Читать книгу The Kwinkan - Mudrooroo - Страница 9

‘Did I hear you say something about six of one and half-adozen of the other? Well, did you, and what are you inferring, sir? Have you been in touch with Jackamara and is this his, his opinion about me? Look, I have found these old photographs taken during my election campaign. Examine them. See, here I am among your people. I, I support you. I was stouter then, wasn’t I? Much stronger. Now too thin, too thin. You know power inflates, loss of power deflates. It’s a poison draining the flesh from the bones, just like that Gyinggi woman Jackamara went on about. I needed, needed support. I was the only candidate who went to your people and listened to their grievances. I went and sat with him and his people and listened to their troubles. Did my opponent ever mention land rights once during his campaign? No, a resounding, no! And then, there is another thing which must be considered—his part in my downfall! If I were an Aborigine, I would never consider joining the police force. I feel that to be an Aborigine is to be without the system, to be, sir, an outlaw. How could a member of your race become not only a policeman, but a respected member of the Queensland Police and thus a part of the establishment, of the very forces that deny justice to the Aborigines? Then, how thick was he with those powers, especially those that caused my downfall? These are the things which you must examine in your narrative, and not only examine, but come to conclusions about. A question should be: was it really my fault that I was so soundly defeated? You murmur about the ineptitude of my campaign, and I shout about a plot, a plot! Yes, a plot and he was part of that plot. Can you deny it? Listen, mate, I knew the ways of the Queensland Police Force at that time, and no matter whether a policeman was black or white or brindle, he was still part of the whole rotten set-up. He came out all right, didn’t he, didn’t he? Just like all the others, and next we’ll find him a knight too. Sir Jacky of the Tribe of Judas.

‘What, you want me to get to what you’re paying me for? Am I boring you, mate? Too tedious for you, or is it truths striking home, eh? Listen, if you had been through the things I have, you wouldn’t be so smug. Don’t worry about the tape. It is on. A truth detector, isn’t it? Well, I’ve finished with that farce of an election and at the part where the PM is about to offer me a job. I am to see him in three days’ time and so I go to the scene of some of my greatest coups in real estate, not to work, but to relax in a resort there. In fact, and this again is in the strictest confidence ... No, keep the tape on. It’s all relevant, relevant!

‘I did come out of the election with a little spare cash, not enough to pay off my debts, but enough for a few months in Surfers’. Well, enough of that. I was happily ensconced in the Xanadu Resort when I ran into an old acquaintance who invited me to a select party at the home of one of Queensland’s most prominent socialites. On the spur of the moment I decided to attend. Why? Depression, the absence of a hangover, the need to seek diversion? It definitely wasn’t with the object of meeting a woman, for Lady George only invited the ugliest and oldest and richest of the females who had made the Coast their burying ground. Her imagination did not descend to the demimonde, or even to single women. So why did I decide to go? My anger at the PM had for the moment died down. I felt disgust at myself, at others and with everything. On the trucked-in clean sand of the artificial beach at Xanadu, I sank into a torpor and let the sun daze me into apathy while I waited for rain to match my mood. To think that once I had made a large killing from part of the land on which the resort sweltered. Now I actually smelt the corruption of the deals from the oil smeared over the naked breasts of the female bathers. Such beauty could be bought by a glance, or a word of admiration from the right sort of bloke. The wrong sort had to use money, fame or power and now I possessed precious little of these.

‘I admit it, mate, all I had going for me was that tenuous connection with the PM. I was desperate, get me! And so I used the sun, the smooth water and the pure, well-swept sand to dull my mind. Sometimes I thought about my old school chum luxuriating in his sense of triumph. This too had been an old stamping ground of his and in fact he still retained a financial interest in the resort. Well, he had promised, but had he raised my hopes only to prepare to dash them? It was difficult to see why he would go in to bat for me. After all he was a political animal, and now in the heady rush of electoral victory coupled with the final declaration of Brisbane as the legal federal capital of Australia, he could let everything slide for a year or so. Then, I knew that my old school chum might find it extremely difficult to procure me an official, remunerative position in the higher echelons of the government service where I could recoup my fortune as well as pay off my creditors. It was difficult to imagine this after my electoral debacle; but for a moment, a long minute, I lay back on that pure sand imagining myself as the head of a committee inquiring into some such thing as organised crime. I had a huge salary, not too tedious work, the advantage of furthering my contacts in the course of the investigations, and frequent adjournments to attend to any little hobbies I might care to cultivate discreetly. Then, even in that humid heat, reality like a tropic downpour flooded me. I could not see myself enjoying that position for long. It was inevitable that my enemies would begin their work of innuendo and insinuation, or if not that, I might be caught with my hand in the till, or be called to account over an outrageously padded expense account. And then, I knew this for certain, any hint of my being recommended for a position as chairperson of any committee of inquiry would arouse a storm of protests from the Opposition in the name of public accountability, virtue and the Australian way of keeping things in cupboards. I had been found out once too often. Questions would have been asked in the house, insults traded, files leaked and my name would have had to be hastily withdrawn. My old school chum would have been hard put to offer me anything more than a miserable consultative job which would have hardly paid enough to keep my creditors at bay. I would have been fobbed off with a pittance. Well, so much for the strength of the old school tie!

