Chogm

6

Sydney Morning Herald

Monday, February 6th, 1978

LANDA'S PLAN TO CONVERT HOMES TO FLATS

The State Government is considering allowing homes to be divided into two self contained residences.

HOWARD DECLARES NO-LIMIT BORROWING TO BACK DOLLAR

Canberra- A no-limit commitment to support the Australian Dollar with substantial further overseas borrowings was announced by the Federal Treasurer Mr Howard.

Early February mornings in Sydney belie the day to follow. The sun had not yet evaporated the previous afternoon's rain that had not quite succeeded in cleansing the smog and pollution from the air, streets and buildings.

Sydney airport was beginning to rouse itself into the frenetic lethargy that characterised the indolence that the time of the year imposed on it. Seagulls wheeled and squabbled over scraps of food before heading off to the cooler and more productive grounds of the nearby parks and beaches, for the present though it was the turn of the airport to benefit from the swirling mass of off-white birds.

Like a huge lazy bird with a bright red tail the Qantas 747 lumbered out of the sky and glided smoothly to a halt at the terminus. The umbilicus of the aerobridge stretched out to kiss the side of the plane and greet the usual assortment of passengers. Tired but excited tourists, inward bound to a whirlwind tour of the vastness of the country, where they would exclaim appropriately over the usual assortment of sights that the tour promoters had decreed that they should see. The tired and broke expatriates returning from equally frenetic tours of overseas countries, where they were shuffled through an endless series of sights that tour operators thought they should see.

Business types and returning politicians continued the mutual lobbying that they had carried out for the entire journey. The tired and whingeing children who, unable to sleep due to the excitement of their adventure had succeeded in keeping everyone else awake.

When it seemed that all of the passengers had disembarked and the crew could at last relax, there was a commotion from the forward doorway. Three men in their late thirties or early forties, and in an advanced state of inebriation, approached the hostess with the exaggerated precision of men in their condition. The first took the hostess' right hand in his and with a sweeping gesture of his left hand and a stiffly formal bow, raised her hand to his lips. "My dear child, I must thank you on behalf of myself, and my comrades of course, for the every kindness that you have shown us on this flight from hell."

He staggered slightly, spun stiffly, hiccupped lightly and with a military gait proceeded in the general direction of the terminus. It almost came off. His feet tangled with each other and in a somewhat less than military manner he pitched forward, measuring his length on the floor of the aerobridge.

The hostess glanced briefly at the prostrate form and then turned her attention to the second of the trio. He grinned good naturedly at her and raised his hand to his forehead in a casual salute to her, and in a slow, almost drawling voice he said, "You will have to excuse my friend here, I do believe he has had a wee drop too much to drink. We'll take care of him for you." With that he executed a perfect pirouette that ended in a perfect pratfall at her feet.

The hostess raised her eyes heavenward in a silent plea for Divine intervention and prepared herself for the third and last member of the trio. She was prepared for everything except for the enthusiastic way he grabbed her and planted a huge kiss squarely her unsuspecting lips. She staggered to regain her balance and composure without much success. At last he broke the kiss and, holding her at arm's length, looked her in the eye. "Darling, I love you with a passion never before felt in this worn but not yet dead body of mine. I want to sweep you off your feet and throw you over the flanks of my gallant steed that even now grazes in yonder car park, and ride off into this beautiful sunset." He waved his hand in the general direction of the rapidly climbing, but hidden from their view sun.

He released her and, turning quickly ran lightly after the other two. The hostess swayed back as he released his grip and the only thing that prevented her from falling over was the wall of the aerobridge. She let out a long drawn out sigh as the Captain and First Officer arrived at the door of the plane. "Have our drunken fools left safely?" His gaze followed her pointing finger and saw the trio, arms about each other's shoulders staggering erratically towards the terminal building.

"Why is it that there is always at least one drunken idiot to spoil it for the rest of the passengers, not to mention us long suffering crew." She picked up her flight bag and followed them. "Do you know what one of them actually did?"

