The Mandarin Code (35 page)

Around 4am there'd been a near disaster when the bells rang for a division and an eagle-eyed whip told Crespo that one of his charges was missing.

‘Who?'

‘Xavier Quinn.'

Crespo rolled his eyes.

‘Of course.'

There were no prizes for guessing what the over-sexed Education Minister was up to, but the question was where? He should be able to hear the bells from anywhere in the building. Except . . .

‘The Meditation Room!' Crespo yelled, unnerving nearby MPs as he sprinted from the chamber.

Crespo had been a useful rugby league centre in his youth and he hit full pace as he dashed along the glass-walled corridor that led to the marble-floored Members' Hall. He fixed his eyes on the call buttons of a little-used lift.

He hit ‘UP' like an Olympic swimmer ending a race as he counted down the moments he had left to capture the errant minister and drag him back before they were both stranded on the wrong side of locked doors.

Elephant 200, elephant 199 . . .

Once inside, he pressed the ‘M' button and moments later a soothing recorded female voice intoned ‘Mezzanine'. The next female voice he heard didn't sound so relaxed.

‘Yes! Yes! Xavy . . . ohhh!'

Crespo recognised the voice as belonging to Quinn's twenty-something press secretary, the latest in a long line. Happily they were so overcome with lust that they were disporting themselves within reach of the lift doors. Equally conveniently, the position they had assumed made it relatively easy to disentangle the MP.

‘Hey! What the . . . I'm busy!'

It must have been the adrenalin. Somehow Crespo managed to manhandle Quinn into the lift before the doors closed, leaving a startled press secretary hitching up her knickers in their wake.

‘By my count you have eight seconds to get that thing back in your pants,' Crespo wheezed as he leaned on the elevator handrail for a breather. ‘And when those doors open you keep pace.'

‘Ground floor,' the mechanical voice rang.

‘Run, fuckwit!'

Crespo had hold of the libidinous minister's jacket as the two hurtled across the marble hall, with Quinn trying to haul up his fly without inflicting permanent damage. That wasn't such a success.

‘Arrgghh!' Quinn stumbled as their footsteps echoed in the glass-walled corridor just metres from the doors. Crespo yanked on his lapel and the MP managed to keep his footing.

The two men collapsed into the chamber just as the sands on the four-minute hourglass ran out. The bells fell silent. The Speaker intoned: ‘Lock the doors.'

In the Prime Minister's office the night was proving as expensive as it was long. The smell of a desperate government is like the scent of blood for a shark to a crossbench MP. And, like all commodities, the cost of a vote rises with the level of demand.

George Papadakis was charged with keeping a running tally of the promises as five of the seven crossbench MPs cycled in and out. At 5.30am he, Martin Toohey and Crespo took stock. The Prime Minister had handled the negotiations and was exhausted but pleased with himself.

‘I think we're just about there, aren't we, Burt?'

Crespo had checked and rechecked the undertakings as the numbers shifted through the night. He nodded.

‘Right now, if everyone holds we have seventy-four votes to their seventy-three. So there will be no reason for the Speaker to have to use his casting vote. But if anything changes, if anyone goes missing and there's a tie, then he assures me he'll vote the bill down.'

Toohey turned to Papadakis who was nervously shuffling a small pile of notes and looking every one of his fifty-six years.

‘Didn't we even try to get him, George?'

‘PM, as I said, I went round to his office and personally invited him to chat with you. He made some joke about not wanting to be swayed by your charms and repeated that his electorate would rebel if he supported the bill. Almost nothing would sway him.'

‘Almost. You're holding out on me, aren't you?'

‘It was absurd, I'm sure he was joking.'

‘What did he want?'

‘Ambassador to the Holy See.'

‘And we can't do that?'

‘Not if you want to retain a shred of dignity. But after tonight I'm sure dignity is also on sale.'

Stung, Toohey changed the subject.

‘And what did Paxton want?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Nothing?'

‘Yep. I visited his office at about 2am. He said he was voting with us because he believed in the bill and would I mind pissing off because he'd found a replay of the drawn VFL Grand Final in 1977. He said it was his favourite game for two reasons: the drama of the draw and knowing that Collingwood would lose a week later.'

Toohey made circles with his finger on the rim of a glass balanced on the armrest of his burnt-orange lounge chair.

‘So what's the damage?

‘After the Tasmanian left ten minutes ago with his pockets stuffed full of cash, the bill for this little exercise topped one billion dollars over four years, Martin.'

Papadakis didn't hide his distaste for the vote auction. He knew Toohey also felt sullied. The Prime Minister gulped a mouthful of water and wearily put the glass down.

‘It's a small price, George; we're making history here. Think of the legacy.'

‘I will. But I'm also thinking about the bill I will leave my grandchildren.'

Toohey was starting to wriggle in his seat. Papadakis knew it was a signal he was tiring of the debate. The Prime Minister went fishing for a compliment.

‘But George, the great negotiator sealed the deal again.'

‘Martin, you can win over anyone when you give them everything they want.'

The government called on the vote at 7.22am and 147 exhausted MPs and a weary Speaker trudged into the chamber. The public galleries were packed with people who had come from across Australia to cheer the landmark reform. Several activists were ejected when they called out ‘Shame on you, Emily Brooks' as the Opposition leader entered.

Toohey looked across the table that separated him from Brooks, caught her eye and glanced towards the Speaker. They rose and walked into the small space behind his chair, out of range of prying cameras.

‘Emily, trust you had a good night.'

‘And you, Martin.'

‘We have the numbers.'

‘It looks that way.'

