Cut to the Chase (7 page)

There was the sound of shouting and heavy footsteps, then Wallace felt Roeg's hand on his arm.

‘This way,' he said.

Wallace could dimly make out shadowy shapes in the darkness as Roeg led the way, all the time there was the sound of confusion in the hall as the pursuers of Wallace's recent contact became entangled with the departing audience members, who were bewildered at the sudden shutting out of the lights and were tending to mill around. Wallace was still clutching the small article in his hand. It was a computer flash drive; Wallace didn't need to look at it to ascertain what it was.

As Roeg's shape crystallised behind the lectern Wallace paused, bent down and slipped the drive into his sock, pushing it well down into the shoe so that it reposed under the arch of his foot. Then he followed Roeg and emerged into the corridor. There were still the sounds of running feet echoing on the concrete floors, this indicated that the man in the shirt, whoever he was, was still on the loose and had successfully made his escape from the auditorium. Wallace hoped he made it, not only for his sake, but for Wallace's as well.

Roeg shook Wallace by the hand when they reached the foyer, the previous act in transferring the removable computer drive had been a wise one otherwise Roeg would have been mystified by what fell into his palm. There was some light here, and Roeg's features could now be perceived.

‘Thank you for speaking to us,' he said enthusiastically. ‘It is good for people to see someone from Australia, maybe one day we shall all be one people.'

Wallace smiled and nodded as if in agreement, frankly he could not have disagreed more strongly. The idea of thuggish looking men, presumably servants of the state, chasing citizens all over public buildings and city streets was not an endearing one. The small package in his heel was scraping his ankle every time he took a step and it was an effort not to limp.

‘What happened to the lights?'

‘It happens now and again,' said Roeg. ‘We can't complain this time as it happened just as we finished.'

‘Who was that man?'

‘What man?'

‘The man who asked the questions about the two Australian houses of parliament,' Wallace asked.

‘No idea,' said Roeg.

‘I thought you might know him.'

‘No!' Roeg shook his head. ‘What was he talking about? It just seemed to be a succession of jumbled names. I couldn't quite make it out.'

No more could Wallace but he smiled and shook his head.

Roeg escorted Wallace to the front steps of the building where there was a taxi cab outside waiting.

‘Did you send for that?'

‘Yes,' Roeg nodded and smiled. ‘It's all paid for, all part of the service.'

They said their farewells and Wallace leapt into the cab with alacrity. He was anxious to be away from the place as soon as possible. As the cab took off he thought about Roeg's demeanour. For a professorial type organising a lecture, he had not seemed unduly shocked when the lights had gone out, his calmness in steering Wallace to the exit had been such that Wallace wondered if Roeg had had fore knowledge of the illumination failure. Within ten minutes he was outside the hotel, but when he glanced through the rear window he saw that another car had drawn in behind. He studied it out of the corner of his eye as he alighted from the cab, but nobody got out from the other vehicle, it just sat there.

He began to feel shivers up his spine. As he mounted the hotel steps the doorman saluted him and opened the main door. As he did so Wallace caught a glimpse of the reflection of the car in the front window, two men had alighted and were climbing the hotel steps.

Wallace went inside and up to the reception desk and asked for his room key. The two men loitered by the lift shaft, seemingly deep in conversation. He felt himself starting to faint and fought it off by the apt means of leaning heavily against the reception desk and taking deep breaths. He gave the matter urgent thought. He was
not
going up to the room, being alone and isolated was the last thing he wanted at present. But where else could he go? He decided to visit the bar first while he thought about it, was there another way out of here?

He ordered a glass of lemonade, initially he had started to order a Scotch and then thought better of it; he wanted a clear head. There was enough burning acid in his stomach as it was; the acid of fear. The two men hesitated within the foyer, they were clearly undecided whether to come into the bar or not. Perhaps they were Muslims and didn't enter bars.