"No." In unison from her companions.

"He surreptitiously emptied some fruit salad or something into his airsick bag and then pretended to throw up into it. Then, uggh it was repulsive, he took a spoon from his pocket and proceeded to eat it with such enthusiasm that he had every passenger around him reaching for their own bags. In no time at all there were at least thirty very sick passengers in the immediate vicinity."

The Captain looked at her and, shaking his head said, "I would have thought that they would have warned you about that particular trick at flight school. It isn't new by any means, but, nonetheless it is effective on any unsuspecting passenger."

The conversation centred on the funny and not so funny things that passengers had got up to on flights, and soon they were chuckling as they headed for the terminal. They probably wouldn't have been so happy if they had known the havoc that the walking disaster area was currently wreaking inside the arrivals hall.

One thing passengers rely on to overcome the problems of a long flight is the orderly retrieval of their luggage. There were going to be a lot of very unhappy passengers. The three men were clambering over the baggage conveyor throwing other bags in all directions in a frenzied search for their own. The other passengers looked on in horror as Auntie Maude's Waterford crystal decanter, or whatever priceless trinket was in the bag, was subjected to forces usually associated with mail sorters. It didn't take long for both uniformed and plain clothes police to converge on the trio and attempt to apprehend them.

Attempt was the operative word. The first lunge resulted in one uniformed officer grasping at nothing and landing face down on the conveyor as the target of his efforts side-stepped with all the agility of a rugby scrum half and sped off down the concourse.

He was quickly pursued by two other policemen while the others stalked the remaining two men. The cat and mouse game that followed soon had the crowd cheering the efforts of the two men to avoid capture. Every time one of them eluded the reach of his would be captor a loud cheer rose from the spectators. The damage to the bags was soon forgotten, except for those importers of certain illegal substances who edged their way to the fringe of the crowd ready to decamp in the event of their bags being burst disclosing the contents for all to see. Soon the already large crowd was further swollen by the arrival of passengers from another flight.

The police were getting extremely uncomfortable due to their inability to catch the two men, and the support that was being given them. "All right you two!" The voice cut through the bedlam like a whip crack. "That's enough!" The leader of the police contingent had drawn a very impressive looking hand gun from the holster under his oversized jacket and had it levelled at the nearest of the two. The crowd cringed back leaving a corridor at least three metres wide either side of him as if they had little faith in his marksmanship. "OK! Grab your bags and follow me!"

"But Commissioner, That's the problem. We can't find our bags."

"Where are your baggage checks?"

They produced the cardboard slips from their pockets and sheepishly handed them over. The slips were immediately passed on to another officer. "Henson, you search through this lot until you find their bags and when you have found them, bring them down to the office. Come on you lot, follow me." He led the way through the crowd that had reluctantly parted before them, down the long concourse to the Airport Security Office.

In the general hubbub that followed their departure from the baggage retrieval area, a man, the picture of sartorial elegance in white slacks and shoes topped by a cerise shirt with matching kerchief knotted casually at the throat, walked slowly away, his right hand casually replacing the small pearl handled pistol into the shoulder bag that he affected. The picture of soft femininity was in stark contrast to his occupation.

No sooner were they inside the office than the Officer in Charge turned on the two men and, with his nose pressed against that of one of his protagonists, and his rage barely under control, he yelled at the man, "What the fucking hell do you think you are playing at! You were supposed to come in here un-noticed and what happens, here you are the centre of a major disturbance. You couldn't have drawn more attention to yourselves if you had tried!"

"Ah yes, but who would suspect that we are who we are?" The voice came from the third of the trio who, having given his pursuers the slip in the toilets, had doubled back to the Security Office. "If we had tried to be inconspicuous as you had suggested we would have attracted the attention of anyone watching for us. There is nothing as conspicuous as someone trying hard to be inconspicuous, as it is, by drawing a different type of attention on ourselves we have created the role that we will maintain throughout this operation."

