CHOGM Pt. 03

"I like your mother. Okay, she came over as a little stuck up to start with, but the news probably came as a bit of a shock to her. It's not the first time that you've shocked her is it?"

"No. You should have heard the fuss she made when I announced that I intended to become a journalist. 'Why don't you choose an honourable profession like Medicine?' Russell gave a reasonable impersonation of his mother's voice. 'Don't you think five doctors in the family are enough?' I asked her. 'But journalists are so, grubby.' That wasn't the end of it though. When I announced which paper I had chosen to work on she practically exploded.' 'Oh Russell, how could you! If you must be one of those things, at least have the decency to work on one of the respectable newspapers, like the Herald.' It was around that time I decided that I couldn't live at home anymore."

"What made her change her mind?"

"Eh?"

"She appeared positively proud of you here today. I bet she has a scrap book at home with a copy of everything that you have ever had printed in it."

"If she was proud of me today it was because of you. You are so much better than either of my Sisters-in-Law. God you should see them. Not a patch on you, both of them are doctors of course, my brothers met them at Med School. Ugly, what is it that my lecherous boss says, oh yes, 'give them a can of Pal and send them home'."

"I hope never to hear you say that about anyone, after all people can't help their looks."

"There is a difference between mere plainness and being down right frumpish. No make-up, sensible shoes, hair that looks like it lost an argument with a pair of hedge clippers, and clothes, straight from the 'Op shop'. I bet that even if you weren't so absolutely beautiful to look at you'd still be attractive. You know how to dress and about grooming. Mum was always taken by a woman with class and style, and you have both in abundance."

Mr Petrelli came out of his office with a worried look on his face. "Taxes, taxes. When is this Government going to stop taxing the life out of people like me that want to work hard? You should see how much money my company pays in tax each year. It is getting so bad that I might have to think about retiring."

"Come on Papa, you know that you love to work and you wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you ever stopped."

"Listen to this expert. All you have to do is walk backward and forward a few times in front of people and you earn as much money as I can earn in a whole week of back breaking work.(to Russell) Do you think this is fair?"

"I am hardly in a position to comment, after all my job is hardly going to qualify as strenuous physically."

"Don't worry about Papa, he is always complaining. He does that nearly as well as he works. Underneath that growly exterior he's proud of me and my success, aren't you Papa?"

Her father took her in his arms. "Of course I am proud of you. All of my friends say to me. 'Hey I see you daughter on the television last night, she's beautiful.' Then they ask me from where you get your looks. They say that I'm ugly so I tell them that you are just like your mother was at your age and they tell me that I'm the luckiest man in the world to have married someone like that as I am so ugly."

The atmosphere was broken by the telephone ringing. Mr Petrelli answered it. It was for Russell.

"Mr French, we have your mother and some Italian lady with us." There was an obvious attempt to disguise the voice by placing a handkerchief over the mouth piece but the American accent still managed to come through.

"What do you want?"

"We want you to stop the publication of the article that you have written about the CIA or you will never see your mother again. Ever."

"I don't think that I can stop it at this stage."

"I will ring you in one hour and if you can't confirm that you've managed to stop it we will kill you mother in a most agonising way. One hour, that is all the time you have."

Russell was very quiet and very pale. "What is it Darling?" Jenny asked.

"Someone, I don't know who but I suspect our American friends, has kidnapped my mother and yours."

"How much do they want?"

"They don't want money. They want me to stop the article."

Russell called John and explained the situation to him and it was agreed that a temporary halt to publication would do no harm but could be reversed if harm came to either of the women.

An hour later the phone rang. "It is arranged." Russell told the man. "I want them released immediately and I want to know where I can pick them up from."

"I can't tell you where or when just yet but I will call in half an hour and give you directions."

It was a tense wait and during that time Russell was wondering how they knew about the article and was this just to show them how vulnerable they and their friends and relatives were. His mind drifted back to the recent meeting and which of the other parties involved leaked the news. He was sure that it wasn't Jenkins and if it was one of the others then Australian security has been compromised at the highest level.

