CHOGM Pt. 02

"Yes. Let me make the introductions. My name is John Burroughs and this is Jerry Smythe and Frank Rogers. We are employed by, for want of a better name, British Intelligence,MI6. We are here because we got wind that there was a plot to blow up the CHOGM Conference and kill at least one of the attending Prime Ministers. What we don't know is how, when and why?"

"Is that why you have been fishing around for clues?"

"What we discuss here and now is strictly confidential. You are to tell no-one until we give you the word. In exchange for your silence I'll make sure that you get the scoop when it is safe to release the information."

"Agreed."

"Now how did you get on to us so quickly? Was it a fluke?"

"Your entrance into Sydney didn't go un-noticed and you would have got away with it except for one slight mistake."

"What was that?"

"If you're going to play at being drunk you should at least smell as if you had been drinking. The hostess made the observation to the pilot within earshot of one of our people that when one of you kissed her she couldn't smell alcohol on his breath."

"That's the trouble with ginger ale or iced tea, our people should come up with something that at least smelled like booze. I'll mention it to them when we get home. By the way, we know who you are, who's this?" He indicated Jenny.

"She's just a friend, actually she is more than just a friend, but she's okay if that's what's bothering you."

"Just so long as you remember that. As to what we are doing, we are trying to infiltrated the local scene and find out if there is anything going on that could lead us to the plot to kill one of the Prime Ministers."

"I might be able to help you there. We get a lot of information about goings on that are never printed for one reason or another. While I won't be able to divulge the source of the information I will be able to pass on anything that is interesting, in return for your story you understand?"

"Understood. Have you heard of any increase in activity around such places as the Universities or maybe the union movement?"

"No more than normal although there is a whisper about the BLF (Builders Labourers Federation) planning to use some heavy muscle to take over one of the smaller unions. Are you sure that the Indian Prime Minister isn't the target?"

"Why do you ask?"

"There's a group called the Ananda Marga, and the reports that we are getting from India is that they wouldn't be too unhappy to see the Indian Government in chaos. They are claiming that their spiritual leader is being detained as a political prisoner while the government is claiming that they are holding him on murder charges."

"Our information is that Desai is one of the possible targets."

"One thing that intrigues me is that an organisation such as the Ananda Marga shouldn't have the international support to mount an operation like this, unless.."

"Unless what?"

"It has a lot of followers in America. It may be possible that they are getting some financial and physical support from there."

"You are probably closer to the mark than you realise."

"You mean that you suspect the CIA? That wouldn't be such a crazy idea, after all the Indian government is unhappy with the Yanks exploiting the cheap labour available, they've even expelled some US companies like Coca Cola."

"Let's put it this way, we haven't ruled them out yet."

"So where do we find ourselves? We have a story that we can't use and an investigation we can't stop without some pretty heavy reasons being given, we have already been warned off by the local police, but that is like waving a red rag in front of a bull. The boss has become even more determined to follow this through and get to the bottom of the story. I think I can persuade him to back off a bit provided that I can guarantee regular good stories."

"No! The last thing we want you to do is to back off. If those ASIO clowns suspect that you are easing up on us they will put two and two together and if they don't run out of fingers they will decide that they have something to report, and report it to their masters, and that will draw even more attention on us. We don't want to confuse them by changing the plot just yet, so let's keep on as before. Actually it will benefit us if they are still following you."

"How?"

"Well, up until now you blokes haven't bothered too much about them and they have been relatively successful in following you."

"Only when we wanted them to."

"Be that as it may."

"How would you like to get involved in a little diversion making proposition?"

"How?"

The time that followed was spent in the formulation of plans, the consumption of many cigarettes and cups of coffee. Russell and Jenny provided as much of their local knowledge as they could and agreed that they would only get involved in the routine investigations but would not get involved in any dangerous activities. In return for this Russell would be provided with any non-classified information that it was possible to print, any other information he would have to sit on until the operation was completed and the three were back in England.

Back at the coffee shop no such organisation was evident, in fact confusion reigned supreme, "What do you mean there is no-one there? I thought you were supposed to follow them?"

"We followed them to the offices of the National News. We've been in competition with the press, or at least part of it. We waited for them to come out but we must have missed them because they are not there now."

"Do you think that they could have pulled out of the investigation?"

"No, they couldn't have. If they had why would they still have people watching the hotel?"

"I hate to think. It could of course mean that they are with the other three right now."

"I doubt it. We are pretty sure that they are still in the hotel."

"Forgive me if I should show some reservations about that statement. Can you get someone to check their room to see if they are still there?"

His doubts were realised when the message was received that the three men had, in fact just returned to their hotel room. "Right, I want you to get into the garage and find both of their cars and stick homers on both of them. We are not going to lose them again. I want every contingency covered.

At 8.15 that evening every contingency came unstuck for them. As the three men left their rooms they passed a repair man working overtime carrying out imaginary repairs in the hallway. They made sure that he overheard their destination which he relayed to his colleagues waiting outside.

