Duplicity, p.22
Duplicity, page 22
‘Do I need to make any policy statements?’
‘The only thing for you to focus on is drilling down on what the major parties are announcing, and spin a negative impact for your local voters,’ said Wolff. ‘Dumb it right down so anyone can understand it. You have to remember most folks have not been to university, so get it back to a street language you would have used prior to your doctorate. What did you do your doctorate on by the way?’
‘I examined the use of push polling within a local political campaign.’
‘Which one?’
‘A Costa Rica presidential campaign.’
‘Oh yes? Was it the Jose Vargas campaign?’
‘How would you know that campaign, did you read my thesis?’
‘I probably wrote it,’ Wolff smiled shyly.
‘You are an interesting man, Mr Sinclair-Browne,’ grinned Jaya, then smiled more demurely as she looked away from the intensity of Wolff’s return look and smile. ‘Very interesting.’
‘Look, folks, I could talk about these things for hours, but I’m starving and have other work to do,’ said Wolff as he stood and stretched out any aches. ‘You have my number, so stay in touch. If you have any questions, no matter how stupid, call me.’
‘Do you fancy a vindaloo?’ asked Jaya. ‘There’s a khaane kee dukaan nearby.’
‘A what?’
‘An Indian restaurant,’ Jaya smiled. ‘If you like curry, that is.’
‘Sure, let’s do it. I would love something hot and spicy tonight.’ Wolff smiled at his own joke as he started walking out. ‘Coming, Robert?’
Wong looked up at Wolff then passed a quick flick to Jaya, who pursed her lips with a very slight shake of head. ‘No, that’s very kind of you, but you have given me plenty to do here. I want to get on top of it tonight.’
Wolff smiled at his enthusiasm. ‘That’s fine, just make sure there is no reference to me anywhere, okay?’ He was at the bottom of the stairs before Jaya, and he turned to watch her descend.
Jaya liked being watched as she slowly came down the stairs. ‘I’m really pleased you came when you did, Mr Sinclair-Browne,’ she said as she slowed, nearing the bottom step and letting Wolff watch her more closely. ‘You made my day.’
Wolff ran his tongue by the corner of his lips.
CHAPTER TWENTY
DAY TWENTY-SIX – MONDAY
Taking in the view from the leafy Commonwealth Reserve in Williamstown across the bay to the tall buildings of the Melbourne CBD, Anita sipped from her water bottle. As the setting sun transposed the greys of the skyline into vivid contrasting colours, she released a sigh. The old warship museum moored at the pier added an unusual dimension to her view, as did the swaying masts from the nearby Royal Yacht Club.
She was waiting for Messenger, who was at a community function at Customs House Hotel, a local beer barn across the road from the park. The bench was hard but comfortable as she tapped her way through a draft critique of the Mercantiles. A story she conceded would probably never be published, she was nevertheless committed to it being written and was already five thousand words in.
The noise from the seaplane about to take off on a scenic tour over Melbourne distracted her, and she watched as it glided out past the moored yachts to clear water. The grunts of nearby players at the tennis courts behind her had her thinking the little village would be an ideal place to live.
Just across the bay from the most livable city in the world, it was still far enough away to provide the laziness of a bayside small town. From the remarkable colonial buildings in the nearby streets to the old anchors and cannons along the foreshore, the village obviously had a rich maritime history. Anita speculated if she would ever have the opportunity to share in it with their local politician. She whimsically sighed again, a little distracted from her work.
Another slurp of water and Anita began watching the late afternoon strollers and the families stretching out on the lush lawn of the park. Wondering if she would ever be up for the enormous challenge, responsibility and obligation of family life, she shifted in her seat a little uneasily.
Bringing her mind back to her research, Anita focused. Were there organised business groups in Williamstown when it first established itself as a major port of Melbourne? she wondered. Were the Mercantiles active in the region almost two hundred years ago? She knew the Mercantiles were committed to the economic development of Australia and set out to work with government to get what they wanted, so they probably were interested in the new port.
She thought about how they must have endured many economic challenges over the years, including constant disruption to their markets, claiming government over-regulation and increased interventionist legislation interfered with their operations and, as a consequence, their wealth. They were looking after themselves and working together for a better future, just like any family. She tapped the idea of familial values into her piece.
The question she couldn’t quite frame an answer to was the ethics of what they do and why they do it. Was it ethical for the Mercs to influence policy and legislation for their own benefit? No different to other lobbyists, especially unions, she supposed. Unions stopped at nothing to get their way with government on issues they considered important, so why couldn’t the Mercs do the same?
The community doesn’t complain too much when militant unionists shut down the docks or building sites, so why would it be a problem for business owners to negotiate better market conditions? The unions often used violent demonstrations to get what they wanted, including alleged large payoffs, but it seemed the Mercs used their money more covertly to gain influence. They both worked for outcomes that suited themselves, they just had different styles of negotiation – one group has capital for investment, the other has control of their labour. Both powerful levers in the economy.