‘And so, have I made myself clear on why I, I decided to attend that social do! In the hope that I might meet someone. Someone I could use in my efforts to bring about the downfall of my old school chum, or failing that, a politician or businessman I might use to retrieve my fortunes. I needed to find hope. I needed to regain my nerve. I had to find the courage to begin anew. I was at sixes and sevens. My soul was a tangled knot which I had to untie.

‘As luck, or misfortune would have it, the Prime Minister was in attendance at the party, or rather the party danced attendance on him. He was the hero of the hour, though already daggers were being thrust into his back by those southerners who resented the rise of Queensland. I sought to establish contacts with a prominent enemy of his, but was rebuffed. Then during the evening when the spotlight had temporarily left the PM to focus in on a famous opera singer with the face of a horse who gargled “Queensland The Ultimate”, he took the opportunity to draw me into the library which was shrouded in a gloom as dense as the gloom covering my mind. The only light was a reading lamp bent over a desk. He sat on the sofa to the left side of this light, sucked at his trademark pipe, extended his legs, bit down hard on the pipe stem, dragged it from his mouth between his thumb and forefinger, then spoke with all the gravity of the statesman which two consecutive electoral successes had supposedly made him.

‘He stated: “Since yesterday, I have been carefully considering your case with a number of close colleagues.” He nodded his head to underline colleagues, then lifted his pipe, sucked on the stem, then lowered it again. Morosely, I watched this exercise in public relations, for in deference to the growing indignation of the anti-tobacco lobby, he never filled the pipe.

‘ “Yes,” he continued, “we considered all aspects of your position.” Again a pause, and although it was hard to pierce the gloom, I was sure that his eyes were staring into mine in an attempt to wear away my incredulity. “I can see,” he said, “that you don’t exactly trust me, that you think that I am out to dupe you, or fob you off as quickly and as painlessly as possible. I assure you I have no intention of doing this.” His hand went to his tie as if to emphasise an eternal boyhood connection.

‘ “Well, I have had some doubts, but I accept your bona fides. What have you got for me?” I asked, trying to hide my excitement. My old mate had come through.

‘His teeth glimmered through the murk as he smiled what must have been his best media smile. I remember that the sharks were bad along the coast that year. “Ah, I see that we understand one another. Now listen carefully. After considering your position and your somewhat unique qualifications we have decided, in your best interests understand, that you should make yourself scarce for a while. Get away out of the country and out of the public eye.”

‘He paused to suck at his pipe. It was my turn to smile. I was, I was being offered an ambassadorship. I hoped that it was London. I knew that, as yet, I was not experienced enough for Tokyo or Washington; but, well, if not London, perhaps Paris, arrh ... then!

‘ “We think that this is best after that election fiasco. It appears that you antagonised certain powerful interests who are about to administer the public purse. It is absolutely necessary that you get away, and so, well, there is this diplomatic post, newly created of course, which will be ideal for you. Of course, it is not in one of the more desirable countries, or even a nation in its own right as yet; but it is vitally important that Australia has some sort of representation there, not officially you understand, but someone to be on hand if things go awry. You see, your election campaign was not entirely a fiasco, for you did manage to get the black vote out. You have an aptitude in that direction as well as the necessary experience. Detective Watson Holmes Jackamara spoke highly of you. Just think if you had won that election, what with your black connection. Sorry, a jest; but this too is along those lines. You have become an expert on, shall we say, native peoples.”

‘I opened my mouth to say something, but he waved it shut.

‘ “Jackamara and I have been associates for some time. He is a man above average, and I am not one to let talent go unused ... or unrewarded.”

‘There, there, these were his very words. Does it not show that Jackamara and that old rogue were in cahoots? During that reign of corruption he was hand in glove with them. What, don’t you think so? Well, if you are honest, you’ll expose that man for what he was, and possibly still is. Investigate him and you’ll find that he was a traitor to your people. Let me ask you. Have you ever seen him march in a demonstration? Have you ever seen him come out in opposition to policies against the Aboriginal people? The answer is “no”! And you still want me to continue? ... I shall and will. But first, isn’t the tape running out? Best change it ... I want all of this down ... There, now where was I?

‘After the, the PM made this startling disclosure, I tried to respond, but couldn’t. To think that I was being offered a posting on the recommendation of my minder. It was too much, too too bloody much. How low the mighty have fallen, from the ultimate heights to the abysmal depths, and to think that I was the one who had first used that word ultimate to describe all things bright and Queensland.

‘ “It is an excellent posting, though, of course, there’s no such thing as an embassy, or consulate; but let me assure you that the place is British, at least for the time being, and there’ll be no problem with language.”

‘ “Sweet Jesus,” I exclaimed in a panic. “What have I done to deserve this? I’m being exiled, shipped off to some rotten, godforsaken place to rot. Do you take me for some kind of fool?”

