Eden (5 page)

‘I guess it's confusing for people when you and Mr Carmichael were opposed to one another publicly, yet close friends in private.'

‘They want me to condemn him. The reporters are the worst.'

‘Did you share similar views on Canberra's IT industry?'

‘Share?' Dollimore echoed, while I wondered about the varied meanings of the word. ‘Ed had this idea that if someone came along with a good idea they should be given a chance, encouraged—'

‘Financial encouragement?'

‘Perhaps. If that was possible.'

‘And your view?'

‘A lot of people who come to us asking for support are charlatans. There's nothing to them. Nothing worthwhile.'

‘Is that what you think of Richard McFadden?'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘
CleanNet
's director, Richard McFadden. Do you think he might be a charlatan?'

‘I'm in favour of these filtering devices for the Internet. I think they could be a valuable tool for use in schools and libraries. And in homes, of course. If there's a product available which will protect children from violence and filth on the Internet, then I'm interested in finding out about it.'

‘What have you learnt about the company?'

‘I'm sure you're aware of my constituency. I receive many letters from parents wanting to know how they and their families can enjoy the educational advantages of the Internet, and at the same time afford themselves some measure of protection. If I am going to recommend a certain course of action to the people who've done me the honour of voting for me, then I need to know what it is I'm recommending.'

‘What did you discover about
CleanNet
?'

‘As far as filters go, theirs seems to be about average.'

‘But you'd heard about McFadden's love of gambling?'

Dollimore hesitated, then nodded sharply. ‘Mr McFadden did not impress me as an individual, I have to be honest with you there.'

‘What didn't impress you?'

‘I asked about his filter. I'd tried using it myself. There were a few problems with it and I asked him about those. He assured me that the problems had been solved.'

‘And then?'

‘I asked about his gambling.'

‘How did Mr McFadden respond to that?'

‘He told me it wasn't any of my business.'

‘Was Mr Carmichael aware of your discussion?'

‘Yes.'

‘What was his reaction?'

‘He claimed their product was a good one, and that McFadden shouldn't be condemned for enjoying a bet every now and then. Though he knew, as well as I did, that it was more than that. The man used to be a professional card sharp.'

‘What about McFadden's relationship with the Minister?'

‘What relationship?'

‘Did he appear to have Senator Bryant's confidence?'

‘I'd say Mr McFadden was rather more sure of that than he had grounds for being.'

‘Why do you say that?'

‘Just a feeling I had. What do
you
know about Richard McFadden?'

All I had was the information the broker had obtained for me, and what Chris Laskaris had said. I passed this on, while Dollimore nodded again, impatiently, making it clear that I wasn't telling him anything new.

‘What about the notes? What's in them?' he asked.

‘About McFadden? Nothing we haven't covered.'

Dollimore looked as though he didn't believe me. I decided to change the subject.

‘Did you know about Mr Carmichael's visits to Margot Lancaster's club?'

‘Yes, I did.'

‘What did you think?'

‘I thought he was making a fool of himself. Well, there's no originality in that. Ed knew he was making a fool of himself.'

‘Did you know about the dressing up?'

‘Yes.'

‘Carmichael told you himself?'

Dollimore nodded.

‘Did you try to stop him?'

‘I told him what I thought. We did that, strange as it may seem—told each other what we thought. The way Canberra's gone, with prostitution legal, and pornography—you'll think me a pompous old man for saying it, but it makes me sad. None of the constituents who've written to me in recent weeks, to voice their concerns about the safety of the Internet, are silly enough to believe that censorship is easy or straightforward. They're aware of the many practical difficulties involved. Sex is a great force in people's lives. To trivialise or underestimate that force is a mistake. And to argue that acts of copulation between strangers, photographed and filmed solely so that viewers can use them as a stimulus to masturbation—they have no other merit and I certainly don't consider
that
to be one—to argue that these videos and magazines, and now the swamping of the Internet, are not only legitimate, but even in their own way praiseworthy, is an argument advanced by shallow, venal people, who haven't the imagination to realise what it is they're dealing with.'

When Dollimore stopped to draw breath, I said, ‘It's an economic argument when it's advanced by those who make or sell the material, isn't it? Are you pleased with the legislation?'

‘It's a brave beginning.'

‘Did you know that Carmichael had made an appointment to see Senator Bryant on the fourth of January?'

‘Yes, he told me about it.'

‘What did he want to talk to the Minister about?'

‘He didn't go into details.'

‘He was upset when Bryant's office rang and cancelled the ­appointment.'

‘How do you know that?'

‘Laura Scott told me. Do you know why the appointment was ­cancelled?'

‘No.'

‘Do you know if Carmichael tried to make another one?'

‘No.'

Dollimore stared at me. I could see him getting ready to ask why any of this was my business.

‘What were you doing on the fourth?' I asked, in order to forestall him.

‘I spent Christmas and New Year in Melbourne with my younger daughter.'

‘And on the fourth?'

‘I came back here that day, as a matter of fact.'

‘Did you see Eden Carmichael?'

‘No.'

‘Speak to him?'

Dollimore shook his head and pressed his lips together.

‘When
did
you last see one another?'

‘Just before Christmas.'

‘How did Mr Carmichael seem?'

‘He was—'

‘A bit under the weather?'

‘Yes.'

‘What about the photograph in
The Canberra Times
?'

‘Disgusting. Absolutely unforgivable.'

‘Do you have any idea who took it?'

‘If I had, I'd be finding a way to prosecute them.'

‘Do you know if there are any more?'

‘Do you?' Dollimore asked, staring at me keenly.

‘No,' I said. ‘But it wouldn't surprise me.'

