.

‘Mr Travers!’ the agent called after him. ‘You’ve left your puzzle book.’

‘You can keep it,’ Dan called over his shoulder. ‘I don’t think I’ll need it any longer.’

A bemused Diane picked up the book, intending to throw it into the nearest bin, and made her way back to her office. To her the entire episode was now finished. She thought the entire matter would make an interesting anecdote to relate to her friends over drinks that evening.

Once back at her desk, and as ASIO rules dictated, she opened the incident site on her computer, and commenced making a full report as to what had happened and how the matter had been handled. As she was about to press the enter button she realised that there was one further thing for her to do. Dialling the Department of Agriculture, Agent Hall asked to speak to a Mr David Jones on extension 451.

‘Extension 451 does not exist madam,’ reported the telephonist. ‘All department extensions have four numbers.’

‘Then may I speak to your Mr David Jones please.’

‘The only David Jones with this department is located in our Coonabarabran office. Do you wish me to transfer you?’

Diane thought for a moment. ‘No, that will be fine. If necessary I’ll ring him direct. Thank you.’

Diane looked at the puzzle book which now lay in her wastepaper basket. She picked it gingerly back out by a corner and dropped it on her desk. Beside it she placed the photo of Travers and his car.

What am I to make of you Mr Travers? she thought to herself.

Turning back to her computer she brought up an enquiry page and entered Travers’ full name and birth date. Within seconds the words ‘Not a current record’ appeared.

‘So you are in here Mr Travers,’ she said to the screen.

Printing out the relevant file number Diane left the building by a rear door, and made her way between buildings until she came to a discreet sign beside a door marked ‘Archives’.

Diane presented her identification to the female clerk behind the counter and gave her the file number that she was after. The clerk entered the number on her computer.

‘We don’t have it,’ said the girl looking up from her computer. ‘It was taken out this morning.’

‘What!’

‘This Travers person must be in trouble. You’re the second person today wanting access to his file.’

‘Who has it?’ Diane asked.

‘It was taken out on behalf of Graeme Connors in the public information section.’

‘He’s the head of section over there, isn’t he?’

‘That’s right. His PA collected the file.’

Diane hurried over to public information, eager to find out why this man named Daniel Travers had suddenly become so important, and why he would turn up in person with a fictitious story on ASIO’s doorstep.

She explained to Connors’ PA the reason for her call and was quickly ushered into his office.

‘You say he was here?’ asked an incredulous Connors.

‘He spent at least two hours sitting in reception doing puzzles in a book.’

‘But he saw no one, spoke to no one, did nothing out of the ordinary?’

‘He left his book behind.’

‘Do you have it?’

‘On my desk.’

‘I’ll get my PA to go back with you and collect it, along with anything else you have.’

‘Can you tell me what this is all about?’

‘I don’t see why not. Nothing has been classified as yet, and it was even reported in the papers. It seems that our friend Mr Travers was hauled before the ICAC in Sydney yesterday and refused to answer their questions. He claimed that he couldn’t because to do so might impinge on national security. He hinted at a lot of things but the crux of his story seems to be that he was supplying information from the police computer system to a national intelligence agency that he was not at liberty to name. I have his file because an e-mail has come from the ICAC wanting to know if Travers is one of ours.’

‘But surely we couldn’t tell them even if he was one of ours.’

‘I’ve told the ICAC that he’s not one of ours because it’s the truth. ASIO did a routine security check on Daniel Travers as it does on all of the defence force personnel who work in sensitive areas. That is the sum total of what his file contains. The only thing of interest in there is that he has a sealed police file due to some sort of youthful indiscretion.’

‘So he’s never been one of ours.’

‘Never.’

‘Then why did he turn up here?’

‘I could think of several reasons, but the most likely one is that he was telling the truth about his connection to a security agency, but wants to steer speculation as to exactly which one in the wrong direction. Travers was supposedly assigned to the Joint Communication Centre in the Russell offices. Doesn’t it make more sense that he was in reality working for either military intelligence or the one I think most likely the Australian signals intelligence service?’

‘I suppose that makes sense,’ nodded Diane. ‘What will you do with his file now?’