The phone shattered his thoughts. "We have confirmed that you have followed orders and will release the women. You are to go to the MacDonaldtown railway station and you will find them in the waiting room. They have been told to wait for you and not to contact the police or you will be dealt with before you can reach them." Russell put the phone down and grabbed Jenny's hand.

"Where are we going?" She asked as they ran to the car.

"MacDonaldtown railway station, it's not a safe place to leave them for any length of time."

They parked the car and ran onto the platform and to the waiting room to find their respectives chatting away to a young girl who looked no more than sixteen years old but already had a baby that was wrapped in a tatty but clean blanket. "If you go to this address," Mrs French told her, "they will take good care of you and help you to find somewhere decent to stay and take you to Social Security and help you through the paper minefield so that you get on a pension."

"Thank you, you've been very kind." Tears welled up in her sad eyes.

Mrs French gathered her in her arms and gave her a hug. "You're a good girl and don't deserve any of what you've gone through. Just be strong and look after yourself and your baby, will you promise me that?" The girl nodded a sniffley yes. "Good, and if you ever need anything call me on that number and I'll do what I can."

"Do you have any food?" Mrs Petrelli asked her.

"No."

"Go to this place," she wrote an address on a piece of paper, "ask for Maria and she will give you any fruit and veg that you need, will you do that?"

"You ladies have been so kind to me, I don't know how to thank you."

"Just make a good life for yourself and your baby and let us know where to send your twenty-first birthday present."

The girl smiled for the first time, "I just might do that." She shoved the pieces of paper into her jeans pocket and pushed the pram out of the waiting room.

"I see you've made it, don't just stand there we have work to do." They walked to the car and as Russell pulled away from the kerb Mrs Petrelli said to him. "Turn left at the next intersection."

"Where are we going?" Jenny asked.

"They had us blindfolded and in the back of a van but I've memorised the turns that we made coming from where we were held. We should be coming to a set of traffic lights, keep going straight and in a little while the road veers to the left follow that for a couple of minutes and you will come to a narrow laneway between high buildings, drive down it until you cross a drain or something that crosses the lane at an angle. The door to the building will be on the right."

"That's incredible!" Russell exclaimed as the car lurched over the spoon drain, he drove to the end of the lane before a difficult three point turn saw them driving back down the lane. "This looks to be the same building where Jerry had his meeting with Lou Carbone, although why they should be doing the bidding of our American friends I don't know."

"Could it be that they use local talent where possible so that they can maintain total deniability if the operation goes sour?"

"That would appear to be the only reason." The drive to the Petrelli house continued with the two women in the back seat chatting as if they were long-time friends who were returning home from a shopping trip.

25

"You honestly think that your little show of strength will convince them to butt out?"

"Why sure it will. We are dealing with a couple of your actual amateurs here, not professionals. A little nudge in the right place and they will duck for cover right enough."

"I hope that you're right. The last thing we want is for something to go wrong at this point in time."

"Have you set up for our other friends to deliver the package?"

"Yes. It will be in place in good time. I can imagine the surprise on their faces when the balloon goes up. When they realise that they have been used as patsies they are going to be ropeable."

"And the surprise package, that's been arranged?"

"All fixed, both of them, ASIO are set to react to information received and find a small device in the rubbish bin that has been planted by another party. What they won't find until it's too late is the other much more powerful package that's a couple of inches beneath that in a brown paper bag. You have nothing to worry about, just go to all of your functions and suck up to the proper people and leave the dirty work to professionals like me, after all that's what we get paid for, isn't it?"

"It is going to the desired result isn't it?"

"Sure. It'll really knock their socks off. They will be left speechless, you can bet on that."

"What about those mad Irishmen. Where are they?"

"You mean right now?"

"As we speak right now."

"As we speak, Uh Huh. Well I was meaning to talk to you about those two. I think maybe that they weren't one of your most intelligent ideas."

"What do you mean?"

"The last thing that I heard from that front was that they had a few too many at the local pub and got fighting drunk. They trashed the front bar. As we speak they are probably in a de-tox unit somewhere with orders that they are to stay there until their deportation papers can be processed."