Based on recent history, Anita considered whether muscle had more influence in political debate than money; certainly, the public knew more about union disruption. But she also believed monied people with power and access used more sinister means because of their lack of transparency.
Was it a good or a bad thing for the community to have politicians influenced by business owners and their money, especially in the covert manner the Mercantiles go about it? Does the community care about what goes on backstage politically? So long as they don’t pay the government too much and governments provide more and more services to the community to ensure they enjoy a settled and safe life, who really cares? Can you have ethics in politics and still get things done? An interesting no-win question. She took a note in her journal to reconsider the question at a later time.
What piqued Anita’s interest about the Mercantiles even more was their international connections, like a large interwoven web of networks working for the benefit of each other. No different to international lobby groups and statutory authorities like the International Labour Organisation, just a little more secret in their actions and influence. Why did they see the need to hide the work they did? She tapped further thoughts into her column. Is international trade influenced by the Mercantiles’ international network, and do they influence government elections in sovereign states? She scribbled another question in her notebook.
Anita looked up from her computer. Catching sight of Messenger, she watched him walk across the lawn toward her. She smiled fondly with a touch of excitement as she watched his poised swagger and aloofness. He spotted her looking and waved. When he reached her, he bent in and kissed her cheek before sitting.
‘How was your meeting?’
‘Rowdy,’ sighed Messenger. ‘There was a lot of chatter about dumping the professor. I was a little shocked, quite frankly, about the comments from people I consider friends and thought I knew.’
‘What did they say?’
‘Some people think she was right while others argued she didn’t have the right to say anything. Red-necks started getting stuck into her because she’s black, which totally shocked me. Immigration is a hot topic, more than we realise.’ Messenger leaned on his knees and looked out into the bay. ‘I must say, I heard things tonight that make me question if I really need friends like that.’
‘Well, I guess the community debate’s been suppressed for way too long,’ said Anita as she closed her computer and put it into her overly large bag. ‘What the professor said the other night was spot on. The irony is that an immigrant was actually saying it and then gets sacked for saying it,’ she gently rubbed his shoulder. ‘What’s for dinner?’
‘I thought we might go Croatian, there is a fantastic restaurant over there,’ Barton flicked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘They serve a wicked pork rib you must try.’ He then paused for a moment and looked at Anita. ‘Tell me about your article on Gerrard.’
‘What article about Gerrard?’
‘The one you wrote a few weeks back about the detention centre funding in Indonesia that’s going to run in your paper, probably tomorrow.’
‘That story’s dead.’
‘Not from what I’ve heard, it was going to run today, which must mean it’s in tomorrow’s edition. We’ve been waiting for it so we can make a strategic announcement.’
‘Who told you it was going to run?’
‘Sinclair-Browne told us on Saturday,’ Barton said slowly, a little unsure how much to say. ‘I’m not sure how he knows, perhaps he has a contact.’
‘First I’ve heard of it,’ said Anita. ‘What do you think of the Hyphen?’
‘He seems to know what he’s doing. Polls are showing a strong trend toward us.’
‘Did he have anything to do with the professor’s speech the other day?’
‘Don’t know. He refutes Jaya’s claims about head office,’ said Messenger, shifting in his seat and looking about. ‘He was the first to call for her dismissal, so I would suspect he had little to do with it.’
‘Operatives like him always work to strategy. I wouldn’t be surprised if this speech response and the public outcry is deliberate. Maybe it forms part of his election strategy against Gerrard.’
‘What? Start a race war on immigration?’ Messenger looked back to Anita who provided a querying shrug. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘What’s your view?’ Anita reached out her hand and he quickly clasped it, running his thumb along her palm. ‘Do you think this is a debate the country should have?’
‘No, I don’t. I feel really uncomfortable about it.’
Anita squeezed his hand. ‘The Australian community hasn’t had the opportunity for a long time to talk about culture and what we expect from each other.’
‘That’s a different debate,’ Barton said. ‘What we now have is an us-versus-them fight and sadly I don’t think anyone will feel better for having taken part.’
‘Why do you feel so anxious about it? Surely we’re mature enough to talk about these things.’
‘We are, but in the heated battleground of an election, passions run high and sometimes we say hurtful things we later regret,’ Barton looked off into the distance again. ‘I could have supported Jaya more than I did, and I question why I didn’t. Was she just expedient to the cause, a convenient political kill – or was there something in me that said she was not appropriate for the party?’ He dropped his face into his hands and sighed heavily. ‘Maybe she’s right – she told me I was like any other white man with zero understanding of what people of colour go through.’
‘You’re being way too harsh on yourself.’ Her soothing words helped him, and he looked up at a smiling Anita. ‘It’s politics at its ugliest – people get hurt.’
‘Government is for everyone and out of control immigration debates like this don’t help anyone.’
‘Yes, but sometimes we need to talk about it.’ Anita leaned over and kissed his cheek. ‘If you’re concerned, why don’t you get your team to back off.’
‘Too late I’m afraid, we’re preparing to drive it hard.’
Anita leaned back and asked, ‘Bart, you just said you hate this debate. Why are you pushing it harder?’