The Triumph left the garage and turned towards Kings Cross for another night of 'drunken debauchery'. Wrong. As it passed the MG that was parked a short distance from the hotel, an object was passed from one car to another.

The Triumph turned away from the Cross and headed in the opposite direction. The MG went in the direction of the Cross followed at a discreet distance by another car. It was unseen as it pulled in to the kerb and stopped briefly. The tracking device stopped much longer in its new resting place in a convenient waste basket, where it remained until curiosity got the better of the men in the following car. They were less than happy when they found that they had been tricked yet again.

Having completed their task Russell and Jenny returned to the hotel where they let themselves into the others' room and continued the close contact of the previous evening.

In the coffee shop the news that they had been fooled was greeted with less than enthusiasm. "Fucking hell! Didn't you think that they would give the cars a once over for bugs? Didn't you think to put more than one in each car? Do I have to think of everything?"

"But we could only get two of them so we had to put one on each car."

"Why couldn't you get more than two?"

"Because at present this operation isn't top priority and old Henry won't issue any more until its status is higher."

"We'll see about that. I want as many bugs as possible. Then I want one of you to go over to the hotel and plant them on the other car, if it's still there and hasn't slipped out while you were watching. I then want at least six bugs. When you get them I want you to get into their hotel room and plant them everywhere. By the time you are through with the rooms they won't be able to fart without us knowing about it. Do I make myself perfectly clear? Now get out of here, there's work to be done."

There was indeed work to be done. In the inner city suburb of Marrickville the front door of a warehouse had been unceremoniously kicked in by three men dressed in black trousers and pullovers and wearing black ski masks. The large gentleman stationed just inside the door with the task of only admitting those people who were regulars to the illegal casino had failed miserably in his job. In the past he had nothing more to do than pass an envelope containing the required amount of money to the policeman who called.

Because of this his reflexes were slow, a point he had some time to reflect on as he slowly regained consciousness in time to see the three men leave the building and drive off in a dark coloured car. He was unable to remember the number of the vehicle when the police arrived in response to a neighbour reporting a disturbance.

The organisers of the casino had also called the police, not to report the holdup but to enquire as to where the protection for which they had been paying so highly was when it was needed.

A short time later the same three men raided a Darlinghurst brothel and relieved the proprietor of the night's takings. This was a considerable amount, much of which was contributed by members of the judiciary and legislature. It would have been much more except for the fact that, in return for protection from prosecution and pressure from other like establishments, the members of the local constabulary were granted 'favours'.

As with the casino the proprietor of the brothel contacted the police to enquire where her protection had been and withdrawing all favours until such times as her money was returned.

This call galvanised the police into some activity and cars were dispatched to the scene to gather evidence. This errand was unsuccessful due to the fact that an accurate description of the assailants was not forthcoming and no-one got a glimpse of the car used to leave the scene.

Within the hour a further complaint was being lodged by the owner of a nightclub which specialised in erotic dancers who were later available, at a price, to the patrons who had been suitably primed on 'champagne'. What they had been drinking of course was a cheap locally produced carbonated white wine with the labels of high priced champagne stuck onto the bottle. The trick was to serve the proper bottle first, make sure that it was well submerged in an ice bucket which contained at least half water so that the label would come off without tearing. The cheap stuff was bought as cleanskins from the winery and the labels were slipped off the good wine and placed on the cheap.

The police were well aware of this trick, but in return for a monetary consideration they short circuited any official enquiry.

Again the police received a phone call from an aggrieved client who felt that the amount that he had paid over the years to keep out of the courts had not been earned. This further threat to their diminishing income placed a certain urgency to the police enquiries.

Over the space of three hours a further four similar establishments had been raided and as near as could be ascertained, for the proprietors were reluctant to reveal the full extent of their operations, even to friendly police, the accumulated amount stolen was close to a million dollars.

Slowly and painfully the facts emerged. The raids appeared to have all been carried out by the same three men. The getaway car was variously described as high powered sports car and a 'hot' sedan. What did become apparent was that there was no accurate description of either the men or the car.

It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that, following an anonymous tip-off, the police managed to get a good description of the vehicle, even down to the registration number. That tip came from John Burroughs who knew that the police would have to look for the vehicle as, because the registration transfer had not been affected and the car yard had been given a phoney name and address, there was no record of the owner or his residence and that tracing the car unassisted would be beyond their capabilities.

Meanwhile back in the hotel Russell was amazed at the story he had just been told. "You mean to say that you guys have just gone out and calmly knocked over several illegal operations knowing full well that they are controlled by organised crime and under the 'protection' of the police. You must be crazy!"

"Relax, we know what we are doing. After the first couple of raids everyone was so confused that they weren't expecting them to continue and when they did everyone was blaming everyone else. Those who missed the first raids were feeling pretty smug and invulnerable until their turn came and then they were filled with righteous indignation. It was all so easy."

"What are you going to do with all of that money? I have heard talk of the proceeds reaching six figures."