"How did this happen? Who was looking after them?"

"A couple of the Union lads were showing them around. Apparently someone suggested a boat race and they all participated with enthusiasm."

"And the minders?"

"Probably sharing a cell with them."

26

By six o'clock the planning was reaching the stage where the nuts and bolts had been finalised and it was just the fiddly bits to be taken care of. Russell and Jenny were consulted and told where and when the ceremony would take place, who would officiate, how many guests were being invited, what the bride would wear and how many bridesmaids she was allowed to chose, bearing in mind the family politics involved.

"Don't we have any say in this?" Russell asked when the final plan item was revealed.

"Certainly not, you're only the groom. Why should you have any say?"

"I meant Jenny and I collectively, after all it is our wedding."

"Whoever heard of such a thing. Have you heard anything like it Maria? Weddings are just another excuse for families to get together and settle scores amongst themselves. Isn't that right my Dear?"

"I think Russell and I would have both settled for a quieter ceremony held sooner."

"And deny your mother the opportunity to see once more the dress that she wore for her own wedding."

"Mama! For that dress I would wait for two years."

"Steady on. Just a minute ago your were wanting a quick and quiet wedding and now look at you, you're as bad as they are."

"I think that is all we can do today. Russell will you be so kind as to drive me home?"

"I'm coming with you." Jenny said as she went to her room to collect her purse.

They drove in relative silence for several minutes before Russell's mother spoke. "You don't own this car, do you?"

"No mother. It belongs to the three Englishmen with whom we are working. Don't you like it?"

"Oh, it's very nice, much better than the wrecks you used to drive around the paddocks, so I knew it couldn't have been one of your choices."

"Let me tell you that if I was to buy a car it would be this one or one identical to it."

It was nearing seven when the Triumph stopped in the driveway behind a silver BMW which was parked in the driveway, its engine still turning over.

"Well hullo old girl, I wondered where you had got to. I arrived home at my usual time expecting the customary sumptuous repast to be waiting for me and what do I find? A worried Franklin not knowing where you were, and a meal that could only be described as past its prime."

"I'm sorry dear, it's just that so much has happened this afternoon that I completely forgot to ring and tell you that I would be a little late home. By the way I would like you to meet your soon to be new daughter-in-law, Jenny Peters."

"Jenny Peters, now where have I heard that name recently? Oh no, it couldn't be! I do believe it is!" His overacting was beginning to upset Russell, "It is the famous model Jenny Peters."

"Yes father it is. Now cut out the histrionics you are making a fool of yourself."

"Sorry. You can call me Walter, but not too often I hate the name, if you like you can call me Father, I'm much more comfortable with that." He took her hand but before he could raise it to his lips Jenny kissed him on the cheek. "I must confess to some small degree of surprise," He looked at Russel, "because when you chose journalism over medicine I said that you would never amount to anything, and now look at you, standing there with what has to be arguably the most beautiful woman in Sydney. Amazing!"

They had moved inside and Russell and Jenny found themselves almost disappearing into a huge leather chesterfield while Mr French sat like some feudal Baron in identical tub chair, cigar in one hand and a glass of his best single malt whisky in the other. Russell and Jenny had settled for a dry sherry. Mrs French had gone off to check if Franklin the housekeeper could put together something for dinner. She returned just as Russell was telling his father something of the day's events.

"Why on earth didn't you call me?"

"I thought of it, but you know how difficult it is to get through to you, especially if you are operating."

"You could have left a message with my secretary, she would have known whether I could be disturbed. As it was I got home to find that your mother had disappeared muttering something about putting an end to this foolishness and not even telling Franklin where she was going."

"What's this foolishness you were going to put an end to?"

"I must learn not to jump to conclusions. I honestly thought when you announced your plans to get married you were talking about one of those floosies that journalists seem to be attracted to. That was of course before I met Jenny and her parents."

"I hope that this means that you will no longer try and stop Russell and I from getting married?"