"God help us! Not only do we have a security problem of unprecedented proportions on our plate but we now have three geriatric adolescents running around making total and utter fools of themselves. I hope that you don't expect us to play nursemaid to you bloody clowns."

"Heaven forfend. I wish you wouldn't be like that Frank. What happened to the happy go lucky chap that caused so much trouble during the police occupation of Cyprus?"

"That was different. We were there supposedly to keep the Greeks and the Turks from killing each other and it got so boring that we had to think of something to liven up the show. Anyhow, I am led to believe that there will be an assassination attempt on one of the Prime Ministers sometime during this CHOGM conference and it's my job to see that it doesn't happen."

"True," He was suddenly all business, "Our information is that a PM will be blown away while in this country, and attempts will be made to implicate a country which most nations have ceased trading with in a bid to force Britain into following suit. One of the offshoots of which will be the worldwide shortage of diamonds and this will create a commercial advantage situation for someone. Our people back home are keeping a watch on the commodity markets to see they can identify any factions from transactions. Meanwhile we've been sent out to see if we can find any clues from this end."

"How do you propose to achieve this?"

"We don't actually have a plan as such, yet that is. You know the old adage, 'the best laid plans of mice and men etc..', we have found that in our game it's best not to have too many 'best laid plans'."

"Okay, but remember this, as far as my force and government are concerned, if you blow this operation, or get into any strife whatever, we have never heard of any of you. Now where do we go from here?"

"First of all you had better take us to court where, for the benefit of the press and any other interested parties, we can be charged with creating a public mischief or some such, then after we are released on bail you can point us in the general direction of the hovel in which we have reserved accommodation, which one is it now? The Wentworth, that's it."

"Shit, the Wentworth! You blokes don't believe in making yourselves conspicuous do you?"

"We needed something that befitted our station in life as part of the idle rich pommy aristocracy. One can hardly live below ones means can one?"

Within minutes they were being escorted, each handcuffed to a size twenty man in a size ten suit, through the terminal building and out to a waiting police van. As they passed through the foyer they came across the flight crew fresh from their debriefing. A one way exchange of pleasantries followed. The hostess said nothing until they were past and then, with a quizzical look on her face, she turned to the Captain. "Something has been bothering me about these blokes and I think that I've just realised what it is."

"What is it?"

"Although they looked drunk right from the time they staggered aboard, and they certainly acted drunk for the whole of the journey, and they did seem to consume huge quantities of whisky, when one of them kissed me there was no trace of any alcohol on his breath."

This conversation was overheard by a reporter from one of the more sensational weekly tabloids noted for breaking stories which embarrass just about everyone in some sort of authority. He hastily scribbled a few notes in his notebook and ran to a phone booth. "Bob, quickly, can you get someone to find out where the Feds are taking three men who were arrested at the airport a while ago for causing a fracas. I want someone to stick to them like glue until I can catch up with them. In the mean time I have another lead to follow here. At this stage it is in the hunch category, but there is a distinct piscatorial aroma surrounding this whole shebang."

He hung up the phone and raced after the flight crew who were just about to get into a cab. "Miss," The hostess turned to face him as he screeched to a halt beside her. "Miss....," he was hoping that she would fill in the blank, she didn't, "I couldn't help overhearing what you said back there about those men that arrived on your plane. I wonder if I could have a word with you about them."

"I don't know. It all seems so trivial to me."

"Don't under-estimate trivialities, some of my best stories have started out that way. I can make it worth your while. Look, why don't I buy you a drink while you tell me everything you know and leave it up to me to decide how important or not it is."

She turned to her companions. The Captain shrugged his shoulders, neither he or his companions had any claim on her personal time. They had crewed together for several years and enjoyed each other's company while they were away, but at home in Sydney there was no exclusivity involved.

"Oh alright." They headed for the airport lounge where he knew the bar staff well enough to be able to address them on a first name basis, and to exist between paydays without having to trouble his wallet too much.

