‘Technology transfers, cross-border JVs,’ said Mac, swinging his beer bottle in a casual arc, ‘you know, big projects up here that need a little shoehorning from the Canberra end.’
‘Shoehorning?’
‘Well, yeah – blokes in Canberra hate that term, but you know, the Ministers are busy, the bureaucrats are busy. I just put the case for a deal, for jobs, balance of payments. You know, that shit.’
Grant looked around him and moved closer to Mac. ‘Well,’ he smiled, ‘tell me more.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, how does… What kind of background would someone like you have?’
Mac shrugged. He wanted this fi rst meeting to be a teaser, and was projecting reluctance. ‘Well, I suppose my previous lives seemed fairly boring at the time, but it seems Aussie companies need a guide through the exporting labyrinth, huh? And you know, Alex, not all exports are simple. Some are services and often they’re strategic services. It’s complex, mate, and that usually means some shoehorning.’
Mac grabbed a spring roll, keeping the napkin for wiping his fi ngers. He looked away, looked back. ‘But this is all probably boring for you -‘
‘So, you were a diplomat?’
‘No, no,’ laughed Mac. Grant was hooked – the tease had only taken ten seconds and he was about to lift his skirt. ‘Actually I used to work in a place called EFIC, heard of it?’
Grant’s eyes went wide and he nodded. Mac continued. ‘Terrible name, but interesting work. I was on the risk side and then on the deals side – due diligence, debt pricing, that sort of stuff.’
‘Really?’ asked Alex Grant, transfi xed.
‘Yeah, it was great, fascinating. But I ended up in Canberra as a specialist adviser to the Minister for Trade.’
‘Advising on what?’ asked Grant, looking Mac up and down.
‘Oh, well, you probably wouldn’t have heard of it,’ said Mac, looking away.
‘Try me.’
‘Deals that come under a system called NIA – it’s not well known but they can be really big, really complex deals.’
Grant stared at him like he’d seen a ghost.
Mac went on, ‘That’s National Interest -‘
‘Yeah, yeah. I know what it is,’ snapped Grant. He looked around him, obviously frazzled. ‘Tell me, Richard, is that what you facilitate?
NIA?’
‘Well, yeah – that’s most of it actually. If the loan guarantees are written by Sydney, then it’s all fi ne, right? You’re in.’
Grant nodded.
‘But it’s when it’s knocked back and you’re lucky enough to get a second chance with NIA – that’s when the fun starts,’ chuckled Mac,
‘because then it’s going political.’
‘Shit!’ said Grant, looking at the ceiling.
The bloke was hooked and Mac affected a chortle. ‘I perhaps shouldn’t tell you this, Alex, but once it gets into a minister’s offi ce, if you’ve got no one to walk you through it, you’re fucked, mate.’
Grant turned sullen. ‘Don’t need you to tell me that.’
‘Shit, Alex. Sorry mate,’ said Mac, feigning disappointment in himself. ‘I had no idea – I shouldn’t have said any of that. I take it back.’
‘No, no, it’s okay,’ sighed Grant. ‘That’s the fi rst honest thing I’ve heard anyone say about this entire fucking process.’
Mac waited, something catching his eye in the background.
‘I have breakfast at seven,’ said Alex Grant. ‘Can we meet?’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Mac, handing over his card before his attention was taken by a waiter on the other side of the ballroom.
CHAPTER 30
The lights of Jakarta seemed to sprawl forever as Mac stood in front of the vista window at the end of the living area, briefi ng Tony Davidson from his Nokia. It was 9.16 pm local, which meant it was 11.16 pm in Perth, where Davidson worked from his corporate front offi ces.
Once an op was underway, Davidson and Mac totally lived it and were considered Old School in that regard. If getting it right meant taking calls when you were lying in bed or drinking with your wife, that’s what you did.
Intelligence outfi ts often ran themselves low on good fi eld guys, not because the recruits didn’t have the smarts but because they didn’t have the stamina for an infi ltration operation that could last two days or two months. Those people were routinely reassigned to a desk, to management or SIGINT analysis – something with a forty-hour week.
People like Mac and Davidson weren’t the world’s smartest people, but they had the ticker for getting immersed in something for months at a time.
‘That’s great, mate,’ said Davidson after Mac fi nished his briefi ng on the Alex Grant meeting. ‘Bloke can almost smell the money – a bit of greed goes a long way.’
‘I’m meeting him tomorrow morning, but I don’t think I’ll crunch him – he’s already coming along,’ said Mac.
‘Your call, Macca,’ said Davidson. ‘But remember: the old ways are the old ways because they work.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ said Mac.
Under the old ways, Mac would not have allowed Alex Grant to name the meeting time and place. If you wanted to draw a person closer and eventually own them, you always changed the meeting slightly. Mac should have told Grant he’d meet him in the lobby lounge at seven before they went in for breakfast, saying, I have something I want you to see, or some bullshit like that. But Bennelong was really the Trojan Horse for NIME, and if Bennelong was going to come across with a tease and a fl irt, then Mac was inclined to go with that.
‘Another thing,’ said Mac, not quite knowing how to raise it.
‘I clocked some surveillance tonight, at the reception. Primrose saw it too.’
‘Friends of ours?’
‘None of the usual,’ said Mac, ruling out spies from BAIS, BIN, CIA, MI6 and the Philippines’ NICA. ‘I’m not sure they’re locals – bit too intense.’
‘How many?’
‘Two – that we saw. Males; Malay, Indian perhaps.’
‘Who was the subject? You or Bennelong?’
‘Can’t be sure. We weren’t tailed into the lobby or up to our room so I’m thinking that Bennelong has some minders?’
‘Sounds right,’ said Davidson. ‘If NIME are doing what we think they’re doing, then they’ll be keeping tabs, see who’s sniffi ng around.’
‘That’s why I don’t want to crunch the bloke. He thinks I can help him and I’m going to play to that.’
‘It would help to know who these watchers are.’
‘Well, yeah. I need something more on NIME,’ said Mac. ‘Those profi les in the fi le were fronts, I’m sure of it.’
‘Reckon?’ said Davidson.
‘Yeah, and I’ve only got library-level access on the fi rm’s intranet
– can you get me something more?’
‘I’ll try,’ said Davidson.
As Mac put down the phone he saw Diane take a bottle of wine from the mini-bar and head for her room.
