Duplicity, p.29
Duplicity, page 29
Jameson didn’t respond and Wolff checked his phone to see if he was still connected.
‘Are we fucking clear, old man?’ Wolff yelled into the phone.
‘I will transfer it within five minutes.’
Wolff quickly relaxed and said gently, ‘Thank you, Mr Jameson. It’s a pleasure doing business with you.’
Tony Hancock took the call at his desk as he was setting out the front-page layout, unsure whether to claim a Stanley victory or a huge election stuff-up. ‘Hello, it’s Tony.’
‘It’s Jameson. We have ended our arrangement with Wolff. I have transferred the contract amount and the agreed bonus to him. Get the invoices out to the others.’
‘I’m onto it, anything else?’
‘Run the Wolff piece your girl wrote.’
‘Are you sure? Gerrard is gone, why would we want to upset the apple cart? We have what we want, why expose him now?’
‘Run it.’ Jameson snapped as he finished the call.
Hancock dropped the phone onto his desk and pondered what to do. He looked out into the design room and saw editor Peter Cleaver in an animated discussion with his sub-editors. ‘Hey, Pete?’ yelled Hancock. Cleaver stopped his discussion and slowly walked to Hancock. ‘Run the Stanley campaign operative story in the next edition as a feature linking it to the win, and let’s go with a Stanley victory headline.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
SUNDAY
Admiralty House, the Sydney residence of the prime minister, seemed unresponsive as Miles Fisher approached the front portico keen to talk to his boss about what to do. The government didn’t win, nor did it lose; it was a tie. An independent had won the deciding seat and would hold the balance of power to determine who would form government. There was no-one about the grounds other than formidable security by the front gate and his heavy knocking on the front door brought no response.
Fisher walked through the rose garden to the small administration block where he met Gerrard’s housekeeper who directed him to the pool where he would find the prime minister. He quickly skipped along the cobbled footpath, past the freshly trimmed hedgerow to the pool where he found Gerrard sprawled asleep on a lounge, a bottle of brandy lying beside him. He coughed as he approached, disturbing the prime minister.
Gerrard looked up and shielded his eyes from the sun. ‘What the fuck do you want?’
‘Prime Minister, I need you to get changed and ready for a media conference in ninety minutes. You have to make a statement about the election.’
‘I don’t have to do a damn thing.’
‘The media are waiting. They want to know what you’re going to do.’
‘Miles, my sweet little darling, I’m not going to do a damn thing,’ said Gerrard as he picked up the bottle, uncorked it with his teeth and took a generous swig. ‘Not my government anymore.’
‘You are the prime minister and the nation needs to hear from you.’
‘They should’ve thought of that before casting their fucking vote,’ snarled Gerrard. ‘I’m not their prime minister anymore.’
‘We need to negotiate a resolution as to who will form government.’
‘Don’t care, so piss off, will you.’
‘Prime Minister, this is a very serious predicament and you need to pull yourself together,’ pleaded Fisher. ‘The country has no leader and it needs to hear from you.’
‘I’ve been prime minister for almost two fucking decades. I’ve done all I could to make them proud, and this is what they do to me. I will not be saying anything to anyone as I’m no longer their leader and I’m no longer a member of the fucking commonwealth parliament,’ sighed Gerrard. ‘The ungrateful fucking morons.’
‘Prime Minster, please. I implore you – we need you to say something.’
‘Let me say two words that will allow you to clearly understand my position. Fuck off!’ barked Gerrard.
‘It’s Peter Stanley,’ said Robert Wong, passing the phone to Jaya.
‘Hello Mr Stanley, how can I help?’
‘Congratulations on a great victory, Jaya, your win in Melbourne created history.’
‘It was a good result, wasn’t it? I have many people to thank.’
‘Jaya, you worked really hard. We are very proud of you.’
‘Proud of me?’ queried Jaya. ‘That’s funny. You weren’t so proud of me a few weeks back when you sacked me.’
‘Jaya, you have to understand, the party could not sanction the things you were saying,’ a contrite Stanley explained.
‘Your people gave me the original speech and asked me to deliver it word for word, which I did, and that speech started it all,’ said Jaya. ‘What do you mean you could not sanction what I said?’
‘I’m not sure I know who would have given you the speech,’ a confused Stanley responded. ‘Are you sure it was from us?’
‘Hmm, let me think – your head office email account was used to send it to us. Is that good enough for you?’
‘You don’t need to be like that, please Jaya, you are a member of the commonwealth parliament now.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘There are different standards we have to adhere to.’
‘You’re kidding me?’ snapped Jaya. ‘Standards? You people have none!’
‘This is all part of the political process; let’s not get personal. We all need each other.’
‘After you set me up, you publicly treat me like a racist. Now you don’t want me to take it personally being called a racist by the party that gladly endorsed, then sacked me. You never called me to talk to me about it. You created a shitstorm for me at my university, threatening my tenure, and now you want me to calm down?’ snapped Jaya, thinking about what more to say, then changing her mind before softly adding with a heavy sigh. ‘What do you want?’