Meanwhile at another part of the terminal building an American accent was getting more pronounced due to the anger in it. "Goddammit man!" The normal West Coast had given way Texan roots. "This was supposed to be a simple operation! The men you wanted me to TWEP had the attention of the entire passenger list of what seemed like four international flights, not to mention the total strength of the State and Federal police forces. You specifically said that it was not to be a wet operation. I was left with the decision that if I couldn't make the hit without taking out half the tourist boom in one fell swoop I should beat a strategic withdrawal. So I did. Now you spit the dummy."

"I understand." The accent on the other end of the phone was British Upper Class with traces of Oxford and Eton. "You must, I repeat must, make the hit as you put it, before they can make contact with any organisation. At the moment they are nothing more or less than tourists, but as soon as they make contact with ASIO (Australian Security Intelligence Organisation) or Foreign Affairs we will be unable to terminate them without arousing suspicion."

"ASIO is not a problem, as far as they are concerned this is a routine surveillance operation and of no concern to them. We have told them that our intelligence has uncovered nothing to suggest that there will be any problems with their Mickey Mouse conference. As far as we and they are concerned, this is routine."

The man hung the phone up and walked to where a colleague was waiting, "Well?"

"They have been taken to court by the Feds. No chance until they come out."

"Ok, let's see what we can do."

Oxford/Eton was talking once more. "I thought you told me that this man was the best in the business."

"If you had agreed to my suggestion there would have been no problem."

"I will not condone the wholesale slaughter of innocent people just to kill three."

"Suit yourself. All it would have taken would have been a pressure sensitive detonator and a couple of kilos of semtex fitted to the cargo door of their plane and pfffft! No trace, no problem."

10.30am and the early morning peak hour had given way to the first rush of shoppers looking for that ever elusive bargain in the city stores. The hotels had just opened their doors to the early customers. The freshly washed smell of these hotels would, as the day progressed, give way to the more familiar aroma of stale beer and cigarette smoke as the city patrons strove to drink and smoke themselves into an early grave.

The two men seated, nursing what was to be the first of several brimming pints of best amber, in a darker back corner of the front bar of a hotel known as the favourite watering hole of the media fraternity, and seemingly intent on beating their colleagues in the race to the grave, were deeply engrossed in earnest conversation.

"You were right, there is something very fishy about this case. The three of them appeared before old Hanging Henry Bransome who, as you know, is not noted for his leniency, and all they got was a slap on the wrists. He didn't even ask for them to surrender their passports which should have been the first thing that he would normally do. Not only that, but he remanded them on fifty dollars bail, each, until sometime in March, by which time they will be well and truly gone. Normally, people charged with a variety of offences under various sections of the Air Navigation Act, resisting arrest and being drunk and disorderly in a public place, to whit an airport terminal, would have at least had time as a guest of her maj until they had sobered up. Not this lot. Slapped wrist and sent off."

"These blokes also must have the most amazing powers of recuperation known to man. There was not a sign of any insobriety on them as they strode all too briskly from the courthouse, stepped into a taxi that just happened to be waiting outside for them and headed off to the Wentworth. They had no opportunity to call the cab, it just happened to be there. I thought to myself 'now that is a coincidence' so I followed them, found out which room they were booked into and assigned young Russell to loiter with intent to observe in the foyer. A task he is finding most rewarding as there is a fashion show on there this evening and all these gorgeous young things are coming and going with monotonous regularity. He has explicit instructions to contact the office as soon as there is any sign of them leaving. I don't think that even Louie the Fly could sneak in or out without being noticed.

"All that ties in with what the hostess told me at the airport. She said that although they had to be just about poured onto the plane and they behaved like drunken slobs for the entire trip from London, when one of them kissed her there was no trace of alcohol on his breath. She didn't pay much attention to it at the time, I think she was just glad to see the backs of them. It struck her as odd later as the police were leading them away. It was she that tipped me off to it when she said something to that effect to the pilot, so of course I just had to find out more."