"Heavens no! I gave up any thought of opposing your plans within five minutes of meeting you."

"Just as well."

"I must say my boy you've done all right for yourself. She is without doubt the best looking daughter-in-law I will ever have. Leaves the others for dead."

"Down you lecherous old bugger, your chauvinism is showing." Russell told him.

"Looking is a married man's privilege my boy, it's when he wants to touch that the trouble starts."

Franklin came into the room to announce that dinner was served and they all rose and adjourned to the dining room.

They were seated at a large and very highly polished mahogany table on which sat gleaming silver cutlery, polished crystal glasses and plates, now piled with food, and that would soon be revealed to be Royal Albert china.

Fillet steak, lightly glazed peas and baby carrots and baked jacket potatoes covered with sour cream and chopped chives. "I thought a light meal would be appropriate so I decided to do without the usual entree."

"Are you trying to make me fat?" Asked Jenny, eyeing the mound of food.

"Good heavens no. If you can't eat it all we won't be upset." Turning to the husband. "Will you pour dear?"

"Certainly. I hope you like red wine my dear, you don't mind if I call you 'my dear', do you?"

"No, not at all, in fact I find myself feeling comfortable with it."

"Fine. I hope that you like this one, it is something that I picked up from a little boutique winery at McLaren Vale the last time that I was in Adelaide. The Southern Vales wineries are gaining a reputation for producing big reds and this Shiraz is no exception. I like it."

Russell lifted the glass and nosed the wine, the aromas of leather with just a hint of pepper greeted his taste buds. He took a sip of the wine and swirled it around his mouth, the unmistakable fruit characters of the Shiraz moved smoothly around his palate aided in no small part by the distinctive flavour of the small oak casks in which the wine had been aged. The finish was dry without the astringency common to many reds. "Smooth. I could get to like this. Can you get me some?"

"I can do better than that. I will give you a couple of dozen bottles to start your own cellar. A sort of pre-wedding, wedding present. Do you like this my dear?"

"Yes it's very nice. A bit different to the wines that I am used to."

"And what wines are you used to?"

"Home made reds and spumante."

"Do you like champagne?"

"If what I've been drinking at fashion parades and receptions is champagne, no. It's much too sweet for me."

"Probably cheap bubbly, it's deliberately sweet so that people will pour it down without questioning its origins. Cheap and nasty, and causes no end of problems the next day. Now I have an excellent Brut champagne that you will probably like and if you do I will throw a dozen or so bottles in with the other wine that I give Russell. You must encourage Russell to maintain a good cellar at all times."

"I don't think he'll need much encouragement, do you?"

"No. Now you will need to try wines from all regions. Don't accept other peoples recommendations, buy what you like and hang the rest. Now if I could recommend a few places for you to try I will."

"Go ahead."

"Well, South Australia produces some of the best wines in the world, particularly reds such as Grange Hermitage, so a trip to the Barossa Valley and McLaren Vale is imperative, not forgetting the Coonawarra district in the South East of the State. There are some good wineries in Victoria as well as the Hunter Valley of course. Visit as many as possible and taste as much as you can, make up your own mind and go with your instincts."

Mr French continued to expound his views on wines during a dessert of fresh strawberries dusted with castor sugar and covered with fresh cream followed by a cheese platter containing several different cheeses and fresh green salad vegetables.

It was just after eleven when Russell and Jenny left to return to Jenny's house. They drove in silence except for the radio playing softly to compliment the mood. Jenny's hand rested on Russell's left thigh and her head on his shoulder. Conversation was totally superfluous, the world and the moment was theirs and theirs alone. What happened outside the confines of the car had lost its relevance other than what was necessary to drive the car. As far as they were concerned World War III could have started.

They turned off the main road into the secondary road that led them to Jenny's parents' house when a car approached rapidly from behind them with its lights on high beam. Russell reached for the anti-glare lever on the inside mirror but that did little to ease the pain of the bright lights when the outside mirrors both reflected the beam into his eyes. "Bloody hell, what is this fool trying to do, blind me?"