Dollimore sighed and said, ‘You know, Ed was scared after his first heart attack. He was in intensive care tied up to half-a-dozen machines. He couldn't remember falling over the banisters. He told me I was making that up! To put the fear of God in him, he said. I said any way I could do
that
would be a blessing, but I was telling him the simple truth. You can't save a man who doesn't want to be saved. Especially if circumstances are bent on destroying him. I should have seen—me of all people—that to believe I
could
save him was a matter of sinful pride.'

It was clear that Ken Dollimore's love of talking, of hearing his deep voice resonate around a room, outweighed his caution when answering questions, even when his questioner was someone he mistrusted, like me.

‘What will you do now?' I asked.

‘You mean this morning, or for the rest of my life? I'll see out the term. I owe my constituents that much. But I won't stand again. I don't want to stay in Canberra. My wife died seven years ago. I have a daughter in Melbourne and another one in Townsville. Even if it hadn't been for—for what happened—I'd been thinking of retiring.'

‘One last question—did you try to break into my computer a few nights ago?'

Dollimore laughed with genuine amusement. ‘My dear young woman, I wouldn't have a clue how to go about that, even if I wanted to.'

In spite of myself, I felt pleased that he'd called me young.

‘Whoever did might have been after information about
CleanNet
.'

‘I can assure you that it wasn't me.'

Dollimore half stood up to shake my hand. I left his office reflecting on how he'd survived ten years in the Assembly, while younger men and women had fallen by the wayside. Dollimore was the only politician left from the days when prostitution and marijuana had been decriminalised, and the bill to ban X-rated videos thrown out by one vote, creating a storm which had brought down the fledgling Labor Govern­ment and its first female Chief Minister.

Dollimore and Carmichael had been the two survivors. Dependent on each other? And, if so, for what?

The Federal Government had promised its tiny capital territory that it would be allowed to manage its own affairs, and the promise had been honoured up to a point. But the National Capital Authority that had run Canberra before self-government showed its muscle when it felt like it, and the Territory Government had to dance a slippery two-step around them. Dollimore knew Canberra, how to work its double standards, how to ride its waves of prosperity and discontent. I did not think he had been disappointed when sex censorship had riven the scarcely constituted Assembly. When the lights came back on, he and Carmichael had faced each other, two middle-aged men from opposite sides, yet, if I was to believe what I'd been told, with a friendship that ran deeper than any political divisions.

I called in at the library to check on members' assets declarations. Carmichael had declared no personal investments. Dollimore owned a thousand
Telstra
shares, and five hundred in
BHP
.

On my way out of the building, I stopped for a moment and looked back. The Assembly hunched itself, braced against the heat.

Attempting to hack into my computer had been a dodgy thing to do. On the face of it, there was nothing dodgy about Ken Dollimore. Perhaps I'd been wrong to connect him to the break-in. As I retraced my footsteps along the burning footpath to the London Circuit carpark, I realised that what annoyed me about Dollimore was his security. He might be planning to retire, but, for the present, he was secure and consolidated in that air-conditioned office. Canberra might have legal brothels, a legal X-rated video and magazine industry, but the future, as everyone said, was with the Internet, and there an extraordinary victory for censorship had been won by a Federal Independent, a man who shared his views and moral gravity.

. . .

Back home, I moved a second fan into my office, scrambled after a few loose papers, then made myself as comfortable as I could and typed up the morning's notes. With only my own time to organise, I was trying to be more methodical than usual, typing up notes of each meeting or conversation as soon as possible. I added the new ones to a file that contained my interview with Chris Laskaris, making sure they were saved securely, and password protected. I wasn't sure how experienced my hacker was, but if he or she came back, I wanted to make stealing my files something of a challenge. Anybody watching me would know that I was asking questions about Eden Carmichael and
CleanNet
. There didn't seem to be anything startling in the answers so far, but that could be because I did not know how to interpret them.

I mulled over my impressions of Margot Lancaster, trying to recall whether she had answered confidently and immediately my question about whether Carmichael had been anxious or upset.

I sent Lucy an email, saying that I thought the enthusiasm Carmichael had expressed for
CleanNet
was worth looking into, making the point that, if the enthusiasm had been genuine, it represented an interesting shift as far as his beliefs and philosophy were concerned.

I spent the next couple of hours filling in background, contacting anyone I knew who might have an opinion about the friendship between Dollimore and Carmichael. People who'd been around ACT politics since self-government, who were familiar with the two men's histories, recalled them as strong and genuinely independent personalities. Their battles had been fought, as much as anything, over the question of public image—what kind the nation's capital should project. But the collective memory of those who'd been close to the force of it, at one time or another, was a memory of just that—a force pulling inwards, a fixed and tunnelling intentness.

The Assembly, with its sum total of only fourteen members, operated more like a city council than a legislature with the powers of a state. Within it, there was scope for one man or woman to impose a singular vision on Canberra. It had been that way from the start, first with Burley Griffin, then with the head of the Board of Assessors who had become his enemy.

Canberra had no dirty factories to remodel and clean up, or watch going out of business; no traditional manufacturing concerns. The bland, monochrome surface, the look of easy money, had been tricking people, who were now turning round and asking, what have we got going for us, how will we pay our way? Carmichael had crossed borders, both visible and invisible, behind the city's various facades. It was his death that made the crossing interesting.

I made myself an iced coffee, then phoned Laura Scott.

‘What were you and Ken Dollimore talking about the night Carmichael had his heart attack?' I asked.

‘What do you mean?' Laura sounded curious, rather than offended by my question.

‘I saw you talking to Ken Dollimore in the old Parliament House carpark.'

‘Ed, of course,' said Laura. ‘We were both worried sick about him.'