‘I’ll hold onto it until I can speak to the chief of intelligence. I think this is something that should be brought to his attention in case it becomes a problem sometime down the track.’

Diane handed over what little she had on Daniel Travers, but she made a point of copying the slim file before doing so.

On her computer she created a new file under Travers’ name before finally entering a full report of her meeting with the mysterious Daniel Travers.

The enigma of the man’s presence in ASIO’s head office still rankled with Diane, and she felt that there had to be more to his actions. While she had the chance, Diane was determined to dig further.

* * *

‘We’re a couple of cars behind him and we’ve just left Canberra, heading north. I’d guess he’s done what he had to do and now he’s going home.’

‘Well what did he do?’ asked their supervisor at ICAC.

‘Nothing. He sat in the lobby of ASIO doing word puzzles. We saw him being approached by a security guard but nothing came of that, and then he was spoken to by a woman who came from inside. She was dressed in a suit so I think she was higher than a clerk or secretary. I’d guess she might have been an agent.’

‘But not someone who could be named David Jones?’

‘Definitely not. He only spoke to her for a matter of moments and now he’s headed home.’

‘What else happened? What else did he do or say.’

‘He said nothing unusual and he did nothing unusual. When he left he climbed into his ute and we’re following him back to Sydney.’

‘There must be something you missed.’

‘He left his puzzle book behind,’ said Ruth from the driver’s seat.

‘Left it behind?’

‘Yes. I saw the woman pick it up. She still had it when we left to follow Travers.’

‘And Travers had been writing in it for over two hours you say?’ asked their supervisor.

‘That’s right,’ confirmed the man.

‘That has to be it then. He’s made a report of some sort and passed it on to them.’

‘Do you suppose so?’ asked the man.

Ruth shrugged her shoulders, and their supervisor said, ‘That has to be it. Why else would he make this trip? He knew that we were monitoring him so he couldn’t use any conventional forms of communication. He was forced to do it in person.’

‘So you reckon he really is with ASIO?’

‘He’s definitely up to something. I’ll let the judge and the prosecutor know what’s happened and then they can decide what to do next … well what do you know? I’ve just received an e-mail from a Graeme Connors at ASIO. He states categorically that they have no connection with a person named Daniel Travers.’

The agents looked at one another in surprise.

Their supervisor sighed. ‘Well that seals it for me. If Daniel Travers is not working for ASIO then I’m a monkey’s uncle, and I’ll tell the judge exactly that.’

* * *

On the outskirts of Goulburn I felt the utilities engine begin to miss slightly. The LPG gas tank had been hissing ever since I left Canberra so I knew that it was beginning to run low. By now it must be almost completely empty.

I checked in my rear-view mirror to see if my chasers were still there and noted that they had overtaken a vehicle and were separated from me by a single car. I had noted that their car did not have the distinctive red lozenge on its registration plates to indicate that it too used LPG so I hoped that they too must be running very low on fuel.

I was feeling buoyed by my success in Canberra and decided to have some fun at their expense.

I turned my indicator on to show that I was about to turn into a service station, and as I did so I saw them follow.

Pulling up next to the nearest bowser I took the nozzle from the cradle and inserted it into my tank, pretending to fill the car. Further across the station I saw the male agent do the same thing to their car, and as their petrol began to flow I hung up my nozzle and climbed back into my car.

The girl called a warning to her friend but it was too late. I was already pulling out of the service station as he struggled frantically to stop the pump and hang the nozzle back up while his partner ran to the petrol station’s shop to pay for the meagre amount they had managed to take aboard.

I headed back out onto the highway with a smile of triumph on my face. It didn’t matter if they caught up to me now as they would soon run out of petrol and become stranded somewhere further north.

For my own part, I reached down and flicked a switch. My faltering motor gave a sudden surge as the thin remains of LPG gas were replaced by my alternate tank full of petrol.

* * *

‘The bastard knew we were behind him and he’s given us the slip,’ the male follower reported.

‘He was probably onto you both all along. I suppose any ASIO agent worth his salt would have been. It simply confirms what I believed all along. Fill up and come on home. We’ll have another car waiting to pick him up when he reaches Narellan,’ his supervisor in Sydney replied bleakly.