‘I want to talk about forming government. You have the deciding vote.’
Jaya’s jaw dropped in disbelief. ‘So now you need me? What irony.’
‘Gerrard has not made a statement and I need to advise the media if I am able to form government. If you can let me know what you are thinking, I would appreciate it.’
‘I’ll tell you what I am thinking, Stanley,’ growled Jaya. ‘Under my current thinking, you will never be prime minister.’ Jaya winked at Wong.
‘What do you want?’
‘Already you are trying to buy me?’ responded Jaya sarcastically. ‘What type of person do you take me for? Do you think you can buy my vote? I’m not like the rest of you – thank God.’
‘Amen to that,’ Stanley immediately said, then slowly added. ‘I’m sorry if I disrespected you, but the country needs leadership right now and you are the king maker.’
‘Well, rather than you trying to convince me, I think I’m more than capable to make a decision and that’s what I will do later today after the electoral commission finalises the vote. I will call a media conference and announce who I will be supporting once I discuss my options with my advisers.’
‘There is nothing you need?’
‘There is plenty I need, but you won’t be giving it to me.’
‘Will you let me know your decision before your media conference?’
‘No, why the hell should I?’ snapped Jaya. ‘Goodbye, Mr Stanley, look for my answer in the media.’ She ended the call and tossed the phone on some papers on her desk.
‘You go, girl!’ smiled an admiring Wong, his feet resting among a stack of papers on the desk.
Jaya smirked at her campaign manager, wearily shaking her head. ‘Well, you got me into this mess Robert, no-one expected us to win,’ said Jaya as she gazed at Wong. ‘I’m now a federal member of parliament with the balance of power. What do you suggest I do?’
‘I suppose the first thing we should do is find out what we can do,’ said Wong. ‘I mean, what does the balance of power even mean?’
‘It means the government needs my vote to get legislation passed. I have to decide who is going to be government. Do we stay with Gerrard’s mob and their experience or do we give it to the inexperienced Stanley who sacked us?’
‘Who do you trust more than anyone, who could give you the advice you need to make a decision?’
‘I have no-one, that’s my trouble,’ sighed Jaya. ‘Perhaps a parliamentary officer, the governor, I met her once. Politicians are a little too biased and our campaign guru is nowhere to be seen. So, who? It seems like it’s just you and me.’
‘Who are you favouring?’
‘Stanley is utterly hopeless, so if it were a choice between him and Gerrard, it would be a no-brainer, Gerrard would be my choice. But now he’s gone, I have no idea who will lead in his place. So both parties are at the same level.’
‘Who will give you the policy outcomes you want?’
‘But you see, Robert, this is the trouble with the dilemma I’m faced with,’ said Jaya as she sat forward, resting her forearms on her knees and wringing her hands together. ‘If I were to favour one party over the other because of what they offered me, I would be a political fraud. I’d just be one of them and I promised I would be different. I would rather judge them on their legislative agenda and let my promised private member’s bill on the immigration matters be judged on its merits.’
‘If you are not going to ask for anything in return for your support that means you are probably the only independent who is truly independent, ever.’
‘I suspect it will be a tremendous burden.’
‘And dreadfully taxing on you, your career and your friends. I’d hate to be you.’
‘Yeah,’ smiled Jaya as she looked up at her student. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask – do you want to join me?’
The Hancock Media Melbourne offices were located in the office towers by the casino on Southbank. It now made perfect sense to Anita given the covert business links she discovered between Hancock and Jameson. She had arrived at the office early in the afternoon to try and get an opinion piece completed for the next day’s morning edition and work the phone to confirm which party would form the next government.
Speculation had not allayed since the tied result was confirmed by the electoral commission early in the afternoon, and the independent Jaya Rukhmani was yet to announce which party she would support in government. A press release announced a four o’clock media conference to announce who she would be supporting.
Gerrard was refusing to appear before the media, and she couldn’t blame him. After a long political career with almost twenty years as prime minister, it must be shattering for his ego to have lost government and his own seat in the process, she mused.
She was taken completely by surprise to have her feature article about the Stanley campaign operative printed. She was yet to learn from her editor why the change of heart about her column and considered many options as to why. It was a blistering exposé of Sinclair-Browne, suggesting a new trend in political campaigning being taken out of the hands of politicians and transferred to furtive public opinion manipulators. She wasn’t happy with the positioning of the column away from the reporting of the election result, but she was pleased it exposed the tactics of the Stanley campaign.
The covert manipulation of the political system she had discovered needed spotlighting, she felt, and she hoped it would provide salient lessons for the community to be more aware of the dark art of political campaigning. The use of specialised campaign groups was not a new strategy – social media campaigns had been successfully organised and operated by so-called independent community groups and lobbyists in the past, but this was the first time an operative strategically managed an entire campaign for a political party.
