‘It’s due through any minute,’ Trudi said.
January leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘She’ll be right, love. You’ll get your trip.’
The telex machine chattered. The workers craned forward.
‘Yee-haw!’ The whoop came from Gary who tore the telex free. ‘Shit!’ he roared.
‘What? What?’ January sprang towards him, all the cool self-assurance left behind.
‘Don’t worry. I ripped it, that’s all. It’s what we want. Invited to give evidence…blah, blah… Chairmanship of Senator Allan B. Abilene…’
‘Abilene?’ I said.
‘ “Prettiest town, ah’ve evah seen,” ‘ Trudi sang.
I grinned at her. ‘Who sang it?’
‘George Hamilton IV.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ January said.
‘You’re too young, Peter,’ I said. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘Come into the office you two, we’ve got things to talk about.’
‘Don’t forget your sandwich.’ I handed him the bag.
January waved expansively to the whole office staff and led the way through the new glass door. I wondered how his back was and how it affected his favourite activity. He settled behind his desk; Trudi sat in front of him and I leaned against the wall near the window. It seemed to be my favourite position in the room.
‘Better lay on drinks for all tonight, Trude,’ January said. ‘Just for an hour or so.’
‘Press?’
January grimaced. ‘This afternoon, I guess. Say, at 4 pm, no…4.30. We can get it over quickly and the thirsty buggers’ll move on to the booze with any luck.’
Trudi made notes on a pad. ‘I’m glad I’m here to see this,’ I said. ‘Maybe I can hire a secretary with a law degree and get her to arrange me a seat in the Harold Park public bar.’
‘Shut up, Cliff,’ Trudi said.
January grinned. He opened the bag and pulled out the thick sandwich. ‘I don’t even like the sandwiches,’ he said. ‘Look, I know this is crazy, using Trudi like a stenographer, but it’s a security thing.’
Trudi scratched something on her pad. ‘Tobin suggested it.’
‘The idea is to limit the number of people who know where I am when. Ordinarily, I’d give this to one of the kids, but since Trudi has to know anyway it keeps it tighter. You want this?’ He held out the sandwich to me.
I shook my head. ‘Okay, I see it. What d’you mean when you say you don’t even like the sandwiches? Even, what’s that mean?’
They exchanged glances. January nodded and Trudi shrugged.
‘What’s this?’ I said. ‘A dumb show?’
‘Trudi knows about Karen. All this stuff about me perving on every woman I see is just a blind.’ He held up one hand, palm out, like a man running with the ball. ‘Usta be true, but not since Karen. That’s all very…’
‘Sticky,’ I said.
‘Yeah. The playboy image is to buy time while we figure out what to do.’
‘Peter, I’d hate to be you. Are you fair dinkum when you clean your teeth take a piss, or is that acting too?’
‘It’s not as bad as that.’ He wrapped the sandwich up and slid it across the desk to Trudi. ‘You can take that home to Gunther.’
‘Gunther?’ I said.
January shot me a delighted, point-scoring look. ‘Her dog,’ he said.
I looked out the window while they fixed a few details on January’s agenda. The awnings were down in front of some of the shops, sure sign of the summer on the way. It would be a summer without Helen unless things changed and I didn’t really know whether I wanted them to change or not.
‘Beer, Cliff?’ January reached into the bar fridge which had escaped damage completely.
‘Thanks.’
Trudi got up with the sandwich bag in one hand and her pad and pen in the other. I slid across and opened the door.
‘I’ve got the record,’ she said.
‘Huh?’
‘George Hamilton IV. My ex-husband was a bit older than me; it’s his record. You should come and hear it some time.’
‘Women there don’t treat you mean,’ I said.
‘In Abilene.’ She went out.
‘I’ll tell Helen,’ January said.
‘Then I’ll tell Sammy Weiss you’re screwing Karen Weiner.’
‘Weiss! Shit, Cliff, you’re not talking to that slob, are you?’
‘He’s Detective Inspector Lloyd Tobin’s brother-in-law.’
January passed me a can of Swan Light and poured himself a weak wine and soda. He watched the bubbles rise and fall and shook his head. ‘God, it’s a dirty world. Okay, Cliff, here’s the thing. I want you to come to Washington with us.’
‘Us?’
‘Me, Trudi, couple of other staffers.’
‘Why?’
‘The Americans can’t guarantee my security.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘Don’t.’ He held his hand up in that blocking gesture he favoured. ‘I’m buggered if I know. Are you aware of what I’m going to say over there? Trudi fill you in?’
‘Not really. You’re against a lot of things.’
‘The lot-bases, tests, arms deals, mercenary contracts, don’t you worry, there’s plenty of that under other names, surveillance equipment, monitoring devices, the lot.’
‘What’re you for?’ I looked out the window and saw Magda from the health food store weaving a sinuous path along the street. She was carrying a bundle and she held it high which caused the upper part of her body to be still while the rest moved. Almost every man in the street turned to look at her.
‘What’m I for? Peace!’
‘And motherhood?’ Magda went into a shop. I wondered if she and the stringy-haired, sallow-faced individual had any children. It seemed unlikely; they were like members of different species.
January drained his glass and made another drink, stronger. ‘Cynicism’s cheap, Cliff. I’ve got concrete proposals and that Committee’s exactly the right place to air them. It’s the perfect forum.’
I finished my beer and crumpled the can. ‘Have you checked with the Minister and the party, and your constituents? I’d have thought you were committed to the bases at least, probably to a fair bit of the rest as well.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Doesn’t have to be as tight as all that. We’re talking about…ideas.’
‘You want me to come to America to help protect your ideas?’
‘They’re good ones.’
‘But you can’t tell me what they are?’
‘No. I’ll tell you this, Helen’d approve of them.’
‘Oh, great. I’ll give her a ring and tell her I’m going to Washington to deflect bullets in defence of ideas she…’
‘Bullets?’
‘Look, Peter. I don’t know who planted the bomb here but the more I listen to you the more possibilities open up. It could be any one of a dozen loonies who write to you; you say it could be the spooks; the cops say they could pin it on me if they want to. It’s madness. Why don’t you develop an interest in something safe-like flat tax? Everyone wants it and no one wants to do anything about it.’
‘No. What’s that about the police?’
‘Forget it. How big a wheel is Karen Weiner’s husband?’
‘Very big. He’s head of a sort of think tank the other side listens to. He could move into a senior Parliamentary job with them any time he wanted to.’
‘Terrific. He could be another candidate for mad bomber.’
January shook his head. ‘No, he doesn’t know…’
‘Sez you. The only good news I’ve heard for your side lately is that the cops and the press still think you’re a sexual butterfly. For now, that is.’
January sat up straight in his chair. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head as though getting rid of all negative thoughts. When he looked at me again there was a steady confidence in his eyes and a firmness to his chin that no camera could fail to catch. He reached out and pulled some papers towards him. ‘You’re wrong, Cliff. This Washington opportunity’s the really good news- for me and everyone else-and I’m not going to let some nutter bugger it up.’ He dropped his gaze, scribbled a signature at the foot of a page, and then gave me the full candlepower look. ‘I want your help. Are you in or out?’