"I'm sure that the police will put that figure around so that the gangs will blame each other and that they will try to find out themselves and save the taxpayer some money. The money will be deposited in our retirement fund, in a numbered account in a very discreet Swiss bank. Do you want to hear the ultimate irony?"

"Yes."

"The bank that we're going to use to transfer the funds is a merchant bank that is used by the CIA to launder drug money. They are based here but registered in the Cayman Islands. This is right up their alley and this money will end up in Switzerland."

"And just how much of this can I print?"

"The safest bet is to follow the official line which hints at some form of underworld activity without giving any specific details. You could mention that the police are following a line of enquiry concerning a certain car seen leaving the scene at high speed. They have little to go on except the registration number of the car."

"Won't that focus undue attention on yourselves. I could of course put forward the suggestion that this is a takeover bid by a Melbourne based branch of the 'family'."

"Good thinking, a nice juicy red herring. Meanwhile Jerry is going for a pleasant drive in the country in the hope that the lines of communication within the police force have informed the gangs where we can be found. What we think will happen is that the police will allow the gangs first try at getting us. What we're also hoping is that he can give them a run for their money until the moment is right and then allow the best team to catch up to him. With any luck at all they will offer him a job. If they are not involved in this plot, at least we can eliminate them from contention quickly."

"What will happen if he is caught too soon?"

"Unlikely proposition. Jerry here is one of the best drivers in the world, and I include racing drivers in that assessment. It just doesn't suit our purpose at all to broadcast the fact too widely. He has to confine his endeavours to situations such as this. He can of course get caught very convincingly."

"What do you hope to achieve by being caught?"

"Credible contact with them. That way we can check out if there have been any approaches made that connect with our mission."

12

Jerry drove the Triumph slowly out of the hotel garage and made sure that he had attracted the attention of the ASIO watchers to make sure that he lost the right people. Lose them he did, with the accustomed ease that was becoming so frustrating for the ASIO amateurs.

He headed for the Harbour Bridge by way of the Cahill Expressway and by the time that he reached the tollgates he was aware of a silver Porsche 911 keeping a watching distance behind him. This, he thought to himself, is more like it, for a chase car the Porsche was one of the quickest street legal cars around. For a tail car the choice was not so good, for that purpose the car and its occupants needed to be able to blend into the surroundings and not draw attention to themselves. The Silver Porsche with its occupants sporting dark suits and reflective wrap around perving (sun) glasses was very conspicuous indeed.

The Triumph and Porsche headed north along the Pacific Highway, ducking and weaving through the heavy traffic with a deftness that left the normal motorist green with envy, or was it fear.

Running an amber at St Leonards Jerry swung off the Highway into a street that he knew would take him to Willoughby Road and a quicker way north. There was an immediate clamour behind him as the Porsche bounced off a taxi as it was forced to run the red light. It didn't stop although there was some damage to the left side of the car.

The usually implacable taxi driver became very placable indeed. The chase was now on in earnest. Not the street Ernest but the mood earnest, they were in fact racing down Northcote Street.

In the Triumph Jerry was working swiftly. He was now in his element pushing the car in the manner for which it had been designed. The worked P76 V8 motor (the motor had been stripped down and the Leyland pistons and heads replaced with Rover parts) with its higher than normal compression had a narrower torque band and consequently Jerry had to make full use of the close ratio five speed gear box that had been fitted. His changes were crisp and well timed, coming into a downhill bend he went deep into the corner before heel and toeing back through fourth and third to second. Caught unawares the driver of the Porsche found himself entering the corner much too quickly. It spun twice before the driver managed to wash off enough speed and wrestle it back under control before accelerating after the Triumph.

Through the streets the cars sped, the deep throb of the Triumph in contrast to the higher and more mechanical clamour of the Porsche. They came quickly up on a line of cars waiting to turn right into Penshurst Street and Jerry slowed down as if he was joining the line but at the last moment swung into the through lane and sped to the head of the queue. He just managed to cut in front of the leading car as it moved off on the green light and speed away with a clear road in front of him.

The Porsche following his example was almost squeezed off the road by the other cars, who, having been cut off by one car were reluctant to allow it to happen a second time.

Turning right out of Boundary Road, both cars found themselves speeding along Archbold Road, picking their way through the traffic which, in the way of heavy peak hour traffic on this road, was moving at more than the posted speed limit. In a blaze of glory and horn blowing both cars powered through the Tryon Road intersection and headed down to the first of the Arterial Road bends, an adverse camber right hander that often had a trickle of water running from a spring at the apex across the road to the outside of the corner.

The tail of the Porsche kicked out more than that of the Triumph but the driver had it quickly back under restraint. Both cars bottomed over the bridge and accelerated up the steep slope through the uphill left hander on the widened section of the road.

The time to reel in the fish was fast approaching. Choosing a cluttered service station Jerry pulled off the road, popping the bonnet as he drove up to the pumps. He immediately immersed himself under the bonnet as if he was making some fine tuning adjustments to the already perfectly tuned motor, listening to its vital signs while all the time watching for the fish.