‘You should back this bill, Emily. This is a historic reform that would really benefit from bipartisan support.'

‘It's billions we don't have and I will never support it.'

‘As you wish. But this will be popular and I will make you wear your opposition like a crown of thorns.'

‘Do your worst. Oh, and Martin. If this vote goes down I will count it as a want of confidence in your government and begin calling for an immediate election.'

Before he could answer, she had turned and walked over to the Manager of Opposition Business who was standing nearby. Something was up. As Toohey returned to his seat he heard the Speaker's call on the Third Reading vote.

‘All those in favour say “Aye”.'

Labor roared ‘Aye' in unison.

‘Those opposed say “No”.'

The Coalition benches rang with ‘No'.

‘I think the ayes have it.'

‘The noes have it,' called a group of Liberal frontbenchers.

‘The House will divide. Ring the bells for four minutes.'

The clerk turned over the first of the three hourglasses that sit between the dispatch boxes on the table separating Government and Opposition. The Prime Minister was transfixed by Brooks, just metres away. He knew how hard she had fought to stop this bill and yet she was laughing with some of her frontbench colleagues. He motioned to Crespo, who was a handful of paces away and talking to the whips.

‘Burt, do we still have the numbers?'

‘Yes, just. By one. Seventy-four to seventy-three. Why?'

‘Something's up, Brooks is too relaxed and was making threats about what she'll do if we lose.'

‘There's no way. With Bailey out and her vote paired, seventy-four wins it.'

‘Burt. That's it! Who's Bailey's pair?'

‘Melanie Alexander.'

‘Is she in the chamber?'

Crespo hoisted himself up onto the green leather frontbench and searched the faces of the Opposition. Then he saw her, tucked away in the National Party end of the chamber known as ‘Cockies Corner'. With the pair withdrawn the vote would be tied, and the Speaker's casting vote would see the bill defeated. The Liberal MP's unexpected presence in the House had doomed Toohey's landmark reform.

Crespo jumped down beside Toohey and caught the eye of the Manager of Opposition Business, then hissed in a stage whisper, ‘You rat.'

Toohey grabbed his arm. ‘Stop the vote.'

‘I can't. The division's started.'

‘But they've broken the rules.'

‘There are no rules. It's a convention, a matter of honour. And they have none.'

Brooks smirked. Toohey's shoulders sank and he slumped forward on the table. He turned his head to the hourglass and could see his dreams running out with the sand. In less than a minute, his treasured bill, and Labor's last hope of redemption, would be lost.

It was the change in the chamber chatter that made him look up. The gossip of the MPs began to wind down and heads were turning towards the rear doors that led to the Members' Hall.

There, framed in the light, was the silhouette of a wheelchair. Toohey wondered if it was a protester. Then there was a gasp of recognition from one of the Labor MPs near the door.

‘Catriona Bailey.'

The chatter faded to astonished silence as the Foreign Minister's electric wheelchair glided across the threshold as the hourglass ran empty.

‘Lock the doors,' boomed the Speaker.

The public galleries exploded in applause and cheers echoed ever louder despite the Speaker's protest.

The messiah had risen.

Canberra

It was a dangerous and symbolic location. But there were no safe places now. Her every movement was being monitored.

So she had chosen Nara Peace Park deliberately, ignoring his pleas for somewhere more secluded.

The park edged down to the lake. It was a short distance from the Chinese embassy with its secretive sister compound taking shape behind the razor wire. Weng Meihui had ventured several times to this lush square since arriving in Canberra, marvelling at the grace of its pagodas and stone sculptures.

Japan's Nara had forged a sister-city relationship with the Australian capital two decades ago and presented this small themed garden, featuring two of the largest stone lanterns ever built in Japan, as a gift to the people of Canberra. The lanterns symbolised the robust relationship between Australia and one of its largest trading partners – which also happened to be China's historic enemy.

He arrived late, sweating under the white-hot glare of a midday sun. The ComCar had dropped him off behind the Hyatt. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, white shirt and a tie of bold yellow.

Very handsome today, Bruce.

Paxton surveyed the garden suspiciously. A handful of women were pushing strollers along a stone path, engaged in the carefree banter of mums with a rare bit of time on their hands.

A park attendant, dressed in a khaki uniform, was fiddling with a sprinkler, trying to redirect its spray towards newly laid turf.

They met and embraced. He pulled back quickly.

‘Relax, my darling,' Weng whispered in his ear. ‘Of course they are watching. They expect us to meet. I want to make it easy for them to see but not hear us.'

She led him down a wide path to a gazebo where they took a seat on a timber bench. To the unsuspecting, they were a normal, loving couple stealing a moment.

Weng leaned into him, nestling her head on his right shoulder, dropping her voice.

‘I'm scared, Bruce.'

Paxton looked down on her black hair.

‘Why?'

‘The Ambassador is suspicious of me. He caught me asking questions about two men.'

She sighed. Paxton reached out to hold her shoulders, lifting her gaze to his.

‘What did you want to know about these two men?'

‘They were room-mates of Lin An, the man who drowned in the lake. They are both dead, although I'm sure they had no choice in deciding their fate.'

Paxton's head was spinning. Three Chinese men dead.

‘How do you know about this, Mei? When do you think they died? And why?'

‘He told me, the Ambassador. He was warning me. I don't know all the details.' Weng straightened and pushed away. She looked careworn. ‘Lin tried to defect and died in his escape. Nothing was handed back when we retrieved the body. But he is – was – one of our best cyber-minds and he could have placed a lot of information somewhere. And knowing the man who questioned Lin's roommates, I assume they died at his hands.'