He struggled to think whether there was another exit from the hotel. There must be one somewhere as they could hardly bring kitchen stocks through the main door. But where was the rear exit, could he find it without being stopped either by the two men or by kitchen staff? Clearly he had to be rid of this damned package tonight, the sooner the better. Being caught with it could ensure several years in jail. To hell with bloody Bramble!

What should he do? Mail it? Too risky, that necessitated the purchase of envelopes and stamps first, from where? Hide it in a flower pot! And what if the cleaners changed the pots? Could he make a run for the embassy?

The last had possibilities providing that he could dodge the two men, but they didn't look the types who could be easily dodged. What about phoning the embassy, now
that
had possibilities. What the hell was in that blasted flash drive? It seemed to be more than economic data judging by the interest shown in it by his two followers.

Wallace soundly cursed Bramble and Major Lincoln again.

They had used him because they didn't want any embassy staff to lead any watchers to their contact. The reverse had occurred, their contact, damn and blast the bloody man, had done all the leading!

‘Hi Harry…whaddya doing tonight?'

W
hy Wallace didn't die on the spot as a heavy hand descended upon his shoulder and swung him about he never knew. Numbness cascaded all the way down his body as he degenerated into a state of sheer shock and fear and he uttered a yelp of fright. As his eyes focussed he found himself facing Warren Hamilton. Warren was accompanied by three others who from their dress and crew cuts were plainly Americans, two of them Wallace had met before when he and Hamilton had had coffee.

‘Sorry Harry, I didn't mean to frighten you. We're going out on the town. Wanna come?'

‘Well, I hadn't really thought about…!'

‘Great, join in with us…have you gotten that cab yet, Jack?'

The man named Jack nodded vigorously and Warren clapped Wallace on the back.

‘Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!'

The five of them were walking through the foyer in a solid phalanx before Wallace was really au fait as to what was going on, but if he had been taken by surprise so had his two shadowers. Whether they possessed the powers of arrest was not put to the test, the quintet was out of the main door and down the steps and into a waiting cab before Wallace or his two pursuers had time to register what was happening.

The cab pulled away from the kerb with an acceleration that would have done credit to a drag racer, looking through the rear window Wallace could see his two followers had scampered down the hotel steps, had boarded their vehicle and were trying to pull out into traffic, but they seemed to be hemmed in.

‘Who were those two guys?'

‘I don't know,' Wallace had been about to ask: ‘What guys?' but decided against it. He still needed help and to ask that question could have negated it. ‘They seem to have been following me around.'

‘Why?'

‘Search me,' he said, and realised this reply could have likewise rejected the thought of any assistance, but how could he broach a subject like this? In fact he found it difficult to believe it himself.

‘It's probably nothing.'

‘Probably,' Wallace agreed without much conviction, and had another look. The other car had managed to pull out into the traffic; had caught them up, and was still following.

As a drinking spree it was not a success from Wallace's point of view. He did not wish to appear to be a wowser, but certainly he didn't want to drink too much, he needed his wits about him. As the drinks mounted up and the four Americans became more and more raucous and merry, he had to imitate them but he also had to dispose of the liquor he received without causing them to ask any questions. At the first port of call there was a potted plant near the bar, he hoped it would be able to stand up the next morning.

The second bar, which was a strip club, had a placard advertising Coca-Cola almost against the end of the bar that abutted against the wall. At the end of this bar on the barman's side was a small sink. Twice Wallace managed to slip his left hand holding the full glass behind the Coca-Cola sign and tip its contents down the sink without his companions being aware of it. The barman was, he caught him at it once, Wallace tipped the barman the wink and his expression of puzzlement was replaced by a conspiratorial smile.

Wallace still had his two tails; they sat near the door and ordered orange juice. He emulated the behaviour of his companions, not only to try and merge in with them, but to also mislead the two followers. Better that they should think he was under the weather as well.