‘ “You always were an excitable chap,” the Prime Minister commented imperturbably. “Well, it may be a good thing in the place where you’re going. Well, this country, or rather group of islands, is to achieve independence in the near future and the arrangements are now being drawn up in London in close consultation with our Department of Foreign Affairs. This island group after all is close to our shores, and we must not only have a say in its future, but must now learn about what’s happening there: who are the local leaders, what’s their political persuasion and so on and so forth. You’ll be filled in on this in Canberra. So now you know the job. Only a fact-finding mission, you understand. Nothing else, but a fact-finding mission. You are not being forced into exile or any such absurdity like that. What I’m offering you is a coolingoff period away from your enemies. Look on it as a holiday, see it as a chance to get away and have time out to pull yourself together. God, how I envy you. Your own desert island, your own primeval South Sea island paradise. God, the opportunities there. A future Gold Coast and you there right at the beginning. It’ll leave Surfers’ for dead one day, and you have the savvy to make it happen to the advantage of yourself, Queensland and of course, Australia.”

‘ “What, what?” I stuttered. This man was too, too much. They were getting rid of me on the cheap. Why had I threatened them?

‘ “I’d give my eyeteeth to be on the ground floor. Sad, sad, responsibilities of office and duty hold me in chains. So I offer this plum to you, old mate. It’s yours, for the eating.”

‘ “I’m the one who’s being eaten,” I muttered, feeling myself teetering on the edge of a great despair-the ultimate despair.

‘He flung me a rope. “It could lead to much, much better things,” he said, “that is if you wish to forsake commerce.”

‘ “Such as?” I asked, jerking back from the edge.

‘ “An ambassadorship to Ireland and the Vatican, if you do the job well.”

‘Well, well that was more like it. My dear old school chum waited sucking on that wretched pipe. I thought of Ireland, the Emerald Isle and of warm Roman thighs. Why, I might become a papal knight. What did it matter if I was not a Catholic? Who would know? And that other place? It couldn’t be that bad, and I’d be out of reach of my creditors. Before me stretched a gold brick road lined with opportunities and leading to the ultimate resort. The pot of gold glimmered at the end of the rainbow and I felt my hand trembling and my fingers clutching, seizing ... A voyage to a far-off land, a South Sea island just waiting to be developed. But, but, I could never trust the old rogue. Where was the catch, where was it? Oh that I had known something about such islands and their ways ...

‘The Prime Minister stirred. He had given me enough rope to hang myself. He coughed into my silence and stated: “If this job isn’t suitable, there’s another one going which might help you out with your creditors. It’s with the newly formed Company Police Squad. With your knowledge you should go far. What do you say to that?”

‘I stood on the pivot of the seesaw. One end went down, then the other. I shifted my weight and evened them up. Policeman balanced against, well against diplomat. There was no choice and I knew it. I shifted off the pivot and the post of diplomat landed with a thud on the earth. “The Department of Foreign Affairs,” I cried. “I shall be accredited of course.”

‘ “Not at once,” he replied. “It’s rather hush-hush. It might be better that you be nominally under the secret service blokes for the period; but I promise you that you’ll have a free hand, a diplomat’s salary commensurate with your status and a liberal expense account.”

‘ “Well, I’ll just have to see how it goes,” I said, refusing to let him see my eagerness ...’

‘Unfortunately, the PM took this as final. Things moved swiftly after that. Next morning, I was surprised to find a car waiting to whisk me to the airport where I was put on a plane to Canberra. There, I was enrolled in ASIO, given a code number, and taken to a training institute where I learnt to operate a radio transmitter and hand weapons. All this occurred over the next week. At the end of this period, I was offered a revolver which I took and stashed in my suitcase as I wasn’t prepared to play the secret service wallah for anyone. Sufficient, even generous funds were placed at my disposal. I made sure that my salary was to be paid directly into my bank account which would make my bank manager more accommodating when my credit card account came due. It was strange and indeed out of character when the Prime Minister came to see me before the official swearing in. “See, mate, I’m really looking after you,” he smiled that smile of his which never reached his wary eyes. Unconsciously, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his old pipe. He sucked on it as he regarded me. “Us Queenslanders stick together,” he stated as if it was still the good old days. Then he added (and it was the reason why he had come to see me), “Of course, there is the formality of an oath to be taken under the Official Secrets Act, just a formality I assure you. You are really not part of ASIO, and have been seconded to my office, so that,” and he smiled that smile of his, “so that, I can keep an eye out for you. Your mission will take about six months and your reports will be passed directly to me. In this way,” and I swear he winked, “any little discrepancies will be safely ignored.”

‘After this I was taken to the office of the head of ASIO and the PM watched as I was sworn to secrecy forever and warned that any disclosure of government secrets would end in a long prison term. Then he quickly shook my hand and left me to stew in the knowledge that I had been duped again. If I now sought to disclose any information about him and his dealings, I would find myself up on a charge of treason before a secret court. I was still fuming as I rushed to the airport. But I was off on a Pacific paradise holiday. I wanted to meet a banker with development funds. Money was romance enough for me. That, at least, was what I thought as I embarked. Oh, that it had been so ...’