Messenger didn’t respond immediately, watching a family walk past, then looking off to the distance. ‘Politics is about having the power of government to get things done. I suspect if we need to separate the two leaders in the minds of the voters by a toxic issue like this, then so be it.’
‘Win at any cost?’ Anita was a little surprised by his comment and she felt a twinge within her.
‘Yes,’ Messenger shifted in his seat. ‘I told you the other night at dinner that politics is about compromising your values sometimes. For me, this is an example.’
‘I can’t believe you just said that.’ Anita paused for a moment. ‘Do you truly believe you must say and do anything to win government?’
‘Yes.’
‘This immigration thing is potentially very dangerous,’ Anita said sharply. ‘If the Hyphen has activated this polarisation in the community that we are seeing by getting the professor to speak, then sacking her – well, that sounds like strategy to me. A very dangerous one.’
‘Look, Anita.’ Messenger turned and faced her. ‘Gerrard has been in power for too long, it’s time for a change.’ He gripped her hand. ‘We’re coming from a long way behind in the polls and perhaps we will do and say things that may disappoint many of our followers, perhaps even our family. This is politics. It’s the manipulation of perceptions and nothing to do with reality.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ Anita unexpectedly felt concerned for Barton. ‘What are you going to announce in the next few days?’
‘All I can tell you is that we’re going hard on Gerrard and his soft stance on immigration, suggesting he has a new policy so voters can make a judgement call on him before they vote.’
‘What policy? I’ve heard nothing.’
‘Just because you haven’t heard it, doesn’t mean it isn’t true.’
‘Is Gerrard announcing a new policy?’
‘We are saying he is about to.’
Anita crossed her arms and gazed at Barton a little frustrated. ‘Do I understand you correctly that you are going to allege a new government policy.’
‘I’ve said too much.’
‘Are you going to tell a lie?’ Anita shook her head. ‘I can’t believe what you’re telling me.’
‘It’ll be up to the voters to determine.’
‘On what?’
‘What’s fact or fiction.’
Anita was cross with the disclosure, vigorously gnawing her bottom lip as she waited for Barton to look at her. ‘You know the Hyphen and Tony Hancock know each other, don’t you?’
‘I wasn’t aware of that, no.’
‘Would it worry you that Hancock is actually paying him to coordinate your campaign.’
‘I thought a printing company in Sydney was the generous donor?’
‘Hancock owns it, or at least one of his many offshoot companies does.’ Barton still avoided looking at her. ‘Would it surprise you to learn the Mercantiles are working against Gerrard?’
‘Well, other than Sinclair-Browne, I don’t know what else they’re doing for us.’
‘I don’t think it’s Stanley they particularly want as prime minister. I think they just want to get rid of Gerrard.’
‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ Barton slyly looked at her. ‘Everyone in politics is self-interested. Dare I say, even you.’
Anita leaned back in the bench a little perplexed by his comment. ‘What makes you think I’m self-interested?’
‘If you think Sinclair-Browne is a Mercantile operative paid by Hancock then why haven’t you publicly called it out?’ Barton had changed his tone. ‘If you think there is a conspiracy with Jaya being sacked, why don’t you call it out?’ He waited for a response, but Anita looked away.
‘You don’t because it may cause you to lose your television opportunities, and perhaps if you did call it out, you’d risk losing your job. You would rather write stories making fools of politicians than write the truth,’ Barton looked away. ‘You’re the same as us. You’ll do or say anything to get what you want. Just like us.’
‘That’s totally unfair.’ A squealing kid distracted Anita for a moment. ‘I don’t think that way about you.’
‘No? Then why all this fake news.’
‘I have a code of ethics I subscribe to—’ Anita crossed her legs, turning them away from Barton. ‘I just wish your colleagues had a similar code.’
‘I don’t recall ever reading in your code the need to humiliate politicians. To try and catch us out by using shifty wordplay and creating gotcha moments.’
‘You’re being ridiculous.’
‘I don’t remember the media supporting James Harper when he lost his leadership just a few short weeks ago. But I do seem to recall you raising issues with Stanley when you knew he would stumble over them and not know the answer. Is that ethical?’
Anita teared a little, shocked by Barton’s aggressive comments. ‘What has got you like this?’ She bit her lip. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ said Barton, staring out across the bay. After a little while he added, ‘I have to do something soon that I think is wrong. It’ll cause a political shitstorm.’
‘Then don’t do it.’
‘If we want to win then I have to,’ insisted Barton.
Anita looked at him and saw he was struggling with his thoughts. ‘You don’t have to do what it is you say you have to – no-one can force you to do anything.’
‘Sadly, in politics, yes they can.’
Families were breaking up and heading home, paying little attention to the couple on the park bench sitting like strangers, looking out into the darkening bay with the distant city lighting up.
Anita was suddenly flustered and wiped her eyes. She didn’t know what to do. Politics was suddenly becoming too hard for her to mix with her personal life. What started as an innocent conversation was now sliding into an abyss and she didn’t like it. She had an ache in her stomach and was anxious about what to do.