Jack Durham, who was a Texan, was a big tall man, Wallace could almost visualise him wearing an outsize Stetson hat, wearing riding boots with spurs and striding down the main street of Tombstone or Dodge City with a brace of six guns. He had an extraordinary capacity for liquor, everyone else was streets behind him but he could carry it. In addition, despite the liquor haze he had eyes like a hawk. When they had trailed into the fourth bar he cast his eyes around the establishment and then looked at searchingly at Wallace.

‘Those bastards are still around, Harry, they've been with us the last two places for sure,' he said, after a glance over his shoulder after Wallace had bought a round.

‘Yes, I know.'

‘They are following you, aren't they, Harry?'

‘Yes, they are.'

‘Then why don't we sort 'em out?' growled Bill Rogers, another of the group. He was from the city of New York; he was no doubt used to taking care of himself on the city streets and in the New York subways.

‘No…um…no!' Wallace said uneasily. ‘I…I…just want to lose them that's all'

‘What gives, Harry?' asked Jim Fredericks, the fourth member of the quartet.

They were all looking at Wallace expectantly and he decided that there was only one way out of it, come clean. To hell with bloody Bramble and Major blasted Lincoln.

‘It is me they are after, I have something they want.'

‘You what?' Jack Durham expostulated. ‘What the hell are you, MI5 or something?'

Wallace forgave the inference that Australia was subject to MI5, and pondered how to answer it. He nearly said ‘Sort of' but felt that was too melodramatic.

‘I have something that I came across by accident. I have to take it to the Australian Embassy. It's something the CIA want as well.'

Wallace wasn't exaggerating this time, even to himself. There was no doubt he had dynamite in his sock and it was more than likely that if ASIO and the Indonesian Security forces wanted it so badly then the CIA would be equally interested, and may even, courtesy of ASIO or ASIS, know about its existence already.

‘Then why don't we take you to the United States Embassy?'

‘Because…!' he perceived that the desire to say something to involve them as assistants could have complicated matters; then he had an inspiration. ‘The information has to reach Washington through Australia. The US State Department doesn't want it to be thought that they procured the information themselves because they aren't too popular round here right now. That is why I have it now, and I must get it to the Australian Embassy and then it will be passed it onto Washington.'

Whether that would have convinced them in normal circumstances was conjecture, as it was they were all three sails to the winds. They had been in company with Wallace for about three hours and, he thought, liked him and seemed to think he was a straight up and down guy, while there was no doubt these two men had been following the group and they looked anything but straight up and down, they looked to be ugly customers.

Further, what Wallace had just told them may quite likely be right, the United States was very sensitive these days about their overt involvement in other countries' affairs and may well resort to indirect tactics as described to avoid attracting attention. It was also possible the CIA may receive the information eventually.

Maybe it was lucky that they were Americans, British companions would have probably gone into a committee meeting to resolve the matter and Australians would have started a brawl. The Americans saw that the aim was for Wallace to reach the embassy in one piece and set about solving the problem by deferring to a leader and utilising a plan.

They gathered around the bar, in a manner reminiscent of a grid iron squad. Wallace half expected Jack Durham, the accepted leader, to say something on the lines of ‘Now listen, guys, this is what we're gonna do!' But he didn't, he merely said: ‘Listen, I gotta plan!'

He
did
have a plan, by the time he had explained it everybody was thoroughly confused. Jack Durham was not too coherent when excitement added itself to the liquor he had already consumed. After listening to Jack's plan Wallace had a vague idea that they were to scream around Jakarta at a high rate of knots and then crash through the embassy gates. He wasn't sure whether the information he possessed merited the cost of repairs to a cab and a new set of embassy gates; he did mention this but Jack Durham dismissed this out of hand.

‘Where is the Australian Embassy?' asked Warren who also seemed to be sharing some of Wallace's doubts about the plan.

‘We'll find it…fuck…we'll find it,' snorted Jack. ‘Let's go!'