Anita was now convinced the people had little say in government policy. Their vote was important in deciding who would ultimately govern, but governments seemed to be increasingly manipulated to obtain an outcome for whatever special interest group had the greatest voice and impact in the campaign. The unions, the business groups, environmental groups and even regional organisations forced their way on to the political stage to influence government policy and funding decisions.
She assumed her story would have ramifications during the examination of the election result and hoped questions would be raised on seeking assurances of greater transparency during future election campaigns, as well as restricting spurious community groups that claimed to be independent from acting as front groups for other political organisations.
Politics in its purest form excited her, but she was saddened by what she had discovered during the campaign. The vengeance of Harper, the manipulation of Jaya, and Barton’s big lie were blatant examples of covert politics manipulating public opinion – and added to her disappointment. What caused her more angst than her loss of respect for the political process was the blatant cover up and editorial control of her boss toward her opinion columns. She even wondered if the story on the campaign operative was just another manipulation by Hancock to achieve a political outcome.
‘Cleave, what line do you want me to take in this editorial?’ Anita had called her editor seeking support. ‘Who do you think will form government?’
‘I have no idea, sweetheart, and to be frank, I really don’t care.’
‘Can you tell me why my opinion piece on the campaign operative with the Stanley campaign got a run today – why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It was a late decision, I pulled a story and needed a filler and thought it was a good discussion piece.’ Cleaver avoided letting her know the true reason.
‘Will the others get a run?’
‘Not sure they will; the boss doesn’t support them.’
‘What am I doing here, Cleave? What’s the point?’
‘Anita, it’s been a torrid few weeks in politics for everyone. You have been doing a fantastic job and I’m very proud of the work you have done for me. I wouldn’t be making any snap decisions about the future.’
‘Will I be promoted to television?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’ve done everything I was asked to do and then some,’ moaned Anita.
‘I agree, but I can’t tell you anything – I just don’t know.’
‘Why am I suddenly out in the cold?’
‘Hancock makes the decisions, you know that.’
Anita screwed her face, frustrated with the response from her boss. ‘It’s to do with the Mercantiles, isn’t it? I’m too close to exposing them,’ snapped Anita, thrusting her hand through her hair. ‘Hancock should have nothing to fear. Surely he is smart enough to know if he helps my career, I have a conflict of interest and wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.’
‘I don’t know,’ Cleaver softly said. ‘Listen, just get the editorial done and then take the rest of the week off.’
‘Who do I declare the winner?’
‘Call it a draw and recap on the best and worst of the campaign. That should be enough until we actually know.’
‘I’ll fly home to Canberra tomorrow and come see you.’
‘Don’t stress, it’ll all be okay.’
‘Yeah, then why do I feel like it won’t be?’
‘Anita, listen. You’re making this bigger than it really is. You’ve done a great job and so what if we don’t use all your stuff. We haven’t in the past, you know that. There’s no point in getting yourself tied in knots about this.’
Anita slumped her head into her hands. ‘I guess you’re right, Cleave. We got some good stuff out there and I’m pleased the way it went.’
‘Write the column and get it to me as soon as you can.’
‘Thanks, Cleave. See you.’
She dropped her phone to the desk, slumped back into her chair and looked to the ceiling. She was anxious and felt a dull ache within her. She began to question her future and felt a need to get away from the Hancock media.
Brereton’s advice unexpectedly filtered back to her; she didn’t want to be Hancock’s captive. Maybe she needed to get away from the media totally, or go overseas, or start a new career. Policy always interested her, as would working for a minister. Most of them could do with improved media advice.
Sitting up, Anita chuckled as she considered the thought of working for Peter Stanley. Nothing she could ever do would improve his status, yet here he is, perhaps just a media conference away from being announced prime minister.
She opened her computer and went to a new document, typed a suggested headline and then looked at the blank screen for the next thirty minutes thinking about what to say. Fingers hovered above her keyboard waiting for journalistic inspiration and then fell away, frustrated at the lack of enthusiasm.
Anita’s timer disturbed her, reminding her the four o’clock media conference was about to start so she moved to a room with a television to watch the anointing of the new government. She was impressed with Jaya’s manner and noted her increased confidence as she waited for the media to finally settle down before she began. Jaya was dressed in a traditional sari, which Anita assumed was a deliberate statement about her history. She liked the symbolism – a confident woman about to announce a new government.
‘Good evening, and thank you for coming,’ Jaya began reading her speech. ‘Australia has voted for a government yet the result of who will lead that government for the next five years has yet to be decided.
‘I am a political novice of little consequence, some fifteen hours after being announced as the new member for Melbourne. I have been given the task of determining who should lead us for the next five years and under what circumstances that decision will be made – no easy task for someone so junior.’
She paused for a moment and then looked at the television cameras before her. ‘I would like to take this opportunity to thank the previous member for Melbourne, Andrew Gerrard, for his long service to the local community. I can assure him his hard work will not be forgotten by the people of Melbourne and I will ensure his legacy is remembered.’
Anita thought it odd she would only refer to Gerrard as the local member and not prime minister. Perhaps she truly was focused on her electorate and not concerned with the disquiet of the